Chapter 12 – The Sage and the Sorcerer

Jack let out a deep sigh, stretching his arms as he stood alone in the middle of the road, the city's neon lights still flickering behind him.

His lips curled slightly. "So, there is a Charles in this world, huh?"

He tilted his head in thought. "Well, that makes things more interesting."

Then his smile dropped.

His golden eyes narrowed, irritation creeping in. "But how dare he snoop around in my head?"

His fingers twitched, as if resisting the urge to go back and slap the man bald—more bald than he already was.

Then, just as quickly, Jack's mood shifted again, his grin returning.

"But I chased him out, so I guess we're even."

His brows furrowed.

Then, his grin faded once more. "No… it's not even."

A sharp glare crossed his face. "I need to snoop back."

Without another word, he leapt onto the edge of the building and vaulted onto another rooftop, his feet silent against the stone.

But as he moved, his irritation slowly faded, replaced by something else—an urge to reflect.

So he sat.

Cross-legged, eyes closed.

His body stilled, his breathing slowed, and his mind drifted inward.

When Jack first learned how to meditate, his mind had been an empty void—a dark, endless abyss.

But now?

Now, he saw a vast mountain rising before him.

Huaguo Mountain.

His inner world had changed over time, growing, evolving—flourishing.

At its peak, a temple stood proudly, ancient yet well-maintained, a reflection of his spiritual growth.

And it was no longer alone.

Four structures now dotted the mountain.

Jack exhaled slowly, realization settling in. Each temple marked a leap in his power.

The first, when he had learned control over his body.

The second, when he had mastered his staff.

The third, when he had unlocked his clones.

The fourth…

His eyes drifted to it.

The fourth was still forming, its shape still unclear.

Meaning his growth was not yet complete.

Jack smiled to himself. "Good. It'd be boring if I peaked already."

With a slow, measured inhale—he let himself sink deeper into the stillness.

And he remained there.

Until the first light of dawn kissed his skin.

"Good morning."

A voice—calm, steady, aged yet brimming with power.

Jack's breath left him in a slow exhale as he opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was an old man standing a few feet behind him, his long beard neatly combed, his robes pristine, his expression composed.

His eyes held an unfathomable depth, the kind that came only with centuries of knowledge.

Jack studied him for a moment before speaking.

"You're borrowing a power you shouldn't have, old man."

His tone was casual, but his gaze sharpened like a blade.

"They'll come to collect it, like the IRS."

The old man didn't flinch.

Instead, he smiled lightly. "Good morning. I am Yao. Pleased to meet you, Monkey Sage."

Jack blinked. Then he grinned. "Oh, you're the Ancient One. Weird. You're supposed to be a woman."

Yao chuckled softly. "Well, there are many universes out there."

He walked forward, and with a flick of his wrist, a tea set and a low table materialized between them.

He sat down, pouring tea with precise movements.

"I'm sure there exists a universe where you do not exist."

Jack's smile didn't waver, but his golden eyes gleamed with something unreadable. "Is that a threat?"

Yao simply shook his head, offering him a cup. "No. It is an appreciation."

Jack accepted the tea, inspecting the surface as it swirled gently within the cup.

Yao took a sip before continuing. "Appreciation that my universe has another sage to guide it."

Jack chuckled, blowing on his tea before taking a slow sip. "You don't know if I'll guide you into enlightenment or into oblivion."

Yao set his cup down, a small, knowing smile on his lips. "The universe has its own way of telling stories."

Jack leaned back, rolling his shoulders. "Cryptic. I like it."

The morning breeze rolled past them, filling the silence with a comfortable weight.

And so, the Monkey Sage and the Sorcerer Supreme sat, drinking tea beneath the rising sun.

Jack rambled, spilling his usual profound nonsense, while Yao sat patiently, trying—and failing—to find meaning within his words.

And somewhere, far across the city, Charles Xavier was still trying to make sense of what had happened the night before.

The sterile white lights of the Xavier Institute's medbay cast a sharp glow over the room.

Charles Xavier lay on a medical bed, his face unusually pale, his brow furrowed in deep thought.

Beside him, Henry "Beast" McCoy stood, scanning the professor's vitals for the third time, his large, blue-furred hands carefully adjusting the medical equipment.

At the foot of the bed, Logan—Wolverine—stood with his arms crossed, eyes narrowed, watching Charles like a predator waiting for an excuse to be pissed.

Hank exhaled through his nose, double-checking the readings before speaking. "There's nothing physically wrong with you, Charles."

Logan's brow twitched. "You sure, bub? 'Cause when I saw him coming out of Cerebro, he looked like he saw the damn abyss staring back."

Hank frowned but nodded. "Yes. I ran the tests three times just to be certain."

Logan grunted, unconvinced. "Yeah, well, he ain't exactly lookin' chipper."

Charles offered a tired smile. "I appreciate the concern, Logan. But I assure you, I am fine. I suppose I simply need to rest and… not push myself too hard.

He gave a soft chuckle. "It seems age has finally caught up with me."

Logan scoffed, stepping forward. "C'mon, Chuck. Let's get you back to your room before I gotta carry your ass."

Charles sighed, allowing Logan to push his wheelchair toward the door.

Hank nodded as they left, already switching gears mentally to his next responsibility. He had student health examinations to oversee today.

And a new kid was arriving.

Another young mutant. Another lost soul needing guidance.

With one last glance at the medical monitors, he sighed and began preparing for the day ahead.

…

On the top floor of Stark Tower, Tony Stark sat alone in his penthouse, his fingers steepled in front of his face as he replayed the footage for the tenth time.

The holographic projection flickered, displaying the exact moment it happened.

There he was—Iron Man, in full flight, repulsors primed—a goddamn force of technological perfection.

And there was the other guy.

Running on walls like an anime protagonist, dressed like he came straight out of a Chinese historical drama, smiling like a lunatic.

Tony scrubbed forward. The moment of impact.

One second, he was in control.

The next?

His middle finger was gone.

Tony leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples.

The worst part?

It wasn't even his middle finger—just the armored plating of his Iron Man suit.

But that wasn't the problem.

The problem was—he had been caught off guard.

Tony hated being caught off guard.

He narrowed his eyes, fingers twitching as he pulled up another screen—design schematics, battle analysis, recorded energy readings.

"JARVIS."

"Yes, sir?"

"Enhance countermeasures in the Mark VI."

"Any specific parameters?"

Tony exhaled, rubbing his chin. "Make sure nobody—not ninjas, not speedsters, not anime cosplayers—can rip a damn finger off my suit again."

JARVIS paused.

"Understood, sir."

Tony leaned back, staring at the screen one last time.

His eyes lingered on the man in the footage, still running, still laughing like a madman.

A slow smirk tugged at Tony's lips.

"Alright, mystery man. Let's see who the hell you are."

…

The X-Jet's landing gear hissed, steam rolling across the landing strip as the aircraft powered down. The sleek black jet had barely cooled when Ororo Munroe—Storm—descended first, followed closely by Scott Summers and their newest arrival.

A bald young boy, barely a teenager, stepped out in a thick winter monk's outfit, his movements cautious, his wide eyes scanning everything with quiet awe.

Scott walked beside him, speaking gently but firmly.

"Welcome to the Xavier Institute," he said, pausing slightly as he waited for the small translator device in his ear to catch up.

Tenzin blinked as the Tibetan translation came a second later, then nodded, his expression a mix of curiosity and nervousness.

"Is… this a monastery?" he asked, his voice soft but uncertain.

Scott shook his head. "Not exactly. But here, you'll be safe."

Tenzin hesitated, then nodded slowly.

As the two boys spoke, Ororo approached Hank McCoy—Beast—who was already waiting at the edge of the landing pad.

She tapped the small device in her ear.

"Thanks for the translator, Hank. Works wonders."

Hank smiled, adjusting his glasses. "Of course. Half of our lives is built on communication."

Ororo chuckled. "Just don't say that to Logan."

Hank smirked. "Oh, I'd love to. Just to see his reaction."

They shared a brief laugh before turning back to Scott and Tenzin.

Scott was still trying to reassure the boy, his patience steady despite the slight delay in translation.

"What happened to you today—it's not a curse," Scott said firmly. "It's called the X-gene. And everyone here has one."

Tenzin glanced at him, hesitant. "Everyone?"

Scott nodded. "Kids. Adults. Teachers. We all have something different. Some can lift cars. Some can heal fast. Some…" he hesitated before adding, "shoot lasers from their eyes."

Tenzin's gaze flickered to Scott's visor.

Scott smiled slightly. "Yeah. Me."

Tenzin studied him carefully, as if gauging his honesty. Then, finally, he gave a small nod.

Scott gestured toward the mansion. "Come on. Hank—our doctor—wants to make sure you're okay."

Tenzin hesitated before taking a small step forward. "Alright."

The medbay was quiet, save for the steady beeping of machines and the faint hum of fluorescent lights.

Tenzin sat on the medical bed, his legs dangling slightly. His posture was tense, shoulders stiff.

Hank gave a reassuring smile as he adjusted his glasses and began scanning the boy with his handheld device.

Scott stood nearby, arms crossed, watching.

"Nothing to be nervous about," Hank said gently. "Just a routine check-up."

Tenzin nodded slightly but didn't relax.

Hank ran the scanner over his arm, checking biometric readings, heartbeat, energy signatures.

The readings came back normal—except for one thing.

His energy signature wasn't just genetic—it was… moving.

Like a current. A flow.

Hank frowned slightly but didn't say anything yet.

He adjusted the scanner and spoke conversationally. "So, Tenzin, what happened when your powers first emerged?"

Tenzin hesitated, then slowly said, "The air… changed around me."

Scott and Hank exchanged a look.

Hank nodded. "Can you show me?"

Tenzin swallowed, his small hands clenching into fists.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then—the air around him shifted.

A soft breeze stirred within the room, despite the fact that there were no windows, no vents open.

Scott felt it first—a cool wind brushing against his arm.

Hank's papers fluttered slightly on the desk.

The overhead lights flickered, as if sensing the sudden shift in atmosphere.

Tenzin's breath grew slightly uneven. The wind around him began to swirl, growing stronger, stirring his robes.

Then—a metal tray on a nearby table lifted slightly, hovering for a moment before clattering back down.

Tenzin gasped, hands snapping to his lap as if he had done something wrong. The wind stopped immediately.

The medbay fell back into silence.

Scott was the first to break it.

"That was incredible."

Tenzin looked at him, confused. "I… lost control."

Scott shook his head. "You didn't. You stopped it, didn't you?"

Tenzin hesitated. "I… guess."

Hank tapped his chin, intrigued. "Air manipulation."

Tenzin looked worried. "I never wanted to hurt anyone."

Scott placed a hand on his shoulder. "You won't. That's why you're here. To learn."

Tenzin stared at him for a long moment.

Then, finally, he nodded.

And for the first time since arriving—he didn't look afraid.