CH: 110 - The Winds And The Fire And Being Happy

{Chapter: 110 - The Winds And The Fire And Being Happy}

Aiden's expression remained calm, almost indifferent. But beneath the surface, his thoughts churned like a storm. Mutants born with abilities are naturally superior to those created through serums or experiments or accidents… he mused to himself. Their potential was raw. Untamed. But real.

He looked at Riptide and smiled—genuinely, as if he were grateful.

"Thank you," Aiden said quietly.

The words echoed, surreal and out of place.

Riptide blinked, frozen in shock. "T-Thank you? What do you mean, thank you?"

Aiden's smile widened just a bit. "For bringing me your ability."

It was only then that Riptide began to understand.

"What… what are you saying? Offering you my ability? What do you mean? No—stop! Please!" Panic exploded in his chest. His voice rose to a scream, trembling with desperation.

But Aiden was already moving. His hand reached forward and grasped Riptide's throat—firm but not harsh, as if he were holding something fragile and precious. In that moment, the devouring began.

A horrific, invisible force surged from Aiden's palm. A deep hum echoed in the air, vibrating reality itself. Riptide convulsed violently as a torrent of invisible energy flowed from his body into Aiden. The power, the very essence of his mutant gift, was being extracted.

Riptide screamed, the sound raw and animalistic. As Aiden's grip on his neck tightened.

He kicked. He struggled. He clawed with whatever strength remained in him—but it was useless. His body trembled, and his eyes rolled back as the final flickers of his life force slipped away.

Then, silence.

His body sagged, limp like a puppet with its strings cut.

The hand of hard light that had restrained him—an elegant construct formed by Aiden's Reality Ring—flickered, then vanished.

Riptide dropped to the ground with a hollow thud.

Aiden didn't even flinch. With a wave of his hand, a sphere of fire—small, compact, and burning with the intensity of a miniature sun—shot forward and struck the corpse.

The explosion was instantaneous.

The flames engulfed the body with a violent burst, disintegrating it midair. Bones cracked and shattered. Flesh turned to cinders. Blood flashed into steam. His remains burst like fireworks, scattering in a brief, brilliant display before vanishing into ashes.

Nothing was left.

Not even dust.

The air smelled of ozone and fire.

Aiden stood in the middle of it all, still calm, still composed. He lifted his palm and stared at it, rotating his wrist slowly. A small vortex began to spin above his skin—a swirling miniature whirlwind.

"So this is wind control," he murmured, analyzing the feel of it.

Riptide's power had been simple in concept but difficult to master: control over air currents and wind pressure. Alone, it was impressive. In the right hands—devastating.

"With this… I can push my flames even further."

He exhaled and focused, infusing flame into the palm alongside the wind. The two elements twined together, dancing in sync. Fire wrapped itself around the mini cyclone, not burning away but strengthening—alive and violent. Then Aiden did something no normal mutant could. He intensified the temperature, using his telekinetic field to contain the force and temperature.

The temperature soared.

1,000 degrees.

10,000.

100,000.

Higher.

Within the confines of his invisible telekinetic cage, the temperature began to rival that of a supernova's edge. The wind amplified it—feeding oxygen, fanning the flames until the fire was a blinding white-hot blur.

The result was terrifying.

Controlled destruction. A singularity of devastation held in the palm of one man.

Aiden let the swirling inferno fizzle out, satisfied.

"Riptide," he whispered, "You died as a fool. But your ability… might just help me burn the world clean."

—

"The temperature seems to be higher than usual…"

Aiden slowly lifted his arm, watching with a satisfied gaze as the heat danced across his skin. The air shimmered and distorted around him, an invisible curtain of raw, radiant power. His fingertips flickered with intense heat as flames licked the edges of the whirlwind he had conjured earlier. What startled even him, however, was how rapidly the temperature had climbed.

Faster than when he had clashed with Malekith. Faster than any previous surge of flame.

The core of his power now burned hotter than the surface of a supernova. And it hadn't even taken a minute to reach that terrifying temperature.

"Perfect…" he muttered to himself, a cold smirk on his face as the wind curled protectively around his form, lifting the edges of his coat. The cyclone spun fiercely not far away, a screaming reminder of Riptide's final, futile resistance.

Dark clouds twisted overhead. A moody night sky bore silent witness to the execution of a fellow mutant. There would be no burial. No memorial. Just the echo of the wind—and ashes.

Magneto… Aiden thought. 'You'll know. You'll feel it. Riptide's gone, and that hole in your ranks… it's only the beginning.'

With a soft swoosh, Aiden's body vanished into the night, the wind collapsing into silence behind him.

---

West Coast Island Base

Aiden returned aboard the spaceship, silent as a shadow. The interior of the vessel was dimly lit, with only the soft hum of the engine and pulsing lights along the floor to guide his way.

His room welcomed him like an old friend. He stepped inside, undressed without ceremony, and stepped into the steaming shower, letting the water cascade over his body. The heat from his own skin turned the water into mist before it even touched him. After scrubbing away the grime of battle and blood, he emerged, refreshed and calm.

Aiden lay down on the bed and crossed his arms behind his head, relaxing as his body began its daily ritual—absorbing the Aether.

Unlike others, Aiden didn't suffer side effects. His body had evolved to devour it greedily, like a star consuming solar winds. But even he had limits. No matter how sturdy a tank is, once it's full, it can't hold more.

Still… with time, his capacity was growing. Slowly but surely, he would reach a point where no energy—no matter how immense—would overwhelm him.

Tonight wasn't just about absorbing Aether. It was about shaping his vessel, reinforcing the container. With every drop of energy, he came closer to breaking past every conceivable threshold.

---

Two Hours Later

The room was quiet save for the soft rhythm of breathing. Aiden's body glowed faintly, a subtle aura of gathered power radiating from his skin.

Somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, he stirred.

A whisper of movement.

Soft footsteps. The faint scent of rose and ozone. His senses sharpened instantly. A feminine silhouette moved near the corner of the room, lit gently by the ambient glow from his body.

Perfect curves. A fluid grace in the way she moved. Even in the dim light, her presence was unmistakable.

Clarice.

Aiden's eyes fluttered open just as she turned. She paused—caught. Their eyes met.

Clarice Ferguson, better known to the world once as "Blink," stood by the door, a tray in her hands. But that wasn't what caught his attention—it was the look in her eyes. A mixture of mischief, warmth… and something deeper.

Her eyes flickered downward, catching a glimpse of something beneath the covers. Her cheeks tinted with the lightest blush hard to notice due to her skin color, but her mouth curved into a sly smile.

"You thought I didn't notice?" she teased silently to herself. She tilted her head, the pointed tips of her lavender hair falling to one side as she spoke aloud with a honeyed tone, "Boss… wake up. Breakfast is ready for you."

Aiden blinked slowly, his voice deep and amused. "Suddenly, I feel extremely blessed this morning… Not only is breakfast served, but beauty, too."

Clarice giggled softly. Her laugh was like a bell in a temple—pure, free, unaffected. "Boss, among all the women around you, I'm the least beautiful. I know my place."

Aiden sat up, pulling the covers aside. His gaze met hers without shame or hesitation. There was admiration in his eyes, but also sincerity. "Who ever told you that lie?"

Her breath caught.

"I'm a man who has walked through burning worlds, seen ancient beauties long forgotten by time, women of every nation, creed, and cosmos. I've known goddesses in flesh and queens in exile. I know what beauty is."

His tone deepened, thoughtful now. "And Your elegance. The curve of your voice, the way your eyes shimmer with mischief when you teleport, the way your skin holds that ethereal pink tone like a twilight breeze... It resonates just as much as any of them."

Clarice swallowed. Her heart was racing. Her fingers clenched the tray a little tighter.

"You were once a scared girl thrown into chaos. Hunted. Barely surviving. And look at you now. You've become more than you ever imagined. Strong. Beautiful. Confident."

He leaned a little closer, his voice softer but full of gravity. "You think I haven't noticed? Every time you enter a room, I feel it. Your presence is magnetic, Clarice."

She was silent for a moment. Then her lips curled up into a smile that betrayed both amusement and the fluttering nervousness in her chest.

"Careful, boss," she whispered, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "You're making it very hard for me to just be your breakfast delivery girl."

Aiden chuckled, reaching for a piece of toast from the tray. "Good. Maybe you should stop trying to be just anything."

Clarice smirked, turning on her heel, but not before she gave him a wink. Her voice was lighter, playful. "I'll leave now, before I start jumping into bed with breakfast instead of delivering it."

She vanished in a portal shimmer.

Aiden sat for a moment in silence, holding the warm plate. Then he smiled.

"She's getting bolder," he mused to himself, biting into the toast. "And I don't mind one bit."

*****

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