The students of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters had been suffering recently. A new combat instructor had joined the faculty, and his methods were unlike anything they'd experienced before.
Inside the training grounds, their mutant abilities became mysteriously nullified. What awaited them instead was training that bordered on torture.
Who would have imagined that a teacher would force students with no rock climbing experience to scale a platform hundreds of feet high?
Though the climbing wall had numerous handholds, they were frustratingly small and treacherous. One slip of the fingers and students would slide down the surface, plummeting toward the ground below.
If not for the safety harnesses, serious injuries would have been inevitable. Even with protection, many students nursed bruises and sore muscles from their falls.
Their instructor, Marcus, allowed them only one hour to reach the top. Failure meant additional "devil training" that none of them wanted to experience.
For now, they were all completely exhausted, and not a single student had successfully completed the climb within the time limit.
Day after day, they endured increasingly difficult exercises. By evening, they trudged back to their dormitories and collapsed into deep slumber, too tired for mischief or socializing.
As weeks passed, their bodies grew stronger. Gradually, they began completing the climbing task.
Though some still couldn't finish within the time limit, at least everyone could now reach the top eventually—a marked improvement from their first attempts.
Marcus wasn't about to let his students off easily. They were improving, certainly, but remained novices in combat—a situation he intended to remedy.
One day, after everyone reached the summit within the allotted time, Marcus clapped his hands and announced loudly:
"Congratulations on completing the first phase of training!"
"YEAAAH!" The students erupted in cheers, believing their ordeal had finally ended.
But one perceptive student realized Marcus had specified the "first phase" of training. Could there be more phases ahead?
Uneasiness spread through the group as they silently prayed their suspicions were unfounded.
"Excellent! Since everyone has so much energy, the second phase of training will begin immediately!" Marcus's voice echoed across the training grounds.
The students' faces fell as their worst fears were confirmed. There would be no escape from their instructor's rigorous program.
"The first phase improved your physical conditioning. The second phase will develop your combat skills," Marcus explained, a smile spreading across his face that made all the students shudder.
"From now on, you'll practice the fighting techniques I teach until you pass my evaluation."
Marcus demonstrated a stance and invited the students to follow along.
The technique he taught was called Seismic Strike—a methodical fighting style that channeled force through the body into devastating punches. It suited these young mutants perfectly.
Many students followed along enthusiastically. Compared to climbing and endurance training, practicing punches seemed much easier.
Little did they know this was merely the beginning of another nightmare. Though Seismic Strike was systematic and teachable, it was designed for combat. The best way to improve fighting skills was through sparring.
The students paired off, facing each other in the ability-nullifying training area. Their early attempts resembled turn-based games more than actual fighting.
When one student attacked, the other stood motionless, waiting to receive the punch before delivering their own in return.
Marcus couldn't help but laugh at the spectacle. Even Charles and the other faculty members found the students' awkward exchanges amusing when they observed the sessions.
The children's performance was comically naive—they seemed to be playing rather than fighting.
However, as weeks passed, their mastery of the techniques deepened. Gradually, the students developed genuine combat proficiency, learning to adapt different moves against opponents using the same style.
Still, many questioned why Professor Xavier wanted them to master these fighting techniques when they possessed mutant abilities.
One sunny day, Marcus gathered the students on the lawn outside the school. The entire faculty had assembled for the occasion—even Logan, typically hidden away enjoying cigars in his room, had been summoned by Charles.
"Your mastery of Seismic Strike is now complete," Marcus announced. "From here, regular practice will maintain your skills.
"However, before concluding your training, you must face one final challenge—combat against the faculty, myself included. Choose your opponent wisely."
Many students grimaced at this announcement. During training, they had sparred against Marcus multiple times, invariably ending in defeat. Even groups of students fighting together couldn't defeat him.
Now facing individual matches, even with their mutant abilities restored, victory seemed impossible.
The final trials began with gentle-mannered Hank taking position on the lawn. Across from him stood a boy of similar height.
"Show me what you've learned!" Hank said with an encouraging smile, raising his fists.
"Yes, Dr. McCoy!" The boy nodded, assuming the Seismic Strike stance.
Moving lightly across the grass, the student launched a series of punches at Hank. Though the teacher blocked each attack, he nodded approvingly at the technique. Against an ordinary opponent, these strikes would have been devastating.
"Excellent performance," Hank commented. "Remember to practice regularly."
After evaluating the boy, Hank stepped aside for Erik to test the next student.
One by one, students faced different faculty members, each earning praise for their improved skills.
BOOM!
In the midst of the evaluations, a dull sound echoed from beyond the school grounds. The earth trembled beneath their feet.
"Jean, take the students inside! Everyone else, be alert!" Sensing danger, Charles immediately issued commands, detecting a wave of malice approaching their position.
"CHARLES!!!"
A thunderous shout preceded the arrival of a massive figure—nearly ten feet tall and wearing a heavy metal helmet—dropping heavily from the sky.
CRASH!
The ground shook upon impact. Everyone stared in shock at the imposing giant.
Who was this enormous intruder?
"Charles, come out!" the giant bellowed toward the school.
"Charles, do you know this individual?" The faculty looked toward their leader, who hovered nearby in his new chair.
Charles frowned in confusion. He had no recollection of antagonizing such a formidable adversary.
"FACE ME!" The giant slammed his fist into the ground, shattering the previously smooth lawn. Cracks spread outward like ripples on water.
"Well," Marcus remarked, stepping forward as energy began to shimmer around his form, "it seems our visitor isn't here for pleasant conversation..."
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