***Gonna be traveling tomorrow and the day after, so here are those chapters.***
Paige had warned them the mansion would feel big, but Amy hadn't believed her until the taxi rolled through the wrought-iron gates.
"Whoa…" Amy whispered.
Even Ethan had to admit the Xavier Institute looked like it was pretending not to be a fortress. Old stone façade, ivy, wide lawns, student paths curving around gardens. It was all meticulously curated pastoral innocence.
Which meant—of course—it was the most dangerous building for miles.
Peter, after the taxi left, had changed into his Spider-Man suit under his jacket, and carried himself with a strange mixture of nostalgia and nerves. He'd been here before. He knew exactly how many secrets lived beneath the gardens. How many power signatures hummed through the earth like steel veins.
Paige walked ahead, growing more relaxed the closer they got. "Feels kinda weird bringing people here," she murmured. "Good weird, I guess."
Ethan watched her with gentle curiosity. "Homes tend to feel larger once you're no longer alone in them."
Paige blinked. "...Thanks? I think?"
Amy snorted. "You sounded like a therapist and a boss at the same time."
"I prefer Renaissance patron," Ethan replied.
She giggled—then immediately stopped when the front doors swung open.
Two figures stepped out.
Scott Summers walked first—upright, crisp posture, red visor gleaming. Everything about him screamed soldier. Leader. Responsible for every life within a five-mile radius.
Jean Grey followed, calm and steady as a heartbeat, her presence warm but impossible to read. Her eyes lingered on each of them for half a second too long.
Telepathic scan, Ethan thought. A gentle pass. Non-invasive. Respectful, but thorough.
He'd expected it.
He'd also prepared for it.
Mental static shells, subtle surface thoughts, a curated emotional profile. Exhausting to maintain for long—but enough to survive a greeting.
The blue dot pulsed once at the edge of Ethan's vision.
Then the system quietly unfolded.
[Ability Detected: Punch Dimension Optic Energy Projection (Alpha Level) (Cyclopes) – A-Rank]
Ethan's gaze flicked to Scott's visor—just for a heartbeat—and the system added a second line beneath it.
{Warning: Ability damaged and requires continuous ocular discharge, and without a containment medium, user's eyes will emit dimensional energy constantly}
Ethan felt an unpleasant pressure behind his own eyes, sharp and imaginary, as if his body were already rejecting the idea, 'That's a condition I'm not willing to deal with.'
The system shifted again.
[Ability Detected: Telepathy (Omega-Level) (Jean Gray) – S-Rank]
[Ability Detected: Telekinetic (Omega-Level) (Jean Gray) – S-Rank]
[Ability Detected: Phoenix Host Compatibly (Jean Gray) – S-Rank]
{Warning: ability will bind the host to the Cosmic entity known as the Phoenix}
[Do you wish to copy this ability?]
A moment passed.
Ethan forced his expression to stay neutral as Jean's eyes lingered on him a fraction longer than the others. He broke eye contact first, casual, unthreatening.
The blue dot dimmed, the system retreating back into silence as if it had never been there.
Scott folded his arms. "Paige. Good to see you."
She straightened. "Good to be here, sir."
Jean smiled warmly. "And these are your friends?"
Peter stepped in smoothly, in his full Spider-Man costume. "Yeah. Hi Cyclops, it's been a while. This is Amy—and that's Ethan. They're all classmates. We all just happened to get to know one another, and I was surprised to learn that Paige is scheduled to enroll in a few months."
Jean's eyes brushed over Amy—curiosity, mild surprise at the sheer power inside her—but nothing threatening.
Then her gaze slid to Ethan.
Her posture didn't change.
Her face didn't move.
But he felt it.
Another soft telepathic nudge could be felt. It was another subtle probe. Like a fingertip pressed gently against a locked door—not enough to break it, but enough to understand the frame.
Ethan kept his breathing even.
Surface thoughts. Nothing more.
'I'm just here for Amy.
I want to be supportive.
I am impressed by the school.
I hope they don't mind visitors.'
Honest sentiments wrapped in careful curtains.
Jean nodded once, almost imperceptibly.
She felt the static wall but accepted it. For now.
Scott turned to Peter. "Spider-Man. Thanks for escorting them."
"Uh—no problem," Peter said, voice tight. "Just doing my good deed for the day."
"Appreciated," Scott replied. "We've had… issues lately with security."
Peter asked innocently, "Oh? Trouble? What happened?"
Jean answered softly, "Our headmaster is missing."
Amy's eyes widened. Paige winced. Ethan pretended to inhale sharply.
Peter tilted his head. "Missing? The Professor? That sounds… concerning."
"It is," Scott said shortly. "We're searching."
That was all they offered—guarded, clipped. The X-Men were polite, but there was a weight behind every word. As though the air inside the mansion carried the pressure of something unsaid.
Jean gestured toward the doors. "Come in. Spider-Man, since you've been here before, you can show them around. And Paige—if you and Amy want to explore your abilities, we can escort you to the training room. We'll join you guys later after seeing to a few things."
Ethan dipped his head politely. "Thank you. We appreciate your hospitality. Especially during such a time."
Jean gave him a small, enigmatic smile.
Peter led them into a wide foyer that looked like a private academy's brochure photo: polished wood floors, framed portraits, vaulted ceilings. Students whispered down the hallways in clusters, some openly curious, others pretending not to stare at Spider-Man standing in their foyer.
Ethan marveled at the scene for a second, 'It's actually the X-Mansion. Seeing it in person is one of the perks of being transmigrated into the Marvel Universe.'
Amy grabbed Peter's arm. "They're looking at you."
"That tends to happen when you wear red and blue spandex. Remember that," he whispered.
Peter guided them down a staircase toward the lower levels. As soon as they descended, the architecture shifted—sleek metals, reinforced plating, energy conduits. It felt like stepping into the bones of a living machine.
Amy's jaw dropped. "Paige… this is so cool."
Paige grinned. "Told ya."
Ethan stayed a step behind, his eyes casually tracking every security camera, pressure-sensor panel, emergency lock, and motion-triggered vent.
He'd memorized the mansion's general layout from comics.
Seeing it in reality was… intoxicating.
If he slipped away now—
If he timed it right—
Forge would be one hallway away.
But Peter was too alert. He could feel Jean's telepathy brushing his mind like a breeze. And Amy kept looping back to walk beside him.
He'd needed to wait.
Paige stopped in front of a metal door that hissed open.
"The training room," she announced.
Amy gasped.
Peter perked up despite himself.
And Ethan finally understood why the Danger Room terrified and fascinated generations of mutants.
It was beautiful.
He observed with interest, memorizing every detail he could see. Once he copied Forge's powers, he would be able to build one of his own. So he might as well observe.
Amy stepped forward, practically vibrating. "Peter, can I—?"
"Yeah," Peter said, smiling at her excitement. "We'll start slow, okay? Easiest level and then, we'll move up."
"Okay," Amy muttered.
Paige snorted.
Paige guided Amy toward the center of the room while Peter walked over to a panel to activate the beginner-level environment.
Ethan remained by the doorway, expression politely impressed—masking the truth.
Every inch of this place was a treasure trove of impossible engineering.
Every wire hummed with Forge's fingerprints.
If Forge was anywhere nearby…
His window was coming soon.
As Peter set the simulation to a simple obstacle course, he stole a quick glance at Ethan to make sure he wasn't doing anything.
Ethan stood with the posture of someone harmless—hands in pockets, shoulders relaxed, soft half-smile—but something about him prickled against his instincts.
He wasn't behaving badly.
He wasn't doing anything wrong.
He was simply… too calm. Especially in a place most adults—even those invited—found overwhelming.
Peter cleared her throat. "So… Amy and Paige say you don't get out much? They apparently haven't seen you in weeks."
Ethan turned that polite smile on him. "I'm afraid my schedules keep me rather busy, as you know. But I wanted to make sure Amy felt supported. This is a big day for her. So I decided to tag along. After all, I am responsible for what happened to her to some degree."
Peter nodded slowly.
He wasn't lying.
But he wasn't saying everything either.
"Okay," he said quietly. "It… must mean a lot to her."
"And to you? How have you been these last few days? Things working out with Felicia? I have been a bit too busy to stop by the office." Ethan asked lightly.
Peter flushed. "Everything is going well. Felicia and I are getting along very well and have started dating. I'm surprised, though. I didn't think you cared about such things."
He softened, just a fraction. "Peter, you're my dear friend. So, of course, I care about what goes on in your life. I'm glad you two are getting along."
Then Peter blinked—and Ethan was already watching Amy again, gaze analytical instead of affectionate.
Like he was waiting for something.
The Danger Room came alive.
The floor dissolved into light and reformed into a sprawling holographic expanse—tiered platforms hanging over a void, rotating pylons, gravity wells that pulsed in slow waves. Walls shifted and unfolded, revealing launch points, moving targets, and corridors that bent at impossible angles.
"Obstacle course," Peter said, professional now. Focused. "Adaptive difficulty. Live-fire simulations disabled, but kinetic impact is real. Don't get sloppy, you two."
Paige rolled her shoulders, eyes bright. "Been a while since I got to cut loose."
Amy swallowed, then transformed into her avatar form. Starlight traced faint lines along her wrists as her bracers responded, the Eclipse Bow forming with a soft, celestial hum.
Ethan felt it immediately.
Pressure.
Amy wasn't leaking energy. She was contained. Every particle of that divinity was coiled tight, waiting. A star held together by discipline and fear of doing too much.
'Good girl,' he thought. 'Instinctively cautious. That will keep her alive in the future.'
"Start with movement," Peter called. "Paige—lead. Amy, follow. Low output. Try not to get too tired."
Paige grinned.
Then she husked.
Her skin split cleanly down the centerline—not blood, not gore, just a seamless shedding—as her human exterior peeled away and fell in a whisper of discarded matter. Beneath it, her new form emerged: granite veined with iron, dense and powerful, her weight doubling as she hit the platform with a thunderous crack.
The course reacted instantly.
Platforms accelerated. Gravity spiked.
Paige laughed and jumped.
She landed two platforms ahead, the stone beneath her feet cracked. Without breaking stride, she shed again—this time into polished steel, lighter, sleeker. She sprinted, speed amplifying unnaturally as pistons slammed out of the walls.
She punched through one.
Metal met metal. The piston folded like tin.
Amy moved.
Her greaves glowed softly, constellation sigils flaring as she triggered Astral Acceleration. She didn't leap—she slid through space, leaving a trail of starlight footprints in the air as gravity bent to her will.
Targets activated.
"Light arrows, huh," Peter reminded. "Remember, control the output."
Amy drew.
The arrow she released was barely more than a thread of condensed starlight—but when it struck, the target dissolved cleanly, erased rather than destroyed. No explosion. No excess.
Paige reached a vertical wall and didn't slow.
She husked mid-run, skin sloughing away as her form shifted into diamond-hard glass, translucent and razor-edged. She ran up the wall, dug her fingers in, then tore herself free and hurled her entire body forward, and she shed midair again, becoming rubber, snapping forward like a living slingshot and landing beside Amy in a skidding roll.
Amy blinked. "That's cheating."
Paige laughed, already shedding back into muscle and bone. "That's called learning."
The course escalated.
Drones loaded with non-lethal rounds were deployed. Rotating kill-zones spun to life. Gravity inverted.
Amy reacted instantly.
Her cape flared, unfolding into radiant wings as Heaven's Veil shimmered briefly around her—not fully formed, just enough to deflect incoming fire. She twisted in the air, bow dissolving into twin khopeshes that carved clean arcs through the drones, each strike leaving trails of starfire.
Paige charged straight through the chaos.
She husked repeatedly now—rubber to stone to diamond—each transition looked more painful, sweat and discarded skin scattering behind her. A drone clipped her shoulder. She snarled, shed again, and the damaged layer fell away with the injury sealed beneath.
Ethan's eyes narrowed.
Repeated transformations. Pain stacking. She's riding the line.
"Paige," Peter warned, "don't—"
Too late.
Paige leapt into a gravity well and forced herself into a flame-producing state mid-fall. Fire roared from her limbs, arresting her descent as she slammed into the final platform like a meteor.
Silence fell.
The course froze.
Amy landed beside her, breathing hard, light still clinging to her like mist.
Peter stared. "…Okay. That was not beginner level."
Ethan sounded amused. "No. But it was informative."
Paige dropped to one knee, panting, skin already husking to normal. "We had it under control."
Amy looked at her hands, flexed her fingers as the starlight faded. "I had control."
Ethan smiled faintly.
Then Ethan slipped one step backward toward the hallway.
Just one step.
Testing the boundary.
Jean Grey's telepathic presence brushed the air immediately—like a single hair drawn across the back of his neck.
He paused.
Smiled.
Stepped forward again. 'Not now, then. But soon. The attack should be happening in around an hour or so.'
Ten minutes later, Jean and Scott stepped into the observation deck above the training room. Scott watched Peter and Amy work through the next phase, arms crossed, jaw thoughtful.
Jean watched Ethan.
"He's unusual," she murmured.
Scott didn't look up. "Dangerous?"
"No," Jean said slowly. "But deliberate. He's thinking very carefully about what he wants us to see."
Scott's visor angled downward. "So he's hiding something."
Jean didn't deny it.
She simply watched Ethan watch everything.
Quiet. Controlled. Engaged without being engaged.
But whatever he was hiding… it didn't feel malicious.
Not yet.
After an hour, Paige ended the session, and Peter praised Amy into a proud blush.
As they exited, Ethan glanced down the corridor that led deeper underground.
Forge was down there.
His mutation was down there.
The power he needed was down there.
But the telepathic eyes above him made it impossible. He was waiting.
He smiled as they walked out of the mansion and into the fading afternoon light.
Patience was a skill.
The timing needed to be right.
He would get what he came for today.
"Thank you for bringing us," he told Peter as they reached the gate.
He smiled brightly—trusting him just enough.
Ethan's smile stayed warm until he turned away.
Only then did it sharpen.
Because now he knew the layout.
Now he knew Jean's scanning range.
He also knew exactly where Forge lived underground.
When they would flee to the mansion…
He wouldn't be observed.
He'd be able to move as a shadow.