Far from the noise of New York City, nestled in the quiet suburbs of Westchester, stood a castle-like mansion. Built in the old English architectural style, its tall spires and stone walls radiated an air of history and majesty. By day, the sprawling lawns surrounding it looked immaculate, trimmed to perfection, and beyond them stretched dense forests filled with life. Directly in front of the mansion lay a serene artificial lake. Under the soft glow of the moonlight, its surface shimmered like glass, reflecting the countless stars above.
At first glance, it was the picture of peace and elegance—a timeless sanctuary cut off from the rest of the world.
But on this night, that peace was subtly disturbed.
A hazy, transparent silhouette descended from the skies above the mansion, its faint outline shimmering like a phantom. As it lowered toward the ground, its true form slowly became visible. Sleek, futuristic, and far too advanced to belong in a world of ordinary men, the aircraft came into full view—the famous Blackbird jet.
The lawn in front of the mansion shifted with a soft mechanical hum. Panels of grass and soil parted neatly, opening like a massive doorway. Beneath it was revealed a vast underground hangar, its size enough to hold multiple aircraft. The Blackbird descended smoothly into the chamber, the ground closing seamlessly overhead once the craft was secured inside.
The hatch hissed open. Aiden stepped out, flanked by Hank McCoy and Charles Xavier.
For the young boy, it was like stepping into another world.
His eyes darted everywhere, trying to take in the sheer enormity of the underground base. The chamber stretched endlessly, at least half the size of a football field—and that was only the visible portion. Advanced equipment, consoles, and machines hummed softly from every corner, their blinking lights painting the area in hues of blue and green. Aiden couldn't even identify half of what he was seeing, but it was clear that this place wasn't just a home. It was a command center, a training facility, and perhaps even a fortress.
Charles's calm, steady voice broke the boy's awe.
> "Aiden, from this day forward, this will be your home. Hank will arrange your living quarters. Get some rest, take a proper shower—you'll need your strength. Tomorrow, we can talk more about your place here."
Hank smiled warmly, patting Aiden on the shoulder.
> "Come on, young man. Let me show you around."
Aiden glanced back at Charles, who gave him an encouraging nod, before following Hank deeper into the facility. The boy lifted his hand in a small wave, then turned and kept walking.
They entered an elevator at the far end of the chamber. As the doors closed and the machine ascended, Aiden listened intently as Hank began to explain.
> "The mansion has six floors above ground. The first floor is used for classrooms. Children like you come here to learn just as they would in any other school, though the lessons might be… a little more unique."
Aiden's lips curled faintly. Classes. After years of scraping by on the streets, the thought of sitting in a classroom again felt almost foreign.
Hank continued, his voice full of pride.
> "The second floor houses the cafeteria. Meals are prepared by professional chefs, so you'll never have to worry about going hungry again. The third and fourth floors are dormitories—students on the third, teachers and staff on the fourth. The fifth floor contains the infirmary, library, and several study rooms. And the sixth floor is for recreational purposes—game rooms, a gymnasium, places where students can relax and interact with one another."
The elevator chimed softly, and the doors opened into a hallway that looked like it belonged in an entirely different world than the underground hangar. Antique décor adorned the halls: polished wooden floors, portraits hanging on the walls, and chandeliers casting warm golden light overhead. Aiden blinked in mild surprise. From the outside, the mansion had appeared old but dignified. From within, it was warm and welcoming—like a true home.
As they walked, Hank lowered his voice conspiratorially.
> "And of course, beneath the mansion lies what you just saw. The sub-levels are designed for research, training, and… in certain situations, defense. There's even a danger room where abilities are tested under extreme simulations. But we'll leave that tour for another day."
They eventually arrived at the third floor. Hank stopped before a room, pulling out a key and opening the door with a click. The lights flickered on, revealing a neat, tidy dormitory.
Two beds stood parallel on either side of the room, their bedding perfectly folded. The furniture was simple but sufficient—a pair of desks, wardrobes, and nightstands. The air carried the faint scent of polish and fresh linen.
> "This will be your room," Hank explained. "Right now, you're alone, but in the future, you may get a roommate. It's common for students to share."
Aiden nodded silently. He preferred solitude. Having someone else share his space would complicate things, but he wasn't in a position to complain. Compared to the freezing alleys and empty stomachs he had endured these past weeks, this was luxury.
He sat on the edge of the bed, pressing his small hand against the mattress. The softness startled him. His eyes flickered with complicated emotions. Gratitude, unease, and determination all mingled together.
Hank opened the wardrobe, pulling out a set of neatly folded uniforms.
> "School uniforms. For now, though, you should shower and rest. I'll bring you some food. Do you have any preferences?"
Aiden shook his head.
> "Anything that fills my stomach."
Hank chuckled.
> "Simple enough. I'll be back soon."
When the teacher left, Aiden wandered into the bathroom.
For the first time since his transmigration, he stood before a mirror under proper lighting. The boy who stared back was almost unrecognizable compared to the ragged figure on the street. His black hair was messy, his cheeks smeared with dirt, and his clothes torn. But beneath the grime, there was potential—bright, sharp eyes, defined features, a youthful face untouched by hardship save for his thin frame.
His gaze hardened.
Now that he finally had stability, it wasn't enough to simply survive. He needed strength. Without it, he was nothing but a fragile pawn in this world—a world brimming with gods, monsters, and men who could topple nations.
Aiden closed his eyes, extending his hand.
A faint ripple stirred in the bathroom. The faucet trembled, and with a splash, water burst forth from the showerhead.
Psychokinesis. That was his gift.
It seemed simple, almost unimpressive. He could move objects with his mind within a radius of two meters. The heavier the object, the greater the strain—currently, anything beyond a few kilograms was impossible. To some, it might have looked laughably weak compared to powers like Magneto's control of magnetism or Storm's command of the weather.
But Aiden saw differently.
Psychokinesis was not just about moving things. It was an extension of the will—a force that could potentially grow without limit. If Magneto, as a child, could only twist metal slightly when overcome by emotion, yet eventually became one of the most feared mutants alive, then there was no reason Aiden couldn't follow the same path.
Strength required time, training, and determination. And he had all three.
He stripped off his filthy clothes and stepped under the shower. The warm water washed away the grime, revealing the boy beneath. When he stepped out half an hour later, dressed in clean clothes, his appearance had transformed.
Gone was the ragged street child.
His face, pale and smooth, carried a faint flush of health. His black hair, though still unruly, framed his features strikingly. His eyes gleamed with vitality, his sharp nose and mixed-race appearance giving him an exotic handsomeness.
He stared at his reflection, almost startled. He hadn't expected to look… like this. Attractive. Promising. Aiden's lips curved into the faintest smile.
He didn't care about who he had been before this life—he had no memories of this body's original identity. Orphan or not, none of that mattered now. What mattered was the future.
A knock interrupted his thoughts.
> "Come in," he called.
The door opened to reveal Hank, carrying a tray. The aroma reached Aiden instantly, and his stomach growled embarrassingly.
> "I wasn't sure what you liked," Hank said, chuckling, "and the chef's already off duty. So I whipped something up myself. Spaghetti and milk. I hope you don't mind."
He set the tray down, then paused when his eyes fell on Aiden. His eyebrows rose in surprise.
> "Well, well. Quite the transformation. You clean up nicely, Aiden. Handsome boy like you? You'll be a heartbreaker someday."
Aiden flushed slightly but managed a small smile.
> "Thank you."
The smell of food overwhelmed him. He sat down and began to eat slowly, carefully chewing each bite. Hunger urged him to devour the meal, but he restrained himself. After days of barely surviving, scarfing food down could harm his weakened stomach. Better to eat patiently, carefully.
Hank watched approvingly.
> "Good manners. I'll leave you to your meal. Rest well tonight, Aiden. Tomorrow, your new life begins."
He gave a small wave and left the room.
Aiden finished every last bite of the spaghetti, drinking the milk until the glass was empty. Warmth spread through his body, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he felt full. Stronger. Grounded..
Sitting on the bed, he clenched his fists.
This place—this school—was his chance.
He would grow stronger. He would carve out his place in this world.
And nothing would stop him.
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