Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.
Principal's Office.
On the TV, the news was cycling through headline after headline:
"Clarion Daily reports: Since Tony Stark publicly revealed himself to be Iron Man, he has dismantled six major criminal organizations within a month. Once viewed as a reckless playboy, Iron Man is now a national icon. Stark Industries' stock has soared to record highs."
"In the past six months, Gotham City's crime rate has dropped dramatically. Arkham Asylum is overcrowded. There are rumors that Wayne Enterprises may fund its expansion."
"According to field correspondents, Metropolis has officially initiated legal proceedings against Superman. Whether he will comply and appear for trial remains uncertain."
"Meanwhile, tensions surrounding mutants continue to escalate. Several members of Congress have proposed reinstating the controversial 'Mutant Registration Act.'"
As the news droned on, Joseph quietly opened the door. The chaos of the world outside was unfolding on-screen—superheroes, mutants, and corporate giants colliding in ever-growing conflict.
He offered a brief glance toward the TV and muttered under his breath, "What a messed-up world…"
Suppressing the scoff that threatened to slip, Joseph walked directly to the large oak desk in front of him, where the distinguished Professor Charles Xavier sat, hands folded, his attention still half-focused on the news.
"Joseph," the professor said warmly, wheeling his chair around to face the young man. "I heard from Ororo that you wanted to speak with me. Is everything alright?"
There was a quiet depth in his voice, laced with concern and a hint of curiosity.
Joseph had been at Xavier's School since he was eight years old—nearly a decade. In that time, he had remained a model student: quiet, disciplined, focused, and—perhaps most notably—detached. He never caused trouble. Rarely socialized. Yet his intelligence and work ethic had always set him apart.
In a school filled with adolescent mutants grappling with chaotic powers and emotional instability, Joseph was an oasis of calm. A rare breed.
Charles Xavier had grown genuinely fond of the boy.
But this meeting wasn't a social call.
"I'm here to apply for graduation, Professor."
Joseph sat down across from Xavier, cutting straight to the point.
In the past, he had avoided too much contact with the Professor—not out of disrespect, but out of fear. He knew that Xavier's telepathic abilities were terrifying. The man could delve into someone's thoughts with a glance. And Joseph had secrets. Secrets he wasn't ready to share.
But that had changed yesterday.
At long last, Joseph had achieved [Psychic Immunity].
Yes—Joseph was a transmigrator. A man from another world, reborn in this one, awakened to an ability he never quite understood.
From the age of eight, he had possessed a peculiar power: the ability to create magic. Every day, he could generate a new spell—randomly drawn from across the arcane spectrum. And each day, he could choose one of those spells to store permanently within himself.
Was it a mutant power? Was it a system like in the novels of his old world? A gift? A curse? He still didn't know.
But he did know how to use it.
Over the years, he had accumulated hundreds of spells—elemental manipulation, spatial warping, soul magic, mind defense, body enhancement…
Still, he never showed off. Never relied on flashy powers.
Instead, he focused on building himself a fortress of survivability.
He embedded defensive spells one after another. Superhuman physiology, Thorn Armor, Rock Carapace—until half a month ago, he finally merged them all into a single supreme defense: [Steel Body].
And yesterday, he completed his mental defenses. Occlumency. Mind Shield. Spirit Barrier. The Will of Truth. All coalesced into [Psychic Immunity]—his ultimate safeguard against telepaths.
That meant one thing.
Professor X could no longer read his mind.
And that gave Joseph the confidence to finally speak his mind.
Professor X blinked. "Graduation?" he repeated, clearly surprised. "You want to leave the academy?"
"That's right," Joseph replied. "Effective immediately."
"You don't want to stay and join the X-Men?"
"Not interested."
His response was calm. Firm.
In truth, Joseph pitied the mutants of this world.
Outside the academy, they were feared, hated, hunted like animals. Inside these walls, the students lived in relative peace—taught to harness their abilities and coexist. For most of them, becoming an X-Man was a dream.
But not for Joseph.
Because he knew something none of them did.
Neither Xavier's dream nor Magneto's revolution would lead to salvation.
Both men—visionary as they were—would ultimately fail.
The fate of the mutant race was already written. Tragedy. Extinction.
And Joseph had no intention of tying his future to a sinking ship.
"May I ask why?"
Xavier's voice was gentle, but a tremor of disappointment lingered beneath it.
It wasn't just about losing a student. It was about losing this student.
Joseph wasn't like the others.
While most students fixated on their powers and ignored their education, Joseph devoured knowledge. Science. History. Mathematics. Philosophy. Even strategy and law.
Xavier had once spent a fortune creating a world-class library for the school—hoping that mutants could grow not just stronger, but smarter. Most students ignored it.
Joseph, however, spent countless hours in that library.
His drive to learn was unmatched. He made others feel lazy just by existing. In fact, his dedication was so extreme, he had inspired some students to study harder just out of shame—an indirect reference to the "grind mindset" once popularized online as the "King of Studying."
It had made Xavier proud.
Despite Joseph's X-Gene only registering as Delta-Level—low tier, with no special abilities on record—he had still pinned his hopes on the boy. Joseph had the potential to become a great teacher, a strategist, perhaps even a future leader.
But now, he was walking away.
Joseph didn't hesitate.
"The reason is simple, Professor," he said, staring Xavier in the eye. "I don't believe the X-Men have a future. Your ideals are admirable, but they won't save mutants. In the end, your methods will fail. And those who follow you will perish."
The words were delivered with brutal honesty.
Xavier stiffened.
It was like a dagger, driven straight into his ideals.
A painful silence followed.
But Joseph didn't waver.
"I don't mean to insult you, Professor. I respect what you've built here. But I've watched the world long enough to understand one thing—this isn't a place that rewards kindness. Not anymore."
"You think my path is naïve?"
"I think your path is noble," Joseph said. "But in the long run, nobility without results is just a slower form of defeat."
He stood up, hands resting briefly on the back of the chair.
"I appreciate everything this school has given me. Truly. But I have my own road to walk now."
Professor Xavier's eyes softened, though sadness remained.
"…If you ever need a place to return to, Joseph," he said after a long pause, "the doors of this school will always be open."
Joseph nodded. "Thank you, Professor."
He turned, heading toward the exit.
The television was still on in the background, voices echoing as the news continued.
"Reports indicate a sudden surge in mutant-related violence across Eastern Europe…"
"…The Avengers have yet to release an official statement…"
"…New footage shows anti-mutant protests escalating across New York…"
As Joseph stepped out of the office and into the hallway, a sense of liberation surged through him.
He was no longer a student. No longer someone hiding in the safety of the academy.
From this moment forward—he would forge his own path.
Not as a hero. Not as a savior. But as a survivor.