Jean cleared her throat, subtly steering the conversation away. "Ahem—don't dwell on that. So… how does it feel, hearing other people's thoughts?" she asked, clearly not expecting him to have caught hers.
Luke exhaled slowly. "Exhausting. A headache, too. It's like trying to cram a thousand things into a box that was never meant to hold them."
He paused, flexing his fingers as if grounding himself. "But at least now I understand something important—how much power I should actually be using. Any more than that, and it stops being control and turns into damage."
"That's… a pretty accurate description," she said. "At first, it feels like you're forcing the world through a keyhole. Too many voices, too many emotions, all at once."
She shifted to sit more comfortably, tone calm and reassuring. "The mistake most telepaths make early on is trying to understand everything they hear. You don't need to. Most thoughts are just noise—passing impulses, half-formed ideas. Let them flow past you."
Luke hummed. "So less listening. More filtering."
"Exactly," Jean nodded. "Think of it like standing in the rain. You don't try to catch every drop—you decide which ones matter."
Luke nodded along, listening—but his mind was already racing elsewhere.
Telepathy on a planetary scale wasn't impossible for him anymore. With Infinite Mind, scanning the entire Earth was feasible. The problem wasn't reach.
It was contamination.
That thing—the body-stealing psychic—could corrupt thoughts themselves. Not just minds, but the medium connecting them. If Luke cast his awareness too wide without safeguards, it wouldn't just be a search. It would be an invitation.
'I need a way to isolate his signal,' Luke thought. 'Find him without letting him notice. Trap his consciousness. Cut off his escape routes.'
Kill the mind.
Not the body.
His pocket vibrated.
Luke paused and pulled out his phone.
Hank: Luke. I found something. It's not good. You need to come to the lab—now.
Luke's expression sharpened instantly.
"Well," he said, slipping the phone away and standing up, "looks like today's lesson ends here."
Jean looked up, sensing the shift in him. "Something serious?"
"Yeah," Luke replied, already turning toward the door. "It seems Hank found something important."
Jean watched him go for a second, then followed.
Moments later, they were in the lab.
The room was lit brighter than usual. Screens lined one wall, data scrolling fast enough to blur. Hank stood near the central table, sleeves rolled up, glasses slightly crooked.
"You're fast," Hank said without looking up from the monitor.
"I had nothing better to do," Luke replied. "So—did you find anything, or did you just want to scare me with a midnight message?"
Hank exhaled and finally turned around. "I found something. From the scans and the data we pulled from your severed leg." He gestured, and a new set of readings filled the screen. "Whoever we're dealing with carries an active X-gene."
Luke's eyes narrowed. "So… he is a mutant."
"Yes," Hank confirmed. "But not a normal one. His mutation allows him to parasitize other bodies. He can occupy them, override neural control, and—this is the troubling part—retain access to their abilities." Hank hesitated. "There are additional signatures mixed in. Things I can't categorize. They don't match any known mutation patterns."
Luke let out a slow breath. None of this surprised him—but hearing it confirmed still felt heavy.
If the enemy had these abilities before becoming an Avatar of Corruption—psychic dominance, body theft—then there was only one name that fit.
A parasite.
A king without a body.
The Shadow King.
"Sigh… figures," he muttered. "Of all the problems, it had to be him."
A psychic villain who could jump bodies was already a nightmare. Add corruption and growth on top of that, and it turned into something far worse—something that wouldn't stay dead even if you killed it once.
Still… knowing mattered.
"At least," Luke thought grimly, "there's no mystery anymore."
And that made all the difference.
Suddenly, his head snapped backward.
In the same instant, his spiritual sense flared outward—not to search, but to block. He felt it then: a thin, invasive pressure sliding toward them, slick and disturbingly familiar.
He slammed the door shut.
The foreign presence recoiled.
'Heh. Do you think that always works? 'Luke asked silently, his will hardening like iron. 'Now that I know how you move.'
From the depths of his mind, a low, amused presence answered—oily, ancient.
'Hmmm… it seems you're learning, 'the Dark King's voice purred. 'But I already accomplished what I came to do. You only blocked me at the end.'
Luke frowned.
"…What?"
The answer came without words.
The world exploded.
A concussive force ripped through the lab, throwing Luke and Hank backward. Equipment shattered. Walls tore apart. Alarms died mid-scream. Instinct took over—Luke snapped a barrier around them in midair as the floor collapsed beneath their feet.
They slammed to a halt, hovering amid fire, smoke, and debris.
Luke's heart sank.
At the center of the ruined lab stood Jean.
She was floating.
Crimson energy poured out of her in violent waves, cracking the air itself. The psychic pressure was suffocating—raw, ancient, and wrong. Reality warped around her, glass turning to dust, metal twisting like soft clay.
That parasite bastard had tampered with one of the most dangerous forces in the universe—
and then walked away, leaving Luke to deal with the consequences.
Now, the Dark Phoenix was unleashed.
*****
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