In the dim, damp belly of the prison, a dozen young souls huddled together like frightened sparrows. Their faces were painted with despair — eyes hollow, shoulders slumped, every breath heavy with the weight of waiting. The air reeked of mildew and hopelessness. Outside, the night shuddered under the distant thunder of artillery, each explosion echoing like the footsteps of death itself.
Overhead, the sky was a furious battlefield — streaks of light cutting through the darkness as fighter planes clashed, roaring like angry gods. The world was being chewed up by the Second World War — a grinding machine of blood and bone that spared no one.
In one shadowed corner, a young man sat slumped against the wall. His stillness looked like sleep — peaceful, almost — but his pallid skin and half-open eyes betrayed the truth: he was already gone.
Most of the prisoners were asleep, lost in exhausted oblivion. Then, impossibly, the still body moved. A shallow breath, a twitch of fingers… and the dead man opened his eyes.
Confusion fogged his mind as he blinked at the flickering light and the stone walls slick with condensation. Wait… wasn't I in my dorm room? His memory stuttered. Why am I here?
He looked down at his trembling, thin hands — hands that weren't quite his. A jolt of panic shot through him. He wasn't dreaming. He had transmigrated… somehow, into someone else's body.
But the scene — the air thick with despair, the faint scent of iron and rot — it all tugged at something deep in his memory. He knew this place. Not personally, but from stories. From movies. From nightmares.
He lifted his gaze and froze. By the narrow window sat another boy, bathed in the ghostly light of the moon. He was small, sharp-featured, his eyes carrying a storm far too old for his age.
Recognition struck like lightning. That face… no way.
Heart pounding, he stumbled forward. "Hey," he whispered, voice shaky. "What's your name?"
The boy turned slowly, his expression cautious but calm. "My name is Erik," he said softly. "And you are?"
Alex's throat went dry. He swallowed, forcing out the words, "I'm Alex."
Somewhere in the air, something unseen shimmered — like a system notification ringing in his skull.
[Implantation completed.]
A soft, disembodied voice whispered in Alex's ear, so close it sent icy ripples racing down his spine.
[System initializing... Gene collection module online.]
Alex stiffened. "Eric, did you hear that?" he asked, voice trembling.
Eric didn't turn around. He sat by the narrow window, his thin frame bathed in pale moonlight. "Hear what?" he murmured, eyes still tracing the distant constellations. He looked as if he were trying to memorize the stars — the only things the Nazis couldn't cage.
This version of Magneto was still fragile, still human — not yet the steel-bending titan he'd become. Just a scared boy clinging to fragments of hope in a world built on despair.
[The Gene Collection System is activated. The host may collect, enhance, and assimilate any genetic trait.]
Alex's pulse quickened. Gene collection? His gaze drifted toward Eric. Magneto... the master of magnetism himself. If this is real… then I just hit the cosmic jackpot.
"Are you afraid?" Alex asked, his tone gentler this time.
Eric finally turned to him. For a second, something flickered in his eyes — suspicion, maybe, or the fear of saying too much. Then his shoulders sagged.
"I... yes," Eric whispered. "I'm terrified. They've killed so many people... separated us all. I don't know where my mother is — if she's even alive." His voice cracked, and tears gathered before sliding down onto the cold, dirty floor.
Alex's chest tightened. "Don't be afraid," he said softly, squeezing Eric's shoulder. "We'll survive. We have to."
As Eric lowered his head again, lost in grief, Alex's hand brushed his hair — gentle, almost comforting — and in that subtle motion, he plucked a single strand.
[Genetic sample acquired.]
Eric didn't notice. He just whispered, almost to himself, "Do you really think... we can survive this?"
Alex smiled — not arrogantly, but with a strange, steady confidence. "Without a doubt," he said. And this time, he meant it.
[Sample verified: Magneto's magnetic control ability detected. Commencing analysis...][Integration possible. Proceed?]
Alex didn't hesitate. "Integration."
A blinding pain exploded behind his eyes. His body convulsed as molten heat surged through every vein, his cells tearing apart and knitting themselves anew. Sweat rolled down his face in crimson-tinged rivulets, pooling on the floor like watered-down blood.
Eric jumped to his feet, panic lacing his voice. "What's happening to you?"
Alex clenched his teeth, forcing out a shaky breath. "I'm fine," he rasped, though his body trembled violently. And then — suddenly — everything stilled.
He opened his eyes. The dim cell glowed faintly, every metal bar, every nail in the wall humming with new awareness. He could feel the iron in the air, thrumming like a heartbeat.
A slow smile tugged at his lips. "I've awakened."
[Integration complete. Magnetic field sensitivity: online.]
And somewhere beyond the prison walls, a Nazi spotlight flickered — just once — as if acknowledging the birth of something new.
(End of Chapter One)