"That's everything I wanted to say." In the Meta Academy, Ethan was recounting his recent encounter to two elderly men deep in a chess match.
"A cluster of metas in Atlantis? That's definitely unexpected. I suppose the immense pressure and depth of the ocean hid them from detection all these years," said the bald man in a wheelchair, setting down his chess piece with a thoughtful look.
"Ethan, are you planning to head to Atlantis yourself?" the other old man, white-haired and dignified, turned to him, his tone calm and even.
"If we're going to understand them properly, we'll need to initiate direct contact," Ethan replied, spreading his hands.
He wasn't just speaking to any two veterans—these men were none other than Professor Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr, once known as Magneto.
Since the founding of Meta Academy, these two legendary figures—who had fought for mutant, now meta, rights for over fifty years—had stepped out of the spotlight.
Their influence remained, but they no longer made the final decisions.
Professor X had passed the mantle of Headmaster to Cyclops and Storm.
These days, he served as a mental health mentor, counseling young metas who struggled with their powers and the burdens they brought.
Erik, after disbanding the Brotherhood and acknowledging a changing world, split his former followers into three groups.
One group, seeking redemption, joined the Academy staff.
Another, more shadowy ops, became part of the global law enforcement network handling meta-level threats.
As for Erik himself, retirement didn't suit him.
He chose a humble, unexpected role: the Academy's janitor.
Each day, he dealt with rebellious teens who tried to sneak out or skip classes—using his intellect and subtle uses of magnetism to foil their antics.
Rumors buzzed among the students: the quirky janitor might just be the legendary Magneto...
When classes ended, the two old friends often met to play a few games of chess, sip hot tea, and watch students laughing and racing through the courtyard at sunset.
To the average person, it was a peaceful scene—but for Xavier and Erik, it was the reward for a lifetime of struggle.
"Ethan, you don't need our approval anymore. You're more than capable of deciding for yourself," Professor X said with a gentle smile, raising his cup to his lips.
He and Erik turned back to the window, watching the horizon with quiet satisfaction.
Ethan nodded and exited silently, not wanting to disturb their moment. But just as he stepped outside, two young men intercepted him.
"Boss! Finally!" a red-haired youth rushed over with a grin, while the one beside him—cooler in demeanor with a slight smirk—followed more calmly.
Ethan raised a brow. "You two were waiting for me?"
Few students had the nerve to be so casual around him. But these two—Johnny and Bobby—were the Academy's current Lionhearts, student leaders who had earned respect through skill and charisma.
By now, both Johnny and Bobby had pushed themselves to LV4 after undergoing intensive meta-training under Apocalypse.
Their rapid power growth came with side effects: elemental erosion. It wasn't just about fiery red hair or icy blue streaks. Up close, anyone could feel the intense heat radiating off Johnny, and the bone-deep chill surrounding Bobby.
If their bodies ever reached full elemental transmutation—like the way Ghost Rider channels hellfire—they might break through to LV5, achieving a rare level of mastery even among top-tier metas.
"Boss, we heard you've started running missions again. Take us with you, yeah?" Johnny's eyes lit up like sparklers. He was practically bouncing.
Though both of them were academy legends, most of their completed missions were capped at A-rank.
S-rank missions? Scarce, brutal, and nearly impossible.
Unlike Ethan, who had the backing of the Academy's upper council, Johnny and Bobby had to grind for credits to gain access to better gear and training. Opportunities like this were gold.
And now, with Ethan—chairman of the once-elusive Student Council—actually in the building and reportedly gearing up for a real mission? They weren't about to miss their shot.
"Just the two of you? Where's Pete and Katie?" Ethan scanned the hallway, finding no sign of the others.
"Pete's in the middle of some big spat with Angel Dust—the whole drama package. He's not leaving that behind anytime soon. And Katie? Swamped with student council work. Don't expect her to pop in today," Johnny replied.
Ethan raised a brow. "And you two? Weren't you both leading Lionheart Club? Isn't that on par with the council? Shouldn't you be buried in paperwork too?"
"Nah, Bobby promoted someone competent to become a vice president. I delegated everything to two new secretaries. They're doing fine," Johnny waved him off like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Man, what the hell..." Ethan muttered, suddenly annoyed. "Where'd you pick up those bad habits, huh? Don't tell me—"
Before he could finish, he caught the way both of them were looking at him.
'We pick those up from you.'
Ethan paused, blinked, then coughed awkwardly and turned on his heel toward Storm's office.
Probably best not to finish that sentence.
If he was heading to Atlantis for negotiations, he needed someone official-looking.
Storm fit the bill—respected, commanding, and high-ranking in Academy City.
Plus, let's be real: she knew how to pilot a damn submarine.
Teleportation might work in theory, but spatial teleporters struggled with unknown or unmapped regions.
Atlantis? Off the grid.
A direct approach, with Namor leading the exchange, would be a lot more diplomatic.
When Ethan made the request, Storm didn't hesitate.
She even offered to bring someone extra—Logan.
Wolverine had been spiraling lately, drinking more than usual, and losing himself in bar fights and brooding silences.
Why?
Classic heartbreak.
It wasn't just that Jean Grey and Scott Summers were getting closer.
No, Logan had gone all-in.
He applied to move into the dorm room next to Jean's, probably hoping to win her over with proximity.
Unfortunately, he found out—too late—that Scott already lived with her.
Logan's "chance encounter" became a nightly third-wheel nightmare.
Turns out, Cyclops, who'd just become the Headmaster, approved Logan's relocation request... on purpose.
The realization hit Logan like a freight train.
Betrayed by bureaucracy. Emotionally nuked.
Storm, tired of watching him wallow, dragged him along to give him something to focus on.
"C'mon, Uncle Wolf," Ethan said, picking up Storm's subtle hint. "You've got a long road ahead. Whole world out there, plenty fishes on the sea. You'll find someone way better suited for you."
"Yeah!" Johnny added, absolutely serious for once. "You've been single for over a hundred years, right? What's a few more decades?"
Wolverine: "..."
...
Academy City didn't have submarines capable of deep-sea exploration—but S.H.I.E.L.D. did.
And with the current alliance between Academy City and S.H.I.E.L.D., getting Director Fury to dispatch one was hardly a challenge.
So when Ethan arrived at the site of what used to be New York Harbor, the submarine was already waiting.
To show goodwill, Namor didn't swim ahead or enter from the water—instead, he chose to ride the submarine alongside Ethan and the others.
Two of Namor's elite guards led the way through the water outside.
Even inside the vessel, Namor's power as the Lord of the Sea was evident. He summoned a powerful ocean current, propelling the submarine forward at remarkable speed.
It was both a diplomatic gesture and, perhaps, a subtle attempt to reclaim some dignity after his setback on land.
"I'm curious," Ethan said, breaking the silence. "Atlantis originally existed on land, right? So why did your people end up living underwater?"
Namor leaned back, thoughtful. "That goes way back. The records are scattered, but from what we've gathered, Atlantis was once a thriving surface civilization. Then, something catastrophic happened—some say a cosmic event or the wrath of a god—and the entire continent sank beneath the waves. Our ancestors fled to other lands, but the pull of Atlantis never faded. Around 5,000 years ago, during the rise of early metas, a group of our ancestors located the sunken continent and chose to return."
"So you reclaimed the lost city," Ethan said, intrigued.
Namor nodded. "It was the right decision. Though much of the original civilization was lost, their technology remained. With it, we adapted, evolved, and eventually became the dominant force in the ocean."
Bobby, seated nearby, furrowed his brow. "But that doesn't make sense. If your people originally lived on land, how did you adapt so completely to life underwater? Thousands of years isn't enough to explain such extreme biological changes."
"Atlantis is protected by ancient technology," Namor explained. "Massive domes shield our cities, making them habitable even to normal humans. But for metas—what you call mutants—those with the X-Gene equivalent, the transformation was faster. Just as you've developed the X Crystal to trigger meta abilities, we've long understood how certain genes react under pressure. We didn't just survive—we evolved."
Ethan nodded, processing the implications. The emergence of meta abilities was always a response to environmental pressure—an evolutionary leap.
So it wasn't surprising that the Atlanteans, living in extreme oceanic conditions, had adapted through selective evolution and exposure to ancient tech.
As for Namor's ancestors, Ethan remembered something Apocalypse had once mentioned—an ancient civilization of enhanced beings wiped out by godlike entities.
It seemed Namor's bloodline might trace back to them.
"Alright," Namor said, "now that we've shared some of our answers, I want to know more about the X Crystal—specifically its effects, potential risks, and any unstable reactions."
Information exchange worked both ways. Over the next few hours, Ethan began outlining the science and history behind the X Crystal to Namor, who listened with surprising interest.
Time passed quickly.
Thanks to Namor's current manipulation, the submarine surged through the ocean at incredible speed.
By the end of the day, they arrived within the boundaries of Atlantis.
To the untrained eye, it was just another patch of open ocean.
But beneath the surface lay an advanced civilization hidden from the world. Humans believed they had conquered the seas by sending probes and detectors, but in truth, they had explored less than 0.001% of it.
The Atlanteans, on the other hand, had mapped every current, trench, and rift over thousands of years.
They were not just survivors.
They were the true rulers of the ocean.
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Word count: 1720
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