"Like a midget at a urinal, I was going to have to stay on my toes," muttered the dark-haired boy, eyeing his reflection with faint interest.
The face that greeted him at the mirror was one he still had trouble accepting as his own; tall and beautiful, with jet black hair with emerald green eyes that looked like jewels, he looked like every dark romance girl's wet dream.
Adonai Ezra, the name of the body he now apparently inhabits, had only recently learned that he had died and somehow awakened in another world. He wasn't panicked. If anything, he regarded the situation with a kind of amused detachment, as though he'd stumbled into someone else's fantasy.
The idea of rebirth, of slipping between realities, was nothing new to him. He had read enough stories, seen enough online fantasies to know the pattern. Isekai, as it is called. An entire genre built around the desperate wish to start over.
Not that Adonai had ever wanted that. He had never felt the need to escape his own life, at least not before it ended. But he could understand the hunger that drove others toward it. The idea that you could simply… leave. Shed the weight of mistakes, of mediocrity, of a life that never quite became what you wanted it to be. To wake up in a world that might finally make sense or at least, a world where you could.
There was something intoxicating about that promise.
"Excuse me?" said the other occupant of the strange room he had found himself in.
"You're excused," answered Adonai with a smug look.
He regarded the red headed girl that was giving him a confused look. The girl could only be described as stunning; beautiful red hair, green eyes and an hourglass figure drawn by an artist who had strong personal opinions about anatomy. She had introduced herself as jean grey when she found him awake.
Yes, that jean grey, the most powerful mutant, x-men extraordinaire, the damsel in distress, aka the girl who had died more often than most anime fans had touched grass, the host of a cosmic bird and by far the most beautiful girl he had ever seen up until now, though since he has apparently transmigrated into a comic universe he better get used to the whole superhumanly attractive people found in this universe.
"Is everything alright with you?"asked the red head with concern on her face, looking incomprehensibly at Adonai.
"I am," Adonai replied with a grin. "And I must say, waking up to your face was an experience most men would pay good money for."
Jean blinked. "That's… flattering, I guess."
"Not a guess," he said, stepping a little closer, casually invading her personal space like boundaries were merely polite suggestions. "You're very beautiful. In fact, if this is a hospital, I'd like to file a formal complaint. I've been deprived of adequate medical supervision. A face like yours should come with a warning label."
Jean Grey blinked slowly, as if recalibrating her expectations of this conversation.
"You're being very casual for someone who just appeared unconscious in a private medical wing," she said carefully. "And thought he was in the afterlife a few minutes ago."
Adonai brushed imaginary dust off his hospital gown and gestured to his face. "Can you blame me? I woke up, saw my reflection and immediately forgave the universe for killing me."
Jean's brows rose. "You forgave the universe?"
"I'm a generous man," he said, then paused, letting his gaze travel over her in a way that was far too deliberate to be polite. "And speaking of generosity, if this world greeted me with you, I'm willing to consider this whole dying thing a net positive."
Jean opened her mouth, closed it again and visibly tried very hard to maintain her X-Men professionalism.
He smiled like he knew exactly what he was doing. He did.
"What exactly are you implying?" she asked, crossing her arms in that classic defensive posture that comic artists drew purely to emphasize chest shape. It worked here too.
"I'm implying," he said, stepping closer with all the self-assurance of a man who had never been rejected in his current life, "that if this is the afterlife, then clearly I ended up in the attractive redhead section. And I'd like to file a formal request to stay."
Jean's ears went faintly pink. She looked away, clearly not used to being openly flirted with by strange, absurdly beautiful men like him.
"You shouldn't say things like that," she said. "You don't even know me."
Adonai tilted his head like that was irrelevant. "I know two things. One, you are Jean Grey. Two, you are stunning. These are facts. Why would I deny reality when it looks this good?"
Jean made a noise that sounded like she was torn between scolding him and laughing. "You are ridiculous."
"I prefer the term devastatingly charming," Adonai corrected. Then, with faux seriousness, he added, "But if it makes you feel any better, I can tone it down. Maybe limit myself to three flirtations per hour. Five if you smile at me, because that should be rewarded."
She stared at him, visibly at a loss.
"Ah, Mr. Ezra, you have awoken,"said a sudden voice interrupting the flirting time. Adonai felt annoyed at that, he was playing a game like prime lebron here and got cockblocked.
Utter small dick behavior, whoever it is.
"And you are?" he asked, his tone perfectly polite while still making his annoyance clear.
"My name is Charles Xavier," said the man in question, seated in a wheelchair and emanating the quiet authority of a man befitting his station.
So this is him, thought Adonai. The strongest telepath and, in stories written by edgy cynics, the most dangerous mind rapist. The professor smiled kindly at Adonai.
Behind the professor, a man with a grim scowl and unnervingly sharp eyes, clearly the source of some latent tension in the room, stood leaning casually. "This is Logan. We found you unconscious in your home, and, given the circumstances, brought you here to receive medical attention."
Adonai raised an eyebrow, tilting his head in the exact way someone might if they were trying to figure out why their life had suddenly become an incredibly inconvenient fanfic. "And pray tell, how did you happen to be at my home, of all places, and why?"
Xavier's gaze was calm, unflinching. "Cerebro detected a newly awakened mutant," he explained. "And when it detects such a presence, it responds. It is capable of scanning every mind on the planet for mutant activity, and in your case, it registered a life that had awakened, and in need of guidance and protection. We acted accordingly."
"What the fuck is a cerebro?" asked Adonai, feigning confusion.
"Mutants have slightly different brainwaves from humans," said the bald man. "Cerebro is a special device that amplifies my telepathic abilities and helps me locate mutants."
"So, let me get this straight," said Adonai, looking incredulously. "There's a machine somewhere that can scan everyone on the planet, pick up someone's latent abilities, and, without asking permission, bring them straight here for a checkup. I smell the scent of conspiracy."
"You are perceptive," Xavier allowed a small, approving smile. "And evidently unafraid of facts that would intimidate lesser minds. You are correct. Cerebro is part of this school, which was founded to educate and nurture gifted children who, like yourself, possess abilities that set them apart from the ordinary, abilities that require guidance."
Jean, still visibly flustered from Adonai's earlier antics, interjected cautiously. "Professor, he–uh… he's just waking up. Maybe we shouldn't overwhelm him with mutant history all at once."
Adonai, ignoring the faint warning in her tone, leaned forward, hands clasped lazily behind his head. "Guidance, huh? Sounds like someone decided the world wasn't quite flashy enough without giving me a seat at the table. And if I may, I take it you're implying… that I'm one of these gifted children myself?"
"You are," Xavier said simply, his tone neutral but unwavering, the kind of statement that didn't invite argument but commanded recognition. "Like all of us here, you are a mutant, Mr. Ezra. You possess potential beyond the ordinary. That potential must be understood, honed, and protected. This school, our school, is where individuals such as yourself learn to navigate a world that is often unkind to those who are different."
Adonai raised both eyebrows, a slow, deliberate grin spreading across his face. "Well then, color me intrigued. A school for gifted children with… extraordinary abilities, secret machines that can read minds, and a collection of hot red-haired nurses who apparently have to supervise my awakening. Sounds like someone drafted a very specific universe just for me."
Jean's cheeks flushed again, this time from a mixture of embarrassment and exasperation. "You really don't miss a beat, do you?"
Logan grunted in acknowledgment, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, "Kid's got guts, I'll give him that."
Xavier's eyes, calm and piercing, held his gaze. "You will find, Mr. Ezra, that your abilities come with responsibility. We will help you understand them. Control them. And perhaps, in time, guide them toward a purpose greater than yourself."
"Sure thing, baldie," said Adonai with a careless shrug. "By the way, you can just call me Adonai."
His casual irreverence seemed to amuse the professor and shock Jean. Logan showed no reaction to that. Aura farming as always.
Jean folded her arms, clearly preparing to say something sensible and responsible, like any self-respecting member of the X-Men would. Unfortunately for her, Adonai had no respect for sensible or responsible.
"So," he said, tilting his head in a way that suggested he was moments away from making a questionable life choice, "do all mutants look like they walked off the cover of an erotic novel, or is that just you?"
Jean blinked. "…Excuse me?"
"Still excused," he said smoothly. "Though if you insist on continuing to look at me like that, I might start thinking you're interested. It's very flattering, by the way."
She opened her mouth, closed it, then pointed at him like she was trying to decide whether he required medical or psychic intervention. "I wasn't– I'm not–"
"It's alright," he said with a gentle, utterly insincere kind of reassurance. "You don't have to be embarrassed. I understand. I'd be flustered too if someone this handsome woke up in front of me. Especially someone with eyes like yours."
Her expression went through several stages. Confusion. Offense. Fluster. A brief moment of self-reflection on how often she ended up here. "You– you can't just say things like that."
"Why not?" he asked innocently. "Is there a mutant law against compliments? Should I fill out a form first? 'Request to Admire Jean Grey's Face, Form 27-B.' I'll even submit it with a headshot if required. Might help speed up the approval process."
Adonai gave the professor a questioning look.
"No, Adonai," said Xavier, amused by the boldness of the young man. "There is no law against giving compliments to mutants. At least, not one I am aware of."
Jean looked like she wanted to argue but had momentarily forgotten how speech worked. She settled for crossing her arms tighter, which only succeeded in drawing attention to how objectively unfair her figure was.
Adonai observed this with calm intellectual appreciation. "You know, you're very expressive when you're flustered. Cute, even. I should do this more often."
Is this rizz chat? asked Adonai his invisible watchers.
"You are unbelievably full of yourself," Jean muttered, cheeks turning a shade that could only be described as 'artist definitely used the airbrush tool for this panel.'
"Thank you," he said, as if she had just praised his charitable work. "Confidence is a civic duty. People deserve to witness greatness. It's inspirational."
She stared at him. "You're unbelievable."
He smiled. The kind of slow, confident smile that belonged to someone who had never known humility. "Give it a little time. I grow on people."
"You're not a fungus."
"Fungus doesn't have cheekbones like these," he replied without missing a beat.
Jean made a sound halfway between disbelief and laughter, like she wasn't sure if she was amused or concerned.
Which, in Adonai's opinion, meant he was doing exceptionally well.
"So how does this whole thing work anyway?"Adonai asked casually as they moved through the halls of the mansion that might as well have had the word wealth engraved into every polished surface.
Xavier was clearly rich in the kind of way that came from inherited legacy rather than personal hustle, and the building reflected that in its grand and excessive architecture.
"What do you mean?" asked Jean.
"Is this a government-funded school for dangerous children, or just a very fancy daycare for gifted weirdos?" clarified Adonai.
Jean blinked, taken off guard by the directness. Xavier answered instead.
"The school has certain arrangements with the government, but it is not a government institution, nor does it rely on their funding," Xavier said, his voice smooth. "It is a private institution with highly selective entry conditions."
"So a rich man's secret mutant club," Adonai summarized. "Good to know. Where are we going now?"
"To the danger room," answered Jean.
"The what room?" he asked, flabbergasted.
Jean let out a quiet laugh. "It is a training facility. We use it to practice combat and power control. Since you seem stable, we thought it appropriate to assess your mutation properly."
"Cool," said Adonai with a shrug, genuinely curious about his ability himself. "So what's your mutation?"
"I can use telepathy and telekinesis," said Jean.
"So you can read minds? Neat," Adonai replied. "Try reading mine."
It was a risky proposition, but he could not resist. Ever since waking, he had felt a strange, persistent energy coursing through his body, a force coiled and ready, pressing against the edges of his consciousness. He sensed it in his mind as well; a faint, ceaseless hum, something that suggested a form of psychic energy manipulation. Testing it against Jean's telepathy would reveal whether he had any defenses against intrusion.
If he had none, and she discovered that he was from another world, one where she existed merely as a fictional character, the reaction would be… interesting, to say the least. Some might call it reckless to expose such a secret so openly, but he was realistic: Jean and Xavier were telepaths. If his mind were unprotected, they would uncover everything without hesitation. It hardly mattered whether he tried to conceal it. Yet if he did possess defenses, as he suspected, the implications were far more intriguing.
"Are you sure..?" asked Jean, a bit nervous. "My control isn't really good."
"Come on, you can do it," Adonai said, his tone almost encouraging. "I swear I am not imagining you naked right now."
"Very reassuring," quipped Jean.
She focused, expression sharpening into concentration. After a moment she frowned, stepping closer and placing both hands on his face as though proximity might grant clarity. Xavier and Logan observed in silence. Jean's brows furrowed deeper.
She frowned again. "This is… strange."
"What's wrong?" Adonai asked, though he already felt it—that sensation of something coiled around his mind, instinctively shielding it.
"I can't get in," Jean said, unnerved. "This has never happened before. It's like there is a huge wall that prevents me from entering."
Adonai's smile grew, slow and satisfied. "Is that so?"
"Fascinating." Xavier's eyes sharpened with interest. "May I?"
Adonai nodded, granting the professor's request. He was curious to see if Xavier would meet the same barrier. While it was reassuring that Jean could not penetrate his mind, she was still a teenager, barely at the level of power she would later attain. At eighteen, she was roughly his age, which made the comparison even more relevant. He needed to determine whether this was simply a limitation of her current skill or a true reflection of the strength of his own mental defenses.
Xavier closed his eyes and concentrated. Adonai felt a faint pressure at the edge of his consciousness, like fingertips brushing against a barricade that would not yield. Xavier opened his eyes, mildly astonished.
"Remarkable. It resembles the mental shielding effect created by Erik's helmet. Even direct focus yields no access," Xavier said. "You have no idea how you achieved that?"
"No," answered Adonai honestly. "I only found out I was a mutant half an hour ago after all. Still, I can't say I am not happy."
Logan's gaze narrowed, suspicious by instinct.
"No offense," Adonai said, glancing between Xavier and Jean, "but my thoughts are not a communal resource. I would prefer they remain private."
"None taken," smiled the professor. "It is understandable you would want your privacy."
Jean looked at Adonai as if he was an alien. Not exactly wrong, I suppose, thought Adonai with amusement, quite pleased that even the most powerful telepath could not read his mind.
They reached a reinforced metallic door. Xavier moved forward and an ocular scanner activated, unlocking it with a mechanical hiss.
"Welcome to the Danger Room, Mr. Ezra," Xavier said.
"Well well, color me impressed. This is pretty high-tech stuff," Adonai whistled low. "Didn't expect NASA to be doing interior design here."
Adonai stepped inside, eyes sweeping across the vast white spherical chamber, its structure clean and clinical, with a control platform suspended above like a silent observer.
"Indeed it is," said a sudden voice. "Normally the room produces holographic images that the student fights against. But I think we are going to take a different approach with you."
Adonai turned to see a towering blue-furred figure approaching with calm, measured steps.
"Is it just me or is there a big blue furry walking towards us?" asked Adonai to no one in particular.
"An astute observation, Mr. Ezra," said the beast with a soft smile. "I am Dr. Henry McCoy. A pleasure to meet you."
He extended a clawed hand. Adonai shook it without hesitation.
Adonai shook it casually. "Pleasure's mine. Good to know the local wildlife is polite."
McCoy chuckled, clearly amused. "I'll take that as a compliment."
Adonai looked him over with mild curiosity, tilting his head. "So… I have to ask. Is this the norm here? Furry blue people wandering around teaching at a school?"
McCoy's fangs showed slightly as he smiled. "I wouldn't say it's exactly common. But I assure you, I'm very well trained in human etiquette."
"Human etiquette, huh?" Adonai raised an eyebrow. "So that means shaking hands, saying please and thank you… resisting the urge to maul people in hallways?"
McCoy laughed, a low, amused sound. "Precisely. I do try to limit the mauling. Mostly."
Adonai grinned, unbothered. "Mostly, huh? There's the part that worries me. You're saying 'mostly' like it's negotiable."
"It's all about context," McCoy said, leaning slightly forward. "And who asks the questions."
Adonai shrugged. "Fair enough. Honestly, I've been meaning to ask… are you… you know… more interested in humans or animals? Or is it… both?"
McCoy's ears twitched, and then he let out a hearty laugh that shook his broad shoulders. "You are… remarkably direct for someone who just woke up in an unknown place."
"Direct's my default," Adonai said, utterly casual. "I mean, you don't get to be this… unique looking without people asking stupid questions eventually. It's just… natural curiosity."
"And what exactly do you think is going through my head right now?" McCoy asked, clearly amused, showing just enough teeth to make Adonai notice.
"Honestly? Probably, 'What kind of person asks questions like that in my lab?' But then again, I could be wrong. Maybe you're thinking, 'I hope he's not contagious.'"
McCoy laughed again, louder this time. "Not contagious. And I believe it's… some version of curiosity mixed with mischief, isn't it?"
Adonai smirked. "Guilty as charged. Look, I figure I'm here, you're here, and everyone's a little… unusual. Why not ask the questions I'm genuinely curious about?"
"Curiosity is, in great and generous minds, the first passion and the last," McCoy said, shaking his head in amusement. "Rarely does someone walk in here and ask about… the personal preferences of a teacher without hesitation. You're bold, I'll give you that."
"Bold?" Adonai mused casually. "Or just too lazy to overthink it. There's a fine line between the two, I think."
McCoy let out a low chuckle, clearly entertained. "I'll give you the benefit of both. And now that we've established that, I should probably mention… while you were unconscious, I took a blood sample for analysis. Your biology is… unusual. Your cells generate and circulate a form of energy I've never encountered. It's constant, self-sustaining, and, if my readings are correct, limitless in potential output."
"So… good news?" Adonai asked.
"Potentially extraordinary news," McCoy said. "Whatever your mutation is, it isn't passive. It's a system. Energy generation, circulation, release. Your body behaves as if it is stockpiling something, pressure waiting for direction."
Xavier's gaze sharpened. "Adonai. If you concentrate, truly concentrate, can you feel it? Something within you, wanting to be called."
Adonai closed his eyes.
The world fell quiet.
There it was. A warmth beneath the skin. Flowing. Coiling. Leaking. Like steam escaping a thousand tiny cracks. Energy, alive and waiting.
He inhaled, and pulled.
Aura surged.
Invisible to all eyes, but Professor X and Jean staggered as if struck by a sudden wave of psychic force.
Jean's hand shot to her temple. "What–what is that?"
Xavier's eyes widened for the first time since Adonai had seen him. "Such density… it feels like a mind, but not. Pure… life force?"
Adonai opened his eyes, a slow grin spreading across his face.
"Now this," he said, feeling the energy roaring under his skin, "is going to be fun."
"Fun indeed," Dr. McCoy said, smiling softly. "Most mutations we encounter involve specialized control over discrete systems: muscle density, bone composition, telekinesis, or limited bioelectric generation. But your system appears entirely self-contained, capable of producing energy spontaneously and distributing it across your body. If harnessed correctly, it could enhance physical attributes, protect your cellular integrity, or even be directed outward to influence your environment in ways we cannot yet quantify."
Adonai tilted his head, letting the information sink in.
"What you are witnessing," McCoy said, pacing slightly, "is the foundational potential for multiple applications simultaneously. Your energy is not tied to a single organ or pathway; it is systemic, flowing through points on the body I have tentatively identified as nodal nodes. Each point seems capable of modulating both intensity and direction of output. In other words, you are not limited to a single manifestation. You could amplify strength, enhance reflexes, project force externally, or potentially manipulate energy in patterns far beyond anything a normal human, or even most mutants, can achieve."
Adonai grinned.
"Think of it as a raw power matrix," McCoy continued, clearly enjoying himself, "with discrete nodes controlling discrete channels of energy. If you learn to consciously trigger and regulate these nodes, you could adapt this energy for any function you conceive of. Your mutation, Mr. Ezra, is not just powerful. But limitless, in the literal sense. The only limitation is the extent of your control and imagination."
Jean and Xavier exchanged glances, a faint shimmer of awareness on their expressions betraying the psychic resonance they could feel emanating from Adonai, though McCoy remained entirely oblivious to it.
"Of course," McCoy said, turning to Adonai with a wry grin, "these are all my preliminary hypotheses. I took a small sample of your blood while you were unconscious, ran it through several assays, and every metric confirms the presence of an unusual bioenergetic system. I have theories, but nothing compares to direct experimentation. Which is why I would suggest focusing your attention, Mr. Ezra, and consciously attempting to summon this energy. Observe its behavior, feel its flow, and see where your control begins and ends. From there, we can map its limits and perhaps uncover applications I cannot yet predict."
Adonai had long since grasped the nature of his mutation. How could he not, after feeling life itself pulse through his body and realizing what it could do? It was absurd, almost comically so. The very anime he had once watched had somehow manifested as his own ability. Nen, that endlessly versatile and overpowered system, and now it was his. The potential… it was infinite. Absolutely limitless.
And then it hit him. The realization landed like a punch to the gut. I am potential man, he realized with despair.
How could this happen? Less than an hour in this world and he was already on a fraud watch. If he failed to live up to his potential, he would be forever remembered as a fraud, a cautionary tale, a man who never delivered.
Adonai could already hear the slander coming.
"Meet Potential Man. They call him the 007: zero feats, zero relevance, seven times getting his ass beat."
"He has the potential to become Omega class!"
"His Hatsu will go insane!"
"Stronger than all the X-Men combined… theoretically, eventually, maybe."
His brain refused mercy. It began compiling an exhaustive manifesto of predicted slanders, disclaimers, and accusations of fraud. He fell to his knees in despair while the professor and the others exchanged worried glances, clearly unsure if he was serious or had finally lost his mind.
But his mind didn't stop there. It began to draft manifestos of slander with frightening speed:
Give me liberty, give me fire, give me statements or I retire.
"If" and "when" but never "is."
He imagined the headlines, the whispered rumors, the scathing footnotes that would haunt his every move. Every compliment would be prefaced with "If he lives up to it", every success undercut by "Potential only, unverified." His entire existence threatened to become one long cautionary slander.
When he first realized he had Nen, or whatever the scientific equivalent of "limitless energy manipulation" was, he had been elated. Finally, a mutation with applications as vast as his imagination. When he remembered, too late, that limitless potential also meant limitless slander, Adonai began to cry hysterically.
AN: Potential author-note.