That future clip of Logan hit hard. It was almost impossible not to feel something—especially for those middle-aged folks who had once basked in their prime, only to find themselves now faded and left behind. They saw themselves in him.
"Honestly, I've never seen a superhero as miserable as Logan. I couldn't even bear to watch to the end."
"Man, I saw myself in him. Of course, I don't have a healing factor or claws, but I used to be the starting quarterback in high school. Back then, I felt invincible—like I could wrestle a bull to the ground. But now… my body's completely shot. Just putting together toys for my kid leaves me winded. When I take him to school and run into some jerks, all I can do is back down. Ten years ago? I would've flattened every one of them."
"Dude, no joke—that's my story too! You were the quarterback? I led my college team to the NCAA! I was even gearing up for the NBA. And now? I'm just some washed-up fat guy who can't even get off the ground."
Everyone has been young. Everyone's tasted that illusion of being all-powerful. So when age creeps in, when life begins to decline, the sting of time becomes that much clearer—and so does the connection to the broken old man on the screen.
Off-screen, Charles Xavier couldn't hold back his tears. His voice trembled.
"I shouldn't have died. I want to live. Because if I live… Logan has a reason to keep going…"
He was fully immersed in that vision of the future.
Logan twitched his mouth at the words.
"Come on, Charles. Don't say stuff like that—it's weird. I get it. But life loves screwing with us. Nobody gets to dodge fate forever."
Erik let out a snort, clearly unconvinced.
"Is it really that hard to change the future? This is a warning! If we don't act, all that awaits us is darkness and despair. Charles, Logan—you both need to understand that."
Right now, Erik was brimming with determination to alter the future. Whether it was the Sentinel apocalypse or the grim one playing on the screen—it wasn't the future he wanted. And he believed, deep down, that he could shape something better with his own hands.
Back in the video, Logan had lost his temper after the car broke down and collapsed not long after. When he woke up, he found himself in a small clinic.
No doubt about it—it was Laura who had brought him in for help.
The doctor recognized Logan as a mutant and was intrigued by his healing abilities. He kindly advised Logan to get a proper checkup at a real hospital. During treatment, he'd discovered that Logan's body was riddled with a stubborn toxin—something slowly corroding him from the inside. A poison even his regenerative powers couldn't purge.
And that explained everything.
After all, Logan's healing factor was supposed to make him practically immortal. Aging and physical decline should've been impossible.
The video didn't reveal exactly what the toxin was. But it was clear that Logan knew—and he wasn't seeking treatment. Maybe he understood it was incurable. Maybe he didn't want to be cured. He had lost the will to live.
Bruised and battered, barely able to recover, Logan limped out of the clinic and climbed into the car with Laura. After resting a while in the driver's seat, he looked at her and muttered a tired thank you—for not leaving him out there to die.
Laura wiped her eyes and replied with a soft "You're welcome."
Logan froze.
In his memory, the kid had never spoken—only screamed during fights. He had assumed she was mute.
But Laura wasn't mute. She just didn't speak much—and her English wasn't great. Suddenly, she began rattling off names like a machine gun. Logan was stunned and asked who they all were.
She dug into her bag and pulled out a photo—pointing at the young mutants in it, naming them one by one.
Then she brought out a wad of cash—twenty thousand dollars—and reminded Logan of his promise: to take her to Eden, the mutant sanctuary in North Dakota.
Logan sighed. He explained that "Eden" was nothing but a story in a comic book. It wasn't real.
But Laura was as stubborn as he was. Communication between them was clumsy at best, and the argument escalated. In her frustration, Laura punched him a few times.
If it had been the old Logan, a little girl's punches would've felt like a breeze. But the Logan now? He couldn't even take that. He yelled:
"Enough! Quit it! Stop hitting me!"
Laura stopped, but kept reciting the names of those mutant kids—again and again. Logan, helpless, finally threw up his hands.
"Alright, fine! I'll take you! I'll take you there, and you can see for yourself that it's just a damn fantasy!"
And so, they hit the road again. But now… there was one fewer person in the car.
After all the emotional and physical trauma, Logan was clearly at his breaking point. He forced himself to stay awake behind the wheel, but soon his head started to droop. If Laura hadn't reached over and corrected the steering, they might've crashed.
Seeing how bad he looked, Laura offered to drive. Don't let her small size fool you—she actually knew how. And she was decent at it, too.
But to Logan, she was still just a kid. No way he was letting her take the wheel.
Laura looked at him for a moment, then said quietly:
"You're dying. You want to die."
Logan didn't respond.
She added:
"Charles told me."
At the mention of Charles, Logan finally turned to look at her.
"What else did he tell you?"
Laura locked eyes with him and answered:
"Don't let you die."
Off-screen, Erik let out a sigh.
"Charles… Oh, Charles. People say he was lost, but in truth, he understood everything. He knew Logan was clinging to life for his sake. That's why—even if his own life was miserable, humiliating, stripped of all dignity—he still tried to keep going… for Logan's sake. He reached out to Laura not just to help her, but because he hoped she'd give Logan a new reason to live. Or maybe just… another excuse."
Maybe it was because this future didn't involve him that Erik could look at it all with detachment. From a distance, he could clearly separate the Logan and Charles in the video from the men standing beside him now.
And to be honest, even he was moved by the deep bond—part friendship, part family—between the old warrior and the dying professor.
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