In the psychological counseling room, Sean slowly opened his eyes...
The clock on the wall ticked away, showing that less than a minute had passed since they entered David's mental world.
The speed of thought was vastly different from the flow of external time. What felt like hours spent in the psychiatric hospital and the depths of consciousness was merely a fleeting moment to outside observers.
"When will he wake up?" The professor asked, gazing at David, who sat restrained in a straitjacket and wheelchair, concern flickering in his eyes.
He had never experienced fatherhood before. Suddenly discovering he had a son left Charles flustered. He became filled with both guilt and uncertainty.
For this leader of mutants, he had been a beacon for his people, a guiding light, but never a father.
"Absorbing the Shadow King's consciousness will take some time." Sean said, glancing at the unconscious David, his tone gentle, "This isn't a bad thing. David has been under the Shadow King's control since childhood. So he needs time to adjust. Professor, you must understand David's potential. He can absorb others' consciousness, create new abilities, and he's an Omega-level mutant."
Sean turned to the bald elder, speaking frankly, "This means his abilities have an extraordinarily high ceiling. Theoretically, he could absorb endlessly, becoming an all-powerful mutant."
"David isn't a threat. His mind is very fragile, and under the long-term influence of the Shadow King." The professor said helplessly.
His mental probe revealed that David currently wielded at least five superhuman abilities: astral projection, telekinesis, reality warping, mind control, telepathy, and more.
As his personalities multiplied, so too would his powers, hence why he had named himself Legion.
"Fragile minds are the real threats since they can't control themselves. Be a proper father, Professor." Sean patted the old man's shoulder.
He had no intention of interfering with Charles' parenting. He only hoped this young man codenamed Legion wouldn't cause any disasters.
David, warped by years under the Shadow King's influence, was psychologically brittle. He was one misstep away from total mental collapse. That was one reason S.H.I.E.L.D. had classified him as a high-risk individual.
But under the professor's watch, he likely wouldn't cause major trouble. Besides, S.H.I.E.L.D. had long since formed a specialized mutant response team. With inhibitor serums on hand, even the return of Apocalypse wouldn't cause much chaos...
....
Sean tactfully excused himself, leaving the estranged father and son to their reunion. He still had to visit Kamar-Taj and discuss the Kaecilius problem with the Ancient One.
Under the influence of of Dormammu, the fallen sorcerer had been recruiting zealots across Eastern Europe, conducting dark rituals and inciting chaos. Reports even indicated he had recently clashed with Victor von Doom, now ruler of Latveria.
Dossiers from Eastern European nations had piled high on General Ross' desk, drawing concern from the World Security Council.
Regarding such sociopathic cultists who disrupt order and conspire to destroy the world, S.H.I.E.L.D. commander Helmut Zemo had repeatedly held meetings, vowing to bring Kaecilius and his zealots to justice as a warning to others.
Currently, S.H.I.E.L.D. senior consultant, Sean Cyphers, was in talks with Kamar-Taj's leader, the Ancient One.
A large-scale purge was expected soon.
This official stance had the World Security Council's approval. Earth's current priority was establishing stable relations with Asgard. Political forces, led by the White House, had already submitted the Nine Realms Strategic Accord, proposing unity among all realms, with the Earth-Moon system as the core of a fortified defense network.
Naturally, Sean had been quietly pushing for this. Umbrella Corporation would be the first to venture beyond Earth into space.
While discussing Asgard, the World Security Council had already approved the Lunar Development Agreement, with Phase 1 construction set to begin soon.
The tides of global progress were unstoppable, and clowns like Kaecilius would be crushed without mercy.
This was the core directive within S.H.I.E.L.D...
....
~Kamar-Taj~
Stephen Strange, once a brilliant surgeon now stripped of his career, finished his morning meditation...
Standing among fellow apprentices in the courtyard, he practiced tracing sling ring formations, drawing energy with his mind and shaping it into physical constructs.
Mordo, the Ancient One's disciple, led the group, chanting incantations as they painstakingly formed rudimentary spell circles.
This was foundational training. Without mastering these complex esoteric patterns and lengthy chants, one could never become a true sorcerer.
At Mordo's command, the apprentices summoned energy and manifested glowing lines, though some were faster, and others some slower. Only Strange's hands trembled violently, his attempts futile.
Watching others progress daily while he remained stagnant, a crushing sense of failure overwhelmed him. His hands dropped limply, his eyes dim with despair.
After the car crash that ruined his career, his hands had suffered catastrophic damage; eleven stainless steel pins embedded in bone, multiple ligament tears, severe nerve trauma. Before rehab, he couldn't even extend his fingers, let alone hold a scalpel.
As a top-tier surgeon, Strange had exhausted every medical option. Even after grueling rehab, his hands could barely grip a pen. Shaving had become a Herculean effort.
He had believed his life was over... That was until a nurse showed him an impossible medical record. A patient named Jonathan Pangborn, paralyzed from a work accident, with one leg completely useless. Yet when Strange tracked him down, the man was playing basketball.
From him, Strange learned of Kamar-Taj, a place where miracles happened, a place that could potentially heal his hands.
A month ago, he would've dismissed it as mystical nonsense. But faced with proof, he spent his last dime on a ticket to Kathmandu, Nepal.
After countless trials, he had earned the Ancient One's approval to study here, hoping to heal his body through the mind's power...
"I can't do it." Strange said, looking up at the Ancient One in defeat. He blamed his ruined hands.
"You can. You simply refuse to believe in yourself." The Ancient One replied with a smile.
Then she summoned an elderly sorcerer, Master Hamir.
Seeing the man, Strange gasped. The man's right hand was missing, yet he effortlessly traced flawless spell circles.
"Stephen, you cling to your old beliefs. You don't trust magic, you don't even understand it." The Ancient One's gaze was serene, like still waters. She whispered, "There is a saying: 'No breakthrough without destruction.' Unless you shatter your mental barriers, how can you see the greater world?"
She pressed a finger to Strange's forehead, her smile warm, "Open your eyes, Stephen."