His state had completely changed—his entire body had turned into a block of ice, and even his hair had crystallized into shimmering white frost.
Yet, despite his transformation into ice crystals, Bobby's movements remained agile, indistinguishable from a normal human body.
Robert watched him with great interest.
The abilities of mutants were truly remarkable—marvels that could drive scientists into seclusion just trying to understand them.
However…
Trying to challenge Robert with such abilities was a bit naive.
Superman's powers were in no way inferior to Iceman's. And Robert, known as the Golden Superman, existed beyond the fifth dimension—transcending both time and space.
Iceman didn't even come close to that level.
Robert parted his lips, and a chilling airflow spilled from his mouth.
Because Iceman had already frozen the moisture in the surrounding air, Robert's cold breath left no visible trail. It was only after a short delay that white mist began to reappear.
This wasn't normal condensation—it was due to the extreme temperature of Robert's breath. The very aura in the air had begun to liquefy.
Visibly, it appeared as ghostly white mist.
Even a light wind had started swirling nearby—the result of rapidly shifting airflows caused by the sudden drop in temperature.
Under this overwhelming cold, Iceman noticed that the frost he generated was becoming unstable.
It moved more sluggishly now, like it had lost its vitality, slowly weakening and dying.
At extreme low temperatures, molecular motion nearly halts. And ice—despite being a solid—was not exempt.
The freezing air stopped the frost from spreading.
To Iceman, this phenomenon was hard to believe. His eyes widened in disbelief.
He was always the one freezing others—paralyzing his opponents with frost.
Now someone else had turned the tables and was freezing him?
He couldn't understand it.
It now seemed that Robert had gone easy on Pyro earlier.
Had he gone all out, Pyro might have ended up as a block of ice by now.
"How did you do that?!"
"What even is your ability?!"
Iceman's voice trembled with disbelief.
"I only have one ability," Robert replied calmly.
"It's just a little stronger than yours."
Bobby stood there speechless. A little stronger? This power felt even greater than the combined might of the X-Men.
Why was someone like him staying at the Mutant Academy instead of leading the X-Men?
With the same abilities, but such a massive gap in strength, what could Bobby even say?
He let out a soft sigh.
"You win. I can't beat you. I apologize."
"I'll make sure Pyro doesn't bother you again."
Robert gave a small nod.
"Take care of your boyfriend. Next time, you won't be so lucky," he said coldly.
"He's not my—" Bobby's face flushed red, ready to argue.
But Robert ignored him. He returned to his stool, cast his fishing line, and resumed his peaceful pastime.
With Robert clearly uninterested in further conversation, Bobby had no choice but to leave, dragging a still-shivering Pyro away with a helpless expression.
Unbeknownst to them, someone had been silently observing the entire encounter from within the X-Men Academy.
That observer was none other than Charles Xavier—Professor X—the founder and guardian of the academy.
Even this seasoned and powerful telepath was visibly shaken by Robert's display of strength.
"What talent… what power..." he muttered to himself.
"Perhaps this child should become part of the X-Men."
"But why is someone this powerful wasting time fishing all day?"
Professor X couldn't help but be puzzled.
Chapter 10 Recap: Magneto's Actions and the Path to the Mutant Academy
A mutant's abilities aren't set in stone.
Most must train themselves after awakening their powers in order to strengthen and control them.
Some, like Cyclops (Scott), can't even regulate their abilities without assistance.
His laser vision requires a custom-built co-frequency control visor to avoid harming others unintentionally.
This imbalance stems from the fact that his power far exceeds his control—a flaw not uncommon among strong mutants.
Even Jean Grey's Black Phoenix form can absorb Scott's laser energy as a power source.
Such powerful yet uncontrollable mutants are rare and form a minority among their kind.
Most mutants grow stronger through age and persistent training.
That's why Professor X found Robert's case so bizarre.
It wasn't just that Robert was powerful—many mutants had incredible, even absurd, abilities.
But to have such immense strength while maintaining absolute control? Without visible signs of training or hardship?
That was truly unprecedented.
"Maybe this is a completely new kind of mutant..." Charles thought.
"I should schedule combat training for him. He'll need to be prepared to join the X-Men."
"Even if he's still young, mutants have no luxury of waiting for maturity."
The professor sighed, a heavy weight behind his words.
Society had always feared mutants. If they wanted to live in peace, they had to fight harder—endure more.
Even Robert wouldn't be spared from this truth.
But as he basked in the sunlight, quietly fishing, Robert had no idea what the professor was planning for him.
Even if he did know, he wouldn't care.
If they told him to join, he would. If not, he'd simply keep fishing.
He didn't need the X-Men.
Freedom and fishing—that was enough.
Meanwhile, in a place far removed from this peace—dozens of kilometers from Manhattan—things were far less calm.
On a desolate island, untouched by human civilization despite its proximity to New York, something dark was taking shape.
Nestled deep within a cliff was a vast karst cave, heavily modified by human hands.
It housed living quarters, sophisticated equipment, and ominous iron cages built into the rock.
Dominating the space was a colossal machine that resembled a gyroscope, with a central steel ring and a seat at its core.
An old man with gray hair stood before it, stroking the machine with an expression of fondness—as if caressing a lover.
Nearby, a striking woman with azure blue skin observed him in silence.
Soon, two grotesque figures emerged, dragging a blond man between them.
Without hesitation, they strapped him into the restraint chair at the center of the machine.
The man struggled, but the restraints held firm. Escape was impossible.
What was this machine? What did it do?
And why was this blond man so important?
The answers remained locked in the minds of those on that isolated island—unknown to the rest of the world.
Yet soon, the ripple effects of their actions would reach even the quiet shores where Robert fished without a care.
And peace... would not last forever.