Luther's silence didn't last long. The disbelief that had frozen him twisted back into contempt—old, pure contempt. His eyes narrowed, the faint red glow behind them deepening until they burned like molten glass.
"Thirty percent," he muttered to himself. "Let's see if you're real, or just another trick."
The air snapped.
Xavier barely had time to register the movement before Luther disappeared. The next thing he knew, a fist was coming for his face. He tilted his head—barely—and the strike grazed his cheek, shredding through the stone behind him. The wall exploded, the shockwave throwing dust and rubble into the courtyard.
Luther's second punch came without warning, aimed straight for Xavier's ribs. Xavier crossed his arms and blocked it, and the impact sent a shock through both. The ground cracked under their feet, spiderwebs of destruction spreading across the training yard.
The sound that followed wasn't thunder—it was force meeting force.
