"Doctor, the test results for Subject No. 757 are in."
"What level?"
"Level Two."
"Level Two… So even with full development of his abilities, he'd only achieve superficial telepathy and magnetic control of objects under fifty kilograms?"
"Yes, Doctor. Based on our current research data on mutants, that's correct."
*"It seems fusing Professor X and Magneto's genes to create the ultimate artificial mutant truly is impossible. Let's end this experiment here. Shift the focus of our research to X-24—he's our strongest weapon."*
"Should we dispose of Subject No. 757 like the previous test subjects?"
"Keep him. Train him with the other children. He's still a fusion of Professor X and Magneto's genes. Even if he's only Level Two, properly developed, he could still be somewhat useful."
"Understood, Doctor!"
"No. 757, strike decisively! Aim for my vitals—don't hesitate, you worthless waste!"
In the training arena, a muscular man wielding a dagger launched a relentless assault on a young man of about seventeen or eighteen.
The youth used his abilities to manipulate the dagger defensively, blocking attacks while trying to counter with his fists. But his movements were unrefined, his judgment still lacking.
"Even with magnetic manipulation, my control is pathetic compared to Magneto's."
The young man's name was George. He was a transmigrator who, three months ago, had awakened inside this body—an artificially engineered mutant known as Subject No. 757.
His mutant abilities were telepathy and magnetic control.
Unfortunately, his telepathy only worked if the target was completely unguarded, and even then, he could only skim surface thoughts, not delve into deep memories.
His magnetic control was even worse.
At most, he could manipulate objects weighing less than ten pounds. While that wasn't useless if applied cleverly, it was a far cry from Magneto, who could lift entire stadiums and send them flying. Against ordinary humans, it might suffice, but against defensive powerhouses like The Thing, Colossus, or Emma Frost, he stood no chance.
His current goal? Escape this brutal laboratory.
"Riiiiing—"
A harsh alarm blared. A white-coated technician entered, halting the training session and fastening a high-tech collar around George's neck.
"Subject No. 757, time for dinner."
"Yes."
George replied stiffly, obediently following the technician out of the room.
The device around his neck was a Mutant Power Inhibitor. Once activated, it nullified his abilities, reducing him to an ordinary human. Outside of training and combat, he was required to wear it at all times.
As he walked down the long corridor, he saw other mutants being led from various training areas—most of them far younger, barely twelve or thirteen.
"The Marvel Universe… What a dangerous world."
George sighed inwardly.
The moment he learned he was a mutant, he knew he was in the Marvel Universe. He wasn't a die-hard fan, but he'd seen enough movies to grasp the basics.
Marvel had countless universes, each with its own timeline and events. But one thing was certain—peace was rare. Thanos wiping out half the universe was tame compared to realities where entire dimensions were erased.
Still, since he was here, survival was his only option.
Who wanted to die? He cherished life—if possible, he'd even strive for immortality. Some called eternal life a curse, watching loved ones perish one by one. But to him, the benefits outweighed the sorrow.
"We Chinese have 'cultivating immortality' in our blood. Even Emperor Qin, after unifying the six warring states, sent his men to search for the elixir of life."
From his observations over the past month, he suspected this world had ties to Logan's timeline. Among the children, he'd spotted X-23—the young Wolverine clone with regenerative abilities and adamantium claws.
But something was off. The year wasn't 2029, as in the film, but 2009.
And from staff gossip, this universe also had Tony Stark and Captain America.
In Logan's timeline, X-23 shouldn't even be born yet in 2009. But the fierce-eyed girl ahead of him was clearly twelve or thirteen.
"This isn't the Fox X-Men universe or the MCU. It's some other branch I don't know."
"The year doesn't matter. As long as key events still happen…"
Whether it was 2029 or 2009, his priority was the same: escape.
According to Logan's plot, a sympathetic nurse would soon help the mutant children break free. He just had to wait for his chance.
To maintain his docile, easily controlled facade, George followed routine—eating dinner in silence, then returning to his room to "sleep."
Every inch of the facility was monitored. He couldn't afford to slip, lest they grow suspicious.
Even in training, he held back—masking his dagger's true speed, concealing insights about his powers.
But he couldn't appear too weak, or they might discard him like trash.
"What's happening—? AGH!"
A searing pain, like his soul was being torn apart, jolted him awake. But as quickly as it came, it faded.
Then—something extraordinary.
His vision split.
One perspective showed his sterile lab quarters. The other… a cramped, filthy closet.
And somehow, he could control both bodies.
It was as if he'd gained a second self.
Focusing on the new "body," memories flooded his mind—fragments of another life.
"This place… is the Harry Potter wizarding world?!"
The body belonged to an eleven-year-old boy named Dora, an orphan adopted by a dark wizard from Knockturn Alley.
The man wasn't kind. He'd taken Dora in solely for black magic and potion experiments—a disposable test subject and unpaid laborer.
Using Muggles risked Ministry attention. But a "son"? No one would question it. If the boy died, it'd be written off as an accident.
Dora endured years of torment, growing meek and broken. His one hope had been Hogwarts' acceptance letter—until the dark wizard forbade him from attending.
Unlike Muggle-born wizards, magical families could choose homeschooling or other institutions. With no escape left, Dora drank a fatal potion in despair.
And somehow, George's fractured soul had taken his place.
"Damn… That's brutal."
A dry throat reminded him of the suicide's aftermath. Instinctively, he reached out—
A metal cup flew into his hand.
"My powers—they work in this body too?!"
Not just that. When he refocused on his Marvel-world body, he sensed something new: magic.
"If abilities are shared between worlds…"
A grin spread across his face.
Plans began unfolding in his mind.