New York, Manhattan Airport.
Lancelot walked into the terminal dressed in a fitted black suit, a black cloak draped over his shoulders. Following closely behind him was the burly white man from before—George—also in a black suit, moving step by step like a silent shadow.
After encountering the younger versions of Professor X and Magneto, Lancelot had already realized where the timeline stood.
This was the beginning of the X-Men's first conflict.
Sebastian Shaw—the Black King—was plotting to ignite a nuclear war between the world's two superpowers. In his twisted belief, only nuclear fire could force humanity to evolve. The world would be destroyed, leaving behind a single surviving species:
Mutants.
The CIA agent Moira MacTaggert, having discovered the existence of mutants, sought out Oxford professor Charles Xavier—an expert in human genetics—to help investigate.
What she never expected was that the gentle, refined professor was himself a mutant.
After Xavier revealed his powers, the CIA secretly established an X-Men base and recruited both him and Mystique, Raven Darkhölme.
Later, during their clash with Sebastian Shaw, Xavier realized his own limitations. After rescuing Erik Lehnsherr, he began recruiting new mutants.
Hank McCoy—still human at the time—built a second Cerebro, allowing Xavier's psychic reach to extend across half the globe.
But the story had only just begun.
The young Xavier and Magneto were still recruiting members: Alex Summers (Havok), Sean Cassidy (Banshee), Darwin, and the winged girl Salvador.
They even approached Logan—still known as "Bone-Claws" Wolverine—but he told them to get lost. A scene that would later become legendary.
"My experience is a lot like Logan's," Lancelot thought."The difference is—he rejected others. I was the one rejected."
Lancelot still remembered the joy he felt three days ago, when the young Xavier and Magneto found him and told him he was a mutant.
Everyone longs to be special.
Especially after spending three years being treated as a freak with "pink eye" and bloodshot eyes, discovering others like himself felt like salvation.
But when Xavier and Magneto learned that his ability was nothing more than red eyes, disappointment crossed both their faces.
Young Xavier didn't even ask permission—he directly invaded Lancelot's mind, seeing everything: his suffering, his memories, and the seemingly useless mutation of crimson pupils.
They refused to take him with them.
They abandoned him.
Lancelot could understand their decision—but understanding did not mean acceptance.
To him, Xavier and Magneto had been a beam of light in endless darkness.
And then, just as cruelly, they extinguished it.
If you have never seen the light, you will not fear the dark.
But they had shown him hope—only to rip it away.
From that moment on, resentment took root in Lancelot's heart.
"So this is the CIA's X-Men base?" Lancelot muttered as he returned to his senses. "Childish."
"Putting mutants in such an obvious place… are they afraid people won't notice?"
He casually adjusted the outfit he had spent three hours preparing, clearly satisfied.
The suit had been custom-made by a famous Manhattan designer, modeled after Lelouch Lamperouge's academy uniform—a design chosen to commemorate Lancelot's rebirth.
Noble. Elegant. Impeccable.
Did the designer agree?
With Geass, no one could refuse an absolute command.
During those three hours of tailoring, Lancelot had taken a long shower, cleaned himself thoroughly, and enjoyed a proper meal.
He was no longer a stray.
He was a noble.
Now, standing in Manhattan Airport, he intended to travel to CIA Headquarters in Virginia.
The first battle that would announce the existence of mutants to the world—
How could he possibly miss it?
After all, this would also be the moment he stepped onto the path of kingship.
"Hey, yellow monkey. Show your ticket."
At the check-in counter, an airport employee named Anthony blocked Lancelot's path, his tone sharp and hostile.
In the 1960s, the rise of white supremacist ideology had made people like him arrogant and openly discriminatory.
When Anthony looked up and met Lancelot's blood-red eyes, he recoiled in shock—then burst into curses.
"Get out, you filthy freak! You're not welcome here—"
The insult cut off abruptly.
Anthony froze, standing stiff as a corpse.
"Kill that bastard."
Lancelot gave him a cold glance and activated Geass: Absolute Command.
Bang.
Without hesitation, Anthony snapped back to awareness, drew a gun from his waist, and fired into his own head.
The gunshot echoed through the terminal.
Passengers and staff screamed, turning in panic as the bustling hall fell into dead silence.
"Look at me."
Lancelot's calm voice rang out.
He adjusted his cloak gracefully, standing tall and composed.
Amid the chaos, only his voice remained—forcing every eye in the terminal to turn toward him.
"Kneel."
A crimson bird flapped its wings within Lancelot's eyes, then flew into the gaze of everyone present.
Thud.
Every person in the hall dropped to their knees, heads lowered, as if welcoming their king.
Lancelot didn't spare them a glance.
He walked past the kneeling security staff, boarded the plane, and took his seat without pause.
"Take me to CIA Headquarters in Virginia."
The pilot entered a brief trance—then recovered.
"Understood."
With a roar of engines, the aircraft lifted off from Manhattan Airport and vanished into the sky.
"Give me Power Stone and support, then i will add more to this story"
AND
"I will upload one chapter here every day."