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Raven was deeply disappointed.
Once again, she felt disappointed in Professor Charles Xavier—the man who had accompanied her throughout her childhood.
Lancelot merely glanced at Raven and offered no comfort. He knew very well that it wasn't just Raven—one day, even the future Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters would be something Charles Xavier would abandon for the so-called future of humanity.
Professor X had never been a qualified leader of mutants.
Standing on the top floor of CIA Headquarters, Lancelot gazed out through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the world beyond. It was 1962, and many facilities had yet to be built.
There were no surveillance cameras lining the streets. No internet. No mobile phones or computers. Technology in this era was still painfully primitive.
Ironically, this backward age had become a sanctuary for mutants. Those with deformed bodies or appearances unlike ordinary people could hide like rats, without fear of being captured by omnipresent cameras and monitoring systems.
Even the Hellfire Club—ambitious enough to seek world destruction and instigate nuclear war—had never been exposed as mutants. The only high-ranking officials who knew the truth were completely under the control of Sebastian Shaw, the Black King.
The word "mutation" was still alien to the world.
Yet because of Professor X's cooperation with the CIA, the upper echelons of this nation had, for the first time, seen the existence of mutants—and recognized their power and the threat they posed.
"My lord, the military has issued special orders."
As Lancelot looked down at the world below, Hamperson hurried over and reported respectfully.
"The military is currently mobilizing forces in preparation for war," Hamperson said, frowning.
"War mobilization?" Lancelot turned around with a faint sneer. "Human memory is truly terrible. World War II ended not long ago, and they're already preparing for another war."
His eyes were deep, his tone cold and detached.
"King Lancelot, should we take action?" Raven asked anxiously as she looked at the surveillance footage.
"Not yet," Lancelot replied casually, shaking his head.
This was not the right moment for him to step onto the stage. The stage itself had not yet been fully built. Only after the first battle between mutants would they truly understand what they were in the eyes of humanity.
So Lancelot needed to wait.
"Mutants need a war," he said half-jokingly. "Rather than the first battle of mutants, it will be a war that forces mutants to fully understand themselves—and humans."
Knowing the plot well, he was fully aware that although the X-Men would stop Sebastian Shaw in the first battle, it would also ignite the war between humans and mutants.
If Lancelot wanted to ascend the throne through the new king's first campaign, he had to follow the course of events and wait for the final showdown on the island.
For the time being, Lancelot and Raven stayed at CIA Headquarters.
Over the next few days, orders from the U.S. military came nonstop. Documents concerning Soviet war preparations poured in like snowflakes.
Lancelot casually flipped through classified files, fully grasping the movements of the two superpowers. At that moment, several special documents rested in his hand, amusement flickering in his eyes.
They were nothing rare—simply military weapons procurement orders.
And the purchaser's signature read: Stark Industries.
"Stark Industries… personally signed by Howard Stark," Lancelot murmured meaningfully, tapping the desk with his fingers.
From the information he had gathered, this was not a pure Marvel movie universe—but it was nearly identical. Aside from the addition of mutants like himself, almost nothing else had changed.
S.H.I.E.L.D. had not yet been established. It still retained its long, awkward original name. Within it, Hydra—led by Dr. Zola—was still quietly carrying out its infiltration. It would take a long time before it turned into the infamous serpent.
Even Captain Marvel, Carol Danvers, had not yet been born. And Star-Lord—the one he had loathed and complained about endlessly in his previous life—had yet to appear.
"This era belongs to mutants," Lancelot sighed again.
He casually tossed the documents back onto the table and turned his attention to his own matters.
The world seemed to have fallen into a strange calm.
But beneath that calm surged a torrent capable of tearing the entire world apart.
Out on the high seas, aboard a nuclear submarine—
Sebastian Shaw, the Black King of the Hellfire Club, held a glass of red wine in his right hand, leisurely savoring its aroma.
Nearby stood the others—Emma Frost, the White Queen; Azazel; and the rest—watching Shaw with excitement.
"My mutant brothers," Shaw said elegantly, standing over a map with a brilliant smile.
"Our plan is about to succeed. Both superpowers are stockpiling nuclear weapons in Cuba. All we need to do now is become the detonator."
Shaw was ecstatic.
Since awakening his mutation, he had searched endlessly for his own kind—even fighting in World War II to do so.
But mutants had been too few. During his years hiding in Auschwitz, he found only one—Erik Lehnsherr.
After the war, Shaw traveled the world alone in search of mutants. In over twenty years, he found only Emma Frost, Azazel, and Riptide.
It was far from enough.
Tired of endless searching, Shaw realized the world was simply too vast. Though he could absorb and release energy, it did nothing to help him find mutants.
He had even asked Emma Frost to locate mutants using telepathy—but while her powers were formidable, they were nowhere near Professor X's ability to directly detect mutants.
And so, Shaw conceived his insane plan—
To use nuclear radiation to forcibly turn surviving humans into mutants.
In Shaw's eyes, humans were nothing but insects. Mutants were the future—the true rulers of the world.
"Emma, go to Moscow and take control of General Velyshchenko," Shaw ordered excitedly.
"If I leave, you won't be able to block Charles Xavier's telepathy," Emma frowned slightly. She disliked Shaw's madness, but years of loneliness had forced her to regard him and the others as companions.
She didn't want them to be hurt.
"This is something an old Soviet friend made for me," Shaw said calmly, opening a box and taking out a metal helmet forged from a special alloy.
"Emma, see if you can still sense my thoughts."
After putting it on, Shaw looked at her expectantly.
"It really blocks telepathy?" Emma exclaimed, astonished.
"It's made from an alien metal discovered in a small African nation," Shaw explained briefly, flexing his arm before turning to Azazel.
"Let's go. It's time to teach our mutant brothers at X-Base a lesson. This is the critical moment."