Chapter 327

I once heard an ancient legend that, if you go deeper still into the deepest layers of human dreams, past layers of darkness, you reach a place called the Dream Realm, where an ancient deity sleeps—the Dream God.

He governs all dreams and thoughts in the mortal world, one of the most powerful forces in the universe; he possesses a dream composed of a thousand cats, and can use it to turn dreams into reality.

"But that's just a legend," Charles shook his head. "Even with my strongest mental abilities, I remain a disabled man with crippled legs in the real world—I still need others to protect me when danger strikes…"

"I'm the same. I've said before—I'm just an ordinary person, a psychologist with a somewhat unusual research focus."

Schiller stood up and paced behind the sofa, walking as he spoke: "Constrained by my ordinary physical condition, I lack the mental power necessary to probe the limits of this ability. That's why I invited you here—to study this subject together."

The topic includes two aspects: one is how to better cultivate one's own mental space and dreams; the other is transforming those crafted dreams into reality…

I know the second aspect sounds unrealistic, but perhaps you've worked on similar projects—this grand goal is merely the final aim, while my current phase goal is to expand the Hall of Thought…

"For certain reasons, I built a tower over 330 stories high within my own mental world, but this height has remained unchanged for a long time—I haven't broken through it yet."

"I suspect this is precisely because my mental and thought energies are no longer sufficient to expand it further…"

Schiller shook his head, yet his tone held no regret. "This level of Hall of Thought is more than sufficient—or rather, it far exceeds what's needed. Eighty percent of the structures within are experimental, places I use to test all kinds of creations."

"But I'm still deeply curious: where is the true limit of mental power? Professor Charles, I hope you'll join me in researching this subject. Perhaps we could recruit other members and form a research team?"

I'm very interested in this topic, but I must ask: why are you pursuing this research, and what do you intend to do with the results?

"That's the matter I mentioned earlier—have you heard the news that the cosmic war is about to begin?"

Charles shook his head. "I first heard this news from your call just now. But I can sense many agitated souls near Manhattan—they're not ordinary people, and the rumors they spread do indeed relate to war…"

"You and I both know how insignificant humanity is in the cosmos. Some tell me magic can save us; others say humanity's ultimate path lies in machinery and technology. I don't deny these views—but I believe we can still find another way."

"The thought and consciousness of sentient life are the most precious elements in the entire universe. If humanity can advance one step further in this field, we'll have another fallback when facing these crises."

"If we were discussing this in the real world, I might not be so interested. But you chose a good place…" Charles also stood up, gazing out the window of the room—beyond it lay the bustling, thriving interior of Gao Ta.

Charles walked to the window and smiled. "Thank you for inviting me to collaborate. If you hadn't, I might have stolen your research results after returning—wouldn't that be unethical?"

"Though the idea of creating dream worlds and turning dreams into reality seems too distant to me, I think building such a structure within my own mental space might not be a bad idea."

"Enough small talk. Tell me—what's this war about? Why did S. . . . . . send you to find me? What do they want to use mutants for?"

"Don't rush, Professor Charles. Time in the dream realm is infinite. Let me explain the entire plan clearly—and afterward, you'll have ample time to decide what to do…"

Half an hour later in the real world, in Charles's office, Cyclops hesitated. "... lright, opportunities to train the kids' abilities are rare, but an internship with S. . . . . . isn't that a bit…"

Charles rolled his wheelchair to the window. "If someone else were leading this, I might not trust it. But Captain Steve is in charge of this internship—he's trustworthy."

"But what exactly are we supposed to do? There isn't a war going on right now, is there?"

"On the contrary—a cosmic war is about to begin. Though the main battlefield isn't near Earth, its aftershocks will inevitably reach here. S. . . . . . has other plans for this war, but they lack the capability."

"So they want to use mutants again?"

"Mutual exploitation. The scale of this war ensures no one can remain untouched. If that's the case, avoidance won't help—better to take the initiative…"

"Scott…" Charles turned his wheelchair around, facing Cyclops. "I've always opposed war. But clearly, conflicts in the cosmos are beyond our power to stop. If so, we must keep pace with the times—we can't fall behind, or we'll be left behind…"

Cyclops nodded without further objection. Charles asked: "Who's currently handling the internship and external coordination?"

"Uh, originally it was Angel, but his family's business has been busy lately. I heard his company is involved in some Immortality Factor Project—he had to go home to help, so…"

"Alright, who's available now?"

"Uh, Professor, forgive me for saying this, but even if the war is happening in space and the front lines aren't near us, it's still dangerous, right? Shouldn't we mobilize urgently and assign a few of our most reliable people to lead the students and liaise with S. . . . . .?"

Charles paused. "... h, right—wars are dangerous. I was just about to emphasize that. If so, you and your brother should both be free, then?"

Mentioning his brother "Stormbreaker," Cyclops's expression turned distinctly uneasy. Their relationship was terrible. He spoke with weary resignation: "Last time he and Iceman had a huge argument over Polaris, he swore he'd never come back. I haven't seen him in three months—I can't count on him at all…"

"What about Storm? She came back two months ago, didn't she?"

"She seems to have gone back to her hometown. I'm not sure." Cyclops rubbed his chin. "She might be in love…"

"What about Jean?"

"The school can't function without her. She's handling all admissions and daily teaching schedules alone. Oh, by the way, Wolverine took Phantom Cat west—they seem to be tracking something called Dragon Bone…"

Charles covered his forehead. "Then who's left at the school?"

"Colossus and Beast are both here. Most others are reachable—if we call them, they'll come."

"... o, no need for such a large mobilization. If Iceman can return, that's better. If not, you and Colossus go. By the way…"

"Steve told me they've got an underage kid too—the Spider-Man who's been getting famous around New York. You must watch over the kids—don't let them clash with him."

"Spider-Man?" Cyclops raised an eyebrow. "He's definitely famous—New York's newspapers have all printed photos of him swinging through the sky. He's still a minor?"

"When Steve told me, I was surprised too. I assumed he was a mutant, but Steve later told me his mutation is different from ours."

"Still, having someone their own age will make communication easier for them."

"Then who should we send? Senior students?"

"I think Shadow, Crystal, and Amplifier would be perfect. Haven't they all made great progress lately?"

"But they're not even in the same grade, and their abilities don't complement each other. Can they really form a team?"

"I don't quite understand, Professor…" Cyclops asked, puzzled. "A war in the center of the universe has nothing to do with our students' battlefield training. We can't possibly send teenagers to the front lines, can we?"

"Indeed, the two aren't directly related. But this is just one small part of a larger series of operations…"

Cyclops was even more confused. He felt Professor Charles seemed slightly different from before, but he couldn't pinpoint how. He sensed Charles was hiding something—but he didn't dare ask.

The next day, in S. . . . . .'s underground training facility, Nick stood behind one-way glass, watching Spider-Man spar with several mutant teens. He turned to Schiller. "I asked you to find me mutants to do dirty work—and you brought me a bunch of kids? I thought I'd get Wolverine."

"During my communication with Charles, I subtly hinted at your request. But he interpreted it as an internship opportunity for the mutant academy. Doesn't matter—they've got two teachers with them anyway."

Nick pursed his lips, glancing at Cyclops and Colossus standing beside the training ground, cheering on the students. He shook his head. "If they weren't here, I might've convinced these naive kids to help me. But with them watching, what can I do? That guy with the red eyes already hates me."

"You just want to create some commotion to divert attention, so you can lobby Congress to grant S. . . . . . greater authority in this cosmic war. I think these kids can accomplish that."

Nick opened his mouth, looked at Schiller, and said: "Alright, even ignoring the moral issue of using minors for dirty work—what can they even do? They can't even beat Spider-Man…"