Dragon Slayer In Marvel

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The halls of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters were cloaked in a heavy silence, the usual lively chatter of students replaced with muted whispers and the faint sound of footsteps. The loss of Sam and Piotr weighed heavily on everyone. Their deaths were a stark reminder of the risks that came with being part of the X-Men. Rogue's disappearance only added to the grief, leaving the school in a state of shock and uncertainty.

The funeral was held in the school's courtyard, where students and staff gathered to pay their respects. The memorial was somber, with Charles Xavier delivering a heartfelt eulogy, his voice steady but his sorrow evident. He spoke of Sam and Piotr's bravery, their kindness, and their dreams for the future—dreams that had been cruelly cut short. Aiden stood among the crowd, silent and unresponsive, his eyes fixed on the ground.

Later that evening, Charles summoned Aiden to his office.

....

The room was dimly lit, the glow of the evening sun casting long shadows across the walls. Charles sat behind his desk, his hands folded in front of him, his expression grave but gentle. Aiden entered without a word, his face devoid of emotion as he sat across from the professor.

"I know you feel responsible for what happened," Charles began, his voice soft but firm. "But I want you to understand that you are not at fault. This was a mistake on my part. I failed to notice that Eric had planted traitors among us. I failed to send better support with you. I failed to respond quickly enough when they attacked. I…"

Charles's voice faltered, the weight of his own guilt evident.

But Aiden wasn't listening. His gaze was fixed on his hands, his fingers trembling slightly. His mind replayed the events of the mission—the blood, the screams, the look of betrayal in Amara and John's eyes, and the lifeless bodies of his fallen friends.

"I need to be stronger…" he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible.

Charles paused, leaning forward slightly. "Aiden, please, don't blame—"

Before Charles could finish, Aiden abruptly stood up. His chair scraped loudly against the floor as he turned toward the door.

Charles opened his mouth to say something, but the words caught in his throat as he saw the storm brewing in Aiden's eyes. He remained silent, watching helplessly as the boy opened the door and walked out without another word.

....

The atmosphere at home was heavy with tension. Aiden hadn't left his room in a week, and the once lively household had grown unnervingly quiet. He skipped school, avoided training, and isolated himself entirely. His absence at the dinner table left an unfillable void, and his family grew increasingly concerned.

In the dimly lit dining room, Evelyn, Aiden's younger sister, pushed her food around on her plate. She had just turned nine and had recently started attending a regular public school since her mutant powers hadn't manifested yet. Looking up at her mother, her voice was soft but trembling with worry.

"Mom… Is Brother Aiden going to be okay?"

Lucy, Aiden's mother, forced a reassuring smile, though the worry in her eyes betrayed her. "Sweetie, Aiden just needs a bit of time. He's going through a rough patch, but he'll be okay. I promise."

Eve nodded reluctantly and excused herself, retreating to her room. As soon as she left, Jason, Aiden's father, let out a frustrated sigh, setting his fork down with more force than necessary.

"I don't like this, Lucy," Jason muttered, his voice thick with anger.

Lucy sighed, trying to remain calm. "I know, Jason. I know..."

"No, you don't!" Jason snapped, his voice rising. "He wanted this, Lucy. He wanted to be a hero, to use his powers for good. But he's fourteen! Fourteen! What the hell were they thinking, sending kids on a mission? Is Charles out of his mind?"

Lucy lowered her gaze, her own guilt and frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "Jason, it wasn't supposed to go like that. It—"

"Don't you dare defend him, Lucy!" Jason interrupted. "He let kids—our kid—go on a mission that got people killed! That could've been our son, Lucy. Dead. Our boy!"

Lucy's lips quivered as she tried to respond. As a member of Xavier's School, she felt the weight of responsibility for what had happened. The deaths, the trauma her son endured, and the terrifying realization that Aiden could have been among the casualties—it was a lot to bear.

"He saved his friends, Jason," Lucy finally said, her voice breaking. "I didn't want this for him either. I begged him to reconsider, but he wouldn't stop. He wanted this life. He may have lost this time, but the others lived because of him. I don't like it, Jason. I hate it. But it's his choice. If I try to take that away from him, I'll lose him in a different way."

Jason sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. As a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, he knew the dangers of a hero's work all too well. He'd faced death more times than he cared to admit, but knowing his son had chosen the same perilous path made him feel helpless.

"I know, Lucy. I know... It's just..." His voice trailed off as he struggled to find the words.

....

Upstairs, in the silence of his room, Aiden sat cross-legged on the floor, his eyes scanning hastily scribbled notes and sketches spread across the desk. The dim glow of a lamp illuminated the clutter of diagrams, battle strategies, and detailed analyses of the mission.

To the outside world, it seemed Aiden was mourning—crying over the loss of Sam and Piotr, retreating into himself out of grief. But in truth, he wasn't mourning at all.

He was strategizing.

Every moment of the mission played on a loop in his mind. Every failure, every hesitation, every misstep—he dissected them all. What could he have done differently? How could he have prevented their deaths? How could he have been stronger?

This wasn't about sadness. It was about weakness. His weakness.

His jaw clenched as his fingers traced the lines of a detailed map he'd drawn of the mission site. In his mind, plans were already forming.

'I'll get stronger. I'll train harder. I'll find Rogue. I'll kill Juggernaut.'

The fire in his eyes was unyielding, fueled by a mix of guilt, rage, and an insatiable thirst for vengeance. There was no time for tears. There was only the drive to ensure that next time, there wouldn't be a failure.

This wasn't mourning.

This was preparation.

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If you Like this story! Check out my other story ! Fate/DC Universe

AND

If you wish to read more or simply support me just because ? than check out my patréon at

"https://www.patréon.com/Riadooo"

You can Get Access to 3 More Chapters OR 7 More Chapters if you want !

Don't forget to change "é" to "e"