MUTOSTERONE

The day had finally arrived. 30 Dangyeol, Tsuchihi 1314—a date that would be etched into history, marking the dawn of a new era for mutants across Edenia.

Under the golden glow of the late afternoon sun, Professor Aldric Langley stood at the entrance of the newly completed Hall of M, his heart swelling with pride. Behind him, the grand structure loomed—a fortress of knowledge and sanctuary, a defiant beacon against the rising tide of oppression.

The architecture of Hall of M was a blend of elegance and resilience. Constructed from reinforced stone and enchanted alloys, its towering walls shimmered faintly under the sunlight, infused with protective sigils to ward off intruders. The main building, standing at the heart of the estate, was a vast academy with arched windows and intricate carvings depicting the unity of humans and mutants—a vision of the future Langley wished to create.

Surrounding it were several smaller wings, each designated for different purposes: training grounds, research facilities, dormitories, and even a medical center for wounded mutants seeking refuge. The open courtyards were adorned with statues of past mutant leaders who had fought for their right to exist, their gazes forever locked toward the horizon as if watching over those who would walk these halls.

Standing alongside the professor was Seraphina Vale, the first official student of Hall of M. Her silver hair gleamed as the wind carried the salty scent of the nearby ocean, her piercing eyes filled with emotions she could not yet name. Around her, other key staff and early supporters of the Hall gathered—mutants who had cast aside fear to build something greater than themselves.

A crowd had assembled in front of the gates, some hesitant, some hopeful. Mutants from all walks of life—fugitives, wanderers, young ones seeking shelter—watched in solemn anticipation as Langley stepped forward, a golden ceremonial blade in his hands.

He took a deep breath. "For too long, we have been hunted. For too long, we have been made to kneel before those who would see us erased," Langley's voice rang through the coastal winds, steady, unwavering. "But today, we carve a new path—not one of vengeance, but of understanding. Not one of hiding, but of standing tall. Let this place be the first step toward that future."

With a swift motion, he cut the crimson ribbon stretched across the gates, the fabric fluttering to the ground like the breaking of old chains. "From this day forth, the Hall of M is open!"

A cheer erupted, a mixture of applause, shouts of relief, and even quiet sobs from those who had long believed such a day would never come. Some mutants fell to their knees, overcome with the weight of the moment, while others embraced one another, knowing they had found their sanctuary at last.

As the final touch to the ceremony, a team of staff members carried a gleaming metal plaque to the entrance gate, bolting it firmly in place for all to see. The address was now official—a beacon in the dark, guiding every lost mutant to safety.

Hall of M

East Coast, Arkhelion City, Silverwave Beach, Havenway Street No. 77

Postal Code: 31017-GA

Kingdom of Gallanta, Edenia

As the celebration continued into the night, with torches and lanterns illuminating the beach, Seraphina stood silently before the plaque, running her fingers over the engraved letters. "For once…" she whispered, "we have a place to call home."

The morning sun had barely begun its ascent when Professor Aldric Langley and Seraphina Vale set out from the Hall of M. Their destination: Ashmere, a place where hope had long withered, where the streets bore the weight of suffering, and where even the air carried the stench of despair.

The journey did not take long—Ashmere was too close for comfort, a festering wound on the outskirts of Arkhelion City, hidden behind the towering skyscrapers and bustling marketplaces where the wealthy lived in blissful ignorance. As the road descended into the slums, the stark contrast between opulence and ruin became evident. The neatly paved highways of the city gave way to cracked asphalt, littered with debris. The towering glass buildings disappeared, replaced by makeshift shanties cobbled together from rusted metal sheets, splintered wood, and scavenged rubble.

When they finally entered Ashmere's heart, the weight of its misery settled upon them like a suffocating fog.

Children—gaunt, hollow-eyed, their clothes little more than rags—huddled in alleyways, their frail fingers clutching at scraps of food that had long lost their freshness. Some didn't even have the strength to beg, only watching with dull, lifeless eyes as the professor's car passed. Their faces were smudged with dirt, their cheeks sunken from starvation. The lucky ones had parents who shielded them, whispering empty promises of a better tomorrow that would never come. The unlucky ones had no one, left to navigate this abyss alone.

The further they drove, the worse it became. The streets were lined with makeshift tents and crumbling buildings, entire families packed into tiny, airless spaces, their homes barely standing against the elements. The stench of decay and unwashed bodies clung to the air, seeping into the fabric of everything it touched. Rats skittered through the filth, bold and unafraid, for in Ashmere, they were not the lowest creatures in the food chain.

The silence was unsettling. Not because the streets were empty—they weren't—but because the people had long given up on speech. There were no protests, no cries for help, only the quiet acceptance of suffering. Even the mutants who lived here, those abandoned by society, did not dare to reveal themselves. Most had learned the hard way that hope was a dangerous thing, that it only led to more pain.

As Langley parked the car and stepped out, he felt the weight of countless unseen eyes upon him—watching, waiting, doubting.

Seraphina tightened her coat around herself, her silver hair catching the faint morning light. Even with her hardened exterior, she couldn't hide the way her fists clenched at the sight before her. "This place…" she murmured, voice tight with emotion. "It shouldn't exist."

Langley exhaled, his gaze scanning the ruins of what once might have been a thriving district. A place now lost to time, swallowed by cruelty and indifference. "No," he said, voice firm. "It shouldn't."

Seraphina had barely taken a few steps into the ruined alleyway when it happened—a sudden blur, a whisper of movement faster than her eyes could track. "HEY!?" she yelled, spinning on her heels. "You little—!"

Her bag was gone. One moment, it had been slung over her shoulder, secured. The next, it had simply vanished, snatched by something—or someone—too fast to be seen.

Langley, rather than reacting with the same fury, stood still for a moment, his eyes gleaming with something that almost resembled wonder. "That speed…" he murmured.

It had to be a mutant. No ordinary thief could move like that, not in a blink, not with such precision.

Seraphina barely had time to process his words before her instincts kicked in. No way was she letting some street rat run off with her stuff. She bolted forward, her boots kicking up dust from the cracked pavement.

"Professor, MOVE!" she barked, already sprinting after the phantom thief.

The chase was on. They wove through the crumbling ruins of Ashmere, past rusted cars and collapsed buildings, dodging debris and stepping over the remnants of lives long abandoned. But no matter how fast Seraphina ran, the thief was faster.

One moment, she would catch a glimpse—a flicker of movement at the edge of her vision, a fleeting shadow turning a corner. Then—gone. It was infuriating. Like chasing a ghost.

Langley followed, keeping his breath steady as he analyzed the patterns of movement. This was no ordinary speedster. Whoever—or whatever—they were dealing with had an ability refined beyond mere instinct. The way the thief moved, darting effortlessly between obstacles, vanishing between blinks, suggested an acute awareness of space and time.

Finally, after tearing through a maze of alleyways, Seraphina skidded to a halt, panting.

The street ahead was empty. The thief had vanished without a trace. "Damn it!" she spat, hands on her knees. "What the hell was that?!"

Langley, now catching up, adjusted his glasses, still calm despite the chaos. "That," he said with certainty, "was exactly why we're here."

Seraphina was still hunched over, hands on her knees, panting and cursing under her breath when a voice echoed from above.

"Hah! You two look like you just ran a marathon! What's wrong? Can't keep up?"

She snapped her head up, eyes blazing with fury. There, perched on the crumbling edge of a half-destroyed building, sat their elusive thief—a wiry young man with wild, unkempt hair, grinning like a fox. He casually twirled Seraphina's stolen bag between his fingers like it was nothing more than a toy.

"Well, well," he continued, his voice dripping with amusement. "Didn't expect to see a rich guy and his angry little guard dog down in our playground. So tell me, what brings you all the way to hell?"

Seraphina's vein nearly popped. "LITTLE GUARD DOG?!" she shrieked, pointing an accusing finger. "COME DOWN HERE AND SAY THAT TO MY FACE, YOU LITTLE STREET RAT!"

The mutant snorted, clearly enjoying this. "Ohhh, feisty. I like that. But no thanks, I prefer my face intact."

"You—! YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?!" She stomped her foot like a furious schoolgirl, her silver hair bristling like an angry cat's fur. "GIVE ME BACK MY BAG BEFORE I CLIMB UP THERE AND BEAT YOU WITH IT!"

Langley sighed, stepping forward and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder before she actually attempted to scale the building in pure rage. "Seraphina, calm down."

"CALM DOWN?!" She turned on him, arms flailing in sheer frustration. "WHY ARE YOU SO CALM?! HE STOLE FROM ME! I SHOULD BEAT HIS SKINNY LITTLE BUTT AND—!"

Langley, utterly unfazed, simply adjusted his glasses. Instead, he lifted his gaze back up to the mutant and, in his usual composed tone, asked, "And who might you be?"

The thief stopped spinning the bag, tilting his head slightly as if considering whether or not to answer. Then, with a smug grin, he shrugged. "People around here call me Blink."

"Blink…" Langley echoed, fascinated.

"Yeah," the thief said, flashing a cocky smirk. "Because I'm here one second…"

And then, in the span of a heartbeat, he was gone.

Seraphina's rage exploded all over again. "THAT LITTLE—!!!" She stomped so hard she almost cracked the pavement. "HE JUST—!! PROFESSOR, WHY ARE YOU STILL SMILING?!"

Langley simply chuckled to himself, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Fascinating."

Seraphina grabbed his arm and shook him violently. "STOP BEING AMAZED! HELP ME CATCH HIM!!"