"One week," Coulson said without hesitation. "Once this alien incident is resolved, no more than a week. Recruitment offices for the Academy will be established in the city centers of every major country."
There was no bluff in his voice, no political hedging. An alien incursion was no longer a regional issue or a diplomatic inconvenience. It was a planetary emergency. Compared to that, opening recruitment offices was trivial. Every government on Earth would agree, gladly and quickly.
Rowan Mercer smiled and nodded.
"Good. That's all I needed to hear."
For months, Charles Xavier had been pushing for exactly this. The Academy had students from many countries, but the process was flawed from the start. Not every gifted child had the money, connections, or freedom to travel halfway across the world just to apply. Talent was being missed. Potential heroes were slipping through the cracks simply because they were born in the wrong place.
Governments had never openly rejected the idea. They didn't dare. But they delayed, stalled, buried proposals under committees and paperwork. Charles, patient to a fault, tried to reason with them.
So nothing moved.
Rowan had known about the issue, but his focus had been elsewhere. Magic theory. Alchemy. Structural defenses. He had no intention of micromanaging global politics. A school this large, tied to so many nations, was always going to attract friction. His role was to set the direction. The details were for Charles and the faculty.
But now, with governments knocking at his door, it cost him nothing to resolve the problem in one stroke.
A sharp ringing echoed across the floating island.
Classes paused mid-lesson. Teachers stopped where they stood. Within minutes, the entire faculty gathered in the main conference hall.
Logan was the last to arrive, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.
"All right," he said, glancing at Rowan. "What's going on?"
Rowan gestured toward Coulson.
Coulson stepped forward and repeated the situation, concise and direct. Alien vessels. Multiple landings. Unknown intent. Global visibility. Rising panic.
When he finished, the room was silent.
"Aliens?" someone muttered.
For all their powers, most of the teachers were still Earthborn. Their understanding of the wider universe came from secondhand stories and a handful of encounters. To them, space was still abstract. Distant. Unfamiliar.
Rowan waved a hand dismissively when he noticed the tension building.
"Relax," he said. "Aliens are still people. Just with better tech. You've all met Thor. Some of you have been to Asgard. According to him, there aren't many civilizations out there that can match the Nine Realms."
That settled some nerves.
Rowan wasn't exaggerating. The galaxy looked impressive on paper, but most spacefaring civilizations focused on mobility and energy efficiency, not raw destructive power. Their ships were faster. Their sensors sharper. Their weapons cleaner.
But overwhelmingly stronger?
Not really.
If anything, Earth's nuclear arsenal was terrifying by cosmic standards. There were few weapons in the galaxy capable of flattening continents in seconds, and fewer still that could do so without rare artifacts. Ronan the Accuser needed the Power Stone just to threaten Xandar.
As for physical strength, most aliens were tougher than humans, yes, but not absurdly so. Drax-like durability was rare. Even Asgardians, one of the most physically powerful species in existence, averaged only a few times stronger than a baseline human.
Against ordinary soldiers, Ravagers and bounty hunters were overwhelming.
Against this school?
It was a different story.
Logan snorted. "Yeah, I'm not losing sleep over a bunch of space pirates."
"Exactly," Rowan said. "And that's why this is perfect."
He turned to face the room.
"This is a rare opportunity. Real combat. Real enemies. No simulations. No safety rails. We don't get many chances like this."
The training room could simulate environments, numbers, even tactics. But it couldn't recreate fear, unpredictability, or the consequences of mistakes.
"You'll each take a team," Rowan continued. "One instructor per squad. Coulson's people will provide confirmed landing locations. Your objective is capture, not elimination. Intelligence matters more than bodies."
He paused briefly.
"Professor Xavier will oversee the operation."
Charles inclined his head, already planning.
Rowan had no intention of joining them. This wasn't his fight. These were small-time threats, perfect for training, not worth diverting his attention from research. Charles had led teams like this before. Captain Rogers would coordinate with SHIELD. Stark would show up the moment flying targets became a problem.
Everything was covered.
Rowan handed Charles a compact, rune-etched device.
"If you run into something you can't handle," he said calmly, "activate this. I'll come."
The device was a keyed portal beacon tied directly to Rowan's magic signature. The moment it was triggered, he would know exactly where and why.
Rowan gave Coulson's shoulder a brief pat and vanished in a ripple of space.
Charles turned back to Coulson.
"Please inform Tony Stark and Thor. Some of these targets have ships. Our people don't all fly."
Coulson nodded immediately.
With that, the Academy shifted into motion.
Teachers selected students whose abilities complemented one another. Teams assembled. Portals flared to life, opening paths to cities across the world.
Magical vehicles were prepared, but only for transport. Combat would happen on foot, in the air, wherever the enemy chose to run.
For the students, it was terrifying.
And exhilarating.
For the first time, the world outside the Academy walls was calling on them directly.