By this point, the Academy's faculty had become something close to absurdly overqualified.
What began with Charles Xavier and Logan had expanded, piece by piece, into a lineup that no government on Earth could realistically oppose. Captain Rogers brought battlefield leadership and discipline. Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton added intelligence, covert tactics, and precision strike experience. Bruce Banner provided raw power and theoretical insight into extreme force application. In recent months, more Inhumans had joined as well, bringing abilities that ranged from seismic manipulation to perception beyond conventional senses.
After the Knull incident, Wakanda had formally entered into an alliance with the Academy. Through that partnership came technology years, sometimes decades, ahead of anything publicly available. Many of the floating island's systems were Wakandan in origin, redesigned and reinforced with Rowan's magic. As a result, T'Challa naturally took on a teaching role, offering both combat instruction and strategic insight.
Even Matt Murdock, fresh out of law school, had accepted a teaching position. Logan and a few others had quietly dealt with Wilson Fisk during that transition. Rowan was aware of it, but he hadn't interfered. At the Academy's current level, threats like Fisk barely registered.
As the school continued to grow, Rowan was confident that more heroes would arrive. Some would teach. Some would learn. Together, they would form a stabilizing force for Earth.
That was the point.
Rowan's goal had never been to personally handle every crisis. He wanted a world that wouldn't collapse the moment he turned his attention inward. Some dangers were catastrophic, but not complicated. A terrorist with a nuclear device was terrifying, yes, but well within the scope of ordinary agents and trained operatives.
Those were problems the Academy could solve.
Rowan reserved himself for what the Academy couldn't handle. The threats that bent reality. The disasters that rewrote rules.
San Francisco, California Street
"Attention unidentified extraterrestrials," a SHIELD agent shouted through a loudspeaker, voice steady despite the tension. "Please lower your weapons. Humanity is a peaceful species. We wish to communicate."
Around him, SHIELD agents and local police formed a defensive perimeter. Rifles were raised. Safety off. Every officer there understood the situation was bad, but the orders were clear.
Talk first. Stall if necessary. Buy time.
The lead agent knew the truth. If these beings decided to attack, this line wouldn't hold. But delay mattered. Delay meant reinforcements.
The response was laughter.
A towering alien stepped forward, his armored boot crushing a parked motorcycle and sending it skidding across the street. He looked down at the human weapons aimed at him and burst into mocking laughter.
"So this is Terran weaponry?" he sneered. "Pathetic. Toys."
His team, more than a dozen strong, joined in. Their armor gleamed with layered energy plating. Their weapons hummed with charged power.
They weren't afraid. Not even a little.
"Kill them," the leader said casually. "Then tap into their networks. Find everything related to the Tesseract. We're not the only ones hunting it."
He was more concerned about competitors than locals. Other bounty hunters. Ravagers. Worse.
Rumor had it Yondu himself had taken the contract.
Ten minutes later, the street was a massacre.
Bullets sparked uselessly off alien shields. Laser fire tore through cars, storefronts, and bodies alike. A single shot reduced vehicles to burning wrecks. The aliens moved fast, faster than trained soldiers could track, their strength and reflexes well beyond human limits.
The SHIELD agent who had held the loudspeaker earlier was bleeding heavily as he screamed into his radio.
"We need support! Now! Their weapons are too powerful—we're being overrun!"
He looked up just in time to see four armed helicopters racing toward the scene.
Relief flickered across his face.
It vanished seconds later.
One of the aliens raised a specialized energy weapon, scanned briefly, and fired. Four beams lanced through the sky. All four helicopters exploded midair.
The street fell silent.
"So slow," one alien muttered dismissively.
The SHIELD agent pressed his back against a police cruiser, despair flooding in.
"This is… the gap in technology," he whispered.
Then something fell from the sky.
A blur. A crash.
Metal screamed.
An alien died instantly, claws punching straight through armor that had shrugged off gunfire moments earlier.
"What?" the leader snapped, already firing.
The energy blast punched a hole clean through the attacker's chest.
But the body didn't fall.
The wound closed. Flesh reknit. The attacker lunged again, claws flashing.
"Focus fire!" the leader roared. "Kill it!"
Before they could, thick vines erupted from the pavement, snapping around alien limbs and pinning them in place.
"Well-timed, Nathan," Logan said, skewering another alien with brutal efficiency.
They hadn't arrived by chance.
This was one of the Academy's first deployment teams, dispatched moments earlier through a portal. Logan led. Nathan, one of the rescued mutant kids, provided battlefield control.
"Professor Logan!" Nathan shouted, straining. "They're strong! I can't hold them for long!"
"I know," Logan replied calmly. "You're doing great."
Above them, a shadow passed overhead.
A girl hovered in the air, muscles taut, a mounted heavy machine gun braced against her shoulder.
"I've got them," Jessica said, locking onto targets.
The aliens looked up just as the gun roared.
This wasn't a rescue.
It was a lesson.