While the Avengers regrouped, deep in discussion about how to forge the Infinity Gauntlet and reverse the catastrophic snap, Alex was already far away. In fact, he had crossed oceans and continents, traveling thousands of miles at impossible speed, until he arrived at a place unlike any other on Earth.
Krakoa.
That's right. The very first place he sought out was the mutant holand—a nation he, Charles Xavier, and Erik Lehnsherr had painstakingly built together in the future.
When Captain Arica and Tony had shared details about the tiline ahead, they hadn't just ntioned the battles and victories—they had also told him exactly where Krakoa was located.
Alex hovered for a mont in the air, looking down at the sprawling island before descending.
"So… this is my country?" he murmured to himself.
"Not bad."
He strolled leisurely along the wide, clean streets, hands in his pockets, eyes roaming over the scenery. Sleek, curving architecture rose in elegant arcs, glass and tal gleaming beneath the sun. There were lush gardens integrated into the structures, and the air itself seed fresher here—free of the smog and noise that plagued most cities.
If he hadn't already known what it was, he could have mistaken it for Wakanda—that was how advanced and self-sufficient it looked.
And it wasn't just the technology. The place exuded confidence, like a utopia that had earned its right to exist.
The knowledge that he had been one of its founders stirred sothing warm in his chest. Pride—real, unshakable pride.
But then the mory struck: the day when all mutants, himself included, had inexplicably vanished.
The warmth drained from him. His steps slowed.
This isn't just a mystery… this is a wound.
He clenched his fists without realizing, the leather of his gloves creaking. One way or another, he was going to find out what happened.
Whispers broke through his thoughts.
"Hey, look at that guy… does he seem familiar?"
"You think so too? Doesn't he look like King Alex?"
"I thought I was the only one who noticed!"
"No way… mutants disappeared years ago."
Alex turned his head slightly, catching sight of people pointing his way. Their expressions were a mixture of disbelief and wariness.
These weren't mutants—they were ordinary humans.
It made sense. After the mutants had vanished, this land—once a symbol of mutant sovereignty—had been seized by regular people. Now the streets bustled, perhaps even more crowded than before.
At least Krakoa hadn't been abandoned to rot.
He didn't begrudge them for living here. This was the future, after all. Letting a place like this crumble would have been a tragedy.
Still, his gaze lingered on the buildings and plazas, scanning for anything—any trace of what had happened seven years ago.
But as the hours slipped by, it beca clear…
There was nothing. No clues. No whispers of truth. Only the proud shell of the nation he had helped create, now filled with strangers.
Boom!
With a sudden burst of power, Alex launched into the sky, the sonic crack of his departure echoing across the city.
"He—he flew!"
"It's King Alex! He's back!"
"King Alex has returned!"
The streets erupted in commotion. So stared in awe, others in panic. If that really was their old ruler, what would he do now that humans had claid his territory?
For so, the answer was to run. People scrambled to gather their belongings, retreating in fear.
But Alex didn't look back. He had no intention of punishing them.
Over the next several days, his search took him to New York, hoping that the city's deep well of information might reveal sothing the island could not.
Yet…
Nothing.
Seven years had passed since the "Mutant Disappearance." The trail had gone cold long ago, and as a traveler displaced from another point in ti, Alex had no historical threads to pull.
At last, he stopped in the middle of a busy street and muttered under his breath:
"Enough."
"If I want the truth… I'll have to go back seven years myself."
Decision made, he didn't linger.
Boom!
He rocketed across the sky once more, homing in on Avengers HQ. The building's reinforced ceiling didn't stand a chance—he tore through it like paper and landed squarely in front of the team.
They were gathered together, faces lit by the glow of sothing that instantly caught his attention.
A sleek, high-tech Infinity Gauntlet sat on the table before them, gleaming with polished alloy and intricate circuitry.
Tony Stark's latest creation.
The mont they heard the crash, the Avengers tensed—only to relax slightly when they saw who it was.
No one said anything, but their glances toward Alex carried the unspoken acknowledgnt that one of the Stones they needed had co from him.
And really—if they wanted to throw him out, could they even manage it?
"Not bad. You finished the Gauntlet already."
Alex stepped forward, his eyes tracing the craftsmanship. Say what you would about Tony Stark, but the man knew how to make sothing look iconic. The glove wasn't just a tool—it was a statent.
Tony smirked, chin lifting a fraction. Normally, complints rolled off him—he had an entire lifeti of them.
But coming from Alex? That was different.
"An Infinity Gauntlet? Please. Child's play for ."
"Oh, shut it, Stark. We all know you're a genius—but only on Earth!" Rocket piped up, earning a few chuckles.
"Alex, why are you here?" Captain Arica asked, his voice calm but watchful.
"You borrowed my Stone. Thought I'd check on your progress. Reasonable, no?"
Steve didn't argue. Fair was fair.
"Don't mind . Carry on."
Alex waved a hand casually and wandered through the room—until his gaze locked on sothing mounted on the wall.
Mjolnir. Thor's hamr.
He slowed to a stop.
Could he lift it?
Logically, no. He wasn't the selfless, noble type the hamr was ant for. But this was one of those monts you didn't walk away from without trying.
He reached out.
"Alex, that's not sothing just anyone can lift. Not even you," Thor warned, his tone sowhere between pride and challenge.
Others glanced over, already shaking their heads. No chance.
Snap.
Alex lifted Mjolnir as easily as picking up a coffee mug.
The room went silent.
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