Chapter I: The Steel Table and the Sword’s Edge

Dinner at the minimalist villa in Boca Chica was never a cozy family gathering. It was a miniature board meeting, with cold LED lights shining directly onto the tense faces of the four Musk sons. On the stainless steel dining table, instead of laughter, there was only the sound of silverware scraping against porcelain and hushed, strained breaths.

The leader of this meeting, of course, was Elon Musk.

In his 50s, he was no longer the ambitious young programmer, but a technological deity with perpetual dark circles under his eyes, and a cool, laser-sharp blue gaze. He was explaining the feasibility of the oxygen regeneration system on the Starship during its flight to Mars.

“Xavier,” his voice was deep and authoritative. “Have you calculated the difference in air pressure between the Martian environment and the habitat module?”

Xavier, 15, thin and more inclined towards art than orbital mechanics, stammered. “Father, I tried. But I still haven’t grasped the equations for Gibbs Free Energy conversion in a low-pressure environment.”

A terrifying silence descended upon the room. Musk stopped, his fork suspended mid-air.

“Haven’t grasped?” he asked, his voice chillingly calm. “You had a week to study. I sent you the foundational material. You know this is unacceptable.”

All the brothers lowered their heads. They knew the impending outburst wouldn’t be ordinary yelling. Musk believed in the “Principle of Pain and Performance”: only when faced with painful consequences does the brain operate at maximum efficiency.

Chapter II: The Mars Code

Xavier was grounded from all electronic devices for a month—a severe punishment in the digital age. But that was nothing compared to what followed.

After dinner, Musk summoned Xavier to his private office, a room designed like the cockpit of a Crew Dragon capsule, all screens and dim light.

“Xavier,” Musk said, not looking at his son. “Learning is not an option. It is your survival imperative. You are the heir to a legacy whose goal is to save humanity.”

He pointed to a complex chart on a screen displaying the failure rate of a rocket launch. “Your lack of focus can kill hundreds of people. Do you understand?”

Xavier swallowed hard. “I understand, Father.”

“Good. I will give you one last chance to prove yourself.”

Musk placed a thick book on the table—a university textbook on engineering physics. Beside it was an old oak cricket bat.

“The topic is Thermodynamics. You will solve these three problems within two hours. If you fail,” his voice deepened, “you will receive a lesson you will never forget.”

Xavier knew what that lesson was. Since he was eight, whenever he failed to achieve a perfect A in science exams, or showed clear laziness, he and his brothers had to endure physical punishment with the wooden bat. Musk called it “Lifestyle Correction.” He always said: “I am forging Titans, not weak dreamers.”

Xavier sat down, his hand trembling as he held the pen. The pressure came not from the difficulty of the equations, but from the frigid silence of his father reading nearby, and the terrifying presence of the cricket bat.

Chapter III: The Scar of Excellence

Two hours passed like two decades. Sweat dripped down, blurring the final formula.

Musk put his book down, glancing quickly at his son’s work.

“Problem 1: Incorrect. You forgot to account for Entropy.” “Problem 2: Incorrect. A fundamental error in the law of conservation of energy.” “Problem 3: Completely wrong.”

Xavier bowed his head. He felt like he was being pulled into a black hole.

Musk sighed, not with anger, but with pure disappointment, which was far worse.

“This is not your fault, Xavier. This is the fault of indulgenced laziness. I cannot allow it to persist.”

He stood up, the cricket bat heavy in his hand. “Take off your shirt.”

The act was always carried out formally, almost ritualistically. Xavier obeyed. On his back, multiple faint scars bore the indelible marks of these “Lifestyle Corrections.”

When the heavy oak bat struck for the first time, Xavier clenched his teeth, not making a sound. He knew Musk wanted to see resilience in the face of pain. Each strike was not just a punishment for a mistake in physics, but a reminder that the world had no patience for weakness.

“Remember this,” Musk said between blows, his voice sharp, “Pain is temporary! Ignorance is eternal! You must remember that formula!”

After three strikes, Musk stopped. He placed the bat down, returned to his desk, as if nothing had happened.

“Now go shower. Tomorrow, you will retake this test. With a small adjustment: if you fail, you must run 10 miles with a 40-pound backpack, before attempting the next one.”

Xavier put his shirt back on, his body aching, but his mind was strangely clearer. He knew that in that moment, he had learned more about momentum and physics than by solving the equation correctly.

Chapter IV: The Seal of Power

Years later, when Xavier Musk, at age 25, stood on stage in a perfectly tailored suit, announcing Neuralink’s latest machine learning model, he told a joke about his father forcing him to study physics right after dinner.

The audience roared with laughter. They saw a genius, an outstanding heir to the Musk empire, a man with a flawless appearance and a brilliant intellect.

They did not see the faint scars beneath the suit fabric, and they did not know about the terrifying stillness in his eyes.

After the presentation, Musk approached Xavier. He did not hug him, but merely placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You answered all the press questions correctly,” Musk said, his voice holding a rare tone of satisfaction. “I am proud of your resilience.”

Xavier nodded, emotionless. “Yes, Father. I never forget the laws of thermodynamics.”

He had become a brilliant scientist, a successful entrepreneur, and a tenacious warrior against pressure. But he had also learned that his father’s affection was a conditional agreement: traded for excellence, and maintained by fear.

That evening, Xavier stood on the balcony of his penthouse apartment, looking down at the glittering lights of Los Angeles. He reached up and touched the bat-shaped scar on his back. It didn’t hurt, but it was the permanent mark of a philosophy:

To dominate the future, you must overcome the pain of the present.

And Xavier Musk knew that he was ready to lead humanity to Mars. But the price of the ticket for that journey had been paid with his own flesh and childhood.