In the distance, piercing through the stillness of night, a stream of headlights emerged on the horizon—a convoy of vehicles speeding toward the scene.
Wolverine squinted against the approaching beams. He stood still for a moment, his face solemn, then muttered, "The future of Mutants... maybe there is one. I'll keep looking. I have to. Even if it's just a sliver of hope."
The wounded Mutant beside him looked up in disbelief. "Hope? You really think there's hope? For us? Our fate is sealed. We were born to be hunted."
The little wolf girl's face, streaked with blood, was determined beyond her years. Her amber eyes burned with defiance. "There is hope! Mutants won't go extinct! We'll find the one—the savior—the one who can change everything."
She clenched her fists and shouted, "One day, all Mutants across the world will stand united and shatter this cursed destiny! We'll tear down the mountain crushing us!"
In her heart, the little wolf girl saw a vision.
A man. Tall. Calm. Eyes filled with something deep and unknowable.
Nathan.
Charles had spoken of him before his death. The man who could unravel the twisted fate of the Mutants. The one who could challenge the impossible.
She didn't know how powerful Nathan really was. She didn't know what made him so special. But she believed.
If Professor Charles Xavier said Nathan could turn the tide, then he could. He would.
The little wolf girl clenched her jaw, heart full of fire. Nathan would be the one to not only stop their extinction—but topple the genetic empire responsible.
The Mutant beside her, though bleeding and battered, felt something stir within him at her words. Something warm. Something dangerous—hope.
He smiled faintly and gently rested a hand on her head. "Then promise me… you'll save our people. You'll keep them alive to see a better world."
He pulled a grenade from his belt and yanked the pin.
"Go. Run now. I'll take care of the rest. Remember what I said—live, fight, and save the next generation."
His eyes turned toward the approaching convoy. Steely. Unafraid.
He had nothing left but rage. His family. His friends. Every Mutant he had ever known—slaughtered by the Essex Group.
Now they had found him again. No more hiding.
If he was going to die, he'd take them down with him.
The sight of his lonely, brave figure made Wolverine's throat tighten. The little wolf girl bit her lip, barely holding back tears.
They didn't argue. They ran.
Wolverine grabbed the girl's wrist and led her into the dense woods, followed by the shapeshifting girl close behind. Their shadows faded into the trees, swallowed by night.
The Mutant listened to their footsteps vanish, smiling faintly.
"Thank you…" he murmured.
He didn't know if he was thanking them for the rescue, or simply for letting him feel something more than despair one last time.
Dragging himself toward the roadside, he pulled several more grenades from fallen enemies and gathered them close to his chest.
He lay still, surrounded by weapons, waiting.
Soon, the vehicles arrived.
Tires screeched.
Doors slammed.
Boots crunched on gravel.
The Mutant stayed motionless, listening to them approach.
In his fading mind, he remembered the wolf girl's words. Her desperate belief in a savior.
"Is there… really someone like that?" he whispered. "If there is… please save our race…"
Memories flashed.
Mutants executed. Thrown like trash into ditches. Tortured. Hunted. Genocide with no justice.
Tears streamed down his face.
He didn't want to die.
He wanted to live.
But that wish was gone now.
He gripped the detonator and screamed with his final breath, "GO TO HELL!"
The mercenaries raised their guns instantly.
"Hostile! Take him out!" one shouted.
Gunfire exploded through the silence.
The Mutant's body jerked violently as bullets tore into his flesh. Blood erupted in torrents.
He looked like a puppet in the rain. His body flailed—then slumped.
But his finger never let go.
The grenades ignited.
BOOM!
The explosion ripped through the area in an instant. Fire swallowed everything.
The mercenaries screamed as they were blown apart. Vehicles detonated one after another.
A wall of flame erupted under the stars, stretching into the sky.
Nearby buildings caught fire. The night burned red.
But compared to the vast night sky, the inferno seemed so small. Just like that unknown Mutant, dying with no name and no statue—only a spark of defiance in the dark.
In the woods, the flames reflected in the eyes of the little wolf girl.
She stopped running and looked back.
Her fists clenched.
The fire inside her burned hotter.
She raised her head. The stars above gleamed like diamonds. Unshakable.
Her voice, steady and fierce, echoed in her heart: "I will find him. I will find Nathan."
"And I'll make him change everything."
She imagined Nathan again—calm, composed, towering like a pillar in a storm.
The one who would change fate. Overthrow despair.
Meanwhile…
HYDRA's forces had arrived.
Outside an identity fabrication office, heavily armed agents secured the perimeter.
At their head was a striking woman with commanding presence—Madam HYDRA.
She strode inside, approaching the identity forger who had provided countless fake credentials to New York's underworld.
"What do you want?" the man asked, trying to look defiant. "You know who protects me? I have serious backing. If you even touch me, you'll die screaming!"
SHING!
A dagger flew with deadly precision, embedding itself in the man's foot.
He collapsed, screaming in agony.
Madam HYDRA stepped forward, stone-faced.
She pulled out a photograph and held it up. "This man. Did you make an identity for him recently?"
One of her soldiers yanked the wounded man forward, shoving the picture in his face. "Look! Carefully!"
The man's hands trembled as he adjusted his glasses.
His face went pale.
"I... I think I remember him. Yeah… I think he came here… for photos."
Madam HYDRA's eyes sparkled.
Finally. A lead.
"What's his current alias?" she demanded.
"I need to check," the man muttered. "I can't remember all of them. I process hundreds every week. Give me a second…"
SLAP!
Another soldier smashed his fist into the forger's face. Blood flew.
"There are records on my computer!" the man cried. "I swear!"
They dragged him to the system and forced him to search.
Sweat poured down his face. His hands shook as he typed.
But…
Nothing.
No data.
The more he searched, the more panicked he became.
"I… I can't find anything!" he stammered. "It's gone! The records are gone!"
Madam HYDRA's expression darkened. "You erased them."
"No! No, it wasn't me!"
CRACK!
A punch to the stomach doubled him over.
More punches followed.
Blood and saliva sprayed across the floor.
"I swear… I didn't touch them… I don't know what happened…"
A HYDRA soldier stepped back. "He's not lying. Nathan must've wiped his digital footprint."
Madam HYDRA scowled.
She turned toward the security cameras mounted on the wall.
"They're high-end," she muttered. "Do they store video logs?"
The man nodded quickly. "Crystal clear. Every visitor's recorded."
"Then pull it up."
They searched by the date of Nathan's last visit.
But the video?
Gone.
"Someone deleted it," the soldier confirmed. "It's been edited out."
Madam HYDRA clenched her fists. "Damn it. He's covering his tracks flawlessly."
She turned to the identity forger, eyes cold as death. "You're useless now."
"No! Wait!" the man screamed. "I get my identity info from another source. He keeps real identities. He'll have records—please! Let me go to him!"
Madam HYDRA paused.
"…Fine. One more chance."
Elsewhere, in a hidden underground lab…
Nathan stood before a massive containment chamber.
Inside, Riot, the symbiote, writhed and pulsed.
Nathan studied it calmly. He had brought Riot back for research—and to push the limits of symbiotic evolution.
He'd also been training.
And his strength had now reached 80 tons.
But Riot wasn't fully compatible with him.
"Not the best match," Nathan murmured. "Blue Shadow is the key."
Blue Shadow—his original symbiote—still lacked firepower. But now, with Riot's arsenal blueprint, Nathan could upgrade it.
He retrieved Riot's memory matrix, extracting weapon designs.
Swords. Shields. Spikes.
Everything Riot had—he transferred into Blue Shadow.
Once complete, he donned the suit.
Blue Shadow's color deepened, swirling with energy.
He raised his arm. A razor-sharp scimitar appeared, humming with energy.
With a thought, spiked tendrils exploded from his back. Another command brought up a rotating shield, offering 360-degree protection.
Riot stared, stunned.
Nathan had turned a base-level symbiote into a high-tier war machine.
And he had just begun.
Nathan returned to his workstation and began experimenting again—this time with symbiote reproduction.
Through advanced bioengineering, he initiated a breeding process, generating new and stronger offspring.
The evolution of the symbiotes had begun.
And Nathan's power…
Had only just awakened.
To be continued...
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