Chapter 73: Magnetic Barrier
The setting sun baked the metal framework of the training ground, making it hot to the touch. Rorschach leaned against the railing, his gaze sweeping past the boisterous group to Eric in the corner.
Ever since leaving the meeting room, Eric had been standing there—not training, not resting, just standing, staring at the distant sky.
The setting sun stretched his shadow long across the ground, like a black fissure.
Raven followed his gaze and sighed.
"Still thinking about it?"
"Wouldn't you?" Rorschach wrapped an arm around her waist, his tone casual. "Eighteen years of hatred, ripped open in front of so many people today. Anyone would find that hard to bear."
Raven was silent for two seconds, then suddenly looked up at him: "You want to go comfort him?"
Rorschach raised an eyebrow: "How did you know?"
"Because you—" Raven thought for a moment, "—look heartless, but you're actually very clear-headed. Eric's in a state right now where someone definitely wants to approach him, but doesn't know how."
Rorschach smiled, lowering his head to press a kiss on her forehead: "You get me."
"Go." Raven wriggled out of his embrace and patted his chest. "Just don't get twisted into a pretzel by his magnetic field."
"Don't worry, I'm tough."
Rorschach smiled and walked towards Eric.
The setting sun slowly drew their shadows closer.
Eric heard footsteps, turned to glance, then turned back.
"Something wrong?"
His tone was flat, devoid of emotion.
Rorschach stopped beside him, following his gaze into the distance—towards the backyard, where Angel was circling in mid-air, his wings shimmering with iridescent light in the sunset.
Siren stood on the lawn, eyes closed, practicing echolocation. His body slowly lifted off the ground, rising two meters high, hovering for six seconds, then steadily descending.
Darwin clapped nearby, his faint applause drifting over.
"Eighteen years." Rorschach spoke, his tone as casual as if discussing the weather. "Do you know what I admire most about you?"
Eric said nothing.
"It's not your ability." Rorschach pointed to the distant sky. "It's that you searched for eighteen years, didn't go crazy, didn't die, and can still stand here."
Eric turned to look at him, his eyes complex.
Rorschach met his gaze and smiled: "If it were me, I probably would have killed myself long ago."
"What exactly do you want to say?" Eric's voice was still calm, but Rorschach could feel the surrounding air beginning to subtly vibrate—a sign of magnetic field fluctuations.
Rorschach spread his hands: "Nothing, just came to check on you. Afraid you might overthink things and bottle it all up alone."
Eric stared at him for three seconds, then suddenly laughed.
The smile was as cold as an iron railing in winter.
"Do you know what I hated most during those years in the concentration camp?" His voice was very soft, as if he were talking to himself. "Not the Nazis, not Shaw, but those so-called 'kind people'—they looked at me with pity in their eyes, saying 'it'll get better'."
He paused, then turned to Rorschach: "Do you know that feeling? You're standing at the edge of a mass grave, and someone pats your shoulder and tells you to 'be strong'."
Rorschach was silent for two seconds, then nodded: "No, I don't. But I know another feeling—"
He pointed to his chest: "Being treated like a monster, being looked at with that 'you're not normal' gaze, being comforted with that 'we understand you' tone."
Eric's eyes shifted slightly.
Rorschach continued: "When I first arrived in this era, I knew nothing. Walking on the street, everyone looked at me like an alien. Not because I looked strange, but because—" He smiled, "—they could feel I didn't belong here."
His words were half-true, half-false.
But Eric believed him.
He stared at Rorschach for a few seconds, and the magnetic field fluctuations around him slowly subsided.
"So you too are—"
"I don't know." Rorschach interrupted him. "But I know one thing—you don't hate humans; you hate people like Shaw who treat others as tools."
Eric was silent.
Rorschach reached out and patted his shoulder.
The moment his palm touched Eric's shoulder—
A huge repulsive force suddenly struck!
Rorschach's palm felt like it had pressed against an invisible magnet, the kind where like poles repel.
A subtle tingling sensation came from the surface of his skin, like countless steel needles gently pricking his pores.
With a thought, Super Defense automatically activated—a thin insulating layer instantly evolved on his skin's surface, isolating the magnetic field's pull on the iron elements within his body.
But the repulsive force remained.
Eric turned to look at him, frowning slightly: "What are you doing?"
Rorschach's expression didn't change. He withdrew his hand and shook it: "Your magnetic body shield is quite powerful."
Eric looked at his own shoulder, then at Rorschach, a hint of confusion flashing in his eyes.
"I'm used to it." He said faintly. "Not many people have been able to get close to me over the years."
Rorschach silently cursed in his mind.
The system's damn rule: males must have blood contact—but in Eric's state, forget taking blood, even getting close was difficult.
He glanced at Eric's hand—knuckles distinct, veins faintly visible, but no injuries.
Although the metal objects in the meeting room had floated, they hadn't harmed him in the slightest.
Perfect defense.
Truly the man who would one day take on all the X-Mensingle-handedly.
"Can you, uh, rein in your magnetic field?" Rorschach asked tentatively. "I just want to comfort you, not fight you."
Eric looked at him, was silent for two seconds, then shook his head.
"No." His tone was as calm as stating a fact. "It's not that I don't want to, it's that I can't. Ever since I was a child, whenever my emotions fluctuate, the magnetic field automatically expands. When I'm asleep, when I'm awake, it's always there."
He raised his hand, palm upwards.
The next second, the scattered metal fragments on the ground—screws, iron pieces, spent bullet casings—all slowly floated up, revolving around his palm, forming a silver ring.
"This thing has been with me for eighteen years." Ericlooked at the metal ring, his gaze profound. "It protects me, and it traps me."
Rorschach stared at the ring, his mind rapidly calculating.
Automatic defense, emotion-triggered, cannot be actively shut off—
This meant that to get Eric's blood, it would have to be when his emotions were extremely volatile and he couldn't maintain the magnetic field. Or, in the instant he was injured, to strike in those few tenths of a second when the magnetic field was in disarray.
But the latter was even harder—in this era, no one existed who could injure Magneto.
"Alright." Eric put down his hand, and the metal fragments clinked as they fell to the ground. "You go back. I'm fine."
Rorschach nodded, turned, and started walking back.
After two steps, he suddenly stopped and said without turning his head:
"Eric, do you know why I could get close to you without being repelled?"
Eric was startled.
Rorschach turned his head, smiling with a carefree air: "Because I'm handsome."
"...What?"
"Like poles repel, opposite poles attract." Rorschachpointed to himself, then to Eric. "We're both male, so we should repel each other, but I'm still standing here—what does that mean?"
Eric frowned: "What does it mean?"
"It means I'm even more handsome than you, so handsome that even the magnetic field can't bear to drive me away."
Eric paused for a second, then—
He laughed.
Not a cold laugh, not sarcasm, but a genuine laugh.
"You damn..." He shook his head, a hint of helplessness in his tone. "Get out of here."
Rorschach waved, smiling, and strode away.
Behind him, Eric stood rooted to the spot, watching his retreating figure, a trace of something undefinable in his gaze.
Raven was waiting in the distance. Seeing Rorschachreturn, she immediately came over: "How did it go?"
Rorschach put an arm around her waist and sighed: "It failed."
"Failed?"
"He sorted things out, but I didn't succeed." Rorschachspoke vaguely. Raven didn't understand, but she didn't press him.
The two walked towards the backyard.
The sun had already dipped below the horizon, with only a last streak of orange light remaining in the sky.
On the lawn, the group was still making a ruckus—Tom's light energy bird finally took shape, flapping its wings and flying three meters before dissolving into specks of light with a pop.
Darwin was laughing so hard he couldn't stand straight, chased by Tom all over the lawn.
Siren stood by the fountain, eyes closed, practicing echolocation.
His body slowly lifted off the ground, rising two and a half meters, hovering for seven seconds, then steadily descending.
Angel circled in mid-air, his wings gleaming faintly in the twilight.
Everything seemed peaceful.
But Rorschach knew—
Beneath the calm surface, undercurrents were stirring.
He looked back towards the training ground.
Eric was still standing there, like a statue, merging into the twilight.
Chapter 74: Ideological Rift
The setting Sun dyed the metal supports of the training ground a warm red. Rorschach leaned against the railing, his gaze sweeping over the rowdy group on the lawn.
Tom was chasing small birds made of Light Energy all over the field; Darwin and Banshee were competing to see who could take a punch better; Angel was circling in mid-air, the multicolored glow on her wings blending with the sunset clouds.
But Rorschach's attention wasn't there.
His mental power, like invisible tentacles, quietly probed toward the corner at the other end of the training ground.
Charles and Erik stood there side by side, their backs to everyone else.
They were too far away to hear what was being said, but the body language of the two already explained everything—Charles's shoulders leaned slightly forward, a posture of trying to get closer; Erik had his arms crossed, his whole being as hard as a piece of tempered steel.
"They're at it again." Raven approached at some point, following his gaze, her blue scales shimmering with fine light under the sunset. "Ever since the intelligence from Cuba arrived, they've been like this—talking until they get stuck, and then it just turns into an awkward silence."
Rorschach wrapped his arm around her waist and lowered his head with a light chuckle. "It's normal. One wants to save the World, the other wants to destroy it. The overlap between them was already as thin as a cicada's wing."
"Erik doesn't want to destroy the World." Raven gave him a white look. "He's just—"
"He just doesn't trust humans," Rorschach finished for her, his tone as casual as if they were chatting about the weather. "Just like how you don't believe there are good people in this World."
Raven was stunned for a moment, wanting to argue but unable to find the words.
Rorschach patted her waist. "Come on, let's go listen. A debate of this caliber is more exciting than a Broadway play."
As the two strolled over, Charles happened to speak, his voice a few degrees lower than usual: "Erik, I'm not questioning your feelings. I just feel that we should give humanity a chance."
Erik turned around, the setting Sun plating his profile in gold, but his expression was as cold as a winter iron railing. "A chance? I've given them. In 1944, in the concentration camps, I gave chances every single day. And the result?"
He raised his hand, pointing toward the direction outside the Base—there was New York, the The Pentagon, and the more than one hundred and eighty warships assembling in the Caribbean Sea.
"Do you see those people out there?" Erik's voice was very calm, as calm as if he were stating a weather forecast. "They need us now, so they give us a place to stay and equipment to use. When Shaw is dead, when the crisis has passed, how will they treat us?"
Charles was silent for two seconds. "We cannot give up on the best efforts just because of the worst possibilities."
"The best efforts?" Erik smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "Charles, you grew up in a mansion with servants to wait on you, books to read, and a warm family. Of course you can believe that human nature is inherently good."
These words were blunt, like a scalpel, precisely cutting through the thin layer of window paper between the two.
Raven's footsteps paused, and she subconsciously looked at Charles.
Charles's face stiffened for a moment but quickly returned to calm.
He took a deep breath, his tone still gentle. "Erik, I admit I haven't experienced what you have. But that doesn't mean I don't understand your pain."
"Understand?" Erik turned to face him directly. "You take one look through Telepathy and think you understand? Do you know what it feels like to stand by a mass grave? Do you know what it feels like to watch your mother fall before you?"
His voice finally had a hint of fluctuation, like an undercurrent beneath the ice.
Charles did not speak.
Rorschach leaned against a nearby pillar, his gaze sweeping back and forth between the two.
He knew this scene, of course—the first real ideological clash between Professor X and Magneto.
One firmly believed in integration, the other was certain of confrontation; one was like the Sun, the other like the north wind.
But knowing was one thing; watching these two future legends face off under the sunset with his own eyes felt completely different.
Erik took a deep breath, and his emotions seemed to calm down a bit.
He looked at Charles, his tone returning to calm. "Have you studied Shaw's Energy Absorption?"
Charles nodded. "He can absorb all forms of energy, converting it into his own strength, speed, self-healing, and even using it to delay aging."
"Then what is he afraid of?" Erik asked.
Charles was silent for two seconds. "Theoretically, as long as the energy exceeds his absorption limit—"
"Theory," Erik interrupted him. "Theory again. Do you know where his absorption limit is? Have you tried?"
Charles didn't speak.
Erik walked up to him, the distance between them less than half a meter. "I've tried. In the concentration camp, I used all my strength to twist the iron bars into pretzels and hurl them at him. He stood right there, didn't even move, and absorbed it all."
He paused, looking directly into Charles's eyes. "Then he smiled. He said, 'Thank you for the gift.'"
Charles's brow furrowed slightly.
Erik continued, "So I'm telling you, Charles, dealing with someone like Shaw cannot be done with your set of rules—giving him a chance, waiting for him to change for the better, letting him understand human kindness. He won't. He will only turn our attacks into weapons and our people into corpses."
"Then what do you plan to do?" Charles asked.
Erik didn't answer immediately.
He raised his hand, palm up.
The next second, the metal fragments scattered in the corner—a few screws, a discarded shell casing, half a broken iron pipe—all slowly floated up, forming a ring in the air and beginning to rotate faster and faster.
The ring spun faster and faster, making a sharp whistling sound, finally turning into a silver circle of light that whirled around the two of them.
"Do you see this?" Erik looked at the metal halo, his gaze deep. "This is my ability, and it's also what Shaw taught me—power itself is not right or wrong; the key is how you use it."
He pointed his finger, and the metal halo shot violently toward a distant training target like a bolt of lightning, splitting the humanoid target in half from the middle, the cross-section as smooth as a mirror.
Charles looked at the two halves of the split target and was silent for a few seconds. "You want to use Shaw's way to deal with Shaw?"
"No." Erik withdrew his hand, and the metal fragments fell to the ground with a clatter. "I want to use his way to protect Mutants. Shaw wants to use nuclear war to make Mutants rise; I want to keep Mutants alive—these two goals are not the same."
Charles stared at him for a few seconds and suddenly sighed. "Erik, have you ever thought that if you use this method, what is the difference between you and Shaw?"
Erik smiled, a smile as cold as a winter wind. "The difference is that he is for dominion, and I am for survival."
The two looked at each other, their gazes clashing in the air like sparks.
Raven watched from the side, her palms sweating, and whispered to Rorschach, "Should we go up and talk them down?"
Rorschach shook his head and lowered his voice. "Talk them down from what? Both of them make sense; they just have different stances. If you go up and butt in, you'll only become a target."
Raven glanced at him. "You certainly are calm."
"I'm being rational." Rorschach wrapped his arm around her waist. "And haven't you noticed? Although these two are arguing fiercely, neither of them has laid a hand on the other. What does that mean?"
"What does it mean?"
"It means they both know deep down that the other isn't the enemy." Rorschach looked at Charles and Erik with a subtle gaze. "The real enemy is outside."
Raven followed his gaze—in the distance, the twilight was swallowing the last trace of light.
The silence lasted for about ten seconds.
Charles spoke first, his tone softening a bit. "Erik, I don't ask you to approve of humanity, nor do I ask you to believe in human nature. I only ask one thing of you—"
He paused. "When Shaw comes, when we fight side by side, can you temporarily set these things aside?"
Erik stared at him for a few seconds and suddenly laughed.
"Charles," he began, his tone carrying a hint of helplessness, "do you know, sometimes I feel like you're the most dangerous person of all."
"Why?"
"Because you always manage to make people feel like they're wrong." Erik pointed to his own chest. "Even if I'm full of hatred, seeing your face and hearing your grand principles makes me unable to stop thinking—maybe he's actually right."
Charles was stunned for a moment, then smiled. "So, have you figured it out?"
"No." Erik turned his back to him. "But I will fight Shaw with you. As for after—"
He didn't finish.
Charles didn't press him either.
The two just stood there, one facing the twilight, one with his back to the sunset, separated by three steps, yet it felt as if they were separated by an entire era.
Rorschach leaned against the pillar, watching this scene, and suddenly remembered the sentence from the system prompt: 'A single thought's difference, Worlds apart.'
But that was a matter for later.
For now, they were still standing together.
"Let's go." He patted Raven's waist. "Let these two be alone for a while."
Raven nodded, and the two quietly slipped away.
After walking a few steps, Raven suddenly asked, "Rorschach, what do you think will happen to them in the end?"
Rorschach paused, looked down at her, and smiled heartlessly. "I'm not a fortune teller."
"Oh, come on." Raven gave him a white look. "The way you were looking at them just now was like you were watching a play."
Rorschach tightened his arm around her waist and leaned into her ear. "I'm watching the play because I know that no matter how much these two argue, they will both fight to the death for Mutants in the end. As for later—"
He paused and looked up into the distance. "We'll talk about the future in the future."
Raven leaned on his shoulder and didn't ask further.
When the two walked back to the lawn, that group was still rowdy.
Tom's bird of Light Energy had finally flown past the ten-meter line and was circling around Darwin's head.
Banshee was hovering in mid-air, already able to stay steady for eight seconds, his posture much more elegant than yesterday.
Havok Alex crouched in a corner, carefully controlling energy sparks. Today he only blew up one light bulb—and it was the smallest one.
Angel dropped down from the sky, folded her wings, and approached Rorschach. "Rorschach, what did you think of my circling just now?"
Rorschach gave a thumbs up. "Steady. A few more days of practice and you can perform in a circus."
Angel's face turned red, and she gave him a punch, both embarrassed and annoyed.
Raven rolled her eyes from the side. "Smooth talker."
Rorschach dodged with a laugh, his gaze sweeping over the people on the lawn—young, rowdy Mutants who hadn't yet experienced true life and death.
In the distance, Charles and Erik were still standing there.
The twilight deepened.
Rorschach withdrew his gaze and led Raven toward the dining hall.
"Come on, let's go eat."
Chapter 75: Secret Provocation
The night was like a thick piece of velvet, wrapping the entire Xavier Estate tightly.
Rorschach lay on the bed, staring at the intricate plaster patterns on the ceiling—the former owner of this mansion clearly had a penchant for European court style, as even the bedroom ceiling was carved with Angels and roses. Moonlight slanted in through the window, plating those reliefs with a silver edge.
Raven's steady breathing came from next door, and further west was Erik's room, which was as quiet as a grave at this moment.
But Rorschach knew that guy definitely wasn't asleep—that argument this afternoon was enough to make anyone toss and turn all night.
He rolled over, his Psychic Power quietly spreading out.
The light was on in Charles's room; the sound of turning pages rustled, occasionally interspersed with a sigh.
In Erik's room, metal objects were vibrating slightly—not from practice, but triggered by emotional fluctuations.
In the guest room downstairs, Moira was on the phone, her voice kept extremely low; the words "investigation," "background," and "suspicious" could be heard faintly.
The corners of Rorschach's lips curled slightly.
Let them investigate. Once that missile rises in the Cuban waters, who will have time to worry about a "suspicious element" like him?
He closed his eyes and began to sort through the debate from that afternoon.
The rift between Charles and Erik was deeper than he had anticipated.
One firmly believed in the inherent goodness of human nature, while the other was certain that humans were untrustworthy; one was like the Sun, and the other like the north wind.
The only reason these two could come together to deal with Shaw was purely because a common enemy temporarily overshadowed their ideological differences.
But the enemy would eventually fall.
And then?
Rorschach remembered the sentence from the System Prompt: "A single thought's difference, worlds apart."
He opened his eyes and stared at the Angel reliefs on the ceiling.
Split was inevitable. But the timing of the split, the manner of the split, and who each person took with them after the split—these were variables he could intervene in.
Like playing chess, you can't change the squares on the board, but you can adjust the positioning of the pieces.
Early the next morning, Rorschach went downstairs with faint dark circles under his eyes.
A circle of people was already sitting in the dining room. Charles was at the head of the table holding a coffee, his expression as calm as if nothing had happened.
Erik sat in the corner, the fried eggs in front of him untouched. A metal fork spun between his fingers, making Darwin, who was next to him, gulp incessantly.
Raven leaned in and lowered her voice: "Didn't sleep well last night?"
"From thinking about you," Rorschach said, taking a bite of bread without changing his expression.
Raven rolled her eyes but smiled secretly.
Halfway through breakfast, Charles put down his coffee cup and scanned everyone: "Training continues today. Banshee and Havok will cooperate, Angel and Darwin will spar, and the others will practice freely."
He paused and looked at Rorschach: "Rorschach, come with me for a moment; I have something to discuss."
Rorschach raised an eyebrow and put down his fork: "Sure."
The two walked out of the dining room one after the other, through the hallway, and to the study on the second floor. Charles closed the door and pointed to the sofa: "Sit."
Rorschach sat on the sofa and crossed his legs: "What's so mysterious? Are you going to give me a special allowance?"
Charles didn't take the bait. He sat across from him, silent for two seconds before slowly speaking: "I want to hear your true thoughts."
"About what?"
"About Erik." Charles stared into his eyes. "You heard the conversation yesterday afternoon, didn't you?"
Rorschach nodded: "I heard it. It was quite a lively argument."
"It wasn't lively," Charles shook his head, his tone solemn. "It's a rift. The rift between him and me is deeper than I imagined."
Rorschach leaned back against the sofa and shifted into a more comfortable position: "Charles, did you call me here because you want to hear comfort, or because you want to hear the truth?"
Charles gave a bitter smile: "The truth."
"The truth is—" Rorschach paused. "You and Erik are fundamentally different types of people. You grew up in a mansion, attended elite schools, and knew only decent people. He grew up in concentration camps, watched his mother be killed, and was studied like a lab rat."
He looked into Charles's eyes, saying word for word: "Your views on humanity are different from the roots. This isn't something that can be solved by chatting a few times or having a few drinks."
Charles was silent for a few seconds before slowly speaking: "But I believe that as long as we have a common enemy, we can—"
"Can temporarily set aside differences," Rorschach finished the sentence. "That's right, temporarily. When fighting Shaw, you will fight side by side, cooperate tacitly, and be like true comrades-in-arms. What about after Shaw is defeated?"
Charles didn't speak.
Rorschach continued: "How did Erik put it? 'Peace between humans and Mutants is never possible.' That might sound harsh to you, but he truly thinks so."
He stood up and walked to the window, looking at the lawn outside in the sunlight—Angel was circling in mid-air, her wings flashing with iridescent light; Banshee stood by the fountain, eyes closed, practicing Sonar Location; Darwin and Havok were arguing about something, pushing each other.
"Charles, you're a good person." Rorschach turned around. "The problem with good people is that they always want to satisfy everyone. But someone like Erik isn't someone you can influence with kindness."
Charles looked at him with a complex gaze: "Then what do you think I should do?"
Rorschach laughed: "You're asking me? I'm not a life mentor."
"But I've noticed—" Charles paused. "You're a very good judge of character."
Rorschach raised an eyebrow.
This bald guy certainly wasn't stupid.
He walked back to the sofa, sat down, and crossed his legs: "Fine, then I'll be blunt. You and Erik will part ways sooner or later. It's not a bad thing; it's an inevitability. The key is how you split and how many people each of you takes afterward."
Charles frowned slightly: "You mean—"
"I mean, don't wait until the last moment to prepare," Rorschach lowered his voice. "Erik still has feelings for you now and a sense of responsibility toward Mutants. You need to use this time to get more people to identify with your ideology."
Charles stared at him for a few seconds and suddenly laughed: "Are you teaching me how to form factions?"
Rorschach spread his hands: "I'm teaching you to take precautions. Factions already exist; even if you don't acknowledge them, they're there. That debate yesterday afternoon—did you think only the two of you heard it? Darwin, Banshee, Alex, and Angel were all present. They all have a scale in their hearts and know which side to stand on."
Charles fell silent.
Rorschach stood up and patted his shoulder: "Alright, think about it yourself. I'm going to train, so Hank doesn't end up staring at me with binoculars again."
As he reached the door, he suddenly stopped and said without looking back:
"By the way, that helmet of Erik's—"
Charles was taken aback: "What helmet?"
"Shaw's Helmet, the kind that can block Telepathy." Rorschach turned around with a meaningful smile. "Tell me, if Erik gets that helmet, what will he think? What will he do?"
Charles's expression changed slightly.
Rorschach had already opened the door and walked out.
In the hallway, Raven was leaning against the wall waiting for him. Seeing him come out, she approached: "What secrets were you talking about?"
Rorschach put his arm around her waist and whispered with a chuckle in her ear: "I was saying your blue skin looks particularly beautiful today."
Raven gave him a look: "Save it."
The two walked toward the training ground, chatting and laughing.
As they passed a corner, Rorschach caught a glimpse of a figure out of the corner of his eye—Erik was standing there with a book in his hand, but his gaze was fixed on the direction of the study, his eyes as deep as a bottomless well.
Rorschach didn't change his expression, kept his arm around Raven as they passed him, and even gave a casual greeting: "Morning, Erik."
Erik nodded and didn't speak.
Once they were far away, Raven asked in a low voice: "What was he standing there for?"
Rorschach smiled: "Pondering life."
The afternoon training proceeded as usual.
Rorschach leaned against the railing at the edge of the training ground, seemingly bored, but actually, his Psychic Power quietly covered the entire field.
Charles was guiding Havok in controlling his energy, his tone gentle and patient.
Erik was on the other side training Banshee's Sonar Location, cold and direct, with startling efficiency.
The two occasionally glanced at each other, their gazes crossing and then quickly moving away.
Darwin approached Rorschach and lowered his voice: "Do you think the atmosphere today is a bit weird?"
Rorschach glanced at him: "What's weird about it?"
"I can't quite say," Darwin scratched his head. "It just feels like something is missing between the Professor and Erik."
Rorschach laughed: "Missing that 'we're good brothers' kind of warmth, right?"
Darwin slapped his thigh: "Yes, yes, yes! That's exactly the feeling!"
Rorschach patted his shoulder: "It's normal. Adults have their own thoughts. You'll understand later."
Darwin nodded half-understandingly and ran back to continue getting beaten.
In the evening, the setting Sun dyed the entire estate orange-red.
Rorschach sat on the backyard lawn, watching Angel and Banshee chase each other in the air—one with transparent wings, the other with sonic propulsion; the two tumbled in the sunset like two playful swallows.
Raven leaned on his shoulder and suddenly asked: "What did you say to Charles today?"
Rorschach looked down at her: "Why the sudden question?"
Because—" Raven paused. "This afternoon I saw Erik go to find Charles. The two stayed in the study for half an hour, and when they came out, their expressions weren't quite right."
Rorschach raised an eyebrow: "Did they argue?"
"Doesn't seem like it," Raven shook her head. "More like they were discussing something, and after talking, each was lost in their own thoughts."
Rorschach smiled: "That's good then."
"What's good about it?"
"It shows they're still communicating," Rorschach tightened his arm around her waist. "The day they truly stop communicating is when there's a problem."
Raven was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly looked up at him: "Rorschach, what exactly are you trying to do?"
Rorschach met her gaze, his smile unchanged: "What am I trying to do?"
"Don't play dumb," Raven stared into his eyes. "You're getting close to Charles, testing Erik, and getting on everyone's good side. You didn't just come here for refuge."
Rorschach was silent for two seconds, then laughed.
"Raven," he looked down and planted a kiss on her forehead, "you're so smart, who would dare to marry you in the future?"
Raven's face turned red, and she raised her hand to punch him: "Don't change the subject!"
Rorschach dodged with a laugh, stood up, and reached out his hand to her: "Come on, let's go eat. I'll tell you some things slowly later."
Raven looked at him, hesitated for a moment, but still took his hand and stood up.
The two walked back.
As they passed the fountain, Rorschach glanced again at that Angel statue.
The setting Sun plated it with a layer of gold; the repaired cracks on the wings showed faint traces under the light, which couldn't be seen without looking closely.
He suddenly remembered Hank's face, looking like he wanted to cry but had no tears, and couldn't help but laugh.
"What are you laughing at?" Raven asked.
"Nothing," Rorschach tightened his arm around her waist. "Just laughing at how this life is actually quite interesting."
In the distance, the dining room lights came on.
Darwin's shout came faintly: "Dinner's ready! We're having steak today!"
A group of people ran into the house in a noisy bustle.
Rorschach and Raven walked unhurriedly at the back.
The twilight deepened, and the evening breeze was slightly cool.
The autumn of 1962 passed day by day like this.
Chapter 76: Interception Operation
The morning sea breeze, carrying a salty, fishy smell, poured into the c-130 transport aircraft's cabin through the open hatch.
Rorschach leaned against the cold metal cabin wall, his gaze sweeping over the oddly assembled 'Special Forces' in the cabin—Darwin was fiddling with a freshly scabbed wound on his arm, a'souvenir' left by Banshee's sonic waves during yesterday's training.
Banshee himself sat in a corner with headphones on, lips moving slightly, humming some unknown tune.
Havok Alex stared at the floor, his fingers unconsciously tapping his knee. Each tap produced a crackle of red energy sparks, startling Tom beside him, who shrank closer to Rorschach.
Angel curled up in his seat, his wings folded like a transparent cloak, his head nodding as he dozed off.
Raven leaned against Rorschach's shoulder, her blue scales shimmering with fine light in the cabin's dim lighting, her breathing steady.
Charles sat at the front, a stack of files spread on his knees—the latest intelligence Moira had delivered overnight: Shaw's yacht coordinates, the deployment of U.S. and Soviet Union fleets in the surrounding waters, and a photo of the woman in the white dress.
Emma Frost.
White Queen.
Rorschach stared at the photo for three seconds.
The woman in the photo was blonde with blue eyes, a faint, elusive smile on her lips. Her gaze held a condescending arrogance, like a lazy cat surveying mice in a cage.
"What are you looking at?" Raven had woken up at some point, following his line of sight. "That woman?"
"Mm," Rorschach replied without changing expression. "Studying the opponent."
Raven glanced at him, let out a meaningful "Oh," and leaned back against his shoulder.
The red light at the front of the cabin suddenly began flashing. Charles stood up and clapped his hands. "Everyone, wake up. Prepare for action."
The group gradually roused. Angel's wings fluttered once, nearly hitting Alex's face. Darwin rubbed his eyes and muttered softly, "We're there already?"
"CIA plane. It'd be weird if it wasn't fast," Rorschach said, standing up and stretching his limbs.
Charles walked to the hatch door, his tone lower than usual. "Remember, our objective is reconnaissance only. Confirm Shaw's location, ascertain his deployment. Do not initiate combat."
Erik walked over from the other end of the cabin, arms crossed, speaking coldly. "And if we run into them?"
Charles was silent for a second. "Then we fight."
The hatch slowly opened. Morning sunlight mixed with sea breeze poured in. Below was an expanse of azure sea. In the distance, the dark silhouettes of several warships were faintly visible. Further away, a white yacht lay quietly on the water's surface like a pearl.
"Jump!" Charles gave the order, and the group leaped out of the hatch one after another.
Rorschach held Raven's waist, adjusting his posture mid-air. His Super Speed granted dynamic vision, allowing him to see everything below clearly—several figures stood on the yacht's deck, the woman in the white dress particularly conspicuous, like a breathing ice sculpture.
[Target detected: Emma Frost (White Queen), Omega-level potential Telepath, possesses Diamond Formtransformation ability]
[Recommended acquisition method: Intimate contact (priority) / Blood contact (alternative)]
[Estimated points: 3000+]
The corner of Rorschach's mouth lifted slightly.
Work had arrived.
The group landed on the sea surface behind the yacht, stealthily approaching using the hull's shadow.
Charles's mental energy spread out like ripples, enveloping the entire yacht.
"Three people," he whispered. "Two on deck, one in the cabin. On deck—White Queen and Red Devil."
Erik's expression instantly darkened.
Red Devil. The guy who could take people high into the sky and then let go.
"Proceed as planned," Charles looked at him. "Erik, you and I will handle White Queen. The rest—"
Before he could finish, a red figure suddenly appeared in front of them!
It was a red-skinned man, a pointed tail swishing behind him, a wicked smile on his lips.
His eyes swept over the group, finally settling on Charles's face. "Guests have arrived. Shouldn't you have announced yourselves?"
The next second, his figure vanished.
Rorschach reacted fastest. Super Speed instantly erupted. Holding Raven, he shot back ten meters.
Darwin's skin took on a metallic sheen. Banshee opened his mouth and let out a sharp shriek—but Red Devil had already appeared behind them, his hands resting on Angel's shoulders.
"This little girl is quite pretty," he grinned. "Want to go play somewhere high up?"
Angel's pupils constricted sharply.
But at that very moment, a flash of silver light streaked past—Erik raised his hand. The metal railings on the yacht's deck seemed to come alive, transforming into arrows shooting towards Red Devil.
Red Devil clicked his tongue, released Angel, and teleported away again.
"Everyone, spread out!" Charles's voice rang in everyone's minds. "Back to back! Don't give him a chance to isolate anyone!"
The group quickly gathered, forming a circle back-to-back. Rorschach stood beside Raven, his mental energy subtly covering the entire area, capturing every faint fluctuation in the air.
The sound of high heels tapping on wooden boards came from the deck. Tap, tap, tap.
White Queen appeared by the ship's railing, looking down at them from above.
Sunlight spilled behind her, casting a golden halo around her. Her white dress fluttered slightly in the sea breeze, like a model stepping off a fashion magazine cover.
"Charles Xavier," she spoke, her voice as languid as if commenting on the nice weather. "I've heard much about you."
Charles took a step forward, his tone gentle. "Emma Frost. There's no need for us to fight. We just want—"
"Want to see if Shaw is here?" White Queen smiled, a hint of amusement in her expression. "He is. But to see him, you must first get past me."
Her body suddenly began to shimmer with a diamond-like luster—starting from her feet, her skin turned into transparent crystal inch by inch, refracting brilliant light under the sun.
Within seconds, her entire person transformed into a moving diamond sculpture, breathtakingly beautiful yet chillingly cold.
Darwin sucked in a sharp breath. "Holy shit, real diamond..."
"Physical attacks are ineffective," Hank's voice came through the communicator, carrying a scientist's peculiar excitement. "Mohs hardness level 10. Theoretically, conventional weapons—don't bother, useless!"
Havok Alex had already struck. A red energy Impact wave blasted from his palm, crashing directly into White Queen.
Emma in Diamond Form didn't even dodge.
The energy wave collided with her body like water hitting a reef, scattering in all directions.
She stood there, unmoving, even looked down at her chest, then raised her head and smiled at Alex. "That's it?"
The next second, her figure vanished from the spot.
Rorschach's pupils constricted sharply—so fast!
No, not fast—Telepathy. She was using her mental energy to affect everyone's perception, making it impossible to accurately locate her position.
[Target detected using mental interference. Activating psychic protection recommended.]
Rorschach focused his mind. His mental energy instantly contracted, forming a barrier around his consciousness.
The scene before him regained clarity—White Queen was darting towards Raven, her diamond-hardened hand thrusting straight for Raven's throat.
He took a step forward, wrapped his arm around Raven's waist, and moved sideways three meters with her.
White Queen's fingertips grazed past Raven's blue scales, leaving a faint whistling sound in the air.
"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow, looking at Rorschach. "You're quite fast."
Rorschach set Raven down and met her gaze, smiling carelessly. "Not fast enough, how could I catch up with a beauty like you?"
White Queen paused for a moment, then laughed.
It was the first time today her laughter held a trace of warmth.
"Interesting," she looked him up and down. "Your mouth is faster than your speed."
Before she finished speaking, her figure vanished again.
This time, she appeared behind Charles, her diamond-hardened hand thrusting straight for his back.
But Erik reacted faster—all the metal objects on the deck simultaneously flew up, forming a silver storm that swept towards her.
White Queen was forced to retreat. The metal fragments clanged against her body as if hitting real diamond, bouncing off and scattering across the deck.
"Good coordination," she took a few steps back, shaking off the debris on her hand. "But do you know another property of diamond?"
She paused, her smile widening. "It doesn't tire."
Charles frowned slightly.
"But you will," White Queen raised her hand, pointing at the group with her fingertip. "Especially those who can't control their abilities."
As soon as she finished speaking, Havok Alex suddenly let out a scream—the energy sparks in his palm went out of control. The red light flickered wildly, like a bomb about to explode.
"Alex!" Banshee rushed over, opening his mouth to emit a low-pitched sonic wave, attempting to stabilize his energy with sound.
But White Queen's mental energy had already seeped in.
She was using Telepathy to amplify everyone's negative emotions—fear, anger, anxiety—causing those with weaker control to lose control of their abilities.
Darwin's skin began to mutate irregularly, turning metallic one moment, rubbery the next.
Angel's wings flapped wildly, his body swaying in mid-air. The light sphere in Tom's palm grew and shrank erratically, like a heart about to burst.
Only Erik, Charles, and Rorschach remained stable.
Charles's mental energy surged forth like a tide, trying to counteract White Queen's influence.
The two mental energies collided in the air, stirring invisible ripples. Everyone around felt a sharp pain in their heads.
"Omega-level potential Telepath," Charles's voice rang in everyone's minds. "Truly lives up to the reputation."
White Queen smiled faintly. "You're not bad either."
The two were locked in a stalemate, neither able to suppress the other.
Erik seized the opportunity, raised his hand, and swept it—the scattered metal fragments on the deck flew up again. This time, they coalesced into a sharp metal spike, shooting straight for White Queen's eyes.
That was Diamond Form's only weakness—the eyes couldn't fully diamondize.
White Queen's expression changed slightly. Forced to interrupt the mental confrontation, she dodged sideways.
The metal spike grazed past her cheek, leaving a shallow scratch on her diamond-hardened skin.
Not a wound, just a scratch.
But Rorschach saw it.
The location of that scratch was precisely on her right cheek, about two centimeters long, less than half a millimeter deep.
His body reacted faster than his mind—Super Speedinstantly erupted. He flashed past White Queen like lightning. His right hand, seemingly casual, brushed across her face.
His fingertips registered a cold sensation, and a trace of subtle, almost imperceptible moisture.
That was the powder produced from diamond scraping against metal, mixed with an extremely minute amount of tissue fluid from the skin's surface.
Not blood, but enough.
A system prompt sounded in his mind:
[Detected Mutant Emma Frost (White Queen) tissue sample. Analyzing...]
[Analysis complete. Acquired superpower: Diamond Form 1.0 (incomplete). Points +1000]
[Note: Due to non-intimate contact, non-blood contact, only partial ability acquired. Complete Diamond Formrequires unlocking via intimate contact or blood contact.]
[Current Diamond Form level: 1.0 (incomplete). Can be upgraded to 1.0 (complete) before further enhancement.]
[Current total points: 19800]
Rorschach's expression unchanged, he flashed back to his original position, his hand naturally hanging down. The powder on his fingertips scattered in the wind.
White Queen touched her own face, looked at the almost invisible trace on her fingertip, and frowned slightly.
She looked at Rorschach, her gaze now holding more scrutiny.
"You..." she began, about to say something.
But just then, the cabin door opened.
A man in a black suit walked out. He appeared to be in his forties, with a proper smile, but eyes as cold as a venomous snake.
Sebastian Shaw.
He stood at the cabin doorway, his gaze slowly sweeping over the group, finally settling on Erik's face.
"Erik," he spoke, his tone as affectionate as if addressing an old friend. "Eighteen years. You've grown up."
Erik's pupils constricted sharply. The magnetic field around him fluctuated violently. All the metal on the yacht trembled.
"Shaw—" His voice was squeezed through gritted teeth, carrying eighteen years of suppressed hatred.
Charles raised a hand and pressed it on his shoulder. "Erik, calm down."
"Yes, calm down," Shaw smiled, his smile as gentle as if comforting a junior. "If you fight now, you can't beat me. Why not go back and train for a few more years?"
He raised his hand, palm facing up.
The next second, the sea surface around the yacht suddenly exploded—several water columns shot skyward. That was Riptide manipulating the storm. The sky rapidly darkened, dark clouds roiled, and a fierce wind howled.
Red Devil's figure flashed around the group, fast as a ghost.
"Today is just a greeting," Shaw withdrew his hand and turned to walk back into the cabin. "Next time we meet, I won't be so polite."
White Queen glanced at Rorschach, her gaze lingering on his face for half a second, then turned and followed Shaw.
Red Devil was the last to disappear. Before vanishing, he waved at Angel. "Little beauty, next time I'll take you stargazing."
The storm gradually subsided. The dark clouds dispersed. Sunlight once again spilled onto the sea surface.
The group stood where they were, panting heavily.
Darwin plopped down onto the deck. "Holy fuck, that was a 'greeting'?"
Alex looked down at his own hands, which were still trembling. Tom's light sphere finally extinguished. He looked as if he'd been pulled out of water, drenched in sweat.
Charles took a deep breath and looked at Erik.
Erik stood there, staring in the direction Shaw had disappeared, his eyes deep as bottomless wells.
"Erik," Charles said softly.
"I'm fine," Erik interrupted him, turning to walk towards the ship's railing. "Let's go back."
Rorschach held Raven, falling to the back of the group.
Raven leaned against his shoulder and whispered, "What did you do in that moment just now?"
Rorschach looked down at her, smiling carelessly. "Touched a beauty's face."
Raven rolled her eyes. "Cut the crap."
"Really," Rorschach tightened his arm around her waist. "Felt pretty good, just a bit cold."
Raven couldn't be bothered to ask further.
The two followed the group onto the CIA's extraction speedboat, heading into the distance.
Behind them, the white yacht grew smaller and smaller, eventually disappearing over the horizon.
Rorschach turned his head, looked at the empty expanse of sea, and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
White Queen. Emma Frost.
Second daughter of a wealthy Boston family. Lacked familial warmth from a young age. Used Telepathy to collect classmates' secrets, becoming a 'private tutor'.
Later joined the Hellfire Club, becoming Shaw's right-hand woman.
She possessed Telepathy capable of resisting Professor X's mental powers, with immense potential, and the ability to transform herself into hardness level 10 diamond.
Today was just a scratch.
Next time—
He recalled what Shaw had said.
"Next time we meet, I won't be so polite."
Rorschach smiled.
What a coincidence. I was thinking the same thing.
Chapter 77: The Might of Diamond Form
The speedboat cut through the azure sea, leaving a white wake behind it as it sped towards the CIA destroyer.
Rorschach leaned against the gunwale, the sea breeze ruffling his hair into a messy crow's feather.
Raven leaned on his shoulder, her blue scales glinting in the sunlight, her breathing as steady as a dozing cat.
The others lay sprawled in the boat, their faces looking rather grim—Darwin's skin still had a few patches of un-receded metallization, and Tom looked like he'd just been pulled out of the water, his hair plastered wetly to his forehead.
Havok Alex stared down at his hands, which were still trembling as if he had Parkinson's.
"Stop looking," Banshee patted his shoulder. "Staring won't change the fact that we were pinned down and rubbed into the ground."
Alex looked up and glared at him, wanting to retort. He opened his mouth, then finally blurted out, "Isn't your voice hoarse too?"
"At least I didn't wet my pants."
"Who wet their pants?!"
Darwin spoke softly from the side, "You two stop arguing. If you keep arguing, I'll show you how to evolve soundproof eardrums right here."
Rorschach listened to the lively group bickering, a slight curve forming at the corner of his lips.
But the smile didn't reach his eyes.
His consciousness sank into the system panel, where the prompt was still lit:
[Current Diamond Form Level: 1.0 (Incomplete)]
[Explanation: Due to acquisition via tissue sample rather than blood/intimate contact, only partial abilities have been obtained. Current achievable Diamond Form range: approximately 15% of body surface area (limited to palms and forearms), diamond purity 87%, hardness approximately Mohs 8.5, unable to achieve full-body transformation.]
[Hint: The incomplete Diamond Form cannot immune mental attacks, nor can it maintain clear consciousness during diamondization—your brain will also partially diamondize, and your thought speed will decrease by 73%.]
[Suggestion: Obtain the complete ability through blood contact or intimate contact as soon as possible.]
Rorschach silently gave the system the middle finger in his mind.
15% of body surface area, what's that good for? Cutting glass, maybe, but trying to withstand Shaw's Energy Absorption?
He'd probably shatter into diamond dust with one slap, and Hank would be sweeping for three days.
But then again—
He raised his right hand, his thoughts stirring slightly.
The skin on his palm, starting from the wrist, gradually turned transparent, shimmering with the unique brilliance of a diamond.
In the sunlight, that hand was like the prized treasure of a top-tier jewelry store, breathtakingly beautiful.
Tom, next to him, turned his head and nearly popped his eyes out: "Holy crap! Mr. Rorschach, your hand—"
Rorschach's expression didn't change as he retracted his hand and waved it in front of Tom: "Pretty, isn't it?"
"P-pretty..." Tom swallowed. "How much, how much would this sell for?"
"Enough to buy you candy." Rorschach withdrew his thoughts, and his diamondized hand returned to normal, as if nothing had happened.
Tom scratched his head, then turned back with a bewildered look.
Only Raven looked up, glanced at him, her eyes full of meaning.
"That just now," she lowered her voice, "when did you learn that?"
Rorschach looked down at her, smiling carelessly: "Just now."
"Just?"
"Just now, when I touched the White Queen's face." Rorschach said without changing his expression, "Maybe her foundation rubbed off on my hand, and then—you know, the ability contagion between Mutants."
Raven stared at him for three seconds, then rolled her eyes: "Do you take me for a three-year-old?"
"Don't believe me then." Rorschach tightened his arm around her waist. "Anyway, my hand is valuable now, so supporting you won't be a problem in the future."
Raven couldn't be bothered to ask further and leaned back on his shoulder.
The speedboat entered the destroyer's shadow, the massive hull like a steel wall before them.
The rope ladder was lowered, and everyone climbed up one by one.
Charles was the last to board, standing on the deck, his gaze sweeping over everyone, finally resting on Erik's face.
Erik stood by the gunwale, his back to everyone, staring at the distant horizon.
Nothing was visible there anymore; Shaw's yacht had long vanished beyond the skyline.
"Erik." Charles walked over and stood beside him.
Erik didn't turn around, his voice calm: "I'm fine."
Charles was silent for two seconds: "I know you're fine. But I need to confirm—did you think about rushing over just now?"
Erik finally turned, looking at him, his eyes as deep as a bottomless well: "I did."
"Then why didn't you?"
"Because you held my shoulder." Erik pointed to his own shoulder. "Your hand was heavier than I thought."
Charles was startled for a moment, then smiled.
Erik also smiled, a faint smile, but a smile nonetheless.
"Let's go." He turned and walked towards the cabin. "Back to training. Next time we meet, Shaw won't be standing."
Charles nodded and followed him.
Rorschach, with Raven in his arms, was the last to leave, watching their retreating figures, a slight curve at the corner of his lips.
One on the left, one on the right, walking side by side.
How long could this scene last?
The C-130 transport plane carried a group of silent Mutants, flying north.
No one spoke in the cabin.
Darwin leaned against the cabin wall, dozing, Bansheelistened to music with headphones, and Havok Alex stared blankly at the floor.
Tom huddled in a corner, clutching a ball of light, squeezing it then letting it scatter, then squeezing it again, as if venting something.
Angel was curled up in his seat, his wings tucked tightly, occasionally twitching, perhaps having a nightmare.
Only Charles and Erik sat at the very front, occasionally conversing in low voices, too quiet to make out what they were saying.
Rorschach closed his eyes, feigning sleep, but his mental power quietly spread out, covering the entire cabin.
He was replaying the battle.
The White Queen, Emma Frost.
An Omega-level telepath, with mental power comparable to Professor X.
Capable of full-body transformation into Diamond Form, Mohs hardness level 10, rendering physical attacks largely ineffective.
No emotional fluctuations after transformation, immune to all mental attacks.
Weakness? The two abilities cannot be used simultaneously.
Eyes cannot be fully diamondized.
And—
Rorschach recalled the scene: Erik's metal spike grazed her cheek, leaving a shallow scratch.
Not a wound, just a scratch. But the fact that it could leave a scratch indicated that Diamond Form was not absolutely invincible.
As long as the attack was concentrated enough and sharp enough, it could cause damage.
As for the weight after full-body diamondization—
He remembered Hank's words over the communicator: "Diamond density is 3.52 grams per cubic centimeter, about 3.5 times that of the human body. If Emma fully diamondizes, her weight would surge from 65 kilograms to approximately 228 kilograms."
228 kilograms.
Rorschach's lips curved slightly.
If she fell from a height and landed incorrectly, she could smash herself into the ground.
By the time the plane landed on the Xavier Estate's private runway, it was already three in the afternoon.
Everyone, dragging their tired bodies, returned to the main house. Hank was already waiting at the door, clutching a notebook, his glasses glinting, like a cat that had smelled fish.
"Charles!" He rushed forward. "Did you collect the battle data? I need everyone's—"
Charles raised a hand to interrupt him: "Let them rest first. We'll summarize at the meeting tonight."
Hank sheepishly fell silent, his gaze sweeping over everyone, finally lingering on Rorschach.
Rorschach smiled at him, a harmless smile.
Hank shivered and quickly averted his gaze.
Night fell.
Rorschach lay in bed, staring at the angel relief on the ceiling, his mind still replaying the cold, beautiful face of the White Queen.
The system prompt popped up again:
[Host has replayed today's battle memories multiple times. Do you wish to upgrade "Diamond Form(Incomplete)"?]
[Upgrade to complete version 1.0: requires 1000 points, or unlock via blood contact/intimate contact]
[Current points: 19800]
Rorschach thought for a moment, then chose "Do not upgrade for now."
1000 points was not a small sum, and while the incomplete version was a bit useless, 15% of his body surface area was enough for small situations. The real feast was yet to come.
He rolled over, his mental power quietly spreading.
Raven's breathing next door was steady, Tom was talking in his sleep downstairs, and the hum of instruments came from Hank's room on the third floor.
Charles's study light was still on, and muffled voices of him and Erik could be heard.
"...You almost succeeded with that move today," Charles's voice said.
"Almost." Erik's voice replied, "Next time, it won't be 'almost'."
"There might not be a next time. Shaw won't give us a second chance."
"Then we'll solve it in one go."
A few seconds of silence.
Charles sighed: "Erik, have you ever considered, if we fail—"
"No." Erik interrupted him. "I've failed too many times; I don't want to think about it anymore."
Rorschach withdrew his mental power, a slight curve on his lips.
Tomorrow's problems for tomorrow.
Tonight, he'd get a good night's sleep.
Outside the window, moonlight was like water.
The autumn of 1962 passed day by day.
But Rorschach knew—
The real storm had yet to come.