Chapter 101: Combat Instructor
Three days later, 9:00 AM.
The training ground behind X-Mansion.
The six students newly joined the combat course had varying expressions.
Warren looked expectant, his wings tucked behind his back, constantly fidgeting on his toes.
Ororo was expressionless, but her eyes kept glancing at the clouds in the sky—she seemed to be controlling them to prevent rain.
Scott stood straight, his red quartz glasses reflecting light in the sun.
He remembered seeing Jean in the library yesterday, her effortless manner of manipulating books—he absolutely couldn't fall behind.
The other three younger ones—the fire boy was named John, the acid girl was named Lois, and the spiked youth didn't give his name, so Charles called him "Hedgehog."
Rorschach stood opposite them, holding a tree branch in his hand.
"First lesson." He stuck the branch into the ground. "There's only one rule—there are no rules."
The children looked at each other.
"What do you mean?" John asked.
Rorschach looked at him: "It means that in a real fight, no one calls for a start. The enemy won't wait for you to strike a pose, won't care if you're ready, and won't care if you're afraid of hurting someone."
He scanned the group: "So the content of this lesson is simple—I attack you, and you find a way to survive."
Warren spread his wings: "You're just bullying—Ow!"
Before he could finish, Rorschach disappeared.
The next second, Warren felt a massive force on his back, and he went flying horizontally, rolling three times on the ground, his wings covered in mud.
"The first one." Rorschach stood in his original spot, clapping his hands as if he had never moved.
The other five instantly erupted!
"When did he—"
"Too fast!"
"Scatter!" Scott roared, his thumb already on his glasses' switch.
But Rorschach disappeared again.
John had just opened his mouth, a ball of fire not yet spat out, when he felt his neck tighten—Rorschach was gripping the back of his neck with one hand, lifting him up like a kitten.
"The second one."
John was gently set down, his legs going weak as he sat on the ground.
Lois screamed and raised her hands, the acid not yet fired—
"The third one."
Rorschach was already standing behind her, his finger pointing at her lower back: "The middle of the spine; the acid won't come out now, will it?"
Lois froze in place, not daring to move.
The Hedgehog youth had spikes standing up all over his body, like a bristling porcupine.
Rorschach glanced at him and smiled.
The next second, he appeared in front of Hedgehog and slapped him on the head.
"Slap."
The spikes didn't budge.
"These spikes of yours can't even be launched actively; who are you trying to scare by standing them up?" Rorschach said lazily, "The fourth one."
Hedgehog was stunned, his face turning bright red.
Ororo was the only one who reacted.
The moment Rorschach slapped Hedgehog's head, she had already raised both hands—
The sky suddenly darkened!
A bolt of lightning tore through the clouds, striking directly at Rorschach!
"Nice!"
Scott's eyes lit up, and he simultaneously pressed the glasses' switch—
A red Impact followed closely after the lightning, blasting towards Rorschach!
A pincer attack!
In a flash, a smile curled at the corner of Rorschach's mouth.
[Spatial Jump 2.1]
He disappeared.
The lightning struck the ground, blasting a charred pit.
The Impact swept past, sending dirt flying from the edge of the pit.
"Did we hit him?" Lois shouted.
"No."
The voice came from overhead.
Everyone looked up.
Rorschach was suspended in mid-air, looking down at them with an expression like he was watching a group of children playing a game.
"Good coordination," he said. "Pity you're too slow."
He landed and patted the dust off himself: "Rest for ten minutes, then the second round."
—
Twenty minutes later.
All six were lying on the ground, panting like six dead dogs.
Rorschach sat on a nearby rock, now with a blade of grass in his mouth.
Warren lay prone on the ground, his wings spread out like two pieces of rags: "You... you're not human at all..."
Rorschach ignored him and looked at Scott.
Scott sat on the ground, his glasses crooked and his face covered in sweat, but his eyes were much brighter than before.
"What did you discover?" Rorschach asked.
Scott thought for a moment and said, "I rely too much on my glasses."
"Continue."
"Just now, there were twice when I actually could have avoided using the glasses and just used body movements to dodge—but my first reaction was to press the switch." He frowned. "That's not right; the switch is only a last resort, not the first choice."
Rorschach nodded, offering a rare look of approval: "What else?"
"Also..." Scott recalled the battle just now, "Every time before you appear, there's a very brief pause. It's not a real pause, but a subtle change in the air flow—if I were sensitive enough, I could actually predict it in advance."
Rorschach raised an eyebrow.
This kid was smarter than he had imagined.
"Not bad." He stood up. "That's it for today. Go back and think it over; we'll continue tomorrow."
The six felt as if they had been granted a great amnesty, scrambling and running back to the academy.
Rorschach stood in place, watching their retreating figures.
"Scott," he suddenly called out.
Scott looked back.
"Come to my room tonight."
Scott was startled: "Huh?"
"I have something to discuss."
Rorschach didn't explain and turned to walk in another direction.
—
Tonight at 8:00 PM.
Scott stood at Rorschach's door, hesitated for three seconds, and knocked.
"Come in."
He pushed the door open.
Only Rorschach was in the room, sitting by the window, holding a strange small device—it looked like some kind of energy tester.
"Sit." Rorschach pointed to the chair nearby.
Scott sat down, feeling a bit nervous.
Rorschach looked at him and got straight to the point: "What's the maximum range of your ability?"
"Huh?"
"Range. How far can you hit at most?"
Scott thought for a moment: "I haven't tried... usually training is only about thirty meters."
"What about maximum power?"
"Also... haven't tried. I'm afraid of losing control."
Rorschach nodded, stood up, and walked in front of him.
"Take off your glasses."
Scott's pupils shrank: "What?!"
"Take them off." Rorschach's tone was calm. "I want to see your true upper limit."
"B-but—" Scott subconsciously covered his glasses, "Taking them off will cause an accident! I can't control it—"
"I'm here."
Three words.
No explanation, no guarantee, no comfort.
Just those three words.
Scott looked into Rorschach's eyes and saw there was no hint of joking.
He took a deep breath.
His hands were shaking.
Then, he slowly took off his glasses.
—
In that instant, Scott's World turned completely red.
He kept his eyes closed, his eyelids trembling violently; he could feel the frantic power in his eye sockets crashing wildly—like a thousand Beasts roaring to break out!
"Open them." Rorschach's voice was very calm.
"I won't—"
"Open them."
Scott gritted his teeth and slowly opened his eyes—
BOOM!!!
Two thick red Impacts erupted from his eyes!
But the moment they shot out, he felt a blur before his eyes—
Rorschach disappeared.
The Impacts shot toward the wall—
And disappeared again.
No!
Scott's eyes widened as he saw—
Rorschach was standing just a meter in front of him, raising one hand with his palm facing him.
Those two Impacts, powerful enough to blow through steel plates, were shooting into Rorschach's palm—
And then vanishing.
Like water flowing into a black hole, like light falling into an abyss.
[Energy Domination 2.6—Absorption]
Rorschach's palm glowed slightly as the red energy flow poured continuously into his body, while his expression remained normal, and he was even smiling.
"Continue," he said. "You haven't reached the limit yet."
Scott was dumbfounded.
But the energy in his eye sockets was still pouring out frantically—
Ten seconds.
Twenty seconds.
Thirty seconds.
Scott's legs began to go weak, and his vision turned black—
"Enough."
Rorschach withdrew his hand.
Scott's legs gave out, and he sat directly on the ground, gasping for air.
Rorschach knelt down and placed the glasses back on his face.
"Do you know what level you're at now?"
Scott shook his head, his mind a total blank.
Rorschach said, "Your continuous output for thirty seconds just now had an energy intensity equivalent to the continuous firing of a main battle tank's main gun."
Scott's mouth fell open.
"But your upper limit is far more than this." Rorschachstood up. "What you lack isn't control, it's trust—trusting that you won't hurt people, trusting that you can control it."
He looked at Scott and said with rare seriousness:
"Remember, you're not a time bomb; you're a cannon. A cannon doesn't need to fear that it will explode; what a cannon needs is to aim."
Scott sat there, his whole body shaking, his eyes stinging.
Not because of exhaustion.
But because for the first time, someone had told him—you are not a monster.
—
[Blood contact detected (Male target: Scott Summers)]
[Extracting ability...]
[Obtained: Ocular Energy Blast 2.2]
[points +1000, current total points: 13400]
[Fusion-capable ability combination detected: Ocular Energy Blast 2.2 + Laser Eyes 2.1 → Energy Beam 2.3]
[Fusion cost: 1000 points]
[Confirm fusion?]
Rorschach looked at the system panel, then at the seventeen-year-old boy still dazed on the ground.
"Fuse."
[Fusion confirmed, 1000 points consumed]
[Obtained: Energy Beam 2.3]
[Current total points: 12400]
He felt the changes in his body—Laser Eyes was still Laser Eyes, but now if he wished, he could increase the output power threefold at any time, or compress it into an extremely fine high-energy beam, or diffuse it into a large-scale cutting net.
"Worth it."
He looked down at Scott and smiled:
"Alright, go back to sleep. We'll continue practicing tomorrow."
Scott stood up, walked to the door, and suddenly turned back.
"Rorschach."
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
Rorschach waved his hand as if shooing away a fly.
Scott pushed the door and left.
The room fell silent.
Rorschach walked to the window, looking at the academy's main building in the distance.
A few lights were still on—Jean was probably still in the lab helping Hank organize data, while the other students had already turned off their lights to rest.
Moonlight bathed the slopes of Westchester in tranquility.
But he knew that this tranquility wouldn't last long.
Apocalypse was still slumbering beneath the ruins of Egypt.
Stryker's lab was still secretly collecting Mutant DNA.
Mr. Sinister was still watching all this from some corner.
"Bring it on," he whispered. "Who's afraid of who."
The night wind blew.
The hoot of an owl came from the distance.
Chapter 102: Beastly Friendship
A week later, at two in the afternoon, there was no practical combat training today.
Rorschach strolled to the Underground Room and pushed open the door that never quite closed properly.
Hank's lab was filled with a pungent smell—burnt plastic mixed with some kind of disinfectant, and a bit of... singed hair?
"Exploded again?" Rorschach leaned against the doorframe, looking at the mess all over the table.
Hank looked up from behind a pile of smoking circuit boards. His blue fur was stained with several charred marks, his glasses were askew, and his expression was one of utter despair.
"It didn't explode," he whispered weakly. "It was just... a small-scale exothermic reaction. Just like when I first developed the inhibitor..."
Rorschach walked over and looked at the workbench that had been burned through. "Exothermic enough to set the table on fire?"
Hank was silent for two seconds. "I need a larger fume hood."
Rorschach sneered, casually picking up a fire extinguisher and tossing it to him. "Put out the fire on your head first."
Hank froze, reached up, and felt—his hair (fur) really was smoking!
In a flurry, he grabbed the fire extinguisher and sprayed it all over his head. White powder filled the air, and when the smoke cleared, he was as white as if he had just crawled out of a pile of flour.
Rorschach leaned against the wall, his shoulders shaking with laughter.
Hank looked at him resentfully. "Couldn't you have said something sooner?"
"Where's the fun in that?" Rorschach said lazily. "Alright, what did you call me here for?"
Hank brushed the powder off himself, walked to a corner of the lab, and pulled back a dust cloth.
"Remember last month when Charles mentioned needing to expand the search range? This is the result."
Beneath it was a massive hemispherical device, about two people tall, its surface covered in intricate circuit patterns. There was a seat at the top of the device, with a metal helmet hanging above it, connected to a dense web of cables.
Rorschach raised an eyebrow.
He recognized this thing—an upgraded version of Cerebro, or rather, that iconic spherical brainwave amplifier from the movies.
"Cerebra," Hank said with a hint of pride in his voice. "That's the name I gave the new version—Cerebro's big sister."
Rorschach walked around the device. "It's three times larger than the one at the CIA."
"More than that." Hank walked to the console and tapped the display. "The detection range is increased by 400%, the precision is improved to distinguish individual Mutant Gene Markers, and it can automatically categorize and display based on ability levels—look."
He pressed the start button, and a faint blue light glowed inside the hemispherical device. On the display, a virtual Earth slowly rotated, densely dotted with points of light—highlighted red and ordinary white.
"The red ones are registered Mutants," Hank explained. "The white ones are unregistered. Just put on the helmet, and you can'see' the location of every Mutant on Earth."
Rorschach looked at the points of light and did a quick mental calculation—at least over thirty thousand.
"Has Charles used it?"
"He just tried it last night." Hank turned off the device, his expression becoming complicated. "He said... it felt much clearer than before, but the pressure was also greater. The thoughts of every Mutant on the globe flooding in at once, that kind of impact... if it weren't for him, anyone else might have suffered immediate brain Death."
Hank added, "The old Cerebro already gave Charles a splitting headache; we have to be even more cautious with the new version."
Rorschach nodded.
In the movies, Professor X had to use Cerebro with extreme care; ordinary people certainly couldn't handle it.
"You called me here just to see this?"
Hank hesitated and adjusted his glasses. "I'd like to ask you to help me test a few safety parameters."
"Me?" Rorschach said with a half-smile. "I'm not a telepath."
"But your Psychic Power is very strong." Hank looked at him with a serious gaze. "Charles said your Psychic Poweris 'unfathomable'—I didn't take it seriously when he used that word for Jean. But for you..."
He paused. "I want to know what happens if a non-telepath is forcibly connected to Cerebra. You're the most suitable candidate—your Psychic Power is strong enough, and if you die, I won't feel too bad."
The last part was a joke, but Rorschach could hear the seriousness in his words.
"I won't die." Rorschach shrugged. "Give it a try?"
Hank's eyes lit up. "You're really willing?"
"Consider it returning the favor for helping me set up the lab last time."
Five minutes later.
Rorschach sat in the seat at the top of Cerebra, and the metal helmet slowly lowered, fitting snugly against his scalp.
Hank operated the console, his voice coming from below. "Are you ready? I plan to start from the lowest power and gradually increase it—if you feel anything wrong, tell me to stop immediately."
"Let's begin."
A faint light glowed inside the helmet.
Rorschach closed his eyes—
Boom!
In an instant, he felt as if he had been thrown into the Universe.
Countless voices, images, and emotions flooded in from all directions, like trillions of rivers pouring into a container the size of a teacup.
Screams, sobs, wild laughter, prayers, curses, groans—
Every voice was a living person, every image a beating heart.
New York, Tokyo, London, Cairo, Sydney, the South Pole research station, isolated islands in the Pacific—
Red dots, white dots, blue dots, gold dots, dense like the stars in the sky, each one representing a Mutant, a unique soul.
He "saw" a boy hiding in a sewer in Mexico, using his ability to turn sewage into clean water to drink.
He "saw" a girl hidden in an Indian slum, using telekinesis to steal food to feed her sick mother.
He "saw" an old man locked in a Siberian lab, his body pierced by countless tubes, still resisting with his last bits of consciousness.
He also "saw"—
Deep underground in Cairo, Egypt, a massive golden point of light was slumbering.
The point of light was so large and bright that all the surrounding points of light were like fireflies before the Sun.
[Unknown target detected—Coordinates: 3000 meters underground in Cairo, Egypt]
[Energy level evaluation in progress...]
[Evaluation failed—Target energy exceeds current detection limit]
[Warning: Detection behavior may attract the target's attention]
Rorschach suddenly snapped his eyes open!
He yanked off the helmet, gasping for air.
Hank rushed over. "What happened?!"
Rorschach waved his hand, steadied his breathing, and then looked at Hank:
"Can this thing of yours detect Mutants who are slumbering?"
Hank was stunned. "Theoretically, yes. As long as they have vital signs, Cerebra can capture energy fluctuations. Why? Did you discover something?"
Rorschach was silent for three seconds.
Rorschach remembered the Egyptian mythology records he had accidentally come across in the library last week, and his heart jolted.
"It's nothing." He stood up and stretched his neck. "Maybe it was an illusion."
Hank looked at him suspiciously but didn't press further.
Rorschach walked to the door and suddenly turned back:
"By the way, can the data from Cerebra be exported? For example... detection records for a specific coordinate?"
"Yes," Hank said. "It's stored on the main server's hard drive. I can pull it up if you need it."
"No need." Rorschach waved his hand. "Just curious."
He pushed the door open and left.
Walking to the end of the hallway, he stopped and looked back toward the lab.
That golden point of light...
That point of light reminded him of the "Doomsday Incarnation" described in ancient texts.
Apocalypse.
He really is still there.
—
In the evening, Rorschach knocked on Hank's door carrying two bottles of whiskey.
"To celebrate the successful first test of Cerebra." He placed the bottles on the table.
Hank looked at the two bottles—one Scotch single malt, one Bourbon—and his lip twitched. "Where did you get these?"
"Charles's liquor cabinet," Rorschach said without blinking. "He doesn't drink them anyway."
Hank was silent for two seconds and then silently took the bottle opener.
Half an hour later, the two were leaning back on the sofa, their faces a bit flushed.
Hank stared at the ceiling and suddenly said, "You know, sometimes I really want to change back."
Rorschach didn't say anything.
"I know it's a stupid thought." Hank took a gulp of liquor. "Charles says this is who I am and I should accept it. Ravensays so too. But..."
He looked at his furry blue palms, his voice dropping:
"Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I don't even recognize myself."
Rorschach took a sip of liquor and said slowly:
"I know someone."
"Hmm?"
"He had three hands, could crawl on walls, and had green skin." Rorschach looked at the ceiling. "At first, he also wanted to change back every day, thinking he was a monster. Later, he figured it out—so what if he's a monster? As long as he can win in a fight, it's fine."
Hank was stunned. "And then?"
"Then he became the most popular star in that World." Rorschach turned to look at him. "Do you know why?"
"Why?"
"Because he stopped caring," Rorschach said. "What others think is none of my business. I just need to know who I am."
Hank was silent for a long time.
Finally, he chuckled and raised his bottle:
"That friend of yours, introduce me if you get the chance."
"Sure." Rorschach clinked his bottle against Hank's. "But that World of his doesn't have liquor as good as this."
The two looked at each other and smiled.
Outside the window, moonlight spilled over the hills of Westchester.
In the corner of the lab, Cerebra's display was still lit.
On the screen, below the coordinates for Cairo, Egypt, the golden point of light was still slumbering.
But next to the point of light, a small red dot had been added—the coordinates of the detector.
X-Mansion Underground Room.
Rorschach's room.
—
[Detected: Hank McCoy]
[Ability evaluation in progress...]
[Target Abilities: Super Intelligence 2.3, Beast Physique 2.1, Agility Enhancement 2.0]
[System Hint: Blood contact is required to obtain full abilities]
Rorschach lay on his bed, looking at the system panel, a smile curling at the corners of his mouth.
No rush.
Hank is a friend worth making.
As for the abilities—
There will be plenty of opportunities.
Chapter 103: Shadowcat
Two weeks later, the X-Mansion welcomed a new student.
When the black sedan stopped at the entrance, Rorschachwas squatting on the steps, gnawing on an apple.
The car door opened, and a petite girl got out. Her brown hair was tied in a ponytail, and she wore a pair of large, round-rimmed glasses, looking about thirteen or fourteen years old.
She stood by the car, nervously looking around, her fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of her clothes.
Charles, in his wheelchair, rolled forward with a gentle smile: "Katherine Pryde?"
The girl nodded, her voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz: "Just call me Kitty..."
"Welcome to X-Mansion," Charles extended his hand. "I am Charles Xavier."
Kitty shook his hand, then her gaze went past him, landing on the man behind him who was still gnawing on an apple.
Rorschach waved the apple core in his hand at her.
Kitty was startled for a moment, then burst out laughing.
"That's Rorschach," Charles introduced. "He's in charge of practical combat classes—though he doesn't quite look like a teacher."
"I heard that," Rorschach said lazily.
Charles smiled: "I meant for you to hear it."
——
In the afternoon, Kitty's entrance test took place in the training room.
Charles, Hank, and Rorschach stood in the observation area, watching Kitty stand alone in the center of the field.
"What's her ability?" Hank asked.
Charles: "Phase Penetration—she can pass her body through any matter. It's newly awakened and not very stable yet."
"Pass through any matter?" Hank's eyes lit up. "The theoretical upper limit is very high."
"Provided she can control it," Charles said. "The problem now is that she can only trigger it passively—she automatically phases when startled or in danger, but she can't control it actively."
Rorschach looked at the little girl in the field, trembling with nervousness, and fell into thought.
The test began.
Charles signaled Kitty to relax, then started a simple training exercise—several soft rubber balls were shot at her from different directions.
Kitty took a deep breath and assumed a defensive posture.
The first ball flew towards her—
She dodged it.
The second, the third—
She dodged them all.
But the fourth one flew from her blind spot on the side. She couldn't dodge in time and instinctively closed her eyes—
The rubber ball passed through her body.
"Beautiful!" Hank shouted from the observation area.
But immediately after, Kitty's body began to flicker—like a TV screen with bad signal, appearing and disappearing.
"Damn it," Charles frowned. "She's losing control."
The next second, Kitty screamed, and her entire body vanished.
Not teleportation; she genuinely disappeared.
On the training room floor, only a distorted mass of air remained, vaguely revealing a flickering humanoid outline.
Kitty's body flickered wildly between solid and ethereal, like a broken holographic projection.
The training room lights were distorted, jagged shadows cast on the walls—even Hank's control panel blared an alarm: "Spatial phase disturbance exceeds threshold!"
"She's stuck between solid and ethereal!" Hank rushed to the control panel. "Energy readings are unstable; if this continues, she'll completely—"
Before he could finish, a figure had already rushed into the training room.
Rorschach.
[Space Jump 2.1]
He appeared directly next to the distorted air mass, reaching out—
His hand passed through her.
Kitty's voice came through, tearfully: "I, I can't control it—!"
Rorschach narrowed his eyes.
[Mental Control 2.1]
Instead of forcibly absorbing energy as he did with Scott, Rorschach infiltrated the oscillating gap with mental tendrils—he "saw" Kitty's fear like a whirlpool, needing only an anchor.
The problem wasn't energy loss of control, but emotional loss of control.
She was too afraid.
So afraid she didn't dare to "exist."
Rorschach didn't try to pull her back with brute force.
He simply sent a thought in:
"Don't be afraid."
It wasn't comfort; it was a command.
Kitty's trembling suddenly stopped.
Three seconds later, she fell to the ground, soaked.
Rorschach glanced at the observation area: "Next time before a test, teach her how to breathe first."
He squatted down to look at Kitty: "Afraid of losing control? It's right to be afraid. But being afraid to die and seeking death are two different things—you almost sought death today."
Kitty shrank her neck, but Rorschach quirked his lips: "Later, I'll teach you how to survive when you're seeking death."
"Can you stand up?"
Kitty nodded, then shook her head.
Rorschach sighed and reached out to pull her up.
Kitty's legs gave out, and she leaned directly against him.
Rorschach looked down at the petite girl in his arms, then up at the observation area—Charles was smiling with relief, and Hank was applauding.
"Alright," he said helplessly. "First lesson, I'll take you back to your dorm."
——
After resting in her dorm for a while, Kitty came out to familiarize herself with the environment, then saw Rorschach training students.
She hid around the corner of the corridor, watching Rorschach train Scott until he collapsed, then told Warren, "Extra training tomorrow."
She bit her lip, remembering the hands that had passed through her body that afternoon—no pain, just a simple "Don't be afraid."
That evening, Kitty stood outside the door, her palms sweating.
She remembered Hank saying, "Rorschach has a sharp tongue, but he never abandons his own people."—Those words gave her the last bit of courage.
She knocked on Rorschach's door.
Rorschach was reading—a copy of "Introduction to MutantGene Theory" he had borrowed from Hank.
"Something wrong?"
Kitty stood at the door, head bowed, her face a little red.
"Um... this afternoon... thank you."
Rorschach leaned against the doorframe: "No need to thank me, it's my job."
Kitty looked up: "Can you teach me to control my ability?"
Rorschach leaned against the doorframe, still holding Hank's "Gene Theory" book: "Charles is the teacher."
"But he can't see what I'm afraid of," Kitty's eyes behind her glasses shone with surprising brightness. "You can see it."
Rorschach was silent for two seconds, then stepped aside: "Come in. But let me warn you, in my class, there's no 'I can't do it,' only 'keep doing it.'"
Kitty nodded vigorously, a small smile secretly playing on her lips.
——
An hour later.
Kitty sat cross-legged on the carpet in Rorschach's room, her expression as serious as if she were taking an exam.
Rorschach leaned by the window, holding the unread book.
"Hank should have told you about the principle of Phase Penetration—the gaps between atoms." He turned a page. "But what you lack isn't the principle, it's the feeling."
"Feeling?"
"Yes," Rorschach looked up at her. "Right now, you 'phase through only when you're scared,' which is a stress response. What you need is to 'phase through when you want to'—active control."
Kitty frowned: "But I can't tell when I should be scared and when I shouldn't..."
Rorschach put down the book and walked over to her.
"Hold out your hand."
Kitty extended her hand.
Rorschach took her hand, pointing at her fingertip with his other finger: "Watch closely."
The next second, his finger passed through her palm.
Kitty's eyes widened!
She could clearly feel it—the moment that finger entered her skin, there was no pain, no resistance, just a slight tingling sensation, like static electricity passing through.
Rorschach withdrew his finger: "Did you feel it?"
At the moment of penetration, a tiny bead of blood seeped from Kitty's fingertip, staining Rorschach's finger—she hadn't even noticed it.
Kitty nodded frantically.
"That's called 'controlled penetration'," Rorschach said. "In that instant, I actively adjusted the molecular oscillation frequency of the contact point to synchronize with your molecular frequency, and then'slipped' in."
He looked into Kitty's eyes: "Can you do it?"
Kitty hesitated, then closed her eyes.
One minute.
Two minutes.
She opened her eyes and shook her head in frustration: "No..."
Rorschach squatted down, meeting her gaze.
"Why were you able to stabilize just now?"
Kitty thought for a moment: "Because you said, 'Don't be afraid.'"
"So?"
Kitty froze.
Rorschach said: "You're not afraid of losing control; you're afraid that no one will catch you after you lose control. I caught you this afternoon, and I caught you just now. Now you know that even if you lose control again, someone can pull you back."
He stood up and walked back to the window:
"Are you still afraid?"
Kitty looked at his back and suddenly smiled.
"It seems... not so afraid anymore."
Rorschach didn't turn around, just waved his hand:
"During training tomorrow, I'll teach you what to do next."
Kitty stood up, walked to the door, and then suddenly looked back.
"Rorschach."
"Hmm?"
"That 'molecular frequency synchronization' you mentioned... is that something only you can do?"
Rorschach thought for a moment, then nodded: "Probably."
Kitty smiled: "Then am I especially lucky?"
Rorschach was startled, then chuckled:
"Alright, go back to sleep. Don't be late tomorrow."
Kitty smiled and closed the door.
——
[Blood contact detected (female target: KittyPryde/Shadowcat)]
[Ability extracting...]
[Obtained: Phase Penetration 2.0]
[points +1000, current total points: 13400]
Rorschach looked at the system panel, then at his hand.
In his palm, the finger that had passed through Kitty's hand still retained a faint tingling sensation.
"Phase Penetration..." he murmured to himself.
This, combined with Space Jump and Matter Reorganization, could create many interesting tricks.
He looked out the window and suddenly remembered the dormant golden light spot on the Cerebra Brainwave Amplifier screen—if Apocalypse awakened, could children like Kitty pass through his attacks?
"I need to speed up," he clenched his fist.
The academy lights were sparsely lit—Jean's room was still lit, and Kitty's room was also lit.
A new generation was growing up.
And he, too, was becoming stronger.
Chapter 104: Iceman's Blood Sample
Three days later, 2:00 PM.
Rorschach leaned in the shade of a tree by the training ground, holding half an apple as he watched Scott and Warren spar.
The unusually warm winter caused mist to rise from the training ground. Rorschach pulled at the collar of his training uniform, watching his breath condense into white mist in the cold air.
Warren spread his wings and took to the air, his metallic feathers glinting coldly in the sunlight. "Scott, you can't hit—ah!"
Before he could finish, a red Impact beam grazed his ear, exploding into a shower of sparks on the wall behind him.
Warren froze mid-air, forgetting even to flap his wings.
Scott adjusted his glasses, expressionless. "What was that?"
"You—you're playing for keeps?!"
"Combat class. Your words."
Rorschach took a bite of his apple and nodded with satisfaction.
The kid was learning to be ruthless; he liked it.
Just then, Charles's wheelchair rolled over from the direction of the main building, followed by a tall, thin youth with brown hair and a reserved smile.
"Rorschach," Charles stopped in front of him. "This is Bobby Drake, a new student."
Rorschach looked at the boy.
Fifteen or sixteen, wearing a flannel shirt, jeans, and sneakers—the standard suburban high schooler look.
But wisps of white mist were unconsciously rising from his fingertips. When the moisture in the air met him, it instantly condensed into tiny ice crystals that pattered down.
Seeing the cold air emanating from Bobby's fingertips, Rorschach recalled information about him—another potential Omega-level (Ability 3.0 or higher) Mutant.
He had to force out his true potential and help him gain basic control over his abilities before various enemies appeared.
"Ice-type?" Rorschach arched an eyebrow.
Charles nodded. "He just awakened recently; his control is still unstable."
Bobby scratched his head, looking a bit embarrassed. "Um... hello, Mr. Rorschach. I heard Scott mention you just now."
Rorschach looked at Scott.
Scott averted his gaze, expressionless.
"What did he say about me?"
Bobby answered honestly, "He said he's been knocked down by you three times, Warren was stepped on once, and Kitty almost cried—but he added at the end that what you teach is effective."
Rorschach laughed and tossed away the apple core. "Fine, I'll take that as a compliment."
He stood up and habitually reached out to pat Bobby on the shoulder—ever since the accidental contact with Jean's blood activated the system, he had developed an instinct to test newcomers through physical contact.
At that moment, the system panel suddenly popped up!
[Blood contact detected (Male target: Robert Drake/Iceman)]
[Extracting ability...]
[Obtained: Ice Manipulation 2.0]
[points +1000, current total points: 14400]
Rorschach looked down at his hand.
During the pat on the shoulder, he noticed a fresh scratch on Bobby's arm—likely an accidental injury from earlier that hadn't fully healed, with a bit of blood seeping out.
Rorschach had touched it in passing.
He felt a bone-chilling cold surge from his palm, spreading through his veins to his entire body—not pain, but a strange "cooling down."
He could feel his blood flow slowing, his cellular metabolism decreasing, and even his heartbeat slowing down.
Yet his consciousness was exceptionally clear.
He looked up at the Sun—it was still the same Sun, but he could "see" the thermal energy within the sunlight, the water molecules floating in the air, and even the faint heat in the sweat beads on Scott's forehead in the distance.
If he wanted to, he could freeze it all in the next second.
"Interesting," he whispered.
Bobby was completely oblivious and continued introducing himself. "Actually, my dad didn't really want me to come. He thinks Mutants are freaks, but my mom said it's better than being locked up at home..."
Rorschach snapped back to reality and smiled. "Your mom is right."
Charles watched this from the side, his gaze lingering on Rorschach's face for a second; he felt Rorschach was very enthusiastic about Mutant affairs.
He said nothing.
As the wheelchair moved away, he glanced back at Rorschach with a thoughtful expression. When he had previously used the new Cerebro built by Hank, he saw the usage logs; a certain point of light had left him somewhat confused, wondering what Rorschach had seen.
—
4:00 PM, Combat Class.
Rorschach called everyone to the center of the training ground.
The newcomer, Bobby, stood at the edge, mist still rising from his fingers, a ring of thin ice already forming at his feet.
"We're trying something new today." Rorschach scanned the group. "Scott, Warren, Kitty—you three are a team. Bobby, you're on your own."
Bobby froze. "Huh? By myself?"
"Yes."
"But those three against me?" Bobby pointed at Scott and the others, his voice cracking slightly. "Mr. Rorschach, it's only my first day—"
"And?"
Bobby opened his mouth to speak.
Rorschach looked at him. "On the battlefield, will the enemy care how many days you've been there?"
Bobby fell silent.
Two seconds later, he took a deep breath and stood up straight. "Fine."
Scott glanced at Rorschach with a questioning look—Are we really doing this?
Rorschach ignored him.
"Begin."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than Scott's red Impact beam blasted out!
Warren took to the air, flanking from the side!
Kitty's body flickered as she phased, disappearing into the air—she would appear behind Bobby in the next second!
It was textbook three-person coordination.
And then—
Crack.
Scott's Impact beam stopped a meter away from Bobby.
No.
It didn't stop; it froze.
The red energy beam solidified in mid-air into a mass of twisted ice crystals, like an insect trapped in amber, reflecting an eerie light.
Rorschach narrowed his eyes.
Only an Omega-level could halt the motion of photons—the frozen Impact beam before him proved that Bobby had unconsciously warped local spacetime.
Warren's wings suddenly stiffened—an ice wall appeared out of thin air in his dive path. Unable to brake in time, he slammed into the ice wall, sliding down with a face full of ice shards.
Kitty had just materialized behind Bobby, but before her feet could hit the ground, she found herself on a slick patch of ice. Losing her balance, she landed hard on her rear, the ice already creeping up her pants.
The entire field went silent.
Bobby stood there, hands spread wide. Within a three-meter radius, the ground was covered in half a meter of ice. The moisture in the air condensed into tiny ice crystals, glittering in the sunlight.
His hair, eyebrows, and even eyelashes were coated in white frost; he looked like a snowman fresh out of a freezer.
But there was no triumph on his face, only terror.
"I... I didn't mean to—" he stammered. "I can't control it—!"
His mind was in a daze; he seemed to see the ice crystals refracting a phantom of a pyramid, with a bandaged figure opening its eyes in the depths.
The ice continued to spread.
The ground under Scott's feet began to freeze. He stumbled back, but the ice chased him faster than he could move.
Warren struggled to take flight, but his wings were weighed down by ice and wouldn't flap.
Half of Kitty's body was already frozen in the ice, leaving only her head and one hand exposed, her expression one of utter resignation.
"Rorschach!" Scott shouted. "He's losing control!"
Rorschach stood at the edge of the field, arms crossed, looking perfectly calm.
"Bobby."
Bobby looked at him, eyes filled with panic.
"Take a deep breath."
Bobby dithered for a moment, then instinctively complied.
Inhale... exhale...
The speed of the ice's spread slowed slightly.
"Again."
Inhale... exhale...
The ice stopped.
"See that patch of ice under your feet?"
Bobby looked down.
"Melt it."
Bobby stared at the ice, sweat beads forming on his forehead—but the ice actually began to melt. First the edges rounded, then the whole block turned to water, soaking into the ground.
Rorschach nodded. "That's enough."
Bobby's body went limp, and he slumped onto the ground, gasping for air.
The surrounding ice turned completely to water the moment he relaxed, leaving the training ground a mess.
Scott pulled his feet out of the slush, his gaze toward Bobby changing—from "new rookie" to "this guy's got something."
Warren shook the ice shards off his wings and muttered, "I suspect Rorschach did this on purpose, letting us get beat up just for his entertainment."
Kitty climbed out of the water, soaking wet, and glared at Rorschach.
Rorschach shrugged. "You didn't lose."
The three of them looked at him together.
Rorschach pointed at Bobby. "And he didn't win. Uncontrolled power, no matter how strong, is useless."
Bobby sat on the ground, head bowed, fingers clenched.
Rorschach walked over and crouched in front of him.
"First time?"
Bobby nodded.
"Normal," Rorschach said. "All newly awakened Ice-types are like this—too much power, not enough brainpower to keep up."
Bobby looked up at him. "Then... what do I do?"
Rorschach thought for a moment. "Do you know what the ultimate end of ice is?"
Bobby was stunned.
"It's not cold," Rorschach said. "It's'stasis.' Molecules stop vibrating, everything solidifies—that is Absolute Zero."
He patted Bobby's shoulder.
"But you don't need to go that far. What you need is 'just enough.' To hit Scott, freezing his glasses is enough. To hit Warren, freezing his wings is enough. To hit Kitty, you can't freeze her while she's phased, but the instant she materializes—you only have a tenth of a second."
Bobby listened, dazed.
Scott nodded silently beside them—he was familiar with this talk; Rorschach had trained him the same way.
Rorschach stood up. "From today on, you'll train with them. When you can control the ice to freeze a single hair without harming the scalp, you'll pass."
Bobby sat on the ground, looking at his fingers still emitting white mist.
Suddenly, he smiled.
"Thank you."
Rorschach had already walked away, waving without looking back.
—
At night, Rorschach lay in bed, looking at the system panel.
[Current Ability: Ice Manipulation 2.0]
[Fusion-capable ability combination detected: Ice Manipulation 2.0 + Nature's Force Prototype (Storm Manipulation) → Nature's Force 2.5]
[Fusion cost: 3000 points]
[Fuse?]
Rorschach thought about it and chose "Not for now."
No rush.
Ice Manipulation 2.0 was enough for now; he'd wait until he gathered more.
He closed the panel, turned on his side, and looked out the window.
But he knew that Bobby's loss of control today reminded him of a name—
Omega-level Mutant.
Iceman's potential was far more terrifying than he himself realized.
And deep beneath Egypt, another true Omega was slumbering.
"Bring it on," he whispered. "Who's afraid of who?"
Elsewhere, Charles went to the laboratory where Cerebrowas located. "I must confirm what Rorschach saw when he used the enhancer earlier..."
Chapter 105: Moira's Suspicion, Potential Threat
One week later, early morning.
Rorschach managed to get up early for once—actually, it was because Raven found him too restless during the night and kicked him out of bed: "Go out for a run, don't disturb my sleep!"
He had no choice but to put on his tracksuit and jog around the hill behind the academy.
The morning mist hadn't dissipated yet, and the air carried the scent of fresh grass and dew. The wildflowers on the hillside were in full bloom—yellow, white, and purple—swaying in the wind.
He ran halfway up the mountain and suddenly stopped.
On the road at the foot of the mountain, a black sedan was driving toward the academy.
It wasn't an ordinary car—it had the CIA logo on the body.
Rorschach narrowed his eyes.
—
Half an hour later, Rorschach finished his shower, changed into clean clothes, and strolled into the living room.
Moira MacTaggert was sitting on the sofa, holding a cup of tea and talking to Charles.
She was wearing a simple professional suit, her blonde hair tied in a neat ponytail, with a polite smile on her face.
But Rorschach noticed a few details—
Her posture was very upright, ready to stand up at any moment.
Her hand stayed right next to her teacup without gripping it—ready to pull a gun at any moment.
Her eyes scanned the surroundings as she spoke; since entering, she had already checked the windows twice and the doorway three times.
A CIA Agent's professional habit, no doubt about it.
Charles saw him and waved: "Rorschach, come sit. You've met Moira."
Rorschach walked over and sat opposite Moira, leaning lazily against the sofa: "Agent Moira, long time no see. That shot on the Cuban beach was quite accurate."
Moira's smile stiffened for a split second.
Charles frowned slightly: "Rorschach—"
"Just kidding." Rorschach waved his hand, picked up an apple from the coffee table, and took a bite. "What is Agent Moira here for? Charles, do you owe her money?"
Moira took a deep breath and regained her professional smile: "Mr. Rorschach, I am here to conduct a routine investigation."
"Charles, this time it's a mandatory review process from headquarters." Moira avoided Rorschach's gaze, her knuckles whitening from gripping the documents tightly. "Colonel Stryker's department has taken over the Mutantfiles, and they require a re-examination of all participants in the Cuba incident."
"Investigating what?"
"You."
Rorschach's movement of biting the apple paused for a moment.
Moira took a document out of her bag and placed it on the coffee table.
"Rorschach, male, date of birth unknown, registered identity as a Gamma-level Mutant, ability registered as 'Energy Manipulation'." She read the contents of the document. "First appeared in the CIA Mutant recruitment program in September 1962, recommended for the team by Charles Xavier."
She looked up at Rorschach: "But any records prior to that are a complete blank."
Rorschach shrugged: "Mutants, you know, many aren't accepted by their families. Wandering around is normal."
"Normal," Moira nodded, "but what is not normal is—on the day of the Cuban Missile Crisis, you disappeared for three minutes."
Rorschach raised an eyebrow.
Moira stared into his eyes: "In those three minutes, Shaw's submarine exploded. Shaw's body has yet to be found, but based on the explosive yield calculations, that submarine should have been enough to tear everything within a ten-kilometer radius into shreds."
She paused: "Yet you came back. Unscathed."
Rorschach said nothing.
Charles spoke up from the side: "Moira, I have already explained this—"
"Charles." Moira looked at him, her gaze complex. "I know you trust him. But my job is to investigate. After that day, I pulled all CIA files regarding Mutants and found something interesting."
She pulled another piece of paper from the file.
"Colonel William Stryker, head of the Weapon X Program, has been secretly collecting Mutant DNA since 1962. There is a memo in his files dated three days after the Cuban Missile Crisis."
She pushed the paper to the center of the coffee table.
There was only one line on the memo:
[X-Mansion external mentor 'Rorschach', recommended to be placed on the 'High-Risk Target' observation list. Reason: Abnormal energy reaction, follow-up tracking recommended.]
Rorschach looked at the paper, his expression unchanged, but his mind was calculating rapidly.
Stryker?
Targeting him so soon?
"Moira." Charles's voice became serious. "By investigating these things, what are you trying to prove?"
Moira was silent for a few seconds.
Then she looked at Rorschach, her gaze full of scrutiny: "I want to know who he really is."
The living room fell silent.
Rorschach threw the apple core into the trash can, clapped his hands, and looked up at Moira.
An imperceptible golden light flickered in his pupils—[Mental Control]. In her daze, Moira only heard his laughing voice: "So concerned about me? You haven't fallen for me, have you?"
In that instant, Moira felt her consciousness blur for a moment.
Like a sudden wave of afternoon drowsiness, her eyelids felt heavy, and her thinking slowed down—
By the time she snapped out of it, Rorschach was leaning back on the sofa, looking at her with a beaming smile.
"Agent Moira," he said, "you're so concerned about me, you haven't fallen for me, have you?"
Moira froze, her face instantly flushing red: "You—what nonsense are you talking about?!"
Rorschach suddenly leaned forward, his elbow pressing down on the memo on the coffee table.
Moira instinctively leaned back, only to meet Charles's disapproving shake of the head.
Charles cleared his throat, his mouth twitching slightly; he knew Rorschach had used an ability.
Rorschach spread his hands innocently: "See, I make one joke and you get all prickly. As an Agent, you have to learn to control your emotions."
Moira took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing her anger, and tucked the documents back into her bag.
"Charles." She stood up. "I'm only here on routine business. Since you've vouched that he's fine, I won't stay any longer."
Charles nodded: "I'll walk you out."
As the two walked to the door, Moira suddenly turned back and glanced at Rorschach.
That look carried doubt, vigilance, and something else that was hard to define.
Rorschach waved at her.
The door closed.
—
That night, Rorschach sat by the window of his room, looking at the moon.
There was a knock on the door.
"Come in."
Charles pushed his wheelchair in and stopped by the window.
The two were silent for a while.
Charles spoke: "Was Moira... influenced by you today?"
Rorschach didn't deny it: "Just a little. To keep her from being too stubborn."
Charles nodded and didn't press further.
After another silence, he said: "What do you think about that memo from Stryker?"
Rorschach thought for a moment: "He's got his eye on me. But he won't make a move yet."
"Why?"
"Because he still hasn't figured out what I really am." Rorschach looked out the window. "In the CIA files, I'm just a Gamma-level energy manipulator. As for those three minutes I disappeared, he can only suspect; he has no way to prove anything."
Charles looked at him, his gaze deep.
"Rorschach, Stryker won't stop investigating." Charlesturned his wheelchair to block the twilight outside the window. "If he wants to strike at the academy, your secret will become the breakthrough point... Do we need a contingency plan? I want to know your thoughts."
Rorschach toyed with the red string on his wrist: "His target has always been all Mutants. Me? I'm just incidental."
Rorschach smiled: "Charles, can't you read minds?"
Charles shook his head: "Your mental shield is something I can't penetrate."
Rorschach said nothing.
Charles sighed: "Fine, I won't ask. But remember—no matter who you are, this is your home."
He pushed his wheelchair and left.
The door closed.
Rorschach sat by the window, watching the moonlight.
Home?
The word was somewhat foreign to him.
From The Boys to the X-Men, from Homelander to Shaw, he had always been alone.
But now—
He thought of how Raven looked sleeping on his shoulder, the look in Scott's eyes when he said "thank you," and the way Kitty cried "thank you" when she was pulled back.
He looked down at his wrist.
The red string was still there.
Brought over from the world of The Boys.
He whispered: "Soon. Once I finish dealing with things here, I'll go back for a visit."
The night wind blew past.
The hoot of an owl echoed in the distance.
—
Meanwhile, at the CIA New York branch.
Moira sat in her office, staring at the file on the computer screen.
Rorschach's photo was in the top left corner; below it was a complete blank.
She rubbed her temples, feeling as if there was a moment of blurred memory from the living room this afternoon.
But no matter what, she couldn't remember it.
She shook her head, closed the file, and got up to pour some coffee.
As she walked to the water dispenser, she suddenly stopped.
She stood by the water dispenser holding her coffee cup, unmoving for a long time.
When Moira came to her senses, the coffee cup was still warm, but there was an extra crease in her briefing folder—she clearly remembered not touching it.
The car radio was broadcasting the 17:00 news, yet the clock hands when she arrived at the CIA parking lot were at 17:12.
—
[System Prompt: Moira MacTaggert investigation concluded]
[Origin Masking Protocol operating normally]
[Target's memory has been blurred; unable to accurately recall the details of that day]
[Current total points: 14400]
Rorschach lay on the bed, looking at the system panel, the corners of his mouth curling slightly.
Moira was a nuisance.
But a nuisance didn't necessarily have to be killed.
Sometimes, making her doubt herself was more useful than killing her.
He closed the panel and rolled over to pull Raven into his arms.
Raven mumbled groggily: "What are you doing..."
"Sleeping."
"Where are you putting your hand?"
"Where it's supposed to be."
"Rorschach—!"
The moonlight shone through the gap in the curtains, falling over the two of them.
The hills of Westchester under the night sky were peaceful.
But Rorschach knew this peace wouldn't last long.
Stryker had already begun his move.
And he, too, should start preparing.