Chapter 116: New Ability, Magneto
Sabretooth pounced like a true tiger, his hands clawed, going straight for Rorschach's throat!
Rorschach dodged sideways, then countered with a punch to Sabretooth's ribs—
Sabretooth took the punch head-on without even a frown, his other hand already grabbing Rorschach's shoulder!
Rip—
Clothes torn.
Rorschach felt a sharp pain in his shoulder—Sabretooth's nails hadn't broken his skin, but left three white marks.
But he didn't stop.
He lowered his center of gravity and elbowed Sabretoothin the chest!
Bang!
Sabretooth grunted, staggered back two steps, and looked down at his chest—there was a bruise.
He looked up at Rorschach, his eyes even more excited.
"That's good stuff!"
He pounced again.
This time, Rorschach didn't dodge.
He met Sabretooth head-on, engaging in a fierce brawl!
Every punch connected.
The jeers around them grew louder, and the crowd pressed in tighter.
Rorschach deliberately suppressed his strength, using only about thirty percent of his power, fighting Sabretooth back and forth.
He wanted to see how much this legendary Beast truly had in him.
Three minutes passed.
Both of them were bruised.
Rorschach took a punch to the face, and a little blood intentionally seeped from the corner of his mouth.
Sabretooth was worse off—his nose was crooked, and one eye was swollen shut.
But neither of them stopped.
Sabretooth grew more excited with each blow, letting out beastly growls, his attacks becoming fiercer.
Rorschach, on the other hand, grew calmer.
He was observing.
Observing Sabretooth's fighting habits, the source of his strength, and the way his muscles contracted with each exertion.
Then, he found an opportunity.
Sabretooth threw a straight punch at his face—
Rorschach dodged his head sideways, simultaneously reaching out, his five fingers like hooks, grabbing Sabretooth's wrist!
Sabretooth reacted extremely quickly, immediately retracting his punch and changing his move—
But he was half a beat too slow.
Rorschach's fingers grazed the blood on his body.
A very light touch.
So light that Sabretooth himself didn't even notice.
But it was enough.
[Blood contact detected (male target: Sabretooth)]
[Ability extracting...]
[Obtained: Beast Force 2.0 (Strength + Speed + Vitality Enhancement)]
[points +1000, current total points: 15450]
Rorschach's lips curved slightly.
He got it.
He took a step back and raised his hands.
"Stop."
Sabretooth panted, glaring at him: "What's wrong? Can't fight anymore?"
Rorschach shook his head: "There's no point in fighting further. It's a draw."
Sabretooth stared at him for three seconds, then suddenly burst out laughing.
"Alright! A draw!"
He walked over and clapped Rorschach on the shoulder—this time gently, in a friendly manner.
"Jack, you're a good kid. Come work with me from now on."
Rorschach smiled, not responding.
At this moment, the crowd suddenly quieted down.
Everyone automatically parted, creating a path.
A man in a dark red uniform walked out of the warehouse, his metal helmet glinting coldly in the moonlight.
Erik.
Magneto.
He walked to the center of the open space, his gaze sweeping over everyone, finally resting on Rorschach.
It lingered for three seconds.
Then he spoke, his voice deep and magnetic:
"Tonight's gathering ends here. Everyone, return to standby."
No one dared to object.
The crowd began to disperse, and soon, only Erik, Sabretooth, and Rorschach remained in the open space.
Erik walked up to Rorschach, staring into his eyes.
"You have a familiar aura about you," he said. "Have we met before?"
Rorschach's heart skipped a beat, but his expression remained calm.
"No, we haven't. I'm new here."
Erik didn't speak, just continued to stare at him.
That feeling returned—the Magnetic Field was fluctuating slightly, as if probing something.
Rorschach maintained his feigned "Skin Hardening" and the strength he had displayed during the fight.
After three seconds, Erik withdrew his gaze.
"You are strong," he said. "Would you like to join the Brotherhood?"
Rorschach thought for a moment and asked: "The Brotherhood… what exactly does it do?"
"Protect Mutants," Erik said. "In our own way."
"What way?"
"If necessary, force."
Rorschach nodded, then suddenly asked: "By the way, have you heard of someone named Wolverine?"
Erik frowned: "Wolverine? Never heard of him. Who is he?"
"A Mutant," Rorschach said. "His abilities are self-healing and bone claws. It's said… he's also being hunted."
Erik was silent for a few seconds, then shook his head: "Never heard of him. But does he owe you money?"
Rorschach laughed: "No, he doesn't. Just asking."
He paused, then continued: "Actually, besides looking for my own kind, I came here to inquire about something."
"What is it?"
"The Sentinel Program." Rorschach looked into Erik's eyes. "Have you heard of it?"
Erik's expression instantly turned cold.
"Where did you hear that?"
"I have my channels," Rorschach said. "All I know is that it's an extermination program targeting Mutants. The Militaryand a certain scientist are cooperating, trying to create robots that can identify and kill Mutants."
Erik's eyes became sinister.
"Humans… truly are untrustworthy."
Rorschach shrugged: "I think killing the few leaders is the most important thing."
Erik stared at him, then suddenly smiled.
There was no warmth in that smile.
"Jack, you are very interesting," he said. "The Brotherhoodwelcomes you. However…"
He paused, lowering his voice:
"Don't let me find out you're lying to me."
Rorschach met his gaze, his smile unchanged.
"Don't worry, my greatest virtue is honesty—especially when killing."
The two stared at each other for three seconds.
Then Erik turned and left.
Sabretooth walked over and put his arm around Rorschach's shoulder.
"Come on, let's go drink! We're not stopping until we're drunk tonight!"
Rorschach was dragged back by him, glancing back in the direction Erik had left.
Under the moonlight, the red silhouette gradually disappeared into the night.
Rorschach withdrew his gaze and followed Sabretoothinto the warehouse.
Deafening music and boisterous human voices filled his ears.
He picked up a glass of whiskey, handed to him by who knows who, and drained it.
The fiery liquid burned down his throat.
He licked the blood from the corner of his mouth.
And smiled.
"Stryker, Trask…" he whispered to himself, "I'll come for each of you, one by one."
The night sky over New York was dim with stars.
Raven was probably already asleep.
Charles was probably still reading in his study.
Scott was probably putting in extra training in the training room.
Kitty was probably worried about tomorrow's test.
And he, here, drinking, smiling, planning his next slaughter.
"This life," he whispered, "is quite interesting."
Chapter 117 Fusion and Strengthening
It was three in the morning when he returned to the X-Mansion.
Rorschach slipped into the room silently. Just as he took off his jacket, which was stained with the smell of alcohol and blood, the bedside lamp lit up.
Raven leaned against the headboard, her blue arms crossed over her chest, her eyes as clear as if she hadn't just woken up.
"Did you have fun?"
Rorschach paused, then forced a smile: "It was okay. Brooklyn's nightlife is quite lively."
"Lively enough to get into a fight?" Raven tilted her chin, gesturing toward the bruise at the corner of his mouth.
Rorschach went to the mirror and looked—to disguise himself as an ordinary Mutant, he hadn't fully defended against Sabretooth's punch. The mark left by that punch hadn't faded yet, and his left cheek was swollen.
"It was an exchange," he corrected. "A friendly exchange between civilized people."
Raven rolled her eyes, got out of bed, walked over to him, and reached out to gently touch the bruise.
Rorschach let out a "hiss."
"Does it hurt?"
"A little."
"Serves you right," Raven said, though her actions suggested otherwise.
Rorschach used Super Regeneration, and the bruise faded at a speed visible to the naked eye.
Rorschach grabbed Raven's hand, pulled it to his lips, and kissed it.
"Thank you."
Raven pulled her hand back and turned to lie back on the bed: "Go to sleep. Charles will definitely look for you tomorrow."
Rorschach looked at her back, smiled, and lay down as well.
He closed his eyes but didn't fall asleep immediately.
In his mind, the system panel emerged.
[Current points: 15450]
[Newly acquired ability: Beast Force 2.0 (Strength + Speed + Vitality Enhancement)]
[Detected combinable abilities: Beast Force 2.0 + Super Strength 2.1 + Super Speed 2.2 + Vitality Enhancement 2.2]
[Can be fused into: Super Strength 2.4, Super Speed 2.3, Vitality Enhancement 2.3]
[Fusion cost: 2000 points]
[Proceed with fusion?]
Rorschach thought to himself: "Fuse."
[Fusion confirmed, 2000 points consumed]
[Fusion beginning...]
At that moment, Rorschach felt as if his body had been thrown into a furnace.
It wasn't pain, but a strange "sense of reshaping."
He could clearly feel four different forces within his body colliding, tearing, and then slowly merging—
The wild savagery of Beast Strength.
The stable heaviness of Super Strength.
The agile swiftness of Super Speed.
The endless continuity of Vitality Enhancement.
They were like four rivers of different colors, crashing together at an invisible intersection, stirring up towering waves before gradually calming down and merging into a wider, deeper river.
Rorschach clenched his teeth, his muscles tensing all over, fine beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead.
He could feel his bones making slight "click-clack" sounds, as if undergoing some kind of fine-tuning; muscle fibers were tearing and regenerating, becoming denser and more elastic; his blood flow was accelerating, and his heart was beating more powerfully, each pump like a small tsunami inside him.
Raven seemed to notice something, turned over, and looked at him.
"What... happened to you?"
Rorschach opened his eyes, a flash of dark golden light passing through the depths of his pupils.
"Nothing," his voice was a bit hoarse, "just... a bit hot."
Raven reached out and touched his forehead—it was frighteningly hot.
"Do you have a fever?"
"It's not a fever." Rorschach took her hand and placed it on his chest. "It's getting stronger."
Raven was stunned.
She could clearly feel the heart under her palm beating steadily and powerfully, like a finely tuned engine.
The muscles under the skin tightened like steel wires and then slowly relaxed, each expansion and contraction carrying a primal rhythm.
"You..." She opened her mouth but didn't finish.
Rorschach smiled, a smile that looked a bit wild in the dim light.
"Now, those people under Stryker—I'll kill as many as they send."
He spoke calmly, but the killing intent in his words sent a chill down Raven's spine.
She stared at him for a long time, then whispered: "Rorschach, sometimes... you scare me a little."
The smile on Rorschach's face faded slightly.
He reached out and pulled her into his arms, resting his chin on top of her head.
"What are you afraid of? I would never raise a hand against you."
"It's not that I'm afraid you'll hurt me." Raven leaned against his chest, listening to that powerful heartbeat. "I'm afraid you're... becoming less and less human."
Rorschach fell silent.
After a few seconds, he whispered: "Raven, I'm just a passerby to begin with. There are things I must do. There are people I must kill."
"I know." Raven closed her eyes. "I just... don't want to see you turn into a killing machine."
"I won't." Rorschach tightened his arms. "Killing is for protection. To protect you, to protect Charles, and to protect those little brats in the mansion."
Raven didn't say anything more.
The room fell quiet, with only the sound of their steady breathing.
——
The next morning, when Rorschach woke up, Raven was no longer in bed.
He sat up and stretched his neck, his bones making a series of crisp cracking sounds.
He felt... good.
Better than ever before.
He clenched his fist and could clearly feel the power hidden in his muscles—at least thirty percent stronger than before.
[System notification: Fusion complete]
[Current abilities: Super Strength 2.4, Super Speed 2.3, Vitality Enhancement 2.3]
[Current total points: 13450]
Rorschach looked at the numbers on the panel and nodded with satisfaction.
It was worth it.
He got out of bed, washed up, changed into clean clothes, and pushed the door open.
The corridor was very quiet; at this time, the students were still asleep.
He walked to the second-floor terrace and saw Charlessitting in his wheelchair, facing the hillside, holding a cup of tea.
"Morning." Rorschach walked over and leaned against the railing.
Charles turned to look at him, his gaze lingering on his face for two seconds.
"You look... different."
"Do I?" Rorschach touched his face. "Maybe I just slept well last night."
Charles didn't press further, took a sip of tea, and said slowly: "Hank told me you went to Florida."
"Yeah."
"He also said you released at least twenty Mutants, six of whom are seriously injured and on their way to the mansion."
"Correct."
Charles was silent for a few seconds, then turned to look at him: "Rorschach, I won't ask exactly what you did. But I need to know—did you kill anyone?"
Rorschach met his gaze without flinching.
"I did."
"How many?"
"I didn't count," Rorschach said. "Probably... a few dozen. Mostly guards and researchers."
Charles's brow furrowed.
"Rorschach, we built this mansion to teach the children to control their abilities, for the sake of peace—"
"Charles." Rorschach interrupted him, his voice calm. "Peace is a result, not a means. You want to use gentle ways to persuade humans to accept us; I respect that. But I don't believe persuasion works."
He paused and continued: "Stryker is collecting MutantDNA, preparing for genocide. Trask is building Sentinelrobots; once those things are made, just one could massacre an entire Mutant community. You talk about peace with people like that? They'll only think you're an easy target."
Charles looked at him with a complex expression.
"So you just go and kill?"
"Yes." Rorschach nodded. "I plan to slaughter everyone who looks for trouble first. It's called clearing the obstacles for peace."
Charles gave a bitter smile: "Your logic... I actually find myself unable to refute it."
Rorschach walked to his side and also looked at the distant hillside.
In the morning light, the maple leaves were as red as blood.
"Charles, I know what your ideal World looks like—Mutants and humans coexisting peacefully, understanding each other, progressing together. It's beautiful, really," he said. "But achieving that World takes time. And before that, someone has to move the stones out of the way, dismantle the traps, and... deal with the people waiting with knives to stab us."
He turned to Charles and smiled: "You're responsible for building. I'm responsible for cleaning. A clear division of labor, isn't it good?"
Charles stared at him for a long time.
Finally, he sighed, turned his wheelchair back toward the hillside.
"Rorschach, promise me one thing."
"Go on."
"Don't let the students know." Charles's voice was very low. "They're still young. They shouldn't be exposed to this."
Rorschach was silent for two seconds, then nodded.
"Alright."
Neither spoke again.
The morning breeze blew, carrying a maple leaf that swirled in the air before landing on the terrace floor.
Rorschach bent down, picked up the leaf, and twirled it in his hand.
"By the way, Charles."
"Yes?"
"I visited the Brotherhood yesterday."
Charles's body stiffened slightly.
"Erik..." He paused. "Is he doing well?"
"He seems fine," Rorschach said. "He's recruited quite a few people—Sabretooth, Toad, Spike... all tough characters. He told me the Brotherhood's goal is to 'protect Mutants in our own way'."
Charles closed his eyes and whispered: "He still chose that path."
"Everyone has their own path." Rorschach threw the maple leaf away, watching it drift into the distance. "You choose yours, he chooses his. In the end, let time prove who was right or wrong."
Charles opened his eyes and looked at Rorschach.
"Which path will you choose?"
Rorschach smiled.
"Me? I'll choose the shortest one."
He turned to leave the terrace and suddenly stopped at the door.
"Charles."
"Yes?"
"If one day Erik really brings the Brotherhood to attack the mansion—" Rorschach turned back, that lazy smile hanging on his face, "I'll stop him. But I won't kill him."
Charles was stunned.
Rorschach waved his hand and pushed the door open.
The sound of his receding footsteps echoed in the corridor.
Charles sat in his wheelchair, looking at the fiery red maple forest in the distance, motionless for a long time.
Chapter 118: Training and the Mysterious Figure
Afternoon, Training Ground.
Rorschach stood with his arms crossed, observing the students before him.
Scott, Ororo, Warren, John, Lois, Kitty—not a single one missing.
"Today, we're practicing coordination," Rorschach said. "Two per group, free combination, practice tactical linkage. Scott, you're with Ororo. Warren, you're with John. Lois, you're with Hedgehog."
Everyone quickly grouped up and stood ready.
Rorschach walked to the center of the field: "The rules are simple—I attack, you cooperate to defend and counterattack. Last three minutes, and you pass. Fail to last..."
He smiled, leaving the sentence unfinished.
But everyone understood.
"Begin."
No sooner had he spoken than Rorschach moved.
Super Speed 2.3 unleashed!
His figure left a blurry afterimage on the Training Ground, appearing instantly before Scott and Ororo!
Scott reacted incredibly fast, his thumb already on the switch of his visor—
But Rorschach was even faster!
He dodged the Impact, one hand grabbing Scott's collar, the other slapping Ororo's shoulder!
Ororo's face paled, and she instinctively raised her hand—
The sky suddenly darkened!
A bolt of lightning struck down!
Rorschach looked up at the lightning, a smile playing on his lips.
He didn't dodge or evade.
The lightning struck him squarely!
Blinding electric light burst forth, raising a cloud of dust on the Training Ground.
"He got hit?!" John exclaimed.
The dust settled.
Rorschach stood in place, smoke rising from his body, his clothes charred in several spots, but his skin was completely unharmed, not even red.
He patted the dust off himself, looked at Ororo, and nodded.
"Good reaction. Just a little weak in power."
Ororo's mouth hung open, unable to utter a single word.
That was lightning! An ordinary person would be charred by a single hit!
Scott seized the opportunity to press the switch again—
A red Impact beam roared out!
This time, Rorschach didn't take it head-on.
He pushed off with his feet, launching himself into the air like a cannonball, avoiding the Impact while simultaneously appearing before Warren and John!
Warren spread his wings, about to take flight—
"Come down."
Rorschach raised his hand and pressed down on the empty air.
Magnetic Field Manipulation 2.1
Warren felt a sudden heaviness in his wings and body, pulled down by the iron pipes Rorschach had wrapped around him! He cried out, falling awkwardly to the ground and getting a mouthful of dirt.
John opened his mouth and breathed Fire—
Rorschach extended his hand, fingers spread.
Energy Control 2.6 — Absorb
The flames surged into his palm as if swallowed by a black hole, disappearing without a trace.
John's eyes widened, dumbfounded.
On the other side, Lois and Kitty had already rushed over.
Lois raised both hands, and Acid shot out like rain!
Rorschach smiled.
He raised his foot and gently stomped the ground.
Super Strength 2.4 transmitted through the ground!
Boom!
The Training Ground floor violently shook!
Lois lost her footing and fell to the ground. Kitty slammed into the nearby railing, seeing stars.
Three minutes were up.
Rorschach withdrew his hand, stood in place, and patted the dust off himself.
All six students lay on the ground, gasping for breath like fish out of water.
"Let's summarize," Rorschach walked over, critiquing each one. "Scott, you rely too much on your visor; your close-quarters combat is a clear weakness. Ororo, your lightning summon has too long of a wind-up; next time, try casting silently."
"Warren, the metal on your wings is your biggest weakness; remember to wear non-metallic protective gear during training from now on. John, don't inhale before breathing fire; that's asking for death."
"Lois, your Acid has a short range, you need to position yourself further forward. Kitty... you need to control your abilities better."
The six lay on the ground, and after hearing the critiques, their expressions were more varied than the last.
Scott struggled to sit up, adjusted his crooked visor, and mumbled, "Understood."
Rorschach nodded: "Alright, ten-minute break, then continue training."
He turned and walked towards the edge of the field, intending to get some water.
After two steps, he suddenly stopped, turning his head to look at the woods at the edge of the Training Ground.
There, tree shadows swayed.
No one was there.
But Rorschach sensed something was amiss.
Very faint, almost imperceptible, but definitely present—a cold, lifeless gaze.
He narrowed his eyes.
Mental Control 2.1 silently spread out, like an invisible net cast into the woods.
No heartbeat.
No breathing.
No emotional fluctuations.
Only... a faint hum of metal and electricity.
Rorschach's brows furrowed.
Not Stryker's people.
Stryker's subordinates were living people, flesh and blood, with heartbeats and breathing.
So what was this?
Just as he was about to walk towards the woods, Scott's voice came from behind him.
"Rorschach, what's wrong?"
Rorschach retracted his gaze, turned around, his face returning to its usual lazy expression.
"Nothing. Saw a wild cat."
He walked to the side of the field, picked up his water bottle, and took a sip, but his eyes never left the woods.
Deep in the woods, in the shadows.
A figure in a black robe stood silently, wearing an expressionless metal mask, with two dark red lenses for eyes.
The lenses reflected the scene on the Training Ground.
Reflecting Rorschach's back.
In an instant, the black-robed figure merged into deeper shadows and vanished.
As if it had never appeared.
—
Back at the Training Ground, Rorschach put down his water bottle, but his doubts lingered.
He remembered what Jean had said earlier—that existence with "no soul, only metal and electricity."
Could it be...
"Rorschach!"
Raven's voice came from the direction of the main building.
Rorschach turned and saw her standing on the steps, waving at him.
"Charles is calling you! Says it's urgent!"
Rorschach nodded and told the students: "Train on your own; I'll be back to check."
He walked towards the main building, his steps pausing slightly as he passed the woods.
His gaze swept over the ground.
The fallen leaves were undisturbed, no footprints.
But he crouched down and reached out to touch a leaf.
On the leaf, there was an extremely thin, almost invisible layer of metallic dust.
It shimmered with a cold glint in the sunlight.
Rorschach rubbed his fingers together, and the dust dissolved at his fingertips.
He stood up, looked in the direction of the main building, and his eyes grew cold.
"It seems Stryker isn't the only one watching this place."
He murmured, then turned and left.
The woods returned to silence.
Only the wind rustled the leaves, like a long sigh.
Chapter 119: Omens of the Phoenix's Awakening
Moonlight slanted in from the terrace, casting Rorschach's shadow long across the floor.
A week had passed since he fused with Beast Force, and he had now completely adapted to that explosive power within his body.
He woke up naturally at five every morning, ran ten kilometers around the back mountain without breaking a sweat, and could leave a half-inch deep fist print on the steel plates of the Training Ground with a single punch.
But he wasn't thinking about any of that right now.
Leaning back on his bed, his mind repeatedly replayed the scene of the Metallic Dust he'd found by the woods earlier that day, and that sentence Jean had spoken—'No soul, only metal and electric currents.'
"Mr. Sinister..." he whispered the name under his breath.
Westchester was very quiet at night, with the chirping of autumn insects rising and falling in succession.
A few lights were still on in the distant Main Building—Charles was likely still reading in his study, Hank was definitely still tinkering with his Cerebra brainwave enhancer in the Underground Room, and Jean...
Thinking of Jean, Rorschach's brow furrowed.
That kid hadn't been right lately.
It wasn't her behavior; it was her energy.
Previously, her Psychic Power was like a pool of deep water—calm but profound.
Now, that pool had begun to ripple, occasionally giving off waves that shouldn't belong to her.
"The Phoenix is about to wake up," he said softly.
This wasn't a guess; it was real-time monitoring data from the system.
Ever since he used Cerebra to scan that golden speck of light in Egypt, the system had gained a passive early-warning function—its sensitivity to surrounding high-dimensional energy fluctuations had increased.
And the fluctuations within Jean's body were slowly and steadily intensifying.
Rorschach closed his eyes and pulled up the system panel.
[High-Dimensional Energy Entity Detected: Jean Grey / Phoenix Force]
[Current Status: Deep Slumber (Awakening Progress: 12%)]
[Recommendation: Maintain a safe distance; avoid deep contact]
"12%..." Rorschach curled his lip. "In other words, by the time she's at 100%, she could burn me to ash with a single thought."
He thought of Homelander from the world of The Boys—that guy hadn't even reached level 3.0, and he was already a handful.
Phoenix Force at 4.0+ was something from another dimension entirely.
"Being cautious isn't being a coward; it's strategy," he told himself. "You can only deal damage if you're alive."
The bedroom door was pushed open gently.
Raven walked in wearing his shirt, her long blue hair draped wetly over her shoulders, clearly having just showered.
She walked to the bedside, kicked off her slippers, climbed onto the bed, and naturally burrowed into his arms.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked, her face pressed against his chest, her voice muffled.
"Thinking about what to have for breakfast tomorrow."
"Liar." Raven looked up at him, her blue eyes shining like a cat's in the dim light. "Every time you're thinking about killing someone, your eyes look like this."
Rorschach smiled. "Like what?"
"Like you're counting how many bones in their body you can take apart."
"Then count for me—whose do I want to take apart right now?"
Raven didn't play along with the joke.
She reached out to touch his face, her fingertip tracing the line of his jaw.
"It's Jean, isn't it?"
Rorschach was silent for two seconds before nodding.
"Charles talked to me today," Raven said. "He said Jean's power is growing too fast, so fast he's losing control. He asked if I could help—use my experience to teach Jean how to stay calm."
"What did you say?"
"I said okay." Raven leaned back into his embrace. "But I also told him that the thing inside that kid isn't something my little tricks can stop. It's... something else."
She paused, her voice dropping lower. "Rorschach, you've seen so many Mutants. Have you ever seen anything like this?"
Rorschach thought for a moment and shook his head honestly. "No."
"Then what do you plan to do?"
"Wait."
"Wait?"
"Wait for her to grow up," Rorschach said. "Wait until she can control that power, or... until I can withstand it."
Raven stared at him for a long time, finally letting out a sigh.
"You're always like this."
"Like what?"
"Clearly wanting something, yet able to restrain yourself from acting." She poked his chest. "Like a hunter."
Rorschach didn't speak; he caught her hand and gave it a quick kiss.
Thinking to himself, 'A hunter knows when to wait and when to pounce. I could pounce on Shaw because he was only 2.5. Phoenix is 4.0+; pouncing on that is just seeking death.'
Raven fell silent.
Moonlight streamed through the window, falling over the two of them.
The hoot of an owl echoed from afar—once, twice—and then silence returned.
Rorschach held her tight and closed his eyes.
But he didn't sleep.
The system panel floated quietly in his mind, with a line of constantly refreshing data at the very top:
[High-Dimensional Energy Entity Distance: 32.7 meters]
[Fluctuation Frequency: Increasing by 0.03% per hour]
[Recommendation: Maintain distance]
He took a deep breath and closed the panel.
"Soon," he said in his mind. "But it's not time yet."
—
The next morning, during training class.
Rorschach stood with his arms crossed, watching the students spar on the field.
Scott was paired with Warren, John with Lois, and the newcomer Hedgehog with Bobby—this was Rorschach's new grouping, under the guise of 'elemental counter combat training.'
The results were obvious.
Scott's Impact was constantly deflected by Warren's wings, while Warren's dives were always anticipated by Scott.
John's flames sprayed onto Lois's acid, creating a cloud of pungent smoke.
Hedgehog's spikes slammed into Bobby's ice walls, making a harsh sound like metal grinding.
"Stop," Rorschach called out.
Everyone stopped at once, looking toward him while panting for breath.
"Scott, that last shot was off by fifteen degrees." Rorschachwalked over, pointing at a target at the edge of the Training Ground. "Why?"
Scott adjusted his glasses. "The wind from Warren's dive..."
"That's an excuse." Rorschach interrupted him. "Wind affects trajectory, but it won't make someone who's trained for three weeks miss by that much. You were distracted."
Scott fell silent.
"What were you distracted by?"
"...Jean."
Rorschach raised an eyebrow.
Scott continued, "She didn't come to breakfast this morning. Hank said she locked herself in her room, saying she had a headache. I'm a little worried."
Rorschach turned his gaze toward the Main Building.
The curtains were drawn on a certain window on the third floor—that was Jean's room.
He withdrew his gaze and patted Scott's shoulder. "Focus on training. Charles is watching over Jean; nothing will happen."
"But—"
"No buts." Rorschach's voice turned cold. "On the battlefield, if you're distracted for even a second, the one who dies is you, or the person behind you. Understand?"
Scott gritted his teeth and nodded. "Understood."
"Keep practicing."
Training resumed.
But Rorschach could feel that it wasn't just Scott; the others were also somewhat absent-minded.
Their eyes would occasionally flick toward the Main Building, their ears perked to listen for any commotion from that direction.
Rorschach didn't stop them again.
Because he was listening too.
Within the passive perception range of Mental Control 2.1, Jean's Psychic Power was like a slowly expanding Sun, emitting fluctuations that were becoming stronger and increasingly unstable.
"Charles..." he whispered the name. "You'd better hold on."
Chapter 120: The Phoenix Force's Perception
At lunchtime, Jean finally appeared.
She was wearing a loose sweater, her red hair pulled back into a ponytail; her face was a bit pale, but her eyes were very bright.
She sat quietly next to Charles, nibbling on a sandwich, unlike her usual self who would chat with Scott and the others.
Rorschach sat at the other end of the dining table, holding a cup of coffee. He appeared to be discussing training plans with Hank, but in reality, all his attention was on Jean.
The system panel was frantically refreshing data:
[High-Dimensional Energy Entity: Awakening Progress 14%]
[Psychic Power Fluctuation: Exceeds normal threshold by 230%]
Rorschach took a sip of coffee without changing his expression.
Ten meters?
He was currently less than eight meters away from Jean.
But it didn't matter; as long as he didn't initiate contact, the system judged the risk to be controllable just by staying nearby.
"Jean," Charles spoke softly, "for this afternoon's lesson, I want to teach you how to construct a Psychic Barrier."
Jean looked up at him, her gaze a bit dazed. "Psychic Barrier?"
"Yes," Charles smiled. "It's like building a house for your thoughts, with walls, a door, and windows. You can decide who comes in, who goes out, and who can only look from the outside."
Jean thought for a moment and nodded. "Okay."
"After lunch, we'll begin in the study."
Jean went back to eating her sandwich.
Watching this scene, Rorschach felt a slight sense of relief.
With Charles personally teaching her, Jean's abilities should be better controlled.
As long as she didn't lose control or go on a rampage, and the Phoenix Force continued to sleep, everyone would be safe.
But just as that thought surfaced, Jean suddenly turned her head and looked at him.
Their gazes met in the air.
Rorschach felt a chill in his heart, but his face still wore that lazy smile. "What are you looking at? Do I have something on my face?"
Jean didn't laugh.
She stared at him for three seconds, then said softly, "On you... there are many layers."
The dining table instantly went quiet.
Scott, Warren, John, Lois, Bobby—everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at Rorschach.
Raven kicked Rorschach under the table, her eyes saying, "You deal with the mess you made."
Rorschach's expression remained unchanged as he set down his coffee cup.
"Layers?" He raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying I'm thick-skinned? Well, I'll admit to that."
Jean shook her head. "Not skin. Inside your body... there are many layers of things. Some are on the surface, some are deep down, and some... I can't touch."
Rorschach's smile faded slightly.
"Don't talk nonsense." He stood up and carried his coffee cup toward the kitchen. "I'm a perfectly innocent man, but you make it sound like I'm hiding so many secrets."
He turned and left the dining room.
His back looked very composed.
But only he knew that a small patch of the shirt on his back was already soaked with cold sweat.
—
In the afternoon, Rorschach didn't go to the Training Ground.
He wandered to the back mountain, found a large tree to lean against, and closed his eyes to doze.
In reality, he was reviewing the situation.
What exactly did Jean's words—"On you there are many layers"—mean?
Was it just a description of the complexity of his abilities?
Or did she really "see" something?
Did she see the system?
Did she see those abilities marked as "Unactivated"?
Did she see the Soul Imprint he brought from Black Robe World?
[System Notification: Origin Masking Protocol operating normally]
[Current Resistance Success Rate: 97.3%]
"97.3%..." Rorschach repeated the number in a low voice. "In other words, there's still a 2.7% chance of being seen through."
He took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and looked at the leaves above him.
Sunlight leaked through the gaps in the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground.
"I need to speed things up," he said softly. "Stryker, Trask, Mr. Sinister... and that Golden Light Spot in Egypt. I need to clear out all these threats before the Phoenix fully awakens."
He stood up and brushed the grass clippings off his pants.
In the distance, the study window of the academy's Main Building was open.
He could "see" Charles and Jean sitting inside, their Psychic Power like two spheres of soft light, slowly intertwining, separating, and intertwining again.
Charles was teaching Jean how to construct a barrier.
Teaching her how to control that power.
Teaching her how not to hurt others, and how not to hurt herself.
Rorschach watched for a long time, then turned and walked toward the Training Ground.
Behind him, in the study window, Jean suddenly turned her head and looked in the direction he had left.
Deep within her eyes, a nearly imperceptible golden glimmer flashed and vanished.
Like a dormant volcano turning over.
And then going back to sleep.
Chapter 121: Testing the Waters
Three days later, in the evening.
Rorschach sat on a bench by the Training Ground, watching Scott and Warren doing their final extra training session.
The setting sun stretched their shadows long, and sweat glistened under the remaining glow.
"Stop," Rorschach shouted.
Scott and Warren stopped at the same time, looking at him while panting.
"That's enough for today." Rorschach stood up and stretched his neck. "Go back and take a shower. Don't do any more extra training tonight; get some good sleep."
Warren grinned. "Rorschach, you actually care whether we sleep or not?"
"I care about you not dozing off on the Training Groundtomorrow," Rorschach waved them off. "Now get lost."
The two of them left, laughing.
Rorschach was the only one left on the Training Ground.
He stood there, watching the sunset glow on the horizon.
The maple-red clouds looked as if they had been scorched by fire, layered one upon another, transitioning from orange-red to dark purple.
It was beautiful.
But within this beauty was an indescribable sense of unease.
Like the calm before a storm.
He turned, preparing to return to the Main Building.
Then he saw Jean.
She stood in the shade of the trees at the edge of the Training Ground, watching him quietly, not knowing how long she had been there.
Her red hair fluttered gently in the evening breeze, and the sleeves of her school uniform jacket were rolled up to her elbows, revealing her fair forearms.
"Need something?" Rorschach walked over and stopped in front of her.
Jean looked up at him; her eyes were clear, but something was churning deep within them.
"Charles said my barrier is complete," she said. "Now I can control my own thoughts and won't just read other people's minds randomly."
"That's good," Rorschach nodded. "Congratulations."
"But some things can be felt without reading them," Jean continued. "Like you."
Rorschach's heart tightened, but he kept a smile on his face. "What about me? I didn't steal your pudding."
Jean didn't take the joke.
She took a step forward, standing only a meter away from Rorschach.
This distance caused the system panel to instantly pop up a warning:
[Warning: High-Dimensional Energy Entity in close proximity]
[Current Distance: 0.98 meters]
[Risk Level: Low (Maintain distance)]
Rorschach didn't move.
Jean looked at him and said softly, "Rorschach, can I ask you a question?"
"Ask away."
"Have... have you ever killed anyone?"
The wind on the Training Ground suddenly stopped.
The chirping of insects in the distance also vanished.
The whole World seemed to have been muted.
Rorschach looked into Jean's eyes; in those clear pupils, he saw his own reflection—a man with a lazy smile on his face, but with something churning in the depths of his gaze.
"I have," he answered honestly.
"Many?"
"I haven't counted," Rorschach said. "But it should be more than the puddings you've eaten."
Jean was silent for a few seconds.
"Then the people you killed... were they all bad people?"
Rorschach thought for a moment.
He thought of Homelander, Stormfront, Black Noir, and Soldier Boy from Black Robe World.
He thought of Shaw from this World.
He thought of the guards and researchers at the FloridaBase who experimented on Mutants.
"For now, yes," he said. "It's hard to say about the future."
Jean looked at him with a complex gaze.
"Charles says that killing is wrong."
"Charles is right." Rorschach nodded. "But sometimes, if you don't kill others, they will kill you, or kill the people you care about."
"The people you care about... is it Raven? Charles? Scottand the others?"
"Yes."
Jean fell silent again.
The evening breeze began to blow again, fluttering her red hair and the stray hairs on Rorschach's forehead.
"Rorschach," she suddenly spoke, her voice very light, "Can I... touch your hand?"
Rorschach froze.
The system panel refreshed frantically:
[Warning: Physical contact with High-Dimensional Energy Entity]
[Risk Level: High]
But Rorschach looked into Jean's eyes; in them, he saw curiosity, confusion, and a certain childish stubbornness.
There was no malice.
At least not for now.
He took a deep breath and extended his right hand.
"Just a touch," he said. "Go back and do your homework immediately after this."
Jean nodded and reached out her own hand.
Her hand was small and pale, her fingertips slightly cool.
She gently grasped Rorschach's hand.
At that moment—
Boom!!!
It was as if a thousand bells were tolling simultaneously in Rorschach's head!
The system's alarm was so sharp it nearly pierced his eardrums:
[WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!]
[Direct contact with High-Dimensional Energy Entitydetected!]
[Phoenix Force Passive Defense Mechanism triggered!]
[Energy level at current contact surface: 4.0+!]
[Calculating Host's survival probability...]
[Calculation result: 0.03%!]
Rorschach wanted to pull his hand away.
But it was too late.
Jean's grip was light, but that power was like countless invisible needles, instantly piercing his skin, flesh, and bone, stabbing directly into the depths of his soul!
He "saw" it.
Not with his eyes, but with some deeper sense of perception.
He saw a boundless golden ocean where the water was composed of pure energy, each drop containing the power to destroy stars.
Deep in the ocean, a giant Golden Firebird was slumbering, and its every breath caused monstrous waves to rise across the entire sea.
That was the Phoenix Force.
And that was only a one-in-a-billion projection of its power.
More power slept deeper, at the very bottom of Jean's soul, like a sealed volcano that, once erupted, would be enough to burn through the boundaries between reality and illusion.
[Warning: Host's Spiritual Body is being assimilated!]
[Assimilation progress: 0.1%... 0.2%... 0.3%...]
Rorschach grit his teeth and, using all his willpower, violently yanked his hand back!
The movement was so fast it stirred up a gust of wind.
Chapter 122: System Warning and Lingering Fear
Jean stumbled from his movement and almost fell.
She steadied herself and looked up at him, her eyes filled with confusion and a hint of... hurt?
"You..." She opened her mouth. "Just now...?"
Rorschach didn't speak.
He stood there, panting heavily, his shirt completely soaked with cold sweat.
In those three seconds just now, he felt like an ant standing on the edge of an erupting volcano, about to be incinerated until not even ashes remained in the next second.
The system panel was still refreshing frantically:
[Contact severed]
[assimilation progress stopped: 0.47%]
[Host's mental body damage level: Minor (self-healing)]
Rorschach calmed his breathing and forced a smile that looked worse than crying.
"Nothing," he said. "I just spaced out. Thinking about what to eat for dinner."
Jean stared at him for three seconds.
Her gaze was complex, containing confusion, suspicion, and something else Rorschach couldn't quite decipher.
Finally, she nodded.
"Oh," she said. "Then I'm going back."
She turned and walked toward the Main Building.
After a few steps, she suddenly turned back.
"Rorschach."
"Hmm?"
"Just now... you were very afraid."
Rorschach's heart skipped a beat.
Jean continued, "I felt you being afraid. Very, very afraid, like... like seeing the sky collapse."
She paused and asked softly, "Was it me who made you afraid?"
Rorschach remained silent for a long time.
Finally, he shook his head.
"No," he said. "It's just that I'm a coward."
Jean took one last look at him and turned to leave.
This time, she didn't look back.
Rorschach stood there, watching her figure disappear behind the doors of the Main Building.
Then his legs gave way, and he sat directly on the ground.
The ground of the Training Ground was very cold, but he couldn't feel it.
He only felt cold all over, as if he had just been fished out of ice water.
He looked down at his right hand.
On his palm, where Jean had just held it, a faint layer of golden patterns emerged on the skin, like some ancient runes, slowly fading away.
[Residual mark of Phoenix Force detected]
[Mark Level: 4.0+ (Trace amount)]
[Effect: Unknown]
Rorschach stared at the patterns until they completely disappeared.
Then he smiled.
That smile carried lingering fear and a sense of relief.
"Damn it," he cursed softly. "I almost screwed up big time."
But he knew in his heart that in those three seconds, he had won the gamble.
Jean hadn't noticed the system's existence, the eighty-plus abilities marked as "unactivated" within him, or his soul imprint from another World.
She only felt that he was afraid.
Felt that he was afraid, like "seeing the sky collapse."
That was enough.
Rorschach stood up and brushed the dust off his pants.
The setting sun had completely sunk below the horizon, leaving only a final streak of dark red afterglow in the sky.
The Training Ground was empty.
The lights of the Main Building in the distance lit up one by one.
He took a deep breath and walked toward the Main Building.
Reaching the door, he suddenly stopped and looked back at the Training Ground.
Where Jean had stood just now, there was a small charred mark on the ground.
It wasn't burned by fire.
It was an energy overload that had directly carbonized the blades of grass.
Rorschach stared at the mark for three seconds, then pushed the door open and entered.
The hallway was very quiet.
He could hear Raven and Hank talking in the kitchen, Charles flipping through books in the study, and music coming from Scott's room.
Everything was as usual.
It was as if the contact that had almost turned him into ashes had never happened.
He walked to his room's door and pushed it open.
Raven wasn't there; she was probably still helping in the kitchen.
He walked to the window and looked out at the night.
The system panel popped up automatically:
[Current points: 13,450]
[Phoenix Force contact record archived]
[Suggestion: Maintain a safe distance until the host's combat power increases to 3.0+]
Rorschach looked at those words and smiled.
"3.0+?" he said softly.
He closed the panel, lay down on the bed, and stared at the ceiling.
Every detail of those three seconds replayed repeatedly in his mind.
The Golden Ocean.
The sleeping Firebird.
The towering waves.
And that... feeling of insignificance like an ant facing a god.
"Being cowardly isn't being cowardly; it's a strategy," he told himself. "Only by staying alive can one deal damage."
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled.
When he opened his eyes again, his gaze had returned to its usual calmness and indifference.
"Jean Grey," he whispered the name. "We'll talk when you've grown up."
The night deepened.
In a room on the third floor of the Main Building, Jean sat by the window, looking at her right hand.
The hand that had just held Rorschach's.
She felt very strange.
Not a strange tactile sensation, but... strange on an energy level.
When she held Rorschach's hand, she felt an incredibly massive energy, so massive it exceeded her understanding.
But that energy was wrapped in layers, like a seed enclosed in countless shells. The outermost layers were common abilities like "Skin Hardening" and "Strength Enhancement," but the further inward, the thicker the shells and the more terrifying the energy.
She only touched the outermost shell.
And was bounced back.
No, not bounced back.
It was Rorschach himself who pulled his hand away.
The moment he pulled away, she felt an extremely intense fear—not a fear of her, but a fear of the "thing" inside her.
That sleeping "thing" that she herself couldn't control.
Jean looked down at her palm.
There, where she had just touched Rorschach's skin, a trace of weak energy fluctuation faintly remained.
It wasn't hers.
It was Rorschach's.
That energy was very special, like... like it didn't belong to this World.
She frowned, trying to understand that energy.
But in the next second, the energy vanished.
As if it had never existed.
Jean sat by the window, watching the moon outside, remaining motionless for a long time.
Deep in her eyes, that sliver of golden light flashed again.
This time it lasted longer than ever before.
Then it slowly faded out.
Chapter 123: The Professor's Vigilance
At breakfast the next day, Jean rubbed her temples and whispered to Charles beside her, "Inside Teacher Rorschach... there are many layers of shells. That innermost layer feels very unsettling."
Charles's fork paused slightly in his hand.
He turned to look at Jean, his voice gentle. "What did you sense?"
"I can't say for sure." Jean frowned, her red hair shimmering in the morning light. "It's like... like a house with many rooms. Some doors are open, some are locked. Behind that door at the very back, the aura coming through is very foreign."
Charles put down his fork, his gaze sweeping across the other end of the dining table.
Rorschach was fighting Warren for the last piece of bacon, muttering unclearly, "Think your wings have grown strong, huh? Daring to steal my food?"
"First come, first served!" Warren said triumphantly.
Rorschach rolled his eyes, let him have the bacon, and took a sip from his coffee cup.
Sunlight slanted in through the window, gilding his profile—he looked no different from any ordinary man.
But Charles knew this man was not ordinary.
Never had been.
"Jean," he said softly. "After classes tonight, have Rorschach come to my study."
Jean nodded, her eyes still clouded with confusion.
8:00 PM, Study.
Charles sat in his wheelchair with a copy of 'History of Human Genetic Evolution' spread before him, but he hadn't processed a single word.
The moonlight outside was bright, casting the study in a play of light and shadow.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Come in."
Rorschach pushed the door open and entered, still carrying the scent of sweat from the Training Ground.
He leaned against the doorframe and raised an eyebrow. "Looking for me? Speak up if there's something; Raven is waiting for me for dinner."
"Sit." Charles pointed to the chair opposite him.
Rorschach didn't move.
"Standing is fine," he said. "Charles, how long have we known each other?"
"Two years and three months," Charles said.
"You remember quite clearly." Rorschach smiled. "Then you should also remember what we agreed upon when I first promised to stay as a mentor."
Charles remained silent.
"No probing, no questioning, no prying," Rorschach said word by word. "I needed a place to stay, and you needed someone capable of fighting to protect the academy. Each gets what they need, no mutual interference—those were the exact words."
"I remember," Charles said.
"And now?" Rorschach took a step forward, his expression blank. "The way Jean looked at me this morning was off. You taught her to build Mental Barriers and had her probe me while she was at it—am I right?"
Charles didn't deny it.
"Why?" Rorschach asked.
"Because I must know." Charles looked up, his gaze calm but firm. "Rorschach, you've saved us many times, and I'm grateful. But there are too many mysteries surrounding you. Enough to make me uneasy."
Rorschach scoffed.
"So you have to understand me completely?"
"I need to confirm you aren't a threat to the academy," Charles said. "Jean's abilities are spiraling out of control, and she sensed something 'wrong' inside you. As the head of this academy and the teacher of these children, I have a responsibility to understand the situation."
The study fell silent.
The wind outside rustled through the maple forest.
The moonlight cast long shadows on the floor, separating the two of them.
"Charles," Rorschach began, his voice cold. "Let me ask you a question."
"Go ahead."
"If I told you right now that I have abilities beyond your understanding, and that I've killed more people than you've ever met—" Rorschach stared into his eyes, "—what would you do?"
Charles's fingers tightened slightly.
"I would ask you to leave," he said.
"See?" Rorschach smiled, a smile devoid of warmth. "That's the problem. You keep saying Mutants and humans should coexist in peace, that we should understand and accept each other. But when someone truly 'different' stands before you, your first instinct is to eliminate the threat."
"This is different." Charles shook his head. "Rorschach, you aren't a Mutant. Your energy signature is completely foreign; Jean couldn't even analyze its nature. If it's something dangerous..."
"If it were something dangerous, I would have used it long ago," Rorschach interrupted. "If I wanted to harm the academy, I could have killed you all back in Cuba. If I wanted to cause destruction, I didn't need to take down Stryker's Base; I could have just let it keep running. But did I?"
"No."
"Why?"
Charles didn't speak.
"Because I care!" Rorschach's voice suddenly rose, echoing in the study. "I care about Raven, I care about those little brats, and I even care about you, you bald man who prattles on about peace all day! That's why I kill, why my hands are stained with blood, and why I do the dirty work you won't touch—just so you can sit here peacefully, drinking tea and reading books!"
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.
"Charles, I'll say this one last time." Rorschach's voice dropped, but every word carried weight. "My past is my business. What my abilities are, who I've killed, where I'm from—none of that is your concern. You only need to know one thing: as long as the academy exists, and as long as the people I care about are alive, I will remain here as a mentor."
He turned and walked toward the door.
"Rorschach," Charles called out to him.
Rorschach stopped but didn't look back.
"I need you to cooperate with a Deep Scan," Charles said. "Using the Cerebra Brainwave Amplifier. No memory reading, just an analysis of your energy structure. Let me confirm that whatever is inside you won't lose control and won't harm Jean or the children."
Rorschach was silent for three seconds.
Then he laughed.
Chapter 124: Dispute, Reflection
That laughter was very light.
"Charles, do you know what I hate most about you?" he said. "It's not the ideals of peace you drone on about all day, nor that 'mutual understanding' nonsense—it's that you always, always, have to confirm safety before you dare to offer trust."
He turned back and looked at Charles.
Their gazes collided in the air.
"I won't cooperate with the scan," Rorschach said. "Not because I have secrets, but because it's my bottom line. If you trust me, we continue to cooperate like this, in peace. If you don't—"
He paused.
"Then I'll leave."
Charles's fingers tightened around the wheelchair's armrest.
"Rorschach, this isn't a matter of trust; it's a matter of responsibility. If Jean's perception is correct and there really is some kind of High-Dimensional Energy Entity inside you, once it loses control..."
"It won't lose control," Rorschach interrupted him. "Because I can control it. As for how I control it and what methods I use—sorry, no comment."
He pushed the door open.
"Wait," Charles said.
Rorschach didn't stop.
"If one day," Charles's voice came from behind, "you really do lose control, I will stop you."
Rorschach stopped in the hallway.
The light shone down from above, stretching his shadow long.
"Fine," he said, his voice flat. "We'll see who's more capable when the time comes."
The sound of footsteps faded into the distance.
In the study, Charles sat in his wheelchair, staring at the open door, unmoving for a long time.
Soft light spilled in from the window, illuminating his face.
Exhaustion, confusion, and a hint of... wavering.
When Hank pushed the door open and entered, this was the scene he saw.
"Charles?"
"He refused," Charles said. "He refused the scan, refused to explain, refused everything."
Hank was silent for a few seconds.
"So, what do you plan to do?"
"I don't know." Charles closed his eyes. "Hank, was I wrong?"
Hank walked to the window and looked out at the night.
In the distance, Rorschach's figure crossed the lawn toward the Main Building. The moonlight cast his shadow on the ground—lonely and straight, like a blade thrust into the earth.
"You're not wrong," Hank said. "But neither is Rorschach. He just... doesn't want to be studied like a monster."
"I'm not trying to study him."
"But a scan is a study." Hank turned to look at Charles. "Charles, put yourself in his shoes. If one day, someone wanted to use a machine to scan your brain, analyze your x-gene, and confirm you wouldn't suddenly go mad and kill people—what would you think?"
Charles froze.
"I would feel untrusted," Hank continued. "I would feel like the other person saw me as a potential threat rather than a living human being. Rorschach has saved us, taught those children, and even killed for us—after all that, isn't it enough to earn a bit of basic trust?"
"But Jean's perception..."
"Jean is still a child," Hank said. "Her abilities are unstable; her perception might be flawed. Even if it isn't—even if there really is something else inside Rorschach, so what? He's spent over two years proving he's a friend, not an enemy. Isn't that enough?"
Charles didn't speak.
He looked out the window; the academy under the moonlight was as quiet as a painting.
A window on the third floor of the Main Building was lit—that was Rorschach's room.
"Sometimes," Charles said softly, "I really wish I could be like Erik—simpler. Black and white, friend or foe. Not having to think so much, not having to be so tired."
"But you can't," Hank smiled. "Because you are Charles Xavier, Professor X. You believe in the inherent goodness of humanity, that understanding can resolve everything—even if the other person is a mystery-shrouded passerby."
Charles gave a wry smile.
"I'm going for a walk," he said. "No need to follow."
Hank nodded, watching him turn his wheelchair and leave the study.
The hallway was very quiet.
Charles stopped at the door to Rorschach's room.
He raised his hand, wanting to knock.
But in the end, he lowered it again.
He turned and left in the opposite direction.
Inside the room, Rorschach leaned against the door, listening to the movement outside.
The footsteps receded.
He walked to the window, lit a cigarette, and smoked it slowly.
The moonlight was bright, shining on the red string around his wrist.
From Black Robe to the X-Men, it's been over two years.
This string had never been taken off.
"Charles..." he murmured the name and smiled. "You're a good man. But good men are sometimes harder to deal with than bad ones."
The night was deep.
On the distant highway, headlights streaked past like meteors.
Rorschach stubbed out his cigarette, lay down on the bed, and stared at the ceiling.
Many images flashed through his mind.
Cuba's beach, Shaw's submarine exploding.
The Florida Base, those Mutants soaking in vats.
On the Training Ground, Scott's smile when he first controlled his Impact.
And just now—Charles's calm but firm eyes.
"Dammit." Rorschach rolled over and buried his face in the pillow.
He was tired.
Truly tired.
But he had to keep going.
Because the road was still long.
The enemies weren't all dead yet.
Before sleepiness washed over him, his final thought was that tomorrow, he should go out to clear his head.
Or find those Bases and kill a few people for a change of pace.
Chapter 125: Relaxing, Sofia
The next day, evening.
Rorschach leaned against the chain-link fence by the Training Ground, watching Warren and John conduct aerial combat training.
Warren's metal wings reflected a cold, hard light in the setting sun, each dive accompanied by the whistling sound of the wind.
"Stop."
Rorschach's voice wasn't loud, but the two immediately stopped, kicking up a spray of grass as they landed.
"That's enough for today." Rorschach walked over.
He looked at Warren. "Just because your wings have hardened, you think you can just charge headlong? Next time you run into someone who can cast electric nets, you'll be nothing but a flying roast chicken."
Warren grinned. "Rorschach, are you in a bad mood?"
Rorschach didn't respond.
He turned to look at the second floor of the Main Building—behind the study window, Charles's figure was faintly visible.
The two hadn't spoken for three days; even when they crossed paths during training, they only nodded. That deliberate sense of estrangement was like a transparent wall, splitting the entire academy in two.
"Dismissed," Rorschach said. "Don't do extra training tonight. Get some good sleep."
After the two students left, the Training Ground became empty.
The setting sun dyed the sky maple-red, and the clouds layered into burning waves.
It was beautiful, but Rorschach was in no mood to appreciate it.
The conversation in the study from three days ago still echoed in his mind—
"If there comes a day when you truly lose control, I will stop you."
"Fine, then we'll see who's more capable when the time comes."
Rorschach curled his lip.
He turned and walked toward the garage.
When the old Ford started, the engine let out a weary roar.
Rorschach rolled the window all the way down. The cool early autumn breeze poured in, blowing away the musty smell inside the car.
A jacket was tossed on the passenger seat, and in the back were several quantum mechanics textbooks Hank had lent him—none of them had been opened.
He hadn't told anyone where he was going.
He just needed to leave.
As the wheels rolled over the gravel road and drove out of the academy gates, the silhouette of the Main Buildinggradually blurred in the twilight in the rearview mirror.
Rorschach stepped on the gas. The Ford sped onto the interstate, leaving the maple forests of Westchester, the hillsides, and those gazes weighing on his heart all behind him.
Fifty miles out, the sky turned completely dark.
The highway was like a glowing river, and the car lights were flowing stars. Rorschach drove for three hours before turning off the ramp at the "Lone Star" truck stop.
Dim yellow lights shone in the parking area, where a dozen long-haul trucks lay like sleeping giants, their engines occasionally letting out weary sighs.
He parked the car and walked into the diner.
The burnt bitterness of cheap coffee mixed with the greasiness of fried food hit him.
The TV was broadcasting the evening news at a high volume; a few truck drivers were gathered in a corner playing cards, the chips clattering as they hit the table; behind the counter, the fat owner was dozing against the back of his chair.
Rorschach ordered a black coffee and sat down by the window.
Outside, at the very edge of the parking lot, the cab door of a red Peterbilt truck was open.
A woman was squatting by a tire, wrench in hand, cursing under her breath.
Rorschach's gaze lingered on her.
She was probably twenty-seven or twenty-eight, her sun-kissed skin glowing like honey under the rest stop lights.
Her black hair was tied in a high ponytail, with a few stray strands dampened by sweat clinging to her slender neck.
Her white tank top, soaked with sweat, clung to her body, outlining her full chest and firm waist; her cargo pants were rolled up to her calves, revealing sleek ankles and canvas shoes stained with oil.
But the most attractive thing was her movements—her squat was nimble, her arm muscles tightened with the turn of the wrench, and the line of her back was like a fully drawn bow.
It wasn't the refinement practiced in a gym, but a wild vitality honed by years of labor.
"Piece of junk!" She kicked the tire, her voice raspy but clear. "I've driven this for eight years without a problem, and of all times, it gets a flat today!"
Rorschach took a sip of coffee, its bitterness making him frown.
The woman stood up, hands on her hips, glaring at the tire, her chest heaving with her breath.
The collar of her tank top was darkened by a circle of sweat, and a bit of grease on her collarbone glistened under the light.
She turned her head, her gaze scanning the diner before landing on Rorschach.
Their eyes met.
Her eyes were very dark, like a moonless night, but a fire burned within them—a restless, defiant, searingly wild fire.
"What are you looking at?" She lifted her chin. "Never seen a truck with a flat?"
Rorschach set down his cup and leaned back. "I have, but never one that looked so good with a flat."
The woman paused for a moment, then laughed.
The smile was wild, the corners of her mouth curling with a hint of roguishness, and fine lines appeared at the corners of her eyes when she smiled—not from age, but stories of the road carved by years of wind and sun.
"Sweet talker." She walked over, her canvas shoes making a slight rustling sound on the floor. "Know how to fix a car?"
"A little," Rorschach said.
"How much is 'a little'?"
"Enough to change your tire."
The woman sized him up.
From his messy black hair to his weary yet still sharp eyes, down to the sturdy frame faintly visible under his loose shirt.
Her gaze was like a ruler, measuring him bluntly and without the slightest concealment.
"Alright then." She tossed the wrench over, and Rorschachcaught it. "The spare is in the back. If you change it in half an hour, I'll buy you a drink. If not—"
"If I can't, I'll pay for your cargo." Rorschach stood up, half a head taller than her. "What's your name?"
"Sofia." She turned to lead the way, her ponytail swinging in an arc behind her head. "And yours?"
"Rorschach."
Walking to the truck, Rorschach squatted down to check the tire.
The gash was on the sidewall, ten centimeters long—it was beyond saving. He looked up. "Got a spare?"
"Yeah." Sofia jumped onto the truck bed, her movements as agile as a cat's.
When she jumped back down, she was holding a half-worn tire, which she dropped onto the ground with a thud. "The jack is under the driver's seat."
Rorschach went to get the jack. As he passed her, he caught a scent of sweat, machine oil, and a faint hint of tobacco.
It wasn't fragrant, but it was real.
So real that the stray thoughts in his mind about the Phoenix, about Charles, and about killing temporarily went quiet.
He began to work.
Loosening the bolts, jacking up the frame, removing the bad tire, mounting the spare—his movements were as practiced as if he'd done it hundreds of times.
Sweat slid down from his forehead, dripping onto the concrete ground, only to be quickly dried by the night wind.
Sofia leaned against the truck, watching him.
Moonlight leaked through the gaps in the clouds, illuminating her profile.
Her sun-kissed skin had a soft glow, her nose was straight, and her lips were thin with clear lines.
She squinted, her eyelashes casting fine shadows on her cheeks, giving her a bit of a tomboyish vibe.
"You used to drive trucks?" she asked.
"No." Rorschach tightened the last bolt. "But I've taken other things apart."
"Like what?"
"Like people's arms."
Sofia's movement of smoking paused.
She turned to look at him, her gaze deepening.
"Military?" she asked.
"I used to be," Rorschach stood up, patting the dust off his hands. "Not anymore."
"What are you now?"
"A deserter." Rorschach smiled. "Or rather, someone who's lost."
Sofia stared at him for a few seconds, then she smiled too.
She pulled a half-bottle of whiskey from the truck.
"Want a try?" She handed it over.
Rorschach took it and had a long swig from the bottle.
The fiery liquid burned down his throat and all the way to his stomach, dispelling the chill of the autumn night.
"Good stuff." He handed the bottle back.
Sofia took it and, without wiping the rim, drank directly from where he had just sipped.
Her Adam's apple bobbed, and sweat flowed down her neck into her collar, pooling slightly in the hollow of her collarbone.
"You've got something on your mind," she wiped her mouth, her eyes shining brilliantly in the moonlight. "Something big."
"Can you tell?"
"I drive long-haul." Sofia leaned against the truck, looking up at the night sky. "I've seen more people than you've eaten burgers. Some people have money in their eyes, some have home, some have dead people—you're the third kind."
Rorschach didn't speak.
Sofia turned her head, her gaze falling on his face. "You've killed people, but not enough. There's a fire in your heart, burning fast and urgent. If you don't let it out soon, it'll burn you right through."
"You're quite perceptive."
"If I weren't, I wouldn't have survived this long." Sofiahanded the bottle back. "Want to blow off some steam?"
Rorschach took the bottle but didn't drink.
"How?" he asked.
Sofia smiled