Chapter 2193 - Ch: 126-136

Chapter 126: Venting and Decompression

She took a step forward, the distance between them suddenly shortening until they could hear each other's breathing.

Rorschach could clearly see his own reflection in her pupils, smell the scent of alcohol mixed with sweat on her body, and feel the scorching vitality radiating from her.

"What do you think?" she asked, reaching out. Her index finger traced the buttons of his shirt, her movements as light as a feather but carrying an undeniable force.

Rorschach took her hand.

Her palm was rough, and there were callouses on her thumb and forefinger, worn down from years of gripping steering wheels and wrenches.

But her fingers were long and her knuckles distinct, possessing a sexy sense of power that belonged to a laborer.

"In the truck?" he asked.

"Where else?" Sofia withdrew her hand and turned to pull open the cab door. "There aren't any hotels here."

The truck's sleeper berth was very narrow; the two of them were almost pressed together when they lay down.

Sofia closed the door and drew the curtains. The cabin immediately darkened, with only the lights from the rest stop leaking through the gaps, casting mottled shadows on the floor.

She turned around and took off her tank top with her back to Rorschach.

A sliver of moonlight leaked through the gap in the curtains, shining right onto her back.

Her wheat-colored skin was smooth and firm, her shoulder blades rising and falling with her movements like a pair of folded wings.

Her spinal groove ran deep, disappearing into the waistband of her cargo pants, where an old leather belt was fastened, its brass buckle worn shiny.

Rorschach reached out and touched her waist.

Her skin was warm, slightly damp with sweat.

Sofia didn't look back; she just shivered slightly and then continued to unbuckle her belt.

The click of the metal buckle popping open was exceptionally clear in the quiet cabin.

She turned around.

The moonlight shone on her, sweat making her skin glisten. Her curves were full and firm, rising and falling slightly with her breath.

Her cargo pants hung loosely on her hip bones, revealing a flat, firm lower abdomen and V-line.

"Seen enough?" She arched an eyebrow, her voice raspy.

"No," Rorschach said.

Sofia smiled and straddled him.

The cabin was low, so she had to hunch her back slightly. Her black hair slid down her shoulders, brushing against Rorschach's face.

Their breaths mingled, and the air heated up rapidly. The narrow space was filled with the smell of sweat, engine oil, and whiskey.

When the kiss landed, Rorschach closed his eyes.

Sofia's kiss wasn't as wild as her appearance; instead, it carried a strange tenderness.

Her lips were soft, her tongue touching tentatively before deepening the kiss.

She kissed slowly and earnestly, as if tasting him, or perhaps confirming something.

Rorschach's hand slid up her back, his palm feeling the temperature of her skin and a slight trembling.

Sofia let out a soft hum, her body tensing. Her fingers ran through his hair, and the kiss became urgent.

Teeth grazed lips, causing a bit of pain.

But the pain made one lucid—lucidly aware that they were still alive, still able to feel, still able to desire.

Clothes were haphazardly tossed aside.

Skin pressed against skin, sweat intertwining.

Sofia's nails dug into the muscles of his back, but with Rorschach's constitution, it wouldn't leave a mark.

Rorschach bit her shoulder, leaving a reddish tooth mark. Instead of pulling away, she tilted her head back, her neck stretching into a graceful arc, and a suppressed gasp escaped her throat.

The cabin swayed slightly with their movements, making a rhythmic creaking sound.

A truck drove by on the distant highway, the roar of its engine like a tide, surging in waves and then receding.

Sofia's breathing became increasingly rapid, her black hair dampened by sweat and clinging to her cheeks and neck.

The light from outside filtered through the gap in the curtains, flowing over her rising and falling curves like a silver lining.

She suddenly lowered her head, her forehead against Rorschach's, her eyes shining terrifyingly bright in the gloom.

"Tell me..." she panted, "the people you killed... did they deserve to die?"

Rorschach looked into her eyes.

There was no judgment in those dark eyes, no fear, only pure curiosity and a near-cruel clarity.

"They deserved it," he said.

Sofia smiled and kissed the corner of his mouth.

"Then that's enough."

The cabin began to sway even more violently.

At that final moment, she tilted her head back, her neck tensing like a bow. The moonlight shone on her face, and sweat dripped from her chin, splashing onto Rorschach's chest.

It was scalding.

Afterward, the two lay side by side, panting.

Sweat had soaked a large patch of the sheets. The air smelled of alcohol, sweat, and... a mixed scent.

Sofia reached for a pack of cigarettes, lit two, and handed one to Rorschach.

Rorschach took it, took a drag, and slowly exhaled the smoke.

"Feel better?" Sofia asked, her voice still raspy from the aftermath.

"Yeah." Rorschach looked at the ceiling of the cabin. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Sofia turned on her side, her finger tracing his chest. "I bet you have quite a few stories."

"You too," Rorschach said, taking her hand.

Sofia was silent for a few seconds.

"I was in the Border Patrol for three years," she said. "Drug dealers, illegal immigrants, sometimes... even children."

Her hand trembled slightly.

Rorschach squeezed it a bit tighter.

"Why did you quit later?"

"Because one day I looked in the mirror and realized I didn't look like myself anymore." Sofia withdrew her hand and sat up, putting on her tank top with her back to him. "Kill too many people, and the person inside dies. I didn't want to die, so I ran."

The moonlight shone on her back, her spinal groove like a deep river valley.

"But you're different." She turned around and looked at him. "You kill, but there's still fire in your eyes. An angry, clean fire, untainted by blood. People like that... are rare."

Rorschach smiled.

"How do you know I'm not tainted?"

"Because tainted people don't help strangers change tires." Sofia bent over and picked up her cargo pants from the floor.

She put on her pants and fastened her belt, the brass buckle flashing once in the moonlight.

Rorschach sat up and began to get dressed.

The cabin was quiet, save for the rustle of clothes rubbing against each other.

Once dressed, Sofia pulled open the door. The night wind rushed in, dissipating the lingering intimacy in the truck.

She jumped down and turned to reach out to him.

"The alcohol."

Rorschach handed her the remaining bit of the whiskey bottle.

Sofia took it and tilted her head back to finish the last gulp. Her throat moved as she swallowed, and the moonlight shone on her sweat-dampened neck, making it glisten.

She tossed the empty bottle into a roadside trash can and looked back at him.

"Leaving?" she asked.

"Yeah." Rorschach jumped down. "And you?"

"Still have cargo to deliver." Sofia pulled open the driver's side door. "Denver. I'll be there tomorrow morning."

The two stood by the truck, their shadows cast on the ground, one long and one short.

"Sofia," Rorschach said.

"Hmm?"

"If..." He paused. "If one day, I have to kill a lot of people, what would you think?"

Sofia looked at him, her dark eyes bottomless in the night.

After a long time, she smiled.

"I would say—" She pulled open the door and jumped into the driver's seat. "Kill them cleanly, don't leave any loose ends. Being kind to your enemies is being cruel to yourself."

The engine roared, and the headlights flickered on.

She leaned out of the window, her ponytail swaying in the night wind.

"The road is long, don't die too early, handsome," she said. "If you're dead, there's no chance to meet again."

"You too," Rorschach said. "Don't die on the road."

Sofia smiled, waved, shifted gears, and released the clutch.

The red Peterbilt slowly drove out of the parking area, its headlights cutting through the night as it merged into the highway traffic, quickly disappearing into the distance.

Rorschach stood there and lit a cigarette.

The night wind blew, carrying the chill of early autumn. He finished his cigarette, crushed the butt, and returned to his Ford.

The engine started, and the dashboard glowed faintly.

On the passenger seat lay the empty cigarette pack Sofiahad left behind.

Rorschach picked it up and looked at it; there was a line of Spanish printed on it that he couldn't understand.

He tossed it onto the back seat, shifted into gear, and drove onto the highway.

The headlights illuminated the path ahead, the night receding on both sides.

Only then did he check the system notification:

[Intimate contact detected (Female target: Sofia)]

[Obtained: Strength Enhancement 0.5 (Duplicate)]

[Converted to points: +100]

[Current total points: 13,550]

"Interesting," he chuckled softly.

Then he closed the panel and stepped on the gas.

The Ford accelerated, rushing into the night.

The maple leaves outside the window flashed by in the headlights, as red as blood, and as red as fire.

But the fire in Rorschach's heart had temporarily died down.

The killing intent cooled, and his reason returned.

He knew what to do next.

Return to the Academy, wait for the opportunity.

And then—

None of those who deserve to die will escape.

Chapter 127: Jean's Rampage

On a bench by the Training Ground, Jean curled her knees to her chest, huddled like a wounded little animal.

The afternoon Sun was pleasant, but her face was deathly pale, and the hair on her forehead was soaked with cold sweat, clinging to her skin.

She bit her lower lip so hard it was nearly bleeding.

Inside her head—no, inside her entire skull—it felt as if countless rusted saws were tearing at her simultaneously.

Screams, weeping, fragmented images, chaotic whispers... those shards of thoughts that didn't belong to her were like a bursting dam, smashing through the mental barriers Charles had helped her build.

She could feel her Psychic Power losing control and overflowing; several small pebbles at the edge of the Training Ground began to tremble slightly, and the streetlamp closest to her emitted a piercing electrical hum.

Fifty meters away, Rorschach was preparing to return to the Main Building.

The system panel popped up without warning:

[Warning: High-Dimensional Energy Entity (Jean Grey) Psychic Power surging]

[Overflowing Energy Level: 1.8 (continuously rising)]

[Area of Effect: 32 meters (continuously expanding)]

Rorschach's footsteps came to a halt.

He looked toward the Training Ground.

Even without the system's prompt, he could feel it—a chaotic, violent mental fluctuation carrying an aura of destruction, spreading outward with Jean as the center.

The air became viscous, and the light distorted slightly, like looking at distant scenery through the heat rising from a scalding asphalt road.

"Damn it!" Rorschach cursed under his breath.

He quickly assessed the situation:

First, Jean had lost control.

Even a billionth of the Phoenix Force leaking out would be enough to blow half the academy into the sky.

Raven was in the Main Building, Hank was in the lab, Charles was in the study, and those little brats were in the dorms—all were within the kill zone.

Second, Charles must have felt it.

With that old bald guy's sense of responsibility, he would rush out to save her in the next second.

But Charles's methods were too gentle; faced with a rampage of this level, the effect would be limited.

Furthermore, once Charles intervened, he would inevitably perceive all the details of Jean's energy rampage, including... the fragments regarding Rorschach's energy signatures that Jean had unintentionally captured.

Third, he couldn't run.

Fifty meters wasn't safe enough; the range of Jean's rampage was expanding.

And if he ran and the academy was gone, what about Raven?

Rorschach took a deep breath and turned to walk toward the Training Ground.

His steps were steady, but the muscles in his back were already tensed.

On the system panel, the distance numbers were ticking down: 45 meters, 40 meters, 35 meters...

At a distance of thirty meters, he stopped.

At this distance, he could clearly see Jean's trembling shoulders, the floating and vibrating gravel around her, and the ripples in the air distorted by Psychic Power.

It was close enough for him to flee at any moment.

Rorschach closed his eyes and concentrated.

[Energy Domination] activated, but the output power was suppressed to the minimum.

He didn't try to contact Jean's mental World—that would be seeking death.

He merely constructed an extremely dense, highly stable energy field around his own body.

This layer of field was not offensive, nor was it even defensive.

It had only one function: like a ballast stone or a stabilizing pillar, to provide an absolutely stable 'reference point' amidst the chaotic mental storm.

Then, he began to adjust the frequency of the energy field.

It wasn't imitating Charles's gentle inclusiveness, nor was it simulating Jean's violent chaos.

He chose a cold, resilient vibration mode like a steel mesh—this frequency naturally possessed 'diversion' and'shunting' characteristics, capable of guiding disordered energy to flow orderly along the mesh structure instead of crashing everywhere.

Construction complete.

Rorschach opened his eyes and looked at Jean.

"Jean," he spoke, his voice not loud, but it penetrated through those chaotic mental noises.

Jean's whole body jolted, and she snapped her head up.

Her eyes were unfocused, and a fleeting glimmer of gold flashed deep within her pupils.

The moment she saw Rorschach, she was like a drowning person seeing a piece of driftwood; her lips moved, but no sound came out.

"Listen to me." Rorschach stood in place, not approaching further. "There's too much in your head, isn't there? Like a thousand radios all turned to max volume?"

Jean nodded vigorously, tears mixing with cold sweat as they flowed down.

"Now, ignore those voices," Rorschach said. "Just look at me. Just listen to my voice. Imagine my voice is a thread, and you follow this thread to slowly climb out."

He continued to maintain the stable output of the energy field.

Cold, resilient, like a steel mesh.

This layer of field acted like an invisible dam, restricting Jean's overflowing Psychic Power within a certain range to prevent further expansion.

At the same time, the stable frequency of the field began to produce a 'resonance guidance' on Jean's chaotic fluctuations—not suppressing them, but like dredging a flood, providing a relatively smooth 'riverbed' for those rampaging energies.

Jean's trembling subsided.

She stared at Rorschach, her eyes gradually regaining focus.

The surrounding gravel stopped vibrating and fell back to the ground.

The electrical humming of the streetlamp vanished.

Rorschach could feel his Psychic Power being rapidly consumed. Maintaining this high-precision, low-intensity energy field was ten times more exhausting than fighting a battle.

Even more terrifying was that even across thirty meters, even only touching the outermost layer of Jean's overflowing energy, he could still 'feel' it—

The billows of that golden ocean deep within Jean's mental sea.

The slight turn of that sleeping firebird.

Boom.

Invisible pressure bore down like a mountain.

It wasn't an attack, just the natural pressure that a higher lifeform exerts on a lower one by its mere existence.

Rorschach's knees went slightly weak, and his back was instantly drenched in cold sweat.

The system panel frantically refreshed warnings, red text almost filling his entire vision.

But he didn't move.

Gritting his teeth, he maintained the stable output of the energy field.

Three seconds. Five seconds. Ten seconds.

Jean's breathing gradually stabilized.

The chaos in her eyes dissipated, leaving only exhaustion and the daze of a survivor.

She looked at Rorschach, opened her mouth, and said softly, "Rorschach... I... I just now..."

"It's okay now," Rorschach interrupted her, his voice a bit hoarse.

He slowly withdrew the energy field.

At the very moment the last sliver of Psychic Power was retracted, he 'touched' something—not an active touch, but a wisp of faint golden energy that naturally dissipated from the surface of Jean's mental sea as the rampage subsided.

That wisp of energy was indescribably pure, like a molten Sun.

It flowed back along Rorschach's Psychic Power, and the moment it entered his body, it was captured, analyzed, and converted by the system.

[Detected trace amount of High-Dimensional Energy dissipation (Phoenix Force outer layer)]

[Passive absorption and conversion in progress...]

[Conversion complete, points +200]

[Current Total points: 13750]

Rorschach's vision went dark, and he nearly lost his footing.

He suddenly grabbed the nearby wire fence; the cold touch of the wire made him slightly more lucid.

But his breathing was still hurried, and sweat dripped from his forehead, hitting the ground.

That moment just now felt worse than taking a full-power strike from Homelander.

Chapter 128: Charles's Concern

"Rorschach?" Jean stood up, wanting to come over.

"Don't move." Rorschach raised his hand to stop her and took a breath. "I'm fine. You... how do you feel now?"

Jean stood in place and carefully sensed it.

"It's quiet," she said. "Those voices... they're gone. No, not gone, but... they've become very faint, like they're behind thick glass."

She paused and looked at Rorschach, her eyes filled with confusion and curiosity.

"Rorschach, just now... your energy felt so'solid'." She struggled to find the right words. "Like a thick wall, and like... warm light, blocking all those messy things outside."

Rorschach forced a smile, looking a bit strained.

"As long as it's effective," he said. "Now, walk slowly back to the Main Building. Take every step steadily and focus on sensing the ground beneath your feet. After you get back, find Charles and have him reinforce your barrier. Just say... say you suddenly had a headache and then slowly recovered. Don't mention me."

Jean nodded and obediently turned around, walking toward the Main Building step by step.

After a few steps, she looked back.

"Rorschach."

"Yeah?"

"Your energy..." Jean tilted her head as if reminiscing about the feeling. "It smells like a quilt that's been dried in the Sun. Warm and lazy, it makes one want to sleep."

Rorschach was stunned.

Jean waved at him and turned to continue walking. This time, she didn't look back.

Only after her figure disappeared behind the door of the Main Building did Rorschach release his hand from the chain-link fence. He swayed, his back leaning heavily against the wire mesh.

The chain-link fence let out an overburdened groan.

He tilted his head back, looking at the sky, gasping for air.

In those few minutes just now, he felt like he was walking a tightrope on the edge of a vast abyss, with churning lava below; one wrong move and he would be pulverized.

But at least, he made it through.

Jean was fine.

The academy was fine.

Charles... probably didn't notice either.

He closed his eyes, rested for a few seconds, then straightened up and walked toward the Main Building.

His steps were a bit light, but he could still walk.

In the study, Charles sat in his wheelchair, his face pale.

His hands tightly gripped the armrests, his knuckles turning white.

Hank stood beside him, holding an Energy Reading Reportjust exported from the lab, his blue furry face full of shock and lingering fear.

"Charles, Jean's energy fluctuations just reached an unprecedented peak! And it carries strong Mental Pollutioncharacteristics! If it hadn't been suddenly stabilized by an external Energy Field, she might have torn down half the Training Ground!"

"I know," Charles's voice was dry.

He knew.

He had already sensed it when Jean's fluctuations first began.

He had immediately focused his mind, preparing to forcibly enter Jean's consciousness; even if it caused a backlash to himself, he had to stop the rampage.

But at the very moment his Psychic Power was about to touch Jean—

Another Energy Field appeared.

Cold, resilient, and incredibly stable.

It didn't try to invade Jean's mental World; it merely constructed a "Diversion Grid" on the outside, orderly shunting, guiding, and calming those rampaging energies.

The operational precision was breathtaking. The energy control was as delicate as micro-carving.

Moreover, the frequency of that energy... was very familiar.

Rorschach.

Charles's heart almost stopped.

How did he dare?!

To contact Jean at a time like this?!

Didn't he know how dangerous the thing inside Jean was?!

If it triggered a backlash from the Phoenix Force, the entire academy would be wiped off the map!

Charles's Psychic Power instantly tensed, preparing to forcibly disconnect Rorschach, and even readying a mental shock to knock Rorschach unconscious if things spiraled out of control.

But the next second, he was stunned.

Because he saw—no, sensed—that Rorschach's operation was extremely cautious, even 'humble'.

He stayed at a safe distance, performing only the minimum external guidance, like wiping a bomb that could explode at any touch, his movements as light as could be.

And it was effective.

Jean's rampage was indeed quickly subsiding.

Charles's Psychic Power hung in mid-air, unable to advance or retreat.

He could only "stare" intently at the whole process, his heart in his throat, cold sweat soaking the back of his shirt.

Until Jean completely calmed down and Rorschachwithdrew the Energy Field and left with unsteady steps.

Only then did Charles let out a long breath, slumping into his wheelchair like he had just finished a marathon.

"Charles?" Hank looked at him worriedly. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Charles shook his head, his voice weary. "Hank, that Energy Field that stabilized Jean just now... what did you analyze?"

Hank looked down at the report, his brow furrowed.

"The energy signature is very unique. Its stability is abnormally high, almost like... a machine, not like a fluctuation a biological being could emit. And it has obvious 'diversion' and'shunting' characteristics, which requires both Energy Shaping and Psychic Micro-manipulation abilities, and neither level can be too low. Those in the academy who can do this..."

He paused and looked up at Charles.

"Only Rorschach."

Charles was silent for a long time.

Outside the window, Rorschach was walking into the Main Building, his shadow stretched long under the corridor lights.

"Hank," Charles said softly, "do you think... a person can simultaneously possess 'Energy Manipulation' and 'mental control'—two completely different abilities?"

Hank thought for a moment and shook his head.

"Theoretically impossible. The expression of the x-gene is exclusive, especially for high-end abilities. Unless..."

"Unless what?"

"Unless the source of his power isn't the x-gene," Hanksaid. "It's something else."

The study fell silent.

The night outside grew deeper, and moonlight spilled in, casting cold silver spots on the floor.

Charles looked out the window, watching the light in Rorschach's room turn on and then quickly go out.

Relieved?

A little.

Jean was fine.

Doubts?

Even deeper.

What method did Rorschach actually use?

What exactly was the nature of his energy?

An impulse to communicate with Rorschach?

Very strong.

He had to ask clearly; he had to know what Rorschachsaw, felt, and what price he paid when he contacted Jean.

But the helplessness was equally strong.

Because he knew Rorschach wouldn't tell the truth.

Never.

"Forget it." Charles turned his wheelchair away from the window. "Hank, tonight's matter, do not tell anyone, including Jean."

"Including Jean?"

"Yes," Charles said. "Let her think she controlled the rampage herself. As for Rorschach..."

He paused.

"I'll find a time to talk to him. Although... I might not get anything out of it."

Hank nodded, took the report, and left the study.

The door closed softly.

Only Charles remained in the study, along with the deep night outside.

He sat in his wheelchair, looking at his reflection in the glass.

Weary, confused, and with a hint of... a fear he was unwilling to admit even to himself.

Fear of the unknown.

Fear of that man who lived on the second floor, who had saved him many times, but whose true nature could never be seen clearly.

"Rorschach..." He whispered the name as if reciting an incantation, or asking a question without an answer.

The Main Building was silent; everyone was asleep.

But Charles knew that some things had only just begun.

Chapter 129: Establishing Authority with Blood, The DeathUltimatum (Part 1)

The 'Blackstone' Military outpost was built deep in the desert at the border of Nevada and Arizona. From the air, it looked like a few low concrete blocks embedded in the reddish-brown rock layers, resembling an unremarkable industrial mining site.

But Rorschach's energy perception told him that beneath it lay a reinforced three-story underground structure, garrisoned by at least fifty people, along with a dozen or so weak, unstable Mutant signals—like flickering candles in the wind, ready to be snuffed out at any moment.

Test subjects.

Rorschach stood atop a sand dune three kilometers away, the night wind whipping his black combat suit.

He toyed with a metal dog tag he had taken from Stryker's Florida Base, engraved with 'WR-1973' and featuring a blurred The Pentagon insignia on the back.

Rorschach's fingertips traced the 'WR-1973' engravings on the tag—he had scavenged it from a pile of corpses at the Florida Base three months ago; back then, Stryker's men were constantly monitoring the vicinity of Xavier's Academy.

Raven stood behind him, maintaining her human form, but her eyes held the sharp edge belonging to Mystique.

"Are you really going alone? Scott and the others can help."

"No need." Rorschach tucked the tag into his pocket and turned to look at her. "This is a personal grudge. Besides, more people would just be inconvenient—I want to leave a 'message,' and with too many people, the message gets muddled."

"What message?"

Rorschach grinned, his smile appearing somewhat cold under the moonlight. "Tell Stryker that the bald special envoy he sent to the Academy, along with all the rats he has hidden in this hole, will die tonight. And tell him that next time, it's his turn."

Raven was silent for a few seconds before saying, "Be careful. Hank said the sensors there have been upgraded; there might be energy weapons."

"Energy weapons?" Rorschach raised an eyebrow and flexed his wrists. "Perfect, I'll try out my new toy."

He was referring to Energy Domination.

The ability plundered and fused from Shaw allowed his control over energy to reach a whole new dimension—not just absorption and release, but 'domination'.

Like a top chef facing ingredients, it was no longer simple frying or boiling, but molecular gastronomy-level deconstruction and reorganization.

"Wait for my signal," he said. Then, his body began to become translucent—not invisibility, but a combination of Phase Penetration and Shapeshifting, causing his body's molecules to temporarily shift phase, perfectly synchronizing with the surrounding light, temperature, and electromagnetic waves.

Like a ghost merging into the night, he slid down from the top of the dune and drifted toward the 'Blackstone' outpost.

Raven watched his back disappear into the darkness and whispered, "Don't play too hard."

Blackstone Underground Level One, Monitoring Room.

Special Envoy John Craig sat in a swivel chair, his legs propped up on the console, holding a glass of whiskey with ice.

He was a bald, middle-aged man with a square face and eyes like some sort of scavenger bird, shrewd and cold.

The screens displayed real-time footage of various areas: empty corridors, white-coated scientists busy in the labs, and huddled figures locked in cells.

"Any response from Xavier's Academy?" he asked the adjutant behind him.

The adjutant was a young Officer, standing ramrod straight. "No, Officer. Hank McCoy only said they 'would consider it,' and Charles Xavier won't see our people at all."

"Consider it?" Craig sneered and took a sip of his drink. "Ungrateful bastards. High command said Xavier's Academy is a key surveillance target, and that Mutantnamed Rorschach... is even more of a'special asset.' If we can't catch him alive, a corpse will do, but the brain must be intact—Colonel Stryker wants to study it personally."

He set down his glass and tapped his fingers on the desk.

"Send the final ultimatum tomorrow. Tell them to either cooperate with the 'Mutant Registration Act' and accept Military supervision, or... we'll 'invite' them ourselves. As for that Rorschach, it's best if we can take him alive; if not..."

He made a throat-slitting gesture.

The adjutant nodded. "Understood. But Officer, I heard that Rorschach is very difficult to deal with; the Florida Basewas taken out by him alone..."

"That was a sneak attack!" Craig interrupted, his tone displeased. "It's different here. Three layers of protection, energy barriers, automated turrets, and twenty of the latest 'Sentinel Prototypes'—even if they're just toys, they're enough to handle Mutants. If he dares to come, I'll turn him into a specimen and send him to the Colonel soaking in formalin as a gift."

Before he could finish his sentence, the monitoring screen flickered.

It was very subtle, like a voltage fluctuation, recovering in less than 0.1 seconds.

Craig frowned. "What's going on?"

The adjutant checked the console. "Might be external interference; sandstorms in the desert often affect the signal..."

"Check the status of the energy barrier," Craig ordered.

The adjutant tapped the keyboard and pulled up the energy barrier readings—stable, 100%. He breathed a sigh of relief. "The barrier is normal, Officer. It was probably just an err—"

His voice stopped abruptly.

Because a hand had lightly pressed onto his shoulder from behind.

It was very light, like a friend saying hello. But the adjutant's entire body went stiff, and cold sweat instantly soaked his uniform—the door to the monitoring room was closed, locked, password-protected, and guarded. How... did this person get in?

Craig whipped around, his hand reaching for the sidearm at his waist.

Then he saw him.

Rorschach stood behind the adjutant, wearing his black combat suit, carrying no weapons, hands in his pockets, looking as relaxed as if he were taking a stroll in his own living room.

He gave Craig a faint smile, but his eyes were as cold as the desert night wind.

"Good evening, baldy," Rorschach said, his voice calm. "I heard you want to soak me in formalin? I'm sensitive to the cold; could we switch to a milder way to die? For example... dying of old age?"

Craig's pupils constricted, his gun already drawn and pointed at Rorschach. "How did you—"

Before he could finish, Rorschach moved.

He didn't rush at Craig; instead, he raised his hand, fingers spread, and aimed at the metal door of the monitoring room.

Energy Domination activated.

There was no light, no sound, but the entire heavy blast-proof metal door instantly turned red-hot, softened, and flowed like melting butter. In less than two seconds, it vaporized into a cloud of silver-white metallic steam, which was then compressed and shaped by an invisible force field into a slender metal needle glowing with high-temperature red light, hovering in Rorschach's palm.

The whole process was silent, save for the faint hiss of vaporizing metal and Craig's heavy breathing.

"Energy barrier?" Rorschach raised an eyebrow, the metal needle spinning at his fingertips. "Are you talking about that thing outside that looks like an eggshell? I happened to... eat it on my way in. The taste was average, like expired crackers."

He flicked his finger.

The metal needle turned into a red streak of light, piercing through the adjutant's brow, exiting the back of his head, and pinning itself into the wall, sinking in up to the hilt.

The adjutant's eyes widened, and he slumped to the floor, blood gushing from the small hole in his forehead.

Craig fired.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Three bullets, aimed at the head, heart, and abdomen.

Chapter 130: Establishing Authority with Blood, DeathUltimatum (Part 2)

Rorschach didn't dodge. The moment the bullet touched his skin, it was deflected, slowed down, and absorbed by an invisible energy field.

The bullet head suspended in the air, then fell to the ground with a clink.

"That's it?" Rorschach asked, walking toward Craig.

Craig's face turned pale. He backed away, bumping into the console, and frantically pressed a red button.

The alarm didn't sound.

"Oh, the alarm system?" Rorschach said, already standing before him. "I burned the wires on my way in. Your Base's firewall is thinner than my skin."

He reached out, grabbed Craig's neck, lifted him up, and pinned him against the wall.

Craig struggled and kicked, but Rorschach's hand was like iron pincers.

"I'll give you two choices," Rorschach said, his voice very soft, but every word pierced Craig's ears like an ice pick. "One, tell me where Stryker is now, the specific coordinates of the Alkali Lake Base, and where those Mutants you recently captured are being held. Two, I crush your throat and find out myself—it's a bit more trouble, but not impossible."

Craig grit his teeth and squeezed words through them: "You... won't escape... the Colonel will..."

Crack.

The sound of the neck bone breaking was crisp.

Craig's eyes bulged, a wheezing sound of leaking air came from his throat, and then his head slumped to the side, dead.

Rorschach let go, and the corpse slid to the floor.

"You chose option two," he said, shaking the blood off his hand. "That works too."

He knelt down, his finger brushing over the bleeding skin where Craig's neck bone had snapped, blood staining his fingertip.

A system prompt popped up:

[Target blood detected (Male target: John Craig)]

[No abilities, no points]

As expected.

He stood up, walked to the console, and quickly tapped on the keyboard.

Password? No need.

Energy Domination directly intruded into the circuits, performing a brute-force crack.

The screen lit up, displaying the Base structure diagram, personnel list, experimental logs, and encrypted communication records with Stryker...

He inserted the encrypted USB drive he carried and began copying. All the data.

Simultaneously, he sent out a thread of Psychic Power to scan the entire Base.

Two floors above ground, soldier barracks, about thirty people sleeping.

Basement level two, laboratory, six researchers busy at work.

Basement level three, cell block, over a dozen Mutants locked up—some twitching, some in a deep sleep, some no longer looking human.

There were also three specially isolated glass chambers, inside were...

Children.

They looked no older than ten, two boys and one girl, with tubes inserted all over their bodies, their skin an unnatural grayish-white.

Grayish-white skin, tubular life support systems... it perfectly matched the description in the 'Project Ash' files Hank had cracked in the database last month.

"New test subjects..." Rorschach's eyes grew even colder. "Stryker, you really are... in a hurry for a family reunion."

After copying the data, he pulled out the USB drive and turned to leave the surveillance room.

Urgent footsteps echoed in the hallway.

A six-man patrol team rushed over, their muzzles raised—

Rorschach didn't stop.

He raised his right hand, palm upward.

Rorschach raised his hand, and six golden points of light condensed in his palm—this was the precise compression of Light Energy through Energy Domination, not simple manipulation.

Not dazzling, but extremely dangerous.

The soldiers opened fire.

Bullets whistled toward him.

Rorschach waved his left hand, and a telekinetic barrier expanded.

The bullets hit the invisible wall, suspended, then fell to the ground with a series of clinks.

He pushed his right hand forward.

The six points of light flew out, tracing faint golden arcs in the air, precisely piercing through each soldier's forehead.

No explosion, no loud noise, only a slight squelch and the dull thud of bodies hitting the floor.

He continued forward as if taking a stroll.

If he met someone, he killed them.

Using light, telekinesis, or metal fragments picked up at random—any way that could end a life the fastest.

No wasted movements, no nonsense, no mercy.

This was clearing trash, not a battle.

Twenty minutes later, there wasn't a single living person left in the Base.

Rorschach reached the basement level three cell block.

He opened all the cell doors, using Telepathy to soothe the terrified experimental subjects and guiding them out.

Finally, he stopped in front of the three specially isolated glass chambers.

The children inside were already awake, watching him with wide eyes.

Their gazes were hollow, but deep down, there was a trace of instinctive fear and... longing.

Rorschach raised his hand and pressed it against the glass.

Energy Domination vibrated slightly, and the glass shattered silently.

He reached out and carried the three children out.

They were very light, like feathers, and their bodies were cold.

"Sleep now," Rorschach said, pressing his hand to the children's foreheads, using his Psychic abilities to soothe them.

He used telekinesis to support all the test subjects—about twenty people—leaving the Base and reaching a safe distance on the surface.

He turned back to look at the silent building.

He took a marker from his tactical backpack, walked to the Base entrance's concrete wall, and dipped the tip in the wet blood on the ground—belonging to some soldier.

On the wall, he wrote two letters:

WR

Then, he added a line of small text next to it:

"Those who touch the X-Mansion shall die. Next time, it's you. —R"

After writing, he threw away the pen, took out a small remote bomb from his backpack, and stuck it below the blood-written words on the wall. He set the countdown: three minutes.

He quickly evacuated with the test subjects.

Three minutes later.

BOOM————!!!

A massive fireball shot into the sky, tearing through the night and swallowing the entire "Blackrock" outpost and everything inside—bodies, data, and evidence.

The Impact swept across the desert, sending sand and dust everywhere.

Rorschach stood on a sand dune a kilometer away, watching the firelight from the explosion. His face was as cold as a stone carving in the alternating light and shadow.

The red string on his wrist fluttered slightly in the hot wind.

"Message delivered," he whispered to himself. "Now, I wait for the reply."

In the distance, the desert horizon began to show the first light of dawn.

It was almost daybreak.

Chapter 131: Dark Future · Survival First (Part 1)

Grey.

This was the first impression New York in 2023 left on Rorschach.

The sky was leaden grey, like a dirty rag draped overhead, allowing not a single sliver of natural light to pass through.

The buildings were the grey of concrete, their shattered glass reflecting the same gloomy sky.

Rubble and rusted vehicle wreckage piled up in the streets; the wind whipped up dust and paper scraps, making a sound like a whimpering sob.

There was a pungent smell in the air—ozone, gunpowder, rotting matter, and something even weirder, a mixed scent like scorched metal and biological decay.

Rorschach stood on the top floor of a half-collapsed office building, leaning against a fractured load-bearing wall, quickly scanning his surroundings.

With Super Perception 2.0 fully active, information flooded in like a tide:

Within three hundred meters, no life signals.

Five hundred meters away, there were slight energy fluctuations—non-biological, precision-structured, moving slowly.

One kilometer away, there was a Mutant signal, very weak and rapidly fading.

Further out, a massive shadow swept across the sky, shaped like a deformed bird but with a metallic glint. A Sentinel patrol drone.

"The future..." Rorschach murmured to himself, flexing his wrist.

The red string was still there, its color slightly deeper, as if soaked in blood.

The system panel expanded in his consciousness, the list of abilities complete.

His memories were intact—from Black Robe World to the X-Men World, from 1962 to 1972, every experience was as clear as yesterday.

He had been 'consciousness projected' to this point in time.

His body was that of his younger self, but it carried decades of memories and abilities.

The prompt from the system before he was suddenly transported: [Distortion detected at a critical historical node. Target Timeline: 2023 (Sentinel-ruled future). Correct the source of distortion (1973). The host will exist in the form of consciousness projection, carrying all abilities and points. Death or mission failure will result in the dissipation of the projection; the host's original body will return, but the historical correction will fail.]

Simply put: he had arrived in that dark future that would happen 'if nothing was done'.

And he had to change it.

Primary objective: survive, gather intelligence, and find a way back.

He slid down the stairs noiselessly, blending into the building's shadows like a ghost.

The ground was covered in gravel and dust, littered with messy footprints—combat boots, monster claw marks, and... massive metallic footprints, each a meter wide.

Sentinel robots.

Rorschach crouched down, his fingers brushing the edge of a footprint.

The residual temperature of the metal was very low, as if it had just left.

The depth of the footprint indicated the robot weighed at least ten tons.

Structural analysis showed... sophisticated hydraulic and energy transmission systems, with faint residues of an energy shield on the surface.

"The toys have been upgraded," he thought, standing up and looking in the direction the footprints extended—deep into the city.

He needed intelligence. And intelligence usually came from the living.

That fading Mutant signal a kilometer away was a good choice.

He activated Super Speed, moving silently through the ruins.

His footsteps were as light as a cat's, avoiding any rubble that might create an echo.

Energy Domination formed a thin force field on his skin, deflecting detection from infrared and motion sensors—if any sensors were still working.

Five minutes later, he neared the source of the signal.

It was a bombed-out subway entrance, twisted rebar jutting out of the ground like the ribs of a giant beast. Deep within the entrance was a faint light and suppressed groans.

Rorschach stopped in the shadows, closing his eyes to concentrate. His Mental Perception extended inward—

About fifteen people were huddled in a makeshift camp deep on the platform.

Most were Mutants, their energy fluctuations weak and unstable, like candles in the wind.

There were also a few ordinary humans, severely injured. The camp was thick with despair, fear, and... the smell of blood.

The fading signal came from a man lying on the ground.

He had a massive wound in his abdomen, the edges charred as if struck by an energy weapon.

Life was rapidly draining away.

Rorschach hesitated for half a second.

Saving him might expose himself.

Not saving him would mean losing a potential source of intelligence.

He chose a compromise.

Shapeshifting went to work. His bones shifted slightly, his height shrinking by two centimeters.

Muscles redistributed, shoulders narrowed, and his waist and abdomen tightened.

His skin tone darkened, changing from a healthy wheat color to a malnourished pale.

His facial lines became rugged, stubble grew on his chin, and several weathered lines appeared at the corners of his eyes.

He transformed from a handsome young mentor into a weather-beaten wanderer.

He stepped out of the shadows, deliberately making his footsteps heavy, crushing a piece of rubble.

Crack.

The camp instantly fell deathly silent.

All eyes turned toward him—wary, fearful, and some filled with hostility.

"Who's there?!" a gruff voice barked.

The speaker was a burly man sitting on an oil drum in the center of the camp, gripping a rusted iron pipe.

He had a scar on his face; one eye was cloudy, the other a normal brown, but his gaze was fierce.

Several equally unfriendly Mutants stood beside him in defensive stances.

Rorschach stopped and raised his hands, signaling he was harmless.

"Just passing through. Smelled blood, came to take a look." He deliberately lowered his voice, adding a raspy note of exhaustion.

"Get lost!" the scarred man roared. "Outsiders aren't welcome here!"

"I know medicine," Rorschach said, his gaze sweeping over the heavily injured man on the ground. "He's dying. I can keep him alive a little longer, ask a few questions, and then leave quietly."

The scarred man narrowed his eyes, sizing him up.

After a few seconds, he waved the iron pipe in his hand: "Come over. Don't try any tricks."

Rorschach walked over and knelt beside the injured man.

The wound was bad; the energy weapon had burned through his intestines and part of his spine. It was a miracle he was still alive.

He raised his hand, and a faint golden light shimmered in his palm—not to heal, but using Energy Domination to temporarily stabilize the man's vital signs and slow the bleeding.

The injured man's breathing eased slightly. His cloudy eyes looked at Rorschach, his lips trembling.

"Th... thank you..." he said with difficulty.

Chapter 132: Dark Future - Survival First (Part Two)

"Save your strength," Rorschach whispered, his finger

A system prompt popped up:

[Blood contact detected (male target: unknown Mutantsurvivor)]

[Acquired: Minor Physique Enhancement 0.5(duplicate)]

[Duplicate ability converted to points: +50]

A very weak ability, but it confirmed the other party's Mutant identity.

"What happened?" Rorschach asked, his voice calm. "Who hurt you?"

"Sen... Sentinel..." The injured man gasped. "New model... can fly... energy cannon... Our squad... ten people... only I..."

He coughed up blood foam.

"When did this happen?"

"Thi... this morning... on the Brooklyn Bridge... They... were purging..."

"Purging what?"

"All... living things..." The injured man's eyes unfocused. "Mutants... ordinary people... as long as a life signal is detected... they kill... They are learning... evolving... getting faster and faster..."

Rorschach's eyes narrowed. "Learning?"

"Mm..." The injured man's voice grew weaker. "At first, they only used brute force... then they used energy weapons... now... they set traps... they disguise... they..."

He tilted his head and stopped breathing.

Rorschach slowly got up and looked at Scarface. "The Sentinels are evolving?"

Scarface's face was grim as he nodded: "Three months ago, they were just clumsy lumps of iron. Now... they can fly, use energy weapons, cooperate, and even... imitate Mutant abilities. Last week we encountered one that could breathe fire, like that Mutant called 'Pyro'. But they aren't Mutants, they're machines."

"Where is the source?" Rorschach asked.

Scarface shook his head: "I don't know. But their lair should be in Manhattan. The energy reactions are strongest there, and there are the most Sentinels. We call it the 'Hive'."

"Where are you going next?" he asked.

Scarface pointed to the depths of the subway tunnel: "North, to the 'The Last Refuge'. I heard there are still resistance fighters there, food, and medical supplies. Though I don't know how long it can last..." He paused, looking at Rorschach. "You're strong, that move just now... was it a healing ability?"

"A little Energy Manipulation," Rorschach vaguely replied.

"Want to come with us?" Scarface asked, a hint of assessment in his eyes. "We need capable people. And... you don't look like those scared-witless good-for-nothings."

Rorschach thought for a moment, then nodded: "Alright, but after we reach the 'The Last Refuge', I want to meet your leader and ask some questions."

"Deal." Scarface extended his hand. "My name is Scarface. What about you?"

Rorschach shook his hand: "Victor."

A temporary name, fitting the style of this ruined World.

The team quickly reorganized. Fifteen people, eight Mutants (including Scarface), seven ordinary people (three of whom were severely injured and needed to be carried).

Rorschach voluntarily helped carry an injured person, while simultaneously scanning the entire team with his energy perception.

Mutant abilities were generally at level 1.0-1.5, very low, but each had its own characteristics.

Scarface's ability was Skin Hardening. A girl could make her fingers glow for illumination.

A young man could subtly manipulate metal fragments.

The team sneaked into the subway tunnel, fumbling forward in the darkness.

The tunnel was filled with the smell of dampness and rust, occasionally punctuated by dripping water.

A faint rumble came from afar, like heavy machinery moving.

"The Sentinels are digging," Scarface whispered, his face grim. "They want to turn over the entire underground to root out everyone hiding."

Rorschach didn't speak, but he quickly calculated in his mind.

In this future, Sentinels had already conquered the globe, and Mutants were on the verge of extinction.

The root of the historical distortion was 1973—MystiqueRaven assassinated Trask in Paris, bleeding, and her blood was used in the Sentinel Program, leading to Sentinels being able to identify and hunt all Mutants.

To change history, he had to go back to 1973 and do two things: prevent Raven from bleeding, or directly kill Trask.

But first, he had to survive in this future and find a way back.

The team traveled in the tunnel for about two hours, resting three times midway.

Rorschach took the opportunity to "check on the wounded," touching the blood of several more Mutants, acquiring some weak abilities, all converted into points.

During a rest, Scarface squatted beside Rorschach and handed him half a compressed biscuit.

"Eat sparingly, there might be no food for the next three days," Scarface said, gnawing on an even smaller piece himself.

Rorschach took it, broke off half, and handed it back to him: "I have a small appetite."

Scarface was startled, glanced at him, didn't decline, and took it to eat.

"Where are you from?" Scarface asked, lowering his voice.

"West," Rorschach casually made up. "California. Fewer Sentinels, but less food too. Couldn't survive, so headed east."

"Seen the 'Hive'?"

"Saw it from afar once," Rorschach said. "Like an iron mountain, full of Sentinels outside."

"Iron mountain..." Scarface gave a bitter smile. "They say the machines that make Sentinels are hidden inside, and... the things that control them. Some tried to blow it up, but none came back alive."

Rorschach was silent. He knew that blowing up the Hivewouldn't solve the fundamental problem. The root cause was in 1973.

"What's your plan once you reach the 'The Last Refuge'?" he asked.

Scarface shook his head: "Live one day at a time.

I heard there's a 'Transporter' there who can send people back in time... to change history. But no one believes it, they think it's crazy."

Transporter. Rorschach's heart leaped.

Kitty Pryde.

Shadowcat.

Her phasing ability, under specific conditions, could allow one's consciousness to travel through time.

"What's that Transporter's name?" He tried to keep his voice calm.

"Don't know, everyone calls her 'Catwoman'. Purple hair, appears and disappears mysteriously," Scarface said. "What, you believe it?"

"I believe it," Rorschach said, looking into the darkness deep in the tunnel. "Because other than that, we have no other path left."

Scarface looked at him for a long time, then patted his shoulder: "Crazy. But... in this World, all the normal people are dead."

The team set off again.

In the distance, deep in the tunnel, a faint, metallic grinding sound could be heard.

As if something massive was slowly turning in the darkness.

Chapter 133: The Last Refuge - Transaction and Chips (Part 1)

Deep in the subway tunnel, the air was thick with the smell of damp rust, mold, and the sour stench of crowded living conditions.

The light came from several emergency lamps hanging on rusted pipes, casting flickering patches of light on the walls.

The "The Last Refuge" was more organized than the previous temporary camp—the old platform had been cleared out, with wooden and metal boards partitioning off living areas, a medical corner, and a simple kitchen.

Supplies covered with tarps were piled in the corner, but they were few in number.

About fifty people were squeezed in here.

There were Mutants, their energy fluctuations weak but stable; there were also ordinary people, most of them carrying injuries, their eyes hollow.

The atmosphere was as oppressive as solidifying cement, with only occasional coughing and whispering breaking the silence.

Rorschach walked in behind Scarface, his gaze quickly scanning the crowd, evaluating and recording.

Deep within his consciousness, the faint warmth of the Phoenix Fragment seemed to flicker, as if soothing his anxious nerves.

"Colossus!" Scarface shouted toward the back of the platform.

A tall figure stepped out from the shadows.

Piotr Rasputin, Colossus, his skin a dull metallic gray, his muscles clearly defined, but his face bore the sallow complexion of long-term malnutrition.

He looked to be in his early thirties, his eyes weary but steady.

He sized up Rorschach, his gaze lingering for a few seconds on Rorschach's relatively clean coat and overly calm expression.

"Newcomer?" Colossus asked, his voice sounding like two pieces of metal rubbing together.

"Met him on the way, calls himself Victor," Scarface said, wiping the dust off his face. "He's strong. Took out three Sentinel patrol drones by himself—using energy beams, precise as a scalpel."

Faint gasps echoed around them.

Scarface's words were like a stone thrown into stagnant water.

After a brief, dead silence, the suppressed sobbing stopped, and even the groans of the wounded subsided.

Dozens of gazes—filled with suspicion, disbelief, momentary hope, and even deeper fear—all pinned onto Rorschach at once.

Taking down one Sentinel was already legendary; three? This was beyond their comprehension.

Colossus didn't respond immediately but walked up to Rorschach; the two were of similar height.

"An energy-type Mutant?"

"Something like that," Rorschach said casually. "I can control a bit of energy, have some strength, and run a bit fast. Nothing worth mentioning."

"People who are 'nothing worth mentioning' don't live this long," Colossus said, stepping aside to gesture. "Come, sit. We need to talk."

They walked to a corner of the platform where there were several "chairs" made of scrapped tires and wooden boards. Scarface went to tend to the wounded.

Colossus sat down, his metallic body letting out a faint creak.

"Scarface says you came from the West," Colossus began, his eyes fixed on Rorschach. "The California area. Fewer Sentinels, but also less food. Why head East?"

"Looking for a way to survive," Rorschach said, leaning back against the tire opposite him. "The West is a dead end, a slow Death by starvation. The East is also a dead end, but maybe Death comes faster here, or... there's a chance to turn the tables."

"Turn the tables?" Colossus gave a bitter laugh. "Do you know our current situation? There are at least millions of Sentinel robots sweeping the globe. The Mutant mortality rate is 99.7%, and for ordinary people, it's over 60%. The 'Hive' controls all communications, energy, and industrial networks. Turn the tables? With what?"

Rorschach didn't reply, instead looking toward the back of the platform.

Several figures were busy there—a woman in a worn white coat was treating the wounded, a man with an eye patch was checking wires, and there was also...

Purple hair.

In the dim light, that flash of purple was very conspicuous.

She was squatting by a rusty generator, wrench in hand, her movements skillful.

Her frame was thin but her lines were sharp, revealing well-defined muscles on her arms and several old and new scars.

Her profile was sharp, her nose bridge straight, her lips pressed tight, her gaze as focused as if she were defusing a bomb.

Blink. Clarice Ferguson.

Rorschach's heart skipped a beat, but he remained outwardly calm.

"That girl with the purple hair, what's her ability?"

Colossus followed his gaze.

"Blink. Spatial teleportation. She can open portals, but the distance is limited and it takes a lot out of her. She's our vital 'transporter,' but she has to rest for half a day after every teleport."

"And the other one?" Rorschach pointed to a man sitting on an ammo crate not far away. He was Black, powerfully built, with a scar on his face and eyes as sharp as a hawk's. "He looks like a veteran."

"Bishop. Energy Absorption and Release. He can absorb energy attacks, store them, and then fire them back. He's one of our strongest firepower specialists." Colossuspaused. "Why are you asking this?"

"Evaluating the team's strength," Rorschach said, turning his gaze back to Colossus. "You say there's no hope of turning the tables, but I disagree. Because I know where the root of this disaster lies, and I know how to cut it off."

Colossus leaned forward slightly. "Explain yourself."

"1973, the Paris Industrial Exposition," Rorschach lowered his voice, ensuring only the two of them could hear. "Raven Darkholme, Mystique, attempted to assassinate Dr. Bolivar Trask and was wounded, leaving blood behind. Her blood sample was obtained by Trask, who analyzed the Mutantgene sequence, leading to the development of the Sentinelrobots that can identify all Mutants. That was the starting point of the 'Sentinel Program'."

Colossus's pupils shrank. "How do you know this? 1973... that was fifty years ago!"

"Because I come from an earlier point in time," Rorschachsaid, meeting Colossus's shocked gaze. "I am here via consciousness projection; my body is still in 1973. I came here to confirm the future, gather intelligence, and then go back to change history."

Silence. Colossus stared at Rorschach, the muscles under his metallic skin tensed as if he might strike at any moment.

After a few seconds, he rasped, "Prove it."

"WR-1975," Rorschach spoke the code name. "Colonel William Stryker's Alkali Lake main Base, the cradle of the Weapon X Program. Started in 1975, the first batch of 'Weapon X' left the factory in 1980, including Wolverine Logan. The coordinates for this Base are at North Latitude..."

He recited a string of coordinate numbers.

Colossus's expression changed—that was top-secret intelligence known only to a very few high-ranking members of the resistance.

"And the 'Hive'," Rorschach continued, "its original site was in New York. The Sentinels' central processor is there, but the true control core is the 'Mastermind AI' left behind by Trask, code-named 'Nimrod'. To destroy it, you need to simultaneously cut off seven global backup servers, located at..."

He recited another seven locations.

When Colossus heard 'WR-1975', his metal knuckles let out a faint 'creak' from his tight grip; as Rorschach fluently spoke the seven precise coordinates, his rigid back relaxed imperceptibly by a fraction—it was proof that a top-secret safe in his heart had been opened.

"Do you believe me now?" Rorschach asked.

His gaze paused for a moment as it swept over a pile of supplies covered by a tarp in the corner; his energy perception caught a faint fluctuation of a residual Psychic Power field on the equipment beneath.

Colossus took a deep breath, his metallic chest heaving. "What do you want to do?"

"Send me back," Rorschach said. "Send my consciousness back to 1973. I will stop Raven from bleeding, or I'll just kill Trask directly. I'll cut off the Sentinel Program at its root."

"This is madness..." Colossus murmured.

"Madness is the way the World is now," Rorschach said, pointing to the huddling figures around them. "Look at them. Waiting to die, or to be dragged out by Sentinels to be made into specimens. I have a chance to change all this, but I need your help."

Colossus remained silent for a long time.

Chapter 134: The Last Refuge · Trade and Bargaining Chips (Part 2)

From afar came the rhythmic clinking of Blink repairing the generator, the sound echoing clearly in the silent refuge.

"Even if we can send you back," Colossus finally said, "how can you guarantee success? How can you guarantee that after changing history, this future will vanish instead of splitting into another parallel timeline?"

"I can't guarantee it," Rorschach said frankly. "But I know that if we do nothing, this future is the only outcome. Besides, I have a reason why I must succeed—my 'assets' (abilities, points, memories) accumulated over decades are all in 1973. If the attempt to change history fails, I might be trapped in this mess forever, or simply vanish. So, I will give it my all."

He paused, leaning forward, his voice dropping lower.

"But I need some insurance. Time travel is a high-risk operation, especially Consciousness Projection. I need to familiarize myself with your ability fluctuations and conduct an 'Ability Synchronization Drill' to ensure the stability of the travel process. This is my condition."

"I want to make sure I won't be torn apart in the temporal turbulence," Rorschach said with a serious expression.

Another silence followed.

Colossus stared at Rorschach as if evaluating a dangerous weapon.

Finally, he nodded slowly.

"I'll go talk to them. But... they aren't my subordinates; they're my comrades. They'll decide for themselves."

"Fair enough," Rorschach said.

Colossus stood up and left, heading toward Bishop and the others.

Colossus spoke quickly with the two in low tones, emphasizing the authenticity of the top-secret coordinates provided by Rorschach and that changing the past was their only hope.

A spark of light ignited in Blink's eyes. Although Bishop's brow remained furrowed, his grip on the gun handle loosened slightly...

Rorschach leaned against a tire, closed his eyes, and used Energy Perception to scan the entire refuge.

About fifty people.

Mutants made up a third, but their abilities were quite ordinary.

Blink's energy fluctuation was Level 2; its structure was precise but unstable, like a flame that could go out at any moment.

Bishop was Level 2 or higher; his energy was thick but full of aggression.

Colossus himself was Level 2, a physical enhancement type.

"Not strong enough," Rorschach thought, "but sufficient. The key is to get those two's abilities—Space Teleportation and Energy Absorption and storage. Both are god-tier skills for survival and combat. I need to find a natural way to make contact..."

Footsteps approached.

Rorschach opened his eyes to see Colossus walking over with Blink and Bishop.

Blink was clearer to see up close.

Her long purple hair was tied in a loose ponytail at the back of her head, with a few strands hanging by her cheeks.

Her skin was pale from a long lack of sunlight, but her eyes were bright—a light purple, like some rare ore.

She wore dirty cargo pants and a black tank top. Her pale skin, light purple pupils, and several old and new scars on her arms and neck stood out.

She looked at Rorschach with a direct gaze, filled with scrutiny and a hint of imperceptible fatigue.

Bishop stood beside her, half a head taller, his build as massive as a wall.

A Black man, bald, with a scar running from his eyebrow to the corner of his mouth, making his already tough features look even more fierce.

He wore a tattered military vest and camouflage pants, draped with magazines and tools.

His eyes were sharp as an eagle's, full of distrust.

"Victor," Colossus introduced, "this is Blink, and this is Bishop. I've told them about your plan."

"I heard you can change the past," Blink spoke, her voice somewhat raspy but clear.

She looked Rorschach up and down. "You don't look... like someone from fifty years ago."

"Consciousness Projection; the body is as it was in my youth," Rorschach said, standing up and giving her a small smile. "But the things in my head are real. For instance, I know the maximum distance you can open a portal is five hundred meters, and you'll be exhausted and dizzy after opening three in a row, right?"

Blink's eyes flickered slightly; she didn't deny it.

"I know about you too," Rorschach turned to Bishop. "You can absorb energy attacks, but your storage limit depends on your physical condition. At full capacity, you can store energy equivalent to about ten tank shells. You can control the output when releasing it, but accuracy drops with distance. Correct?"

Bishop narrowed his eyes, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the handle of the pistol at his waist.

"Did Colossus tell you?"

"I saw it for myself," Rorschach said, pointing to his own eyes. "Energy Perception. Your energy field is like a battery full of cracks—large capacity, but unstable structure. Blink's spatial energy is as fragile as wisps of silk, yet unique."

The two remained silent.

Colossus gave Rorschach a surprised look.

"So, my proposal," Rorschach said, his tone turning serious. "I need to conduct an Ability Synchronization Drill with you to familiarize myself with your energy fluctuations. Time travel is a life-risking gamble. Every bit of understanding increases the chance of survival. In exchange, I will go back and change history, making this rotten future disappear—if successful, you might never even be born on this timeline, or you'll live in another, better World. What do you say?"

Blink and Bishop exchanged a glance.

After a few seconds, Blink spoke first: "How do we drill?"

"Simple," Rorschach said. "You open a small portal for me, and I'll feel the energy structure. Bishop, hit me with some harmless energy shocks, and I'll record the fluctuation frequency. Just once, to ensure I can identify your'signatures' so there's no rejection during the travel."

"This sounds more like you have another motive," Bishopsaid coldly.

"If I had another motive, I could strike right now," Rorschach said, his tone flat. "But I chose to negotiate. Because you are comrades, not enemies. And..."

He paused, looking at the huddled figures in the refuge.

"I've seen too many people die. I don't want to see it anymore. If I can save them, I want to try. But I don't want to get myself killed by a technical glitch on the way. So, I need insurance. It's that simple."

Silence spread once more.

From the distance came the groans of the wounded and the low-voiced comfort of the healers.

Finally, Blink nodded. "Fine, but I have one condition."

"Name it."

"If you really go back and change history..." She took a deep breath. "Take a look at the World of 1973 for me."

"...Look for me and see if the sky... really doesn't have an iron-gray dome pressing down on it, and if the sunlight... is truly warm, instead of always carrying the cold scent of blood and ruins like it does here."

Rorschach looked at her, seeing the deep-seated, almost extinguished longing in those purple eyes.

He nodded. "Alright. I promise you."

Bishop stared at Rorschach for a long time before finally nodding slowly as well. "One drill. But if you try any tricks..."

"You know the consequences," Rorschach finished for him, grinning. "Don't worry, I'm more afraid of death than you are."

Colossus breathed a sigh of relief. "Then it's settled. When do we start?"

"Tonight," Rorschach said. "During the gap between Sentinel patrols. After the drill, I'll adjust my state and travel first thing tomorrow morning. Time is running out."

Everyone nodded and went their separate ways to prepare.

Rorschach stayed where he was, watching Blink's back as she walked back to the generator, her purple ponytail swaying in the dim light.

"Abilities to take, history to change, points to earn," he whispered to himself, a barely perceptible curve touching the corner of his mouth. "Not one can be missing."

Chapter 135: Harvesting the Future · A Parting Gift (Part 1)

The late-night shelter sank into a deathly silence, leaving only the whispers of the night watchmen and the sound of water dripping in the tunnels.

Emergency lights cast flickering spots of light on rusted pipes, stretching the curled-up silhouettes into long, thin shadows.

Rorschach sat on the edge of the platform, leaning his back against the cold tiled wall, resting with his eyes closed.

His energy perception was fully active, monitoring everything around him—fifty-three life signals, thirty-one Mutants. Among them, Blink and Bishop's energy fluctuations were the most active, located in the deepest part.

Footsteps approached, very light. He opened his eyes.

Blink stood before him, clutching a half-bottle of cloudy liquid—likely home-brewed "liquor," fermented from moldy potatoes and rainwater.

She had changed out of her overalls and was wearing a pair of faded jeans and a gray shirt. The hem of the shirt was tucked into her waistband, outlining a thin but firm waistline.

Her long purple hair was loose, draped over her shoulders and shimmering slightly in the dim light.

"Can't sleep?" she asked, her voice clear in the silence.

"I'm used to it," Rorschach said, shifting to the side to make room for her.

Blink sat down and handed him the bottle.

Rorschach took it and took a sip—it was pungent, bitter, and had a musty aftertaste.

He swallowed it without changing his expression and handed it back to her.

"Got some kick to it."

"Doomsday special," Blink said, taking a sip herself, her movements as practiced as if she were drinking water.

She turned her head to look at him, her purple eyes bright in the shadows.

"Colossus said you're leaving tomorrow."

"Yeah."

"Are you sure you can do it?"

"I'm not," Rorschach confessed. "Traveling through time is a gamble with your life, and changing history is even more so. But I don't have a choice."

Blink was silent for a few seconds, her gaze fixed on the endless darkness deep in the tunnel.

"You know, sometimes I dream. I dream the sky is blue, that there are birds flying—not the screams the Sentinels make when they're chasing us, but real, heartfelt laughter. Then I wake up, look at this hellhole, and wonder if those dreams were from a past life."

She paused, her voice dropping lower.

"If you really go back and change all this... what happens to those of us here now? Will we disappear? Like we never existed?"

Rorschach looked at her profile.

Pale, thin, with fine lines at the corners of her eyes, but her features were still young.

She was twenty-five at most, but her eyes held the fatigue of a fifty-year-old.

"I don't know," he said, his voice calm. "Time is a very complicated thing. Maybe this future will vanish as if it never happened, and you'll live in another timeline, leading another life. Or maybe this future will become a 'parallel World' and continue to exist, but with no more new Sentinels appearing, allowing you to slowly rebuild. I didn't study physics well enough to say for sure."

Blink smiled; it was a faint smile, but a genuine one. "At least you're honest."

"There's no need to lie to people who are already as good as dead," Rorschach said.

Blink turned to look at him, her eyes filled with a complex gaze. "Do you really think you're going to die?"

"Every time I go on a mission, I treat it as my last," Rorschach said, taking the bottle and another sip. "I'm used to it. It actually helps me live a bit longer."

The two were silent for a while, with only the faint sound of dripping water in the distance.

Blink suddenly said, "Colossus said you wanted to do an 'Ability Synchronization Drill'."

"Yeah."

"What you really want is our abilities, isn't it?" she said directly, her gaze sharp. "You want to learn how to open portals, how to absorb energy. To have another card to play after you go back."

Rorschach didn't deny it; he just looked at her. "Will you give it to me?"

Blink stared at him for a long time, then slowly nodded.

"I will. But not because I believe you can change the World, but because..."

She paused, her voice very soft.

"Because if you really do go back and see the Sun of 1973, remember to take a look for me. Let it be... proof that I existed."

She stood up and reached out her hand to him. "Come, let's practice now. Before I change my mind."

Rorschach took her hand.

Her hand was cold, with thin calluses on the palm, but it was very strong.

The two walked toward the back of the platform, where there was an abandoned subway car that had been converted into a makeshift workshop, piled with parts and tools.

It was dark inside the car, with only an emergency light hanging overhead, casting a swaying circle of light.

The air smelled strongly of engine oil and metal.

Blink closed the door, turned around, leaned against the workbench, and looked at Rorschach.

"How do we practice?" she asked.

Rorschach approached and stood before her, the distance between them very close. "The simplest way is for you to open the smallest possible portal for me, and I'll use my hand to 'feel' its energy structure. At the same time, I'll use my energy perception to record your fluctuations."

Blink nodded and raised her hand. A faint purple light glowed in her palm, space began to warp, and a portal the size of a fist slowly took shape, its edges marked by unstable patterns of light.

The other side of the portal showed the scene at the other end of the car, slightly distorted.

"Now," she said.

Rorschach reached out, his fingertips gently probing into the portal.

The sensation was strange, like reaching into warm water, but with a slight stinging pain.

He closed his eyes, his energy perception running at full capacity, analyzing the structure, frequency, and stability of the spatial energy...

At the same time, his other hand pressed gently against Blink's wrist—there was an old scar there, scabbed over, but the skin was thin.

"Don't move," he whispered, "I'm synchronizing your energy fluctuations."

Blink's body stiffened slightly, but she didn't pull her hand away.

She looked at Rorschach's focused profile with his eyes closed, her gaze shifting from caution to a complex, indescribable emotion.

A few minutes later, Rorschach withdrew his hand, and the portal flickered out.

He opened his eyes and nodded to Blink.

"Alright, I've memorized the structure. It's exquisite, but unstable. You need to improve the precision of your energy control, otherwise, your teleportation distance and duration won't increase."

Blink lowered her hand, the warmth of his fingers still lingering on her wrist. "Is that it?"

"There's one more step," Rorschach said, looking at her. "Intimate contact allows for a deeper synchronization of the energy field. This is... a method I've learned."

Blink raised an eyebrow. "You want to sleep with me?"

"I want to live," Rorschach said frankly. "Every bit of synchronization increases the chance of a successful crossing. Are you willing?"

Silence.

Only the faint hum of the emergency light's current filled the car.

Blink looked at him, struggle and hesitation flashing in her eyes, followed by a sort of resigned relief.

"The World might be gone tomorrow anyway," she whispered, reaching out to undo the top button of her shirt.

Rorschach caught her hand and shook his head. "It's not charity, and it's not a deal. It's mutual consent. If you're not willing, we can use another method."

Blink smiled, a smile carrying the free-spiritedness of the apocalypse. "I'm willing. At least... you look more like a human being than those walking dead outside."

She took the initiative to kiss him.

The kiss was unpracticed but passionate, like a long-suppressed flame finally finding an outlet.

Chapter 136: Future Harvest · Gift Before Departure (Part 2)

Rorschach responded, wrapping his arm around her waist and pressing her against the workbench.

Tools clattered to the floor, sounding exceptionally clear in the silent carriage.

The process was intense, like two trapped beasts biting and releasing in a desperate situation, proving they were still alive.

Her flickering purple hair swayed like flames in the dim light, sweat sliding down her pale skin and dripping onto the rusty metal table.

She bit her lip to keep herself from making a sound, but the wildness and despair in her eyes shattered and reorganized during the process, eventually turning into a near-exhausted calm.

When it was over, the two of them leaned against the workbench, panting.

Sweat mingled, and body temperatures intertwined.

Blink leaned on his shoulder, eyes closed, her fingers unconsciously tracing an old scar on his arm.

[System Prompt]: [Intimate contact detected (Female target: Clarice Ferguson/Blink)]

[Extracting ability...]

[Obtained: Spatial Teleportation 2.0]

[points +1000, current total points: 20900]

A vague influx of knowledge regarding spatial coordinate anchoring, energy tearing, and stitching flowed into his body.

Level 2.0 was quite crude, only capable of opening the most basic short-range portals, but it was indeed "Spatial Teleportation."

Combined with his existing Spatial Control 2.1, it might have some ingenious uses.

"Got it?" Blink suddenly asked in a low voice.

Rorschach's body stiffened slightly.

"Don't be nervous," she smiled, her voice raspy, "I think I felt it. You got it, right?"

Rorschach was silent for a moment before nodding. "Yes."

"That's good," Blink said, looking up at him with her purple eyes in the darkness, "At least my ability can be of use in another World. Better than rotting away here."

She stood up, picked up her shirt from the floor, and put it on, her movements as composed as if nothing had happened. "Time to find Bishop. On his end... it won't be this gentle."

Rorschach also dressed, watching her back. "Thank you."

Blink looked back and gave him a faint smile. "You're welcome. Remember to see the Sun for me."

Bishop was in a storage room in the deepest part of the shelter.

It was filled with weapon parts, ammo crates, and discarded electronic equipment.

He sat on an ammo crate, wiping a modified energy rifle. When he saw Rorschach enter, he only lifted his eyelids.

"Finished with Blink?" he asked, his voice cold.

"Finished," Rorschach said, walking over to face him and leaning against a metal cabinet. "Your turn."

"How are we training?" Bishop put down his gun and stood up.

He was half a head taller than Rorschach, with a burly physique like a wall.

"Hit me with your weakest energy blast," Rorschach said. "I'll absorb it and analyze the structure. Then we'll do an energy cycle—I'll return the energy to you, you absorb it again and feel my energy'signature'."

Bishop narrowed his eyes. "Energy cycle? That's dangerous. It'll explode if not controlled properly."

"That's why it needs precise control," Rorschach said. "I trust your skill; you have to trust mine."

Silence. Bishop stared at him for a few seconds before slowly nodding. "Fine. But if you try any tricks, I'll blow your head off before your energy backflows."

"Fair," Rorschach said.

The two walked to the center of the storage room and stood facing each other.

Bishop raised his right hand, and his palm began to glow with a dark red light—it was absorbed and stored energy, compressed, transformed, and filled with violent aggression.

"Ready?" Bishop asked.

"Anytime."

Bishop thrust his palm forward.

A dark red energy beam shot out like a cannonball, heading straight for Rorschach's chest! Its power was controlled at around Level 2.0, but it was extremely fast and its trajectory was straight.

Rorschach didn't dodge. He raised his hand, activating Energy Domination 2.6 to form an invisible absorption field in his palm.

The energy beam slammed into his palm and was entirely swallowed, transformed, and stored. He closed his eyes, quickly analyzing the energy structure—violent, unstable, full of aggressive intent, but with a peculiar "storage-release" cycle mechanism at its core.

"Returning it to you." He opened his eyes, his palm glowing with the same dark red light. The energy beam shot back, its speed, power, and structure almost identical!

Bishop's eyes sharpened as he also raised his hand to absorb it. The energy swirled, compressed, and settled in his palm. He looked down at his hand, his eyes filled with surprise. "You... copied my energy structure?"

"Analyzed it," Rorschach said. "Now, let's do the cycle. I'll output a stable energy stream; you absorb it and then give it back to me. Repeat three times to establish an energy channel."

Bishop nodded. Rorschach raised his hand, and his palm glowed with a gentle golden light—it wasn't an attack, but a pure stream of energy, flowing slowly toward Bishop like a stream.

Bishop absorbed it, circulated it through his body once, and returned it in the form of a dark red energy stream.

Gold and dark red flowed between the two, forming a band of light.

The first time, the second time.

During the third cycle, Rorschach intentionally caused an extremely subtle fluctuation in the energy output—not a loss of control, but a simulation of the space-time disturbances that might occur during travel.

Bishop's absorption instantly stalled, and the energy stream vibrated slightly between them!

"Steady!" Rorschach barked, increasing his output to forcibly smooth out the fluctuation.

But in that instant, due to the energy vibration, Bishop's arm muscles tensed, and his fingers instinctively tightened—a burr on the edge of the trigger guard of the energy rifle he was holding scratched his thumb, drawing a drop of blood.

Rorschach retracted the energy stream at that exact moment, his hand "unintentionally" brushing past Bishop's wrist, his fingertip "happening" to graze that drop of blood.

The moment they touched, a system prompt popped up:

[Blood contact detected (Male target: Lucas Bishop)]

[Extracting ability...]

[Obtained: Energy Absorption and Storage 2.0]

[points +1000, current total points: 21900]

A precise influx of knowledge regarding "energy conversion, storage, compression, and release" flowed into his body.

Level 2.0 could absorb and store a small amount of energy attacks and release them when needed, but the storage limit was quite low, and the release precision was average.

However, this ability was a perfect match for his existing Energy Domination 2.6—one excelled at control, the other specialized in storage. After merging, there might be a qualitative change.

The energy cycle ended.

Bishop withdrew his hand and looked at the tiny cut on his thumb, frowning, but he didn't think much of it. "That fluctuation just now... was it a simulated space-time disturbance?"

"Yeah," Rorschach nodded, shaking his hand. "It's very likely to happen during the crossing. You handled it well, but your reaction was still 0.3 seconds slow. If we were actually crossing, those 0.3 seconds could have seen you torn apart by the space-time turbulence."

Bishop fell silent, looking down at his hand. "...Thank you."

"You're welcome," Rorschach said. "Now, we're'synchronized.' For tomorrow's crossing, I'll use your energy'signatures' as anchors to stabilize the consciousness projection. The success rate should increase by at least twenty percent."

Bishop nodded and turned toward the door, pausing at the threshold to look back.

"If you really make it back... kill Trask. Show no mercy."

"I will," Rorschach said.

Bishop left.

The storage room returned to silence.

Rorschach leaned against the metal cabinet and closed his eyes, feeling the two newly acquired abilities within him.

Spatial Teleportation 2.0, Energy Absorption and Storage 2.0. And a total of 21,900 points.

"Insurance is all bought," he whispered to himself. "Now, it's time to go home."

From deep within the distant tunnels came the faint sound of metal scraping.

Like something was slowly turning around in the darkness.