Chapter 157: The Path of Fusion
The door to the training room had been closed for three days.
Hank stood guard outside the door. On the monitoring equipment in front of him, the energy waveforms rose and fell like an EKG. Sometimes steady as if asleep, sometimes violent as a thunderstorm, every peak caused the red warning lights at the edge of the screen to flash wildly, and a piercing beep echoed through the corridor.
Hank's tail stiffened, and the monitoring screen exploded with red light—"Energy density exceeding Apocalypse?! This building should have blown up long ago!"
"This energy density... has already exceeded Apocalypse's." He muttered to himself, his voice filled with disbelief, "What on earth is he doing? Theoretically, energy of this level should have blown the entire building away—"
Before his voice could fade, the waveform on the screen suddenly flattened, and all the numbers reset to zero simultaneously.
Hank froze. In the next second, an invisible sense of oppression surged from the crack in the door, making him instinctively take three steps back, his back hitting the wall. That was the crushing weight of a higher life level, the most primal fear of a prey facing a predator.
Inside the room, Rorschach sat cross-legged in the center.
Sweat soaked through and then dried, leaving salt stains. Veins bulged, and muscles twitched with his heartbeat. Beneath his skin, points of light moved like fireflies.
Pain.
But Rorschach didn't open his eyes or make a sound.
System notifications were frantically flooding his consciousness:
[Fusible ability combination detected:]
[Molecular Control 3.0 + Matter Decomposition 2.5 → Molecular Recombination 3.2, consumes 12,000 points.]
[Immortality 3.0 + Physical Strength 2.2 + Diamond Form 2.0 → Immortal Body 3.2, consumes 12,000 points.]
[Energy Absorption and Storage 2.0 + Ocular Energy Blast 2.2 + Magneto-Energy Control 2.8 → Energy Control 3.0, consumes 10,000 points.]
[Mind Power 3.0 + Telekinesis Control 3.0 + Psionic Blade 2.5 → Telekinesis Control 3.5, consumes 15,000 points.]
[Space Control 2.1 + Spatial Teleportation 2.0 → Space Control 2.5, consumes 5,000 points.]
[Total consumption: 53,000 points.]
[Fusion confirmed.]
[Current points: 87,400 - 53,000 = 34,400.]
[Sealed/disordered abilities detected to have recovered.]
[All abilities from the Black Robe World unlocked.]
The final wave of intense pain receded like a tide.
Rorschach felt the surging power within his body and gently clenched his fist.
The air in his palm was squeezed into an explosive sound, and a circle of transparent ripples spread out, causing the cracks on the wall to widen a bit more.
Molecular Recombination 3.2—he could now restructure non-living matter, repair equipment, and even temporarily change the battlefield terrain. Given enough time, he could turn a building into a fortress.
Telekinesis Control 3.5—mental attacks and telekinetic object manipulation, capable of constructing a powerful Mental Barrier.
Immortal Body 3.2—capable of surviving nuclear-level damage, completely immune to conventional weapons. Aging speed significantly reduced, and fatal injuries can recover quickly. This meant he could take a bath in the center of a nuclear explosion and then walk out and dust himself off.
Energy Control 3.0—allowed him to control his own and surrounding energy, absorbing, storing, converting, and releasing it as easily as moving his own arm. Shaw's ability, Cyclops's ability, and Magneto's ability had all become his instincts now.
Plus, all the hundreds of abilities from the Black Robe World were unlocked.
Now, he was more powerful than ever before.
The final notification flashed by, and Rorschach snapped his eyes open.
Deep within his pupils, gold and purple light flashed and vanished, then returned to calm. Those eyes were deeper than before, like two bottomless ancient wells, showing no emotional fluctuations.
He looked down, and golden patterns appeared on his palm—the mark of the Immortal Body.
He clenched his fist, and the sense of power was like a mountain's roar or a tsunami.
He gently pressed the ground.
Boom—
The entire floor of the training room centered on him instantly cracked! The cracks spread like a spider web to the walls, gravel fell rustling down, the light tubes on the ceiling burst, and sparks flew everywhere!
Rorschach was stunned for a moment, then smiled.
"A bit fierce."
He stood up and stretched his shoulders. His bones cracked, but it was a comfortable, power-filled sound. Every bit of subtle fatigue was instantly restored, and every muscle was as easy to control as his own fingers.
He walked to the wall, reached out, and pressed it against the crack.
[Molecular Recombination 3.2] activated.
The cracks began to heal, the gravel flew back to its original position, and the wall was restored to its original state—as if it had never shattered. The light tubes on the ceiling also recombined and lit up.
Rorschach withdrew his hand and nodded with satisfaction.
Outside the door, Hank was already so scared that he was pressed against the wall, his glasses sliding to the tip of his nose, and his tail was stiff and straight.
The door opened.
Rorschach walked out, still carrying dried sweat stains, his hair messy, but his whole temperament was as restrained as an abyss. It wasn't the kind of restraint that was deliberately hidden, but a truly bottomless calm.
Hank looked at him and instinctively took a step back.
"Su... success?" Hank stammered.
Rorschach moved his neck and grinned: "Not bad. If that hit just now had landed for real, the Mansion would have to be rebuilt."
Hank's face turned pale.
Rorschach laughed out loud: "Just kidding."
He patted Hank's shoulder and walked toward the corridor. After a few steps, he stopped and looked back:
"By the way, any new movements from Mr. Sinister's side?"
Hank pushed his glasses: "I was just about to tell you... you've been in here for three days, and I've re-analyzed all the data. That Antarctic signal is getting stronger and stronger."
Rorschach raised an eyebrow.
Hank walked quickly to the monitoring console and pulled up a 3D scan. Three thousand meters beneath the Antarctic ice sheet, there was a huge cavity with a strong energy reaction in the center, like a beating heart.
"This is the data from three days ago." Hank pulled up another one, "This is today's. The energy intensity has increased by 30%, and..."
He zoomed in on the image and pointed to a point in the center of the cavity:
"There are vital signs here. Faint, but continuously strengthening. It's not a mass-produced life like a clone, but... original. I suspect Mr. Mr. Sinister hid a backup of his consciousness in Antarctica and is now reconstructing his body."
Rorschach stared at the screen, his eyes gradually turning cold.
The energy fluctuations on the screen were increasing every second. In the center of that cavity, something was taking shape.
"A clone?"
"No." Hank shook his head, "Much more complex than a clone. From the energy characteristic analysis, this is the original consciousness. His clones are all dead, but his original consciousness has been hidden there all along. Now, he is absorbing the data collected by the Nanites, trying to reshape a more powerful body."
Rorschach was silent for a few seconds.
Then he smiled—that smile was very cold, like the Antarctic wind.
"Coming right to my door," he said. "Saves me the trouble of searching the whole World."
Hank was stunned: "You're going? But the signal is still strengthening, and his energy readings have already exceeded any previous clone—at least on the same level as Apocalypse!"
Rorschach looked at him: "So?"
Hank was choked up.
Rorschach patted his shoulder: "Smurf, do you know what I'm best at in this life?"
Hank shook his head mechanically.
"Killing those stronger than me," Rorschach said, his tone as calm as if he were stating the weather. "Shaw? Apocalypse? The grass on their graves is already three meters high. Mr. Sinister? What is he?"
He turned and walked toward the depths of the corridor.
Hank shouted from behind: "At least wait for Jean to come back! She—"
"No waiting." Rorschach didn't look back, "If I wait for him to be ready, he'll be harder to kill. A hunter doesn't wait for the prey to fully wake up."
His figure disappeared at the end of the corridor.
Hank stood in place, looking at the increasingly strong signal on the monitoring screen, then at the direction where Rorschach disappeared, and muttered to himself:
"Madman... truly a madman..."
---
Late at night, at the Mansion tower.
Rorschach stood by the window, looking outside. The moonlight was like water, spilling onto the silver-white lawn.
In the distance, the light was on in Jean's window, and her figure could be seen vaguely pacing in front of it. She was also worried.
Raven came from behind and leaned on his shoulder. Her skin was slightly cool, carrying the scent of shower gel, and her hair brushed against his neck.
"Leaving?" she asked.
"Soon."
"How long this time?"
"If it's fast, one night," Rorschach said.
Raven didn't speak, just held him tighter.
A few seconds later, she said softly: "I'll go with you."
Rorschach shook his head: "Not this time. Antarctica is too cold, you won't be able to handle it."
Raven looked up, her golden eyes flashing tenderly in the moonlight. In front of Rorschach, she never pretended.
"Then promise me, come back alive."
Rorschach lowered his head and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead.
"When have I ever lied to you?"
Raven smiled, a smile filled with relief, trust, and a hint of helplessness. She let go and took a step back:
"Go then. I'll wait for you here."
Rorschach nodded, turned, and walked to the window.
Moonlight spilled over him, and the two red strings on his wrist glowed dark red—one faded, one bright.
He took a deep breath, and his spatial perception fully expanded.
Antarctica, three thousand meters beneath the ice sheet, that huge cavity, that body being reconstructed, that old fox who had waited for nearly a hundred years.
Coordinates locked.
[Spatial Teleportation 2.5] activated.
A golden light gate took shape in front of him, and on the other side of the gate were endless ice, snow, and darkness.
He stepped in and disappeared into the light.
Raven stood in the empty room, looking at the bright moon outside the window, and said softly:
"Come back alive."
---
Outside the training room, Hank was packing up the monitoring equipment. He tiredly rubbed his sore eyes. Suddenly, a faint signal flashed across the screen—not from Antarctica, but from somewhere closer. At the periphery of the Mansion, at the edge of the woods, an extremely hidden energy fluctuation.
He zoomed in on the image.
There was nothing.
"An illusion?" he muttered, rubbing his eyes.
Looking again, the signal had disappeared.
Hank frowned, hesitated for a few seconds, and finally shook his head, continuing to pack the equipment. He was too tired, hadn't slept for three days, it was normal to have hallucinations.
Outside the window, under the moonlight, a few wisps of silver light flashed through the woods, too fast to be caught.
Like a swarm of insects.
Like eyes.
Like waiting.
After Hank left, those silver glimmers lit up again. They converged, dispersed, and recombined in the air, forming an extremely weak signal, flying toward the south.
That direction was exactly Antarctica.
[Nanite swarm signal detected...]
[Data transmitting...]
[Data content: All combat data of the X-Mansion, Rorschach's ability assessment, Jean Grey's Phoenix Forcefluctuation frequency...]
[Transmission complete.]
The woods returned to silence. The moonlight was still bright.
But in the darkness, something was waking up.
Hank stood in the empty corridor, looking at the increasingly strong Antarctic signal on the screen, when suddenly—seven red dots lit up simultaneously at the edge of the screen.
His pupils shrank sharply.
"This... this is impossible..."
Chapter 158: Data Eradication · Global Synchronized Strike
At 3:17 AM, the alarm in the Academy's tactical room blared.
Hank's roar exploded from the communicator: "The signals are completely chaotic! Mr. Sinister has more than one backup server—seven locations worldwide! Siberia, Tokyo, Switzerland, Antarctica, Nevada, the North Sea, and the Sahara! They are undergoing synchronized data migration!"
On the holographic map, seven red dots flashed frantically.
Rorschach stood in the center of the tactical room with his hands in his pockets. Charles sat in his wheelchair, fingers pressed to his temples. Jean stood beside him, her face pale and her eyes tightly shut.
"I can feel it..." Jean's voice trembled. "That consciousness is dispersing. He wants to live."
"Then let him die for good." Rorschach looked up, his gaze sweeping over Scott, Ororo, Pietro, and Kitty. "Group up for a synchronized destruction. The error margin cannot exceed 0.3 seconds."
He raised his hand and drew three lines on the holographic map:
"Siberia: Scott and Ororo will lead the team. Three hundred meters underground, blast through at maximum power."
"Tokyo: Jean will lead with Pietro providing support. The fifth basement level of Ginza; Pietro will clear the area, and Jean will destroy the core."
"Switzerland: Kitty, take Nightcrawler and Bobby. The bank vault is two hundred meters underground with three blast doors. Kitty, phase through; Nightcrawler, fill the gaps; Bobby, freeze the hard drives."
He pointed his finger at the final four red dots on the map: "Nevada, the North Sea, Antarctica, and the Sahara—I'll handle these."
Scott took a step forward. "By yourself? Four locations spanning four continents—"
"I'm compressing the teleportation interval to 0.3 seconds," Rorschach interrupted him. "You just need to ensure that when I strike, you strike as well."
He looked at Charles. "Professor, psychic link."
Charles nodded and closed his eyes. The next second, his voice rang out in everyone's minds simultaneously: [Connection established.]
Rorschach cracked his neck, his bones popping. "Sync watches. It's 3:21 AM. At 3:30 AM sharp, we move."
He raised his hand. [Space Control 2.5] was activated at full power—a golden light gate formed in front of him.
"Come back alive." He stepped inside.
The Nevada desert, three hundred meters underground.
Rorschach stepped out of the light gate, landing in the middle of a metal corridor. Red warning lights flashed, and the sirens were deafening.
Twelve guard robots turned simultaneously, their muzzles aimed at him.
Rorschach didn't stop, nor did he even look at them.
[Super-speed Reaction 2.0] activated. The robots' movements were as slow as a snail's crawl. He leaned to the side as the first wave of bullets grazed past his chest. He tilted his head as the second wave whizzed by his ear. He lifted his foot and crushed the gun barrel of the third robot.
[Molecular Recombination 3.2] was unleashed.
The metal floor beneath his feet melted instantly, turning into a torrent of liquid metal that swallowed the twelve robots. They struggled, roared, and fired—but the bullets slowed down, stalled, and were consumed within the liquid metal.
At the end of the corridor was a three-meter-thick alloy blast door. He raised his hand and pressed it against the door.
[Molecular Recombination 3.2] output at full power.
The alloy door began to melt from the center, revealing a circular passage two meters in diameter. At the end of the passage was a server cluster—thirty rows of cabinets with indicator lights flashing frantically as data transferred at terabytes per second.
Rorschach walked inside.
"One-seventh."
He raised his hand, and [Energy Control 3.0] condensed into a golden sphere of light in his palm. Expanding, compressing, and expanding again—the golden torrent swept through the entire server hall!
BOOM!!!
All the cabinets exploded simultaneously, sparks flying and thick smoke billowing. The data transmission came to a dead stop.
He turned and stepped into the light gate.
A North Sea oil platform, five hundred meters in the air.
Rorschach stepped out of the light gate and hovered high in the sky. Below him, the oil platform was brightly lit, but the lights quickly went out—the backup power kicked in, searchlights turned toward the sky, and dozens of intense beams locked onto him.
A Nanite Swarm surged from beneath the platform, blotting out the sky.
The silver tide of insects rose like a sandstorm, each nanite flashing with an eerie blue light. They reorganized and reshaped themselves in mid-air, turning into countless metal thorns that shot toward him from all directions!
Rorschach raised his right hand.
[Energy Control 3.0] operated at full capacity, expanding a golden force field ten meters in diameter. The metal thorns slammed into the force field with a dense clattering sound, all of them being deflected, melted, or vaporized.
He dove down like a golden meteor, smashing directly through the top level of the platform!
BOOM!!!
He pierced through three decks. In the center of the core server chamber, a metal sphere five meters in diameter hovered in mid-air, its surface covered in pulsing blue light patterns—Mr. Sinister's data core.
He walked up to the sphere and pressed his hand against it.
[Molecular Recombination 3.2] was activated.
The metal sphere began to melt, deform, and collapse from the point of contact. The blue light patterns flashed frantically, emitting a piercing screech like a death wail. Three seconds later, the sphere had completely turned into molten iron, flowing across the floor and emitting white smoke.
He turned and stepped into the light gate.
Three thousand meters beneath the Antarctic ice sheet.
Rorschach stepped out of the light gate into the center of a massive underground hollow. The rock walls were covered in layers of ice, shimmering with a faint glow in the dim blue light. In the very center of the hollow hung a massive incubation pod, inside of which a naked body was submerged—a clone of Mr. Mr. Sinister.
The clone slowly opened its eyes and stared at him through the glass.
It grinned, the smile eerie and distorted. "You cannot kill data."
The voice came from the incubation pod's speaker with mechanical static: "My consciousness has already been backed up to seven servers. As long as even one remains, I am immortal. You're too late, Rorschach. Data transfer is 99% complete—Eh?!"
The clone's pupils shrank suddenly, and the smile froze on its distorted face.
Rorschach smiled as well.
"What percentage is complete?" Rorschach's lips curled slightly. "Siberia has been blasted through, Tokyo has been burned clean, Switzerland has been frozen to pieces... Nevada, the North Sea, and the Sahara—I melted them myself. Does it hurt?"
The clone's face contorted.
"No... impossible..."
"What is seven minus seven?" Rorschach walked up to the incubation pod and pressed his hand against the glass. "Zero."
[Energy Control 3.0] output at full power!
Golden energy pierced through the incubation pod, and the nutrient solution boiled instantly. The clone's body vaporized, disintegrated, and was annihilated in the high temperature. It opened its mouth as if to say something, but only a few bubbles emerged before it completely vanished into the golden light.
In that final moment, its hand reached out from the boiling nutrient solution, its fingertip touching the back of Rorschach's hand against the glass—separated by the glass, yet a single droplet of unvaporized blood seeped through a microscopic fissure and touched Rorschach's skin.
[System Prompt]
[Blood contact detected (Male target: Sinister Clone No. 7)]
[Obtained: Nanite Control 1.5 (Fragment) — Can initially perceive and control a small number of nanobots for reconnaissance and interference]
[points +500, Cumulative: 34,900]
[Other miscellaneous low-level abilities detected, converted into Source points: +1,500]
[Current Total points: 36,400]
Rorschach withdrew his hand, looking at the wisp of silver light in his palm. The nanites squirmed, adapted, and surrendered within his blood—he could "feel" the countless nanite scouts floating in the surrounding air. Those eyes that originally belonged to Mr. Sinister were now his eyes.
A stream of information flashed through his consciousness.
A name, a photo, and a set of coordinates.
Gary Marks.
And a line of remarks: [Multiple Personality Fusion · Out of Control · Coordinates: Swiss Alps Underground · Immediate Elimination Recommended]
Rorschach narrowed his eyes.
"Gary..." he whispered. "Mr. Sinister's final legacy?"
He turned, preparing to step into the light gate—
[Telekinesis Control 3.5] suddenly stung!
Rorschach snapped his head down, looking beneath his feet. Deep under the ice, at a depth of eight thousand meters, a purple point of light flashed and vanished. That light was too familiar—it shared the same source as Apocalypse's energy, but it was even more ancient and profound.
[System Popup: Warning! High-energy life signal detected, Level 3.0+, directly below.]
Rorschach stared at that light, his lips slowly curling upward.
"The original body," he said. "You've hidden quite deep."
He raised his hand, and [Space Control 2.5] locked onto the coordinates.
With a flash of light, he vanished from the spot.
Three seconds later, Raven's voice came through the communicator: "Rorschach? Is it over on your end? We've finished everything here, and Scott and the others are on their way back—"
There was no response.
Raven frowned and looked at Charles.
Charles had his eyes closed, his Psychic Power fully deployed. Three seconds later, he snapped his eyes open, his face deathly pale.
"He is beneath the Antarctic ice sheet... eight thousand meters deep."
"What?"
"There is a massive hollow there," Charles's voice trembled. "And an consciousness... even more ancient than Apocalypse. It was sleeping, but Rorschach... has awakened it."}],
Chapter 159: Hellfire, Emma's Warning
4:00 AM, the top floor of the Academy's Main Building.
The golden light of Space Teleportation had not yet dissipated as Rorschach stepped out of the light gate. Ice crystals covered his shoulders, and a faint silver shimmer of nanites remained on his fingers. Charles's mental link still echoed in his mind: "...That consciousness has fallen silent, but it hasn't disappeared."
An alarm blared.
Rorschach's pupils constricted as Space Control 2.5activated instantly. The next second, he was standing on the lawn.
Under the moonlight, a white figure fell from a height of a hundred meters. Emma Frost—her Diamond Form had deactivated, and her white dress was soaked in blood.
She was falling too fast. If she hit the stone pavement, she would surely die.
Rorschach took a step forward, pushing Super-speed Reaction 2.0 to its limit. He leaped into the air when Emmawas three meters from the ground and caught her.
The force of the impact cracked the stone slabs bit by bit, but his arms remained steady.
Emma opened her eyes in his arms, her face as pale as paper and blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. Her voice was weak, but her cold, elegant pride remained:
"Don't... Mr. Sinister... his people found me..."
Rorschach looked down—there was a through-and-through wound in her abdomen, as if she had been hit by an energy weapon, and it was still bleeding. The wound was deep, and her internal organs were faintly visible. If she hadn't used her Diamond Form to protect her vitals at the last moment, this strike would have cut her in half.
"Come inside first."
Space Control 2.5 activated again. The two of them teleported to the entrance of the medical room.
---
Emma lay on the hospital bed, her dress cut open to reveal the shocking wound on her abdomen. Hank used tweezers to extract metal fragments; with each piece removed, Emma gritted her teeth and let out a muffled groan. His blue beastly claws were covered in blood, but his movements were precise and steady.
"This wound..." Hank pushed up his glasses, his expression grave. "It's a composite injury from an energy weapon and live ammunition. First pierced by an energy beam, then embedded with metal fragments. Ten minutes later, and she would have been dead for sure."
Rorschach leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching Emma.
"Who did this?"
Emma opened her eyes and met his gaze. Those eyes, once as cold and haughty as frost, now held only exhaustion and a hint of irrepressible fear.
"Mr. Sinister's people," she said hoarsely. "Or rather... the legacy he left behind. The Hellfire Club wants to take over his data, cloning technology, and his final experimental subject."
Rorschach raised an eyebrow. "Gary Marks?"
Emma's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. "You know about him?"
"I just got the intel." Rorschach raised an eyebrow. "Seven personalities, seven abilities, out of control. Where is he now?"
"Switzerland, beneath the Alps." Emma took a deep breath, which aggravated her wound, causing her to groan and furrow her brows. "Mr. Sinister's final laboratory, fifth floor underground. Gary is locked in the core chamber at the deepest level. I originally intended to infiltrate early and destroy the research data on the 'White Queen'... but there was a trap."
She paused before continuing, "Gary can sense Mutants. As soon as I entered the second floor underground, he'saw' me. Seven personalities locked onto my consciousness simultaneously, and the mental shock shattered my Diamond Form instantly. I was hit by his energy clone while escaping."
Charles wheeled himself in from outside, his expression solemn. "You just mentioned research data on the 'White Queen'?"
Emma looked at him with a complex gaze. "Mr. Sinisterstudied me. My genetic samples, psychological profile, and ability weaknesses are all in his database. If Hellfire gets that data, they'll create a second White Queen—a puppet with no self-awareness, only obedience."
She turned to Rorschach, a pleading look appearing in her eyes for the first time:
"I want you to promise me one thing."
"Speak."
"If you find Mr. Sinister's research data on the 'White Queen'..." She gritted her teeth. "Destroy it. Don't give it to me, don't give it to Charles—destroy it completely. Once that data is leaked, I will no longer be myself."
Rorschach looked at her, and after three seconds, he nodded.
"Deal."
Emma closed her eyes and sighed in relief. Hank continued treating the wound, the only sound in the medical room being the crisp clinking of metal tweezers against the tray.
Rorschach turned to leave, but Emma's voice came from behind him:
"Rorschach."
He stopped.
"Hellfire has already sent people," Emma said. "Sebastian Shaw's old subordinates, and... someone you might know."
Rorschach turned to look at her.
"Erik Lehnsherr's daughter." Emma spoke each word clearly. "Nina Gurzsky. She's alive; Hellfire found her. They're using her to threaten Erik into cooperating."
Rorschach's gaze turned cold.
"Does Erik know?"
"No," Emma shook her head. "But Hellfire will let him know. By tomorrow at the latest, he'll receive a 'gift'—a strand of Nina's hair and a blackmail letter."
Silence.
Three seconds later, Rorschach pushed the door open and left.
---
Late at night, the Academy tower.
Rorschach stood by the window, looking at the edge of the distant forest. Under the moonlight, a few flickers of silver light flashed momentarily among the shadows of the trees—Nanite scout bugs. They were still observing, still recording, still waiting.
Nanite Control 1.5 allowed him to sense the presence of those bugs. He could even faintly capture the data streams they were transmitting—the Academy's layout, the students' schedules, vulnerabilities in the defense system, and the route Charles took in his wheelchair every day.
Mr. Sinister was dead, but his eyes remained.
"Let them watch," Rorschach whispered. "Once they've seen enough, I'll wipe them all out."
His communicator vibrated.
An encrypted channel, an unknown number.
He answered.
There was silence on the other end for three seconds, then a deep, raspy, familiar voice came through:
"Rorschach."
Erik Lehnsherr.
No pleasantries, no nonsense, straight to the point.
"Mr. Sinister's research reports contain my genetic data," Erik said. "The complete set. Including mine and my descendants'. If Hellfire gets it, they'll create a second Magneto—or use that data to find my only weakness."
Rorschach didn't speak.
Erik continued, "I owe you a favor. This time, I'm going to Switzerland with you."
"Your terms?"
"If you find any information about my daughter..." Erik's voice paused for three seconds before he continued, "Tell me. Whether she's alive or dead, I want to know the truth."
Rorschach was silent for two seconds.
"Meet me at the usual place."
He hung up.
He looked up at the moonlight outside the window. In the forest, those silver glimmers were still flickering like countless eyes, quietly watching the Academy.
A hint of coldness crossed Rorschach's lips.
"Mr. Sinister..." he whispered. "Even in death, you won't stay quiet."
He turned and walked into the darkness.
Under the moonlight, the silver points of light in the forest flickered more frequently. They were frantically scanning: the trajectory of Rorschach's disappearance, the coordinates of the medical room, defense vulnerabilities—every possible opening!
Then, they transmitted this data into the distance.
Toward the depths of the Swiss Alps.
Toward that underground cage where Gary Marks was held.
Meanwhile, the tracking signal Rorschach had embedded was surreptitiously traveling within the data stream, bypassing shields, and pointing straight toward the southern border—Switzerland.
Chapter 160: X-23—A Weapon's Choice
The U.S.-Mexico border, on the outskirts of San Diego, United States.
2:00 AM. At an abandoned gas station, the stench of blood mixed with spoiled engine oil clung to the cold morning mist. Rorschach stepped out of the light gate, his feet crunching on the gravel with a sound that was exceptionally clear in the silence.
[Telekinesis Control 3.5] stung slightly.
He rounded a rusted fuel tanker and saw the scene.
Five mercenary corpses were scattered on the ground. Necks snapped, chests pierced, faces shredded by sharp claws. The blood was still wet, shimmering dark red under the moonlight. The most intact one lay on his back, eyes wide and round, with the terror of his final moments frozen on his face.
A girl was curled up in the corner.
Twelve or thirteen years old, thin, and filthy. She wore a tattered T-shirt and jeans, and was barefoot. Her hands hung in front of her, and three Adamantium claws extended from between her knuckles—each about thirty centimeters long, glinting with a cold light under the moon.
Blood was still dripping from the tips of the claws.
She looked up and stared at Rorschach.
Those eyes lacked the clarity of a child's. There was only the alertness of a Beast, the ferocity of a wounded wolf pup. Her pupils contracted slightly, her body tensed, and her claws slowly rose.
An attack stance.
Rorschach didn't move.
Standing five meters away with his hands in his pockets, his posture was as relaxed as if he were taking a stroll.
"Laura Kinney," he spoke, his voice calm. "X-23. William Stryker's final work. Subject Ten, the only survivor."
A low growl issued from the girl's throat. A warning, a threat.
Rorschach continued, "After escaping from the Alkali LakeBase, you killed seventeen mercenaries hunting you. In three months, you walked from Canada to Mexico, surviving on rats and wild fruit. Correct?"
The girl said nothing. Her claws extended another inch.
He crouched down to look her in the eye—no looking down, no scrutiny, only equality.
"Two choices," he said. "Option one: come with me. Learn to control your claws, learn to read and write, learn to be a person. You'll have a bed, food, and no one hunting you."
The girl's eyes wavered slightly.
"Second, stay here," Rorschach continued. "Wait for the next wave of pursuers. Stryker is dead, but his project remains. Essex Industries, Mr. Sinister's legacy, the Hellfire Club—they all want your genes. You killed five, but can you kill fifty? Five hundred?"
A lower growl came from the girl's throat. There was less threat in the sound and more struggle.
"I don't trust anyone," she spoke, her voice raspy, as if she hadn't talked in a long time.
"Trust yourself." Rorschach stood up and turned to leave. "Do you want to live, or do you want to die?"
He took three steps.
A rustling sound came from behind him—the girl had stood up.
"...Go."
The voice was very quiet, almost inaudible. But Rorschachheard it.
He stopped and looked back.
The girl stood in the moonlight, her small figure casting a long shadow. Her claws had retracted, her hands hung at her sides, and the slight trembling of her body betrayed her forced composure. She looked at Rorschach; there was no trust in her eyes, only something more primal and instinctive—the desire to survive.
A slight curve appeared at the corner of Rorschach's mouth.
"Keep up."
---
On the private jet, Laura was curled up in a corner seat.
She maintained a distance of at least three meters from Rorschach at all times. With her back against the cabin wall, her eyes warily scanned the surroundings—the portholes, the hatch, the cockpit, Rorschach. Her hands remained on her knees, ready to pop her claws at any moment.
Rorschach sat on the other side of the aisle. He took a bottle of mineral water and a pack of compressed biscuits from his bag and placed them on the seat between them.
"Eat if you're hungry."
Laura stared at the biscuits, her throat bobbing.
Rorschach ignored her, leaning back in his seat to rest with his eyes closed.
Ten minutes later, there was a rustling sound. Lauragrabbed the biscuits and water with extreme speed, retreated back to her corner, and wolfed them down with her back to him. The way she ate wasn't like a person, but like a Beast that had been starving for a long time.
Rorschach didn't open his eyes.
Much later, a raspy voice came from behind: "What is... that?"
Rorschach opened his eyes and turned to look at her. Laurawas staring at his wrist—the red string shimmering dark red in the dim light.
"A promise," Rorschach said. "To stay alive, and to remember."
Laura was silent for a few seconds. "Who gave it to you?"
"A friend. He was also once a weapon, but later learned how to be human."
Laura lowered her head and looked at her hands. They were slender, with calluses on the knuckles and a faint metallic sheen beneath the skin. Adamantium, the hardest metal in the World, could never be retracted back into her body. It was a permanent reminder of what she was.
"Can I... learn?" she asked, her voice very soft.
Rorschach looked at her. "When we arrive, someone will teach you. You aren't a weapon; you're a person. Remember that."
Laura didn't speak; she just gripped the empty biscuit wrapper tightly.
---
At 5:00 AM, the plane landed at a private airport near the academy.
Charles sat in his wheelchair, waiting by the tarmac. Seeing Rorschach lead the small girl down the airmobile stairs, he pushed his wheelchair forward to meet them, a gentle smile appearing on his face.
"Welcome home, child."
Laura stared at him, her eyes wary. Charles's Psychic Power brushed against the edge of her consciousness like a warm current—not an intrusion, merely a greeting and a comfort. Laura's tensed shoulders relaxed for a barely perceptible moment.
Rorschach walked ahead, with Laura following closely behind, always maintaining a two-meter distance. They passed through the academy gates, crossed the lawn, and entered the Main Building—all along the way, she warily sized up everything around her like a young Beast ready to flee at any moment.
At the door of the infirmary, Rorschach stopped and turned to look at her.
"Go in. Someone will give you a check-up. It's not a dissection; it's to see where you're hurt and what needs healing."
Laura stared at him and didn't move.
Rorschach crouched down to her level. "You don't have to trust anyone. But you can try—try to see what it feels like to be alive."
He stood up and turned to leave.
After a few steps, a voice came from behind: "Will you... leave?"
Rorschach stopped and looked back.
Moonlight spilled in through the hallway window, illuminating the small figure. She stood at the infirmary door, hands at her sides, her eyes filled with wariness and struggle, and deep in her gaze, a hidden fear of being abandoned.
Rorschach looked at her for three seconds, then said, "Not for now. Go to sleep."
Laura looked at him and was silent for two seconds. Then she pushed open the infirmary door and walked inside.
The door closed.
Rorschach stood there, listening to Hank's gentle greeting from inside the room and Laura's wary silence.
He turned, preparing to return to the tower—
Cerebra's alarm blared!
Charles's voice echoed in his mind: [There's a hidden scan in the forest on the outskirts of the academy! It's highly similar to Mr. Sinister's Scout Bugs!]
Rorschach instantly vanished. The next second, he appeared on the roof of the academy's Main Building.
He looked toward the forest. Under the moonlight, the shadows of the trees swayed, and all was peaceful. But [Nanite Control 1.5] allowed him to clearly perceive that those silver glimmers were still there. Densely packed, they covered the entire edge of the forest.
They were observing.
They were recording.
They were waiting.
A cold curve appeared at the corner of Rorschach's mouth.
"Seen enough?"
He whispered, raising his right hand. A silver shimmer lit up in his palm—it was the ability he had just plundered from Mr. Sinister's clone.
"Then get ready to die."
As soon as he finished speaking, the silver dots in the forest abruptly went out. It was as if they had sensed danger, or perhaps they had received a new command.
Three seconds later, the dots lit up again. They were dimmer than before, more hidden, and more scattered.
They were evolving.
Rorschach narrowed his eyes.
Behind him, the infirmary door opened a crack. Laurapoked half her head out, watching his silhouette standing in the moonlight.
From behind the crack in the door, she watched in silence—the red string swayed gently in the night wind, like a silent promise.
Then, the door softly closed.
Chapter 161: Beast Taming · Killing Perception
At 3:00 AM, alarms blared throughout the academy.
Rorschach sprang from his bed, activating [Space Control 2.5]. The next second, he was standing at the entrance of the Training Ground.
The sound of tearing metal. Screams. Kitty's body flew out through the wall, crashing into the corridor wall and spitting out a mouthful of blood.
"She's gone crazy!" Kitty clutched her chest, her face pale as a sheet.
Inside the Training Ground, Laura's eyes were blood-red, and all ten of her Adamantium claws were extended. She moved as fast as a silver shadow, every swipe of her claws leaving deep grooves in the walls. Concrete shattered, and rebar was left exposed.
Charles sat in his wheelchair, fingers pressed to his temples, his Psychic Power surging at full strength.
"Her subconscious is entirely focused on 'killing the threat'!" Charles gritted his teeth. "I can't get in. She's being dominated by fear."
Rorschach stepped into the Training Ground.
Laura snapped her head around, her blood-red eyes locking onto him. A Beast-like growl rumbled in her throat as she dropped to all fours and pounced like a cheetah.
Rorschach raised his hand. [Telekinesis Control 3.5] transformed into an invisible barrier.
Bang!
Laura slammed into the barrier and was sent flying back. She flipped in mid-air and landed steadily. Shaking her head, her growl deepened. Her claws scraped against the metal floor with an ear-piercing screech, sending sparks flying everywhere.
"Everyone, get out." Rorschach said without looking back. "Close the door."
Scott took a step forward. "You're alone—"
"Close the door."
Scott gritted his teeth and pulled Kitty out. The heavy alloy door slowly closed with a dull thud.
Only Rorschach and Laura remained inside the Training Ground.
Laura stared at him, her pupils constricting and her breathing rapid. Her body was trembling—not from fear, but from the internal struggle between her killing instinct and her remaining sanity. She didn't want to kill, but she couldn't control herself.
"Come." Rorschach opened his arms, his posture as relaxed as if he were taking a stroll. "Let me see what Stryker has installed in you."
Laura let out a roar and pounced.
Fast. Much faster than an ordinary Mutant. Her Adamantium claws carved three silver streaks through the air, aimed straight for Rorschach's throat.
Rorschach sidestepped, the tips of the claws grazing past his neck. He didn't dodge too quickly, intentionally letting the tips leave a shallow bloody mark on his skin. As soon as the wound appeared, [Immortal Body 3.2] healed it instantly, leaving not even a scar.
Laura landed, turned, and pounced again.
A combination attack. A horizontal sweep with her left claw, a straight thrust with her right, and a sudden change of direction with her feet. Rorschach weaved through the flurry of claws; [Super-speed Reaction 2.0] allowed him to clearly capture every attack trajectory. He tilted his head to dodge the sweep, turned his body to let the thrust slide past his ribs, and raised his foot to pin down Laura's ankle as she changed direction.
Laura lost her balance and tumbled to the ground.
But she immediately sprang up, turned, and pounced again.
Rorschach didn't fight back; he only dodged. The claw shadows were like a torrential rain, and he moved through them like a weightless leaf. Every time a claw tip grazed his skin, the wound would heal instantly with a faint sizzling sound.
"Control it!" Rorschach spoke, his voice calm. "Don't just vent!"
Laura ignored him and continued her assault.
Thirty seconds. Fifty attacks. Rorschach had sustained twenty wounds, each healing in an instant. Laura's breathing became increasingly ragged, and her movements began to show signs of sluggishness.
"Do you think killing solves everything?" Rorschachsidestepped, dodging a claw. "Did it feel good when you killed those five mercenaries?"
Laura's movements faltered for a moment.
Rorschach seized the opportunity, stepped forward, and grabbed her wrist. The Adamantium claws stopped three centimeters from his eye. Laura tried desperately to push forward, but Rorschach's hand was like a steel vice, unmoving.
"Look into my eyes," Rorschach said.
Laura looked up and met his gaze. In those blood-red eyes, there was madness, fear, and a hint of... confusion.
"You controlled it," Rorschach said. "In those last three seconds, you didn't strike."
Laura's body shook violently. The low growl in her throat turned into a whimper, like a wounded wolf pup.
Rorschach let go of her hand.
Laura staggered back and fell to her knees. Her claws slowly retracted into her body. She looked down at her hands; they were trembling and covered in her own blood—the result of the recoil from attacking Rorschach earlier.
"I..." she spoke, her voice raspy. "I just..."
"Lost control." Rorschach knelt down to look her in the eye. "But in the last three seconds, you suppressed your instinct. Remember that feeling—the choice of whether to kill or not."
Laura looked up at him, something glistening in her eyes.
Rorschach reached out, his fingers brushing over the wounds on her arm. The torn skin was Self-Healing, but beads of blood still seeped out. The moment their blood touched, a system prompt popped up:
[Blood contact detected (Female target: Laura Kinney/X-23)]
[Extracting ability...]
[Obtained: Kill Sense 1.5—Can sense the killing intent and danger of surrounding creatures to predict attacks]
[points +500, total 36,900]
Rorschach withdrew his hand and stood up.
Laura also stood up, looking down at her retracted claws, then at the red string on Rorschach's wrist. The string glowed dark red under the moonlight, the same color as the blood on her claw tips.
"What is that?" she asked, her voice still very raspy.
"A promise," Rorschach said. "To stay alive and to remember."
He turned and walked toward the door. After a few steps, he stopped and looked back:
"Go to sleep. Starting tomorrow, someone will teach you how to control it."
Laura stood there, watching his back disappear through the door. The moment the door opened, she saw Charles, Hank, Scott, and Kitty standing in the corridor. Their faces showed concern and worry, but not fear.
The door closed.
Laura looked down at her hands. Her claws had completely retracted, leaving only ten blood-stained fingers.
"...Stay alive," she whispered.
---
Early morning, at the academy entrance.
An old pickup truck stopped in the morning mist, the engine coughing twice before completely dying. The door opened, and Erik Lehnsherr stepped out. He wore a dark turtleneck and an old leather jacket; his hair was a bit whiter than before, but his gaze remained sharp.
Rorschach leaned against a porch pillar, holding a cup of coffee.
Erik walked up to him, and the two stared at each other for three seconds.
"Who's commanding this operation?" Erik asked.
"Me."
Erik nodded. "As long as the target is Mr. Sinister, anyone can command."
He brushed past him toward the Main Building. After a few steps, he stopped and said in a low voice without turning back, "You've grown stronger."
Rorschach took a sip of coffee, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.
Footsteps approached from behind. Laura was standing behind him at some point, staring at Erik's back.
"Who is he?"
"Magneto," Rorschach said. "An old madman."
Laura was silent for a few seconds. "Has he killed people too?"
"Many."
"Then why is he still alive?"
Rorschach turned to look at her and smiled. "Because the people he killed all deserved to die."
Laura lowered her head.
In the distance, at the edge of the forest, several glints of silver flickered and vanished in the morning mist. Rorschach narrowed his eyes as his newly acquired [Kill Sense 1.5] throbbed slightly—those Nano-reconnaissance insects were still there. Still observing, still recording, still waiting.
"Watch then," he whispered. "Once you've seen enough, I'll wipe you all out in one go."
Laura looked over, but the forest was empty. However, she felt it—the killing intent that had instantly cooled on Rorschach.
"In that direction... what is there?"
"Bugs." Rorschach turned and patted her shoulder. "Go eat. Starting today, you're in a team with Kitty."
Laura watched his back and remained silent for a few seconds. Then she turned and followed him into the Main Building.
The morning mist gradually dissipated.
At the edge of the forest, those silver glints flickered a few more times before slowly fading away.
But they didn't leave.
They only hid deeper.
Chapter 162: Caliban's Deal
Kreuzberg District, Berlin, Germany.
1:00 AM. The bar was hidden in the basement of an abandoned factory. The entrance was a rusted iron door, with two burly men standing at the entrance, their eyes like guard dogs. Rorschach stepped out of the shadows. Just as the two were about to stop him, they were pushed by Telekinesis Control 3.5, slumping limply against the wall and passing out.
He pushed the door open and entered.
Smoke filled the air. The smell of low-quality alcohol mixed with the stench of sweat hit his nostrils. In the corner, a few Mutants huddled in booths, warily eyeing everyone who entered. Behind the bar, the one-eyed man stopped wiping a glass, a trace of fear flickering in his eyes—he recognized Rorschach.
Rorschach ignored him and walked straight to the innermost corner.
A short, hunchbacked man was huddled there. Wrapped in a dirty trench coat, he hadn't removed his sunglasses even in the dim light. Sensing Rorschach approach, his body stiffened abruptly, and he instinctively shrank back, nearly sliding off his chair.
"Caliban." Rorschach sat down opposite him.
Caliban took off his sunglasses, revealing those milky-white eyes. His pupils lacked focus, but as he "looked" toward Rorschach, an expression of mingled fear and awe appeared on his face. His hands were shaking, his nails digging into the edge of the table, making a faint creaking sound.
"You... are the one who killed Apocalypse?" Caliban's voice trembled. "The whole Mutant World is talking—Rorschach, the Raider. Even Apocalypse fell at your hands..."
"I want information." Rorschach didn't waste words. "The exact coordinates of Mister Mr. Sinister's Switzerland Base, and the internal structural diagrams."
Caliban's Adam's apple bobbed, but his hands didn't move. "That place... I can't go. Gary Marks is there; he can sense Mutants—"
"Two choices." Rorschach interrupted him, his voice as calm as if he were talking about the weather. "First, tell me the information and leave alive. Second, I'll snap your neck right now and search for it myself."
Caliban's body froze.
Rorschach looked at him without saying a word.
Three seconds later, Caliban tremblingly pulled a folded map from his coat and spread it out on the table. The map was densely marked with various symbols—red crosses, blue lines, black dots—and at the very bottom was a line of handwritten coordinates.
"Alps, 3,200 meters above sea level, disguised as a glacial crevasse." He pointed at the map. "The surface is an ordinary ice crack, but hidden beneath is an energy shield. Five underground levels."
His finger moved across the map:
"The first level is the guard barracks and Nanite Incubation Chambers. At least thirty mercenaries, with weapons specifically designed for Mutants. The second level is the laboratory and data center; all of Mr. Sinister's research data is there. The third level is the cultivation pod area, housing dozens of experimental subjects—some still alive, some already dead. The fourth level is the energy core, the power hub for the entire Base. At the deepest part..."
His finger stopped on the red cross at the very bottom.
"Is Gary's cage. A circular hall fifty meters in diameter, surrounded entirely by energy barriers. He's suspended in a cultivation pod in the center, kept alive by nutrient solution. But as long as someone enters the third underground level, he will wake up."
He looked up, a hint of fear flashing in his milky-white eyes. "Mr. Sinister uploaded a portion of his consciousness data before he died; there's a'Shadow' of him there. That thing has no physical form but can control all the nanites in the Base. If you encounter it... run. Run as fast as you can. Don't look back, don't hesitate."
Rorschach reached for the map.
Caliban's hand was still pressed against the map, and he added tremulously, "Gary's ability is 'Personality Devourment.' He can strip away your personality and make it his own. Don't let him touch your head. Once he touches your temples, your consciousness will be sucked in, becoming his eighth personality. Trapped in his mind forever, never to wake up again."
Rorschach took the map, folded it, and put it in his pocket.
"Anything else?"
Caliban swallowed hard, his voice dropping even lower. "There's something in the Base... neither Mutant nor machine. Mr. Sinister called it the 'primal specimen,' left over from the era of Apocalypse. It's 'watching' people. I can't sense its consciousness, but it... knows we're talking about it. It knows I'm telling you this."
Rorschach stood up. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Caliban's hand pressed against the table—there was dried blood under his fingernails, though he didn't know if it was his own or someone else's.
He reached out and grabbed Caliban's wrist.
Caliban's body stiffened, thinking Rorschach was going to silence him.
But Rorschach merely gave him a "hand up," his fingertips just happening to brush against the dried blood under the fingernails. The moment skin made contact, a system prompt popped up:
[Blood contact detected (Male target: Caliban)]
[Extracting ability...]
[Obtained: Mutant Sense 1.8 — Can sense and locate Mutants within a fifty-kilometer radius; sensing intensity decreases with distance.]
[points +800, Total: 3700]
Rorschach let go, his expression unchanged.
Caliban shrank back into the shadows, panting heavily, his forehead covered in cold sweat.
"You... you're not going to kill me?"
Rorschach glanced at him. "You're more useful alive than dead."
He turned and strode toward the door.
---
Walking out of the bar, the night breeze dissipated the smell of smoke on him.
The late autumn night in Berlin was cold. The streets were deserted, with only the occasional sound of a car passing in the distance. Rorschach turned into a dead-end alley, and Kill Sense 1.5 suddenly stung—someone was following him.
He stopped and turned around.
Three figures blocked the exit. The leader was a burly bald man, standing 1.9 meters tall, clutching a modified gun. He grinned, revealing yellow teeth. "Rorschach? This is what the guy who killed Apocalypse looks like? I thought you'd have three heads and six arms." He shook the gun in his hand. "Hand over the map and the money, and I'll spare your life. That thing is worth a lot; someone's paying a high price for it."
Rorschach looked at him without saying a word.
Three seconds later, the three men were on the ground.
The bald man's gun was instantly melted into molten iron by Molecular Recombination 3.2, which poured onto his face, making him howl in agony. The other two were pinned against the wall by Telekinesis Control 3.5, their limbs twisted at bizarre angles, bones cracking as they were rendered unable to move.
Rorschach crouched down, pulled a dagger from the bald man's pocket, squeezed it casually into an iron ball, and tossed it on the ground.
"Who sent you?"
"No... no one..." the bald man shrieked. "We targeted you ourselves... someone in the bar recognized you... we wanted to make a quick buck..."
Rorschach stood up and walked out of the alley without looking back.
Behind him, the screams gradually faded. He didn't kill them—there was no need. But after tonight, they would remember the price of following certain people.
The night sky was gloomy, and dark clouds obscured the moon.
Rorschach looked up at the gray Berlin sky, a cold smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
"Mr. Sinister's legacy is more than just one piece." He whispered. "Then I'll dig them out one by one and crush them."
He raised his hand, Space Control 2.5 was activated, and his figure vanished into the night.
The streets of Berlin in the early morning returned to silence. Only the faint groans from the dead-end alley and the hissing of the cooling molten iron remained.
In the distance, a black cat jumped over a trash can and disappeared into the darkness.
---
Three seconds later, a gate of light reopened atop the academy's tower.
Rorschach stepped out, standing in the moonlight. He looked down at the map in his hand, then toward the south—the direction of Switzerland.
"Gary Marks... Personality Devourment... primal specimen..."
He narrowed his eyes. It was the image outlined in his consciousness by the newly acquired Mutant Sense 1.8—in the academy, the life signals of dozens of Mutants flickered like stars, clear enough to perceive everyone's approximate location and energy intensity.
"This ability... is quite interesting."
In the distance, at the edge of the forest, a few glints of silver light flashed momentarily under the moonlight. The Nano-scout bugs were still there, still watching, still recording, still waiting.
Rorschach glanced at them and turned to walk into the Main Building.
Chapter 163: Jean's Fluctuations · Response from the Desert
At four in the morning, the Academy shook violently.
Rorschach sprang up from the training room, activating [Space Control 2.5], and stood outside Jean's room in an instant.
Golden flames leaked from the door cracks, wallpaper scorched and curled, fire sprinklers burst, and the water mist turned into white steam before it could even fall.
He pushed open the door—
Jean was suspended in mid-air, a meter off the ground. Her red hair danced wildly without wind, and her body was wreathed in the golden flames of the Phoenix Force. That fire was not ordinary heat, but pure energy, scorching the air until it warped. Her eyes had turned completely golden, with the phantom of a phoenix soaring deep within her pupils, each flap of its wings releasing a terrifying pressure.
The walls cracked like spiderwebs. Glass shattered, and the fragments suspended themselves in mid-air, glowing red like stars. Concrete peeled off the ceiling, revealing the rebar inside. The steel was scorched red-hot, letting out a strained creaking sound.
"Jean!"
Rorschach stepped forward, turning [Telekinesis Control 3.5] into mental tentacles to forcibly probe into her consciousness.
The mental tentacles were bounced back the moment they touched—in that split second, he glimpsed what Jean saw:
Deep in the Egyptian desert, five thousand meters underground, was a massive void.
In the center of the void floated a brain a hundred meters in diameter. It was grayish-white, its surface covered in gyri and folds. Countless translucent tentacles extended from its base, piercing into the surrounding rock walls. Each tentacle's end was connected to a Mutant's consciousness projection—those projections flickered like stars, some as clear as a Zhenren (Immortal), some as blurry as afterimages, and some slowly dissipating.
It was awake.
It was calling to the Phoenix.
Jean's voice exploded in his mind, filled with terror and confusion: "Something is calling the Phoenix... from the depths of the desert! It says its name is... 'The Sleeper'! It is Apocalypse's brother!"
Rorschach gritted his teeth, pushing [Energy Control 3.0] to its limit. A golden force field formed in his palm, slowly pressing down on the Phoenix Force surrounding Jean's body.
The flames resisted violently. The temperature instantly soared to thousands of degrees; the skin on his palm carbonized and peeled off in an instant, revealing the muscle beneath. The muscle then carbonized in the high heat—
[Immortal Body 3.2] regenerated frantically.
Carbonization, regeneration, cycling dozens of times; intense pain washed over his nerves like a tide, but Rorschach's hand remained steady as a rock, firmly suppressing that rampaging fire.
Finally, the golden flames were pushed back into Jean's body bit by bit. Like a receding tide, they eventually disappeared completely.
Jean fell from mid-air, and Rorschach caught her.
Her face was deathly pale, drenched in cold sweat. Her eyes returned to their normal green, but golden specks still flickered deep in her pupils, like unextinguished embers. She gripped Rorschach's arm, her fingers turning white from the force, her nails digging into his flesh.
"Under the desert..." she panted, her voice trembling, "there is a ruin even older than Apocalypse... It's called 'The Sleeper,' and it's Apocalypse's brother. It chose to sleep, waiting for the true Phoenix. It said it has no malice, it's just recording... recording the consciousness of all Mutants..."
Charles rushed in, his wheelchair stopping at the doorway. With his eyes closed and fingers pressed to his temples, he deployed his Psychic Power to its full extent, reaching out toward Egypt.
Three seconds later, he snapped his eyes open. His face instantly became even paler than Jean's.
"Three hundred kilometers southeast of Cairo, Egypt, five thousand meters underground!" His voice trembled. "An energy signal is responding to Jean's fluctuations! It's even more... profound than Apocalypse! That energy level is something I've never seen! It's too vast—so vast that my Psychic Power was bounced back the moment it touched it!"
Hank rushed in, holding a tablet. The geological scan on the screen flickered with a piercing red light. His glasses were crooked, and his blue tail was tense:
"There really is a void five thousand meters underground! It was previously masked by the energy field of Apocalypse's Pyramid! But now that void is expanding—it's rising! It's expanding by three meters every minute!"
Rorschach helped Jean sit on the edge of the bed.
Jean held his hand; her palm was icy, like holding a block of ice. She looked up at him, and there was no fear in her eyes, only a strange calmness:
"It has no malice. It's just observing. It said it's waiting for the Phoenix to fully awaken. But if the Phoenix Forcecompletely loses control, it will... respond."
"Respond to what?"
"Respond to the call." Jean closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I don't know what will happen. But I feel that it's neither an enemy nor a friend. It just... exists. Like a mountain, like the sea, like the starry sky. No reason, no purpose. It's just doing what it's supposed to do."
Rorschach was silent for three seconds.
"We'll deal with the one in Switzerland first." He stood up. "The Sleeper has slept for thousands of years; it won't wake up suddenly. It has the patience to wait, and so do we. Let's settle the current accounts first before worrying about that old fellow."
He looked at Jean: "Can you suppress the Phoenix for now?"
Jean nodded, biting her lip: "I can. That was just an accident... it sensed The Sleeper's call, a stress response. Now that I know what it is, I can hold it down."
"Good."
Rorschach turned and walked toward the door.
In the hallway, Erik was leaning against the wall. His arms were crossed, his gaze sharp. Wearing that old leather jacket, metal vibrated slightly around him, letting out a faint hum.
"I'm going with you to Switzerland."
Rorschach didn't stop: "Call Scott and Ororo. We leave at four."
He walked to the end of the hallway and pushed open the window.
The night wind poured in, carrying the chill of late autumn. The east was turning gray; dawn was about to break.
Another 'god' had appeared.
But this time, there was no rush to go on a god-slaying mission. That old thing that had slept for thousands of years wouldn't mind waiting a few more days. Settle the score with Mr. Sinister first, then consider the matter of The Sleeper.
He looked down at the red strings on his wrist. In the morning light, the two red strings glowed with a warm light—one dull, one vibrant.
"Soon," he whispered. "Once the accounts are settled, we'll go home."
At the edge of the forest, a few wisps of silver light flashed and vanished in the morning mist.
A cold sneer curled the corner of Rorschach's mouth.
Go ahead and watch.
Once you've seen enough, I'll catch you all in one net.
---
Behind him, the sound of footsteps approached.
La stood quietly at the other end of the hallway, looking at his back. She didn't speak, just stared at the red string swaying slightly in the morning light.
Rorschach didn't look back.
"Go back to sleep," he said. "We have things to do tomorrow."
Laura was silent for two seconds before turning to leave.
The footsteps grew distant.
Rorschach still stood by the window, gazing at the brightening horizon in the east.
In the distance, the silver spots of light in the forest flickered a few more times before slowly fading away.
But they hadn't left.
They were just hiding deeper.
Waiting.
Chapter 164: Alps · Gates of Hell
Swiss Alps, three thousand meters above sea level.
The wind and snow were like knives. Visibility was less than five meters. Rorschach, Erik, Scott, and Ororo stood at the edge of an ice cliff, covered in snow like four stone statues. The gale swirled snow foam against their faces, cutting across their skin like blades.
Hank's voice came through the communicator, laced with static: "Coordinates are five hundred meters directly below. The entrance is disguised as an ice layer, covered by a nanite camouflage layer. I've performed thermal imaging scans three times and saw nothing—but there are energy fluctuations down there, intensity level 2.5 or higher, with more than one signal source."
Rorschach raised his hand. Energy Control 3.0 condensed into a golden orb in his palm. With a gentle push, the orb shot toward the ice layer beneath their feet.
Boom!
The ice layer shattered, revealing a vertical metal shaft. The inner walls of the shaft glowed with a faint blue light, teeming with nanites that squirmed like living metal. Sensing heat, the nanites instantly became active and surged toward the four of them.
Rorschach raised his hand. Nanite Control 1.5 activated.
The surging nanites froze in mid-air, as if held by an invisible hand, and fell one after another. A layer of silver powder piled up on the ground.
"Let's go." Rorschach was the first to jump down.
The four of them plummeted rapidly. Five hundred meters passed in an instant. At the end of the shaft was a massive alloy door engraved with Mr. Sinister's emblem—a twisted genetic helix with an eye pattern embedded in the center.
Rorschach landed and pressed his hand against the door.
Molecular Recombination 3.2 activated.
The alloy door began to melt from the point of contact, like a candle meeting fire. Three seconds later, a circular passage two meters in diameter was revealed.
Behind the door was a circular hall. It was at least a hundred meters in diameter, with a dome thirty meters high. The surrounding walls were covered in screens, each playing a different image—
An angry face was roaring. A sad face was weeping. A frantic face was laughing wildly. A calm face was expressionless. A terrified face was trembling. A joyful face smiled eerily. A hollow face showed nothing.
Seven faces rotated, like seven people fighting for the same body.
Distorted laughter echoed from all directions, making their eardrums tingle:
"Welcome... to my home..."
The ground suddenly split open. Seven energy clones rose from the cracks!
The first clone was covered in orange flames, the temperature soaring to over a thousand degrees, distorting the air.
The second clone was bone-chillingly cold, frost spreading and the ground cracking.
The third clone was composed of countless metal shards, spinning and emitting a piercing screech.
The fourth clone was translucent, drifting like a ghost, leaving eerie afterimages wherever it passed.
The fifth clone was covered in spikes, each dripping with green venom. As the venom hit the ground, it corroded pits that emitted white smoke.
The sixth clone was made of sand and dust, flowing with an eerie light, like countless eyes flickering within the sand.
The seventh clone was just a mass of twisted shadow, its shape indiscernible, but where it stood, even light was swallowed.
The seven clones attacked simultaneously!
Flames transformed into fire dragons that swept forward. Frost condensed into countless ice spikes that shot down like a rainstorm. Metal shards spun into a blade storm. The ghost clone let out a piercing mental scream. Venom fell like raindrops. A sandstorm blotted out the sky. Shadows turned into countless tentacles attacking from beneath their feet!
"Scatter!" Rorschach growled. Telekinesis Control 3.5 fully expanded, and a golden barrier formed in front of him, blocking the flames and frost.
Erik raised his hand, and all the metallic substances in the hall trembled simultaneously—the metal floor, pipes, and the rebar in the walls—all were stripped away, turning into a metallic torrent that crashed into the metal shard clone. The two metallic forces collided, sparks flying, and the ear-piercing sound of metal grinding made their teeth ache.
Scott took off his glasses, and his red Cyclops beam swept across, annihilating the venom clone. The venom turned into toxic gas in the high temperature, and he immediately held his breath and retreated.
Ororo summoned thunder, and three thick bolts of lightning struck the sand clone. The sand exploded in the lightning but instantly reconstituted itself.
Boom!!!
Seven types of energy collided, and the shockwave swept across the entire hall. Walls cracked, the floor collapsed, and debris flew. The four were knocked back several steps, but a second later, the seven clones reformed as if they had never been shattered.
"They can't be killed?" Scott gritted his teeth.
Mutant Sense 1.8 penetrated the energy interference, precisely anchoring a point three hundred meters underground—a violently fluctuating Mutant life signal, pulsating in sync with the rotation of the seven faces. That was the original body. Deeper underground.
"You guys hold them off." Taking advantage of the gap as the seven clones were reforming, a golden light flashed from Space Control 2.5—
He passed through three walls, through layer upon layer of protective doors, and through a warning net composed of countless nanites. Finally, he landed in front of a massive incubation pod.
A naked man floated inside the pod. He was in his thirties, his skin as pale as paper, with tubes connected all over his body. His face was constantly changing—anger, sadness, madness, calm, fear, joy, emptiness. Seven faces rotated as if seven people were fighting for control. Each face distorted and deformed, mouths opening to their widest, screaming silently.
Gary Marks.
The "Calm" face aligned with Rorschach and spoke. Its voice was terrifyingly level, like a heartless machine stating facts:
"Kill me, and I will tell you where Mr. Sinister's data is. All the backups, all the research, all the clone coordinates. If you kill me, you can end him forever."
Rorschach looked at that face, and after three seconds, he smiled.
"Do you take me for a fool?"
He pressed his hand against the incubation pod.
Energy Control 3.0 output at full power!
Golden energy pierced through the incubation pod, and the nutrient solution boiled instantly. Gary's body convulsed violently, and the seven faces rotated frantically—roaring in anger, weeping in sadness, laughing in madness, screaming in fear, smiling eerily in joy, expressionless in emptiness, and the calm one still staring fixedly at Rorschach—but they were all disintegrating.
At the final moment, the "Calm" face snapped its eyes wide open, and a finger tapped against the inner wall of the pod. Through the glass, the high temperature caused blood to vaporize instantly, and the steam condensed on the back of Rorschach's hand through a tiny crack.
[System Prompt]
[Blood contact detected (Male target: Gary Marks / Multiple Personality Fusion)]
[Obtained: Split Personality 1.5 — Can briefly simulate others' thought patterns, used for infiltration or deception]
[Obtained: Flame Manipulation 1.5 — Control flames to attack]
[Obtained: Frost Control 1.5 — Create low temperatures and freeze]
[Obtained: Mental Interference 1.5 — Emit mental fluctuations to interfere with enemies]
[points +1500, Total 39200]
The incubation pod exploded, and nutrient solution and flesh fragments gushed out. Gary's body turned into charcoal, scattered across the floor, with only a few tubes still emitting smoke.
Rorschach turned to leave.
The moment he took his first step, Kill Sense 1.5 suddenly stung!
Deep within the hall, even deeper underground, an even more powerful signal was awakening.
A low hum came from underground, like the heartbeat of an ancient behemoth. One. Two. Three. With every beat, the entire Base trembled. A blue data stream seeped from the cracks in the walls, vaguely forming the words "primal specimen" before instantly vanishing.
That was Mr. Sinister's "Shadow."
Rorschach narrowed his eyes, a cold arc curling at the corner of his mouth.
"There's one more."
He raised his hand, and a golden light gate formed in front of him.
He stepped in and disappeared into the light.
Behind him, Gary's remains vibrated slightly in the humming before finally turning completely to powder.
Deep in the hall, that low heartbeat grew louder and louder.
Coming closer and closer.
---
[Current Ability List] (New)
Split Personality 1.5
Flame Manipulation 1.5
Frost Control 1.5
Mental Interference 1.5
[Total points]: 39200
Chapter 165: Mr. Sinister's Shadow · Data Consciousness
The metal wall split open from the center.
Countless silver nanites surged out like a tide, converging, swirling, and solidifying in mid-air. Three seconds later, a translucent humanoid figure floated in the air. Blue energy patterns flowed across its surface, pulsating like blood vessels. That face—Mr. Sinister's—wore a smile, his eyes flickering with the cold light characteristic of data streams.
"Rorschach," Mr. Sinister spoke, his voice carrying a metallic echo, "did you think destroying my body could kill me? The eternal survival of consciousness is the ultimate form of evolution. Bodies decay, clones age, but data—data never dies."
Rorschach stood in the center of the hall, watching him. He didn't say a word.
Mr. Sinister raised his hand. The nanite swarm instantly transformed into countless blades, pouring down like a torrential rain. Every blade was as thin as a cicada's wing, their edges glowing with an eerie blue light, moving so fast they left afterimages in the air.
Energy Control 3.0 was fully deployed. A golden force field rose around him, forming a barrier five meters in diameter. The blades slammed into the force field with a dense clinking sound, sparks flying everywhere. They were all deflected or melted, turning into molten iron that dripped down in spots.
But in the next second, the nanites changed shape.
They no longer maintained the shape of blades but turned into countless soft tentacles, wrapping around the surface of the force field like living metal, beginning a frantic erosion. Corrosive energy liquid secreted from the tips of the tentacles, and the brightness of the force field plummeted.
[System Notification: Nanite invasion, erosion rate 3%/second]
Rorschach frowned slightly. Telekinesis Control 3.5transformed into a mental shock, blasting toward Mr. Sinister's consciousness. An invisible psychic blade slashed into that mass of translucent energy—
Mr. Sinister's form fluctuated violently, like a reflection in water shattered by a stone. But a second later, he recoiled and sneered:
"A psychic attack? I am a data consciousness, a pure energy form. Your Psychic Power is useless against me, just like trying to cut water with a knife or burn light with fire. Humans always cling to their pitiful little thoughts, unaware that the essence of data is far beyond your understanding."
Rorschach narrowed his eyes.
Ineffective.
Physical attacks? He had no physical body. Energy attacks? He was energy itself. Psychic attacks? As he said, ineffective.
Then what could kill him?
Mr. Sinister raised his hand again. The nanite swarm turned into even more tentacles, surging from all directions and frantically eroding the force field. The erosion rate surged to 5%/second, the golden force field's brightness faded rapidly, and cracks began to appear on the surface.
"You cannot kill me." Mr. Sinister's voice carried the pleasure of victory, his eyes full of mockery. "When your force field collapses, I will turn your consciousness into data as well, imprisoning you forever in my server. You will become my eighth backup—my most powerful collectible. Your abilities, your memories, all your combat experience will become a part of me."
He paused, his smile becoming even more bizarre: "Did you know? I've been waiting ten years for this day. Since the Apocalypse War, my nanites have been recording everything about you. Your combat patterns, your habitual movements, your weaknesses—the 0.3-second stiffness after every teleport, the way your left eye squints slightly whenever you use telekinesis..."
Rorschach suddenly smiled.
"Data?" he said. "Then let's make you overload."
Raising his right hand, Energy Control 3.0 operated at full capacity, and a dazzling ball of light condensed in his palm. But within that light ball were mixed other things—gray, twisted, chaotic mental fragments. Those fragments were like countless distorted faces, struggling, roaring, and devouring each other within the sphere.
Split Personality 1.5, fully activated!
Those personality fragments plundered from Gary Markswere all injected into the light ball by him, which he then blasted toward Mr. Sinister's consciousness.
The moment the golden energy torrent hit Mr. Sinister, the gray fragments exploded.
Mr. Sinister's translucent body twisted violently, like a computer infected with a virus; the image began to tear and glitch. Seven faces rotated frantically on his head—anger, sadness, madness, calmness, fear, joy, and emptiness. Every single one was roaring, screaming, and fighting for control. The angry face roared to destroy everything, the sad face wept to give up, the mad face laughed wildly to tear everything apart, the calm face calculated expressionlessly, the fearful face trembled, the joyful face smiled eerily, and the empty face wanted nothing but to devour.
"No—" For the first time, fear appeared in Mr. Sinister's voice, along with panic. "What is this—my consciousness—logic chaos—"
The blue light of his body began to malfunction, flickering wildly like a short circuit. The nanite swarm lost control, flying around like headless flies. They collided, fell to the ground, or self-destructed. His form constantly collapsed, reorganized, collapsed again, and reorganized again, like a computer throwing errors frantically, blue-screening, restarting, and blue-screening again.
"This is... a personality virus... No—I am one—I am countless—who am I exactly—!"
Seven faces screamed simultaneously, their voices blending into an ear-piercing wave of sound.
Rorschach stepped forward. He thrust both hands directly into Mr. Sinister's distorted energy body.
Energy Control 3.0, full power output!
The golden energy torrent, mixed with personality fragments, frantically washed over Mr. Sinister's data core. Those personality fragments invaded the depths of his consciousness like a virus, tearing his logic apart, shattering his calculations, and turning his meticulously constructed data consciousness into a mess.
Mr. Sinister's screams grew more and more shrill. His body became increasingly transparent—
BOOM!!!
Mr. Sinister's consciousness completely exploded. A blue energy storm swept through the entire hall, the shockwave tearing cracks into the surrounding metal walls. Countless nanites fell like raindrops, piling up a layer of silver dust on the ground an inch thick.
Rorschach was knocked back three steps by the shockwave; he steadied himself, panting heavily. A blue energy resonance still crackled on his palms, sizzling.
[System Notification]
[Detected contact with Mr. Sinister's data consciousness energy]
[Obtained: Nanite Control 2.0—Can control nanite swarms for attack, defense, and reconnaissance]
[Obtained: Data Consciousness Fragments (Knowledge Inheritance)—Contains some of Mr. Sinister's research data]
[points +2,000, Total 41,200]
Rorschach looked down at his hands. Faint silver patterns appeared on his palms—marks left by the nanites in his body, flowing slowly like living tattoos. With a thought, the nanite dust on the ground floated up again, condensing into a small silver sphere in the air, then dispersing, reorganizing, and transforming—as easy as moving his own arm.
He could "feel" the presence of all the nanites around him. He could sense their position, status, and even the data they had once recorded. Those data fragments flashed through his consciousness like countless photos—Mr. Sinister's research notes, the cultivation process of clones, the sequencing results of Mutant genes...
"Nanites..." he whispered. "They are mine now."
Silence returned to the hall.
Only the rustling sound of nanite dust slowly settling remained.
Rorschach turned, preparing to leave. The moment he took his first step, he seemed to perceive something.
He whipped his head around.
Among the fallen nanite dust, a purple speck of light flashed and vanished. It was so fast it was almost impossible to catch. It passed through the wall and escaped deep underground, gone in an instant without a trace.
Rorschach narrowed his eyes. Nanite Control 2.0 sensed with full power—that light speck had completely disappeared as if it had never existed.
"...An illusion?"
He stood there for three seconds. Then he turned and stepped into the light gate.
After the light dissipated, a server screen in the corner of the hall suddenly flickered. A string of encrypted code was silently copied, transferred, and uploaded. The final line of text stayed on the screen for a tenth of a second before being automatically deleted, as if it had never appeared:
[Backup Protocol · Final Activation · Coordinates: Unknown]
The screen went dark.
The entire Base fell into a deathly silence.
Only the nanite dust was still slowly falling, drifting down like silver snow.
But no one noticed that at the moment the purple speck of light escaped, it sent an extremely weak signal into the depths of the Universe. That signal penetrated the rock layers, the atmosphere, and the starry sky, flying toward the endless darkness.
It vanished into the boundless dark.