[Marvel : Mutant God] Chapter 76 - 80

Chapter 76: Richard's Request: Destroy One City a Day

Rogers... dead?

After witnessing Richard decapitate Captain America with the Masamune and telekinetically hurl the headless body away, both Natasha and Hawkeye stood frozen in disbelief.

Though Richard had clearly stated his intention to kill Captain America, they had clung to the hope that his threats were merely posturing—that he only wanted to send a warning to Captain America and S.H.I.E.L.D., not actually commit to such a drastic action.

They had been gravely mistaken.

Among the original six Avengers, Richard harbored the deepest hatred for Captain America—the self-proclaimed paragon of righteousness whose hypocrisy Richard found intolerable. Even without a mission from the Template System, as long as Captain America stood as his enemy, Richard would have eliminated him without hesitation.

Unlike Natasha and Hawkeye with their expressions of shock, Hulk displayed no particular reaction to Captain America's death. Though technically an Avenger himself, he had never considered Rogers a friend.

In the current Avengers lineup, Hulk acknowledged only one true friend: Natasha, the Black Widow. As for Captain America, Hawkeye, Tony, and Thor—they were Banner's friends, not his. In Hulk's simplistic worldview, Captain America was nothing more than an occasional acquaintance. He saw nothing particularly troubling about Richard killing someone who meant so little to him personally.

Richard ignored the stunned Natasha and Hawkeye, instead focusing on the system's description of the Yamato. Although the explanation provided by the system was characteristically brief, Richard didn't need an extensive breakdown to understand the weapon's capabilities.

He didn't immediately summon the Yamato. Instead, he closed the information panel and addressed the still-shocked Natasha and Hawkeye.

"Return to Nick Fury with a message: if he doesn't want S.H.I.E.L.D. to share the Department of Mutant Affairs' fate, S.H.I.E.L.D. would be wise to stop interfering in matters that don't concern them."

His voice was cold, deliberate. "Also, tell him to inform those in the White House that if they want me to stand down, they must meet three conditions."

He held up one finger. "First, I want all warrants and charges against me erased."

A second finger joined the first. "Second, return all property originally belonging to the Wesley family to me, with interest. Including compensation for psychological damages, the total comes to three times the original value." He shrugged slightly. "Payment in cash or other assets is acceptable."

A third finger rose. "Third, release my father."

Richard's eyes narrowed. "They have twenty-four hours to decide whether they'll agree to my terms. If they refuse, I'll ensure the Department of Mutant Affairs and everyone who supported the Mutant Restriction Act ceases to exist."

His lips curved into a dangerous smile. "Of course, they're welcome to try stopping or eliminating me, but they can't say I wasn't clear about the consequences. If they choose to become my enemies, I won't hesitate to become what they'd call a 'terrorist'—and I'll destroy American cities at the rate of one per day."

Having delivered his ultimatum, Richard dismissed Natasha and Hawkeye from his attention. He approached Hulk and patted the green giant's massive arm.

"Don't waste your time with S.H.I.E.L.D.," Richard advised. "They have no future."

"Hulk not belong to S.H.I.E.L.D.," the behemoth replied quickly. "Hulk only help Natasha."

Hearing this, Richard smiled and shook his head knowingly.

Under the watchful eyes of Hulk, Natasha, and Hawkeye, Richard activated his telekinesis, causing the shattered vibranium shield fragments scattered around Captain America's body to float toward him.

Next, he conjured a spherical water bubble one meter in diameter, enveloping the blood-stained, damaged vibranium shield pieces within it. He manipulated the water to swirl chaotically for several seconds, cleansing the blood and grime from the fragments before storing them in his system space.

Only about half of the original shield remained intact. Richard planned to keep it as a trophy. As for the smaller fragments, he intended to use them to test the "Crushing" power he had absorbed from Todd.

As Richard prepared to teleport away, Hulk's gruff voice interrupted him.

"Aren't you going to fight Hulk?"

What?

Hulk's question stunned not only Richard but Natasha and Hawkeye as well. Then Richard remembered—after their previous battle, he had told Hulk he saw potential in him and hoped to see improved combat skills when they next met.

Evidently, Hulk had not only remembered those words but had interpreted them as a promise for a rematch at their next encounter.

"Not today," Richard replied. "Perhaps next time. It's only been a few days since our last sparring match. You should train longer. When you've made significant progress, we'll fight again."

"Oh..." Disappointment was evident in Hulk's expression.

"I'm leaving now. Until next time."

With those parting words, Richard teleported away, vanishing instantly from their sight. As he departed, the floating water bubble disintegrated, its contents splashing to the ground under gravity's pull.

New York—or more precisely, an undisclosed forest in the outskirts of the city.

Richard hadn't immediately returned to Emma Frost's luxurious Manhattan apartment. Instead, he had transported himself to this secluded woodland.

Upon arriving, Richard first retrieved several fragments of the vibranium shield from his system space.

Crush!

Without hesitation, he activated his newly acquired power. Vibranium, renowned throughout the world for its extraordinary strength and durability, instantly crumbled into fine powder when subjected to the Crushing ability's atomic bond-severing properties.

Examining the vibranium dust in his palm, Richard intensified his focus, pushing the Crushing power further. This time, he completely destroyed all atomic connections.

In an instant, the ultrafine vibranium powder vanished as if it had never existed, dispersing into nothingness.

Having tested the Crushing power to his satisfaction, Richard turned his attention to summoning the Yamato. With a mere thought, the sword and its scabbard materialized in his hand.

In the Devil May Cry games, the Yamato's appearance had undergone several design iterations. This version featured a white handle with black trim and paired hexagonal guard. Complex golden infinity patterns adorned the hilt, intertwined with an oriental dragon motif.

Richard recognized immediately that the Yamato he'd received matched the version from Devil May Cry 5. The first-generation Yamato had possessed an octagonal blade, while those in Devil May Cry 3 and 4 featured oval blades. Only in the fifth installment did the blade adopt its distinctive hexagonal cross-section.

Richard cared little about these aesthetic details. He gripped the scabbard with his left hand in the reverse grip traditional to iaijutsu. His right hand closed around the hilt, and in one fluid motion, he drew the blade from its sheath.

"Judgement Cut End!"

Without hesitation, Richard unleashed the Judgement Cut End.

A massive tree dozens of meters away was instantly targeted by the technique. A crescent-shaped wave of energy surged forward, cleaving the trunk into more than ten perfect segments.

Though Richard had performed Judgement Cut End many times before, he had always wielded the Masamune for the technique. This marked his first time executing it with the Yamato.

The moment he drew the blade from its scabbard, his keen senses detected the subtle difference between the weapons. Performing Judgement Cut End with the Masamune had been no different from a normal sword swing, with no need to return the blade to its sheath.

With the Yamato, however, Richard instinctively resheathed the sword in a lightning-fast motion after drawing it.

To an ordinary observer, it would appear as though Richard had barely drawn the Yamato at all—merely exposing a small portion of the blade before returning it to its scabbard. The reality was far more impressive: he had completely unsheathed the Yamato and returned it with such blinding speed that it transcended the limits of human perception.

Though the Yamato's version of Judgement Cut End required this additional motion, Richard found it not only effortless but deeply satisfying.

Stylish!

To be precise, incredibly stylish!

Drawing and resheathing his sword faster than the human eye could follow, releasing an unstoppable Judgement Cut End of devastating power—the technique wasn't merely effective, it was the epitome of cool.

After performing the standard Judgement Cut End, Richard transitioned into the advanced version of the technique.

Beyond the basic Judgement Cut End lay three more powerful variations of the technique!

SWISH! SWISH!

His hand moved in a blur, resheathing the Yamato four times in rapid succession. The tree trunk, which hadn't yet fallen to the ground, was further reduced to hundreds of perfect slices. Satisfied with the display, Richard ceased his demonstration of Zanshin.

After returning the Yamato to his system space, he teleported back to Emma Frost's luxurious Manhattan apartment.

Without waiting for her to inquire about his activities, Richard—in high spirits—swept up Emma Frost from where she sat on the living room sofa. Her white minidress perfectly showcased her long, shapely legs as he carried her toward the bedroom.

Soon, passionate sounds indicative of life's most primal activity echoed from behind the closed door.

S.H.I.E.L.D. Triskelion Headquarters Director's Office

Nick Fury regarded Natasha, Banner, and Hawkeye with grave intensity, maintaining a lengthy silence as they sat on the sofa before him.

Captain America's body had been transported back to headquarters and promptly delivered to the S.H.I.E.L.D. laboratory. While Rogers was alive, Fury would never have dared request him to participate in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s experimental procedures. Now, however, he had not only sent Captain America's remains to the lab but had ordered S.H.I.E.L.D. scientists to analyze the body extensively, hoping they might reverse-engineer Dr. Erskine's super-soldier serum.

After more than ten seconds of silence, Fury finally spoke.

"I've just been in contact with the White House. They've given me their response to Richard's demands."

He paused, his single eye studying their reactions. "They can only meet two of the three conditions."

Two?

Natasha and Hawkeye immediately frowned upon hearing this. Though Richard had never targeted innocent civilians before, after witnessing his decisive execution of Captain America, they doubted his threat to destroy one city per day was mere bluster. Given Richard's temperament, if the White House couldn't satisfy all his conditions, he would likely interpret it as America's decision to continue hostilities.

"Which condition can't they meet?" Natasha asked directly.

"The third one. They can't release Roy Wesley," Fury replied, resignation evident in his voice.

"Why not?" Natasha pressed. "Wesley is just a Beta-class mutant with common enhancements—super strength and durability. Even if released, he wouldn't pose any significant threat."

"Because he's dead," Fury stated flatly. "There's no releasing the dead. And to complicate matters further, Roy Wesley's body was cremated."

Upon hearing Fury's explanation, Natasha and Hawkeye finally understood why his expression had been so grim. Though they didn't know the exact nature of Richard's relationship with Roy Wesley, they were certain of one thing: this situation was heading toward the worst possible outcome.

Compared to dropping the S-class warrant from the Department of Mutant Affairs and returning the Wesley family's property with interest, releasing Roy Wesley was clearly far more important to Richard.

It wasn't surprising that Natasha and Hawkeye would reach such a conclusion. From their perspective, everything Richard had done was ultimately to rescue Roy Wesley.

They couldn't possibly have imagined that the current Richard and the original Richard were two entirely different people. Not to mention, unless Richard himself revealed it, no one could know he was a transmigrator who had taken over the original body.

In their assessment, Roy Wesley's death would cause Richard to completely lose control and follow through on his threat to systematically destroy the United States.

In reality, the situation was far less dire than they imagined.

Rescuing Roy Wesley had never been Richard's primary objective. If it had been, after concluding the operation at the Los Angeles branch, he would have continued assaulting other branches of the Department of Mutant Affairs until Roy Wesley was freed.

Instead, he had methodically focused on increasing his power. For Richard, rescuing Roy Wesley represented merely a karmic payment for occupying the original body—not an imperative.

From the beginning, his attitude had been to save Roy if possible. If not, then Roy Wesley's fate was simply unfortunate.

"How do the people at the White House intend to explain to Richard that his father is dead?" Natasha asked, her brow furrowed in concern.

Fury immediately responded, "They plan to tell him the truth directly. If he requires additional compensation, they'll attempt to accommodate him." He paused, giving Natasha a meaningful look. "They also believe you're the most suitable person to contact him."

"You've encountered him twice now—you're the official representative who's had the most interaction with him. Furthermore, you emerged unharmed from both meetings, which suggests he might hold a favorable impression of you."

Though Fury's words were diplomatically phrased, Natasha and Hawkeye instantly grasped the subtext of his suggestion—Banner, however, remained oblivious.

The beauty plan. In other words, using feminine charms as leverage.

Natasha first glanced at Banner, confirming he hadn't caught Fury's implied meaning, and exhaled with relief. Though she had frequently employed her appearance as a tactical asset during her career as an agent, the situation was different now.

For one thing, she hadn't known Banner back in those days.

Turning her attention back to Fury, Natasha replied sharply, "Are those White House officials complete idiots? What evidence suggests Richard has any attraction to me?" She shook her head firmly. "I have no intention of committing suicide. This is a problem of their own making—let them contact Richard themselves!"

Chapter 77: Press Conference, White House Announcement

8:00 PM Manhattan Emma Frost's Apartment

Richard and Emma Frost, having spent a pleasurable afternoon engaged in bedroom activities followed by a shared bath, were now enjoying their evening meal in the dining area.

Though Emma Frost had repeatedly offered to prepare dinner herself, Richard—knowing her culinary repertoire consisted solely of American dishes—had ultimately decided on takeout for the evening.

And since they were ordering in, he certainly wasn't going to settle for standard American fare like french fries, hamburgers, or pizza. Richard had specifically searched online for a Chinese restaurant with predominantly positive reviews in Chinese and ordered all of their signature dishes.

Though the portions were generous—enough to feed a family—he wasn't concerned about waste. With his enhanced physique, consuming enough food for five or six people presented no challenge whatsoever.

After savoring a Chinese dinner more aligned with their preferences, Richard and Emma Frost settled onto the living room sofa for conversation.

Their topics ranged from whether it would be better to engage in certain intimate activities in the living room or bathroom before bed, to whether Emma Frost should wear white stockings or black ones during such encounters, and so on.

While these discussions might be inappropriate for younger audiences, they were both adults, and such intimate dialogue was perfectly natural.

As they conversed, the evening news suddenly cut to a White House press conference. Unlike typical briefings, this particular conference lacked any external media presence—no reporters attended, and even the photographers were White House personnel.

Noticing this unusual broadcast, Richard picked up the remote and cycled through other news channels. Every station was airing the same press conference, making it clear that all major networks had received mandatory directives from the White House.

Upon discovering that every channel carried the same broadcast, Richard increased the volume, curious about what would unfold.

"After a joint investigation by multiple federal departments, it has been determined that Department of Mutant Affairs Minister Griffin Todd and Deputy Minister Winston Lambert repeatedly violated relevant statutes and abused their authority during their tenure, illegally detaining mutants who had committed no crimes and issuing unauthorized arrest warrants..."

The White House spokesperson delivered the prepared statement with exaggerated gravitas.

After nearly five minutes of carefully worded rhetoric, the broadcast concluded.

Though the spokesperson had covered considerable ground, their message could be distilled to three key points:

First, Mutant Affairs Minister Griffin Todd and Deputy Minister Winston Lambert were now imprisoned for legal violations.

Second, the S-level warrant for Richard's arrest had been canceled.

Third, a leak in the underground natural gas pipeline beneath the Department of Mutant Affairs headquarters had caused a series of cascading explosions. The full extent of damages and casualties was still being assessed.

"Using press conferences to obscure the truth has become the White House's signature skill," Emma Frost observed, resting her head on Richard's thigh like a contented cat. "Though most of what they said was fiction, they did publicly announce that your warrant has been lifted."

After their earlier intimate encounter, Richard had briefly recounted the events at the Department of Mutant Affairs headquarters. When he mentioned killing Captain America Rogers, Emma Frost had shown mild surprise but little actual concern.

To the average American citizen, Captain America represented the nation's first superhero, the greatest contributor to HYDRA's defeat, and the public face of S.H.I.E.L.D. But to those like Emma Frost who navigated the shadows of society, Captain America wasn't a hero—he was a potential liability.

"I don't particularly care how they publicly rescind the warrant," Richard remarked, his right hand wandering freely across Emma Frost's alluring form. "I'm more curious about when they'll fulfill the three conditions I proposed."

"They've canceled the warrants, so they must have accepted your other demands as well," Emma Frost replied, ignoring his wandering hands. "Otherwise, they wouldn't have arranged a press conference without external media present."

"Let's hope that's the case," Richard said. "Otherwise, I'll need to pay the White House a personal visit tomorrow at noon."

With those words, he lifted Emma Frost from where she lay beside him. Just as he prepared to teleport them both to the bedroom to commence the evening's intimate activities, the doorbell chimed unexpectedly.

Richard immediately engaged his enhanced vision, focusing through the apartment door.

Standing in the hallway were four figures who formed a perfect demographic cross-section: Cyclops, Black Widow, Professor X, and Hulk.

Upon recognizing the visitors, Richard informed Emma Frost, "It seems tonight's bedroom activities will have to wait."

"I think it's perfectly acceptable to let them wait outside for an hour or two," Emma Frost suggested, wrapping her arms around his neck and speaking in a sultry whisper.

"An hour or two?" Richard echoed with a smile. "Tonight's activities won't be limited to just an hour or two."

Setting Emma Frost down gently, he teleported to the entrance hall and opened the apartment door.

"Good evening," Black Widow Natasha greeted promptly.

"Come in," Richard replied simply.

Once Natasha, Professor X, Cyclops, and Hulk had entered the living room and seated themselves, Richard continued: "If you've come to persuade me to abandon my other two conditions, you might as well leave now."

Hearing this, Natasha exchanged an uncomfortable glance with Professor X.

"Richard, I'm sorry," Professor X began solemnly. "The White House can only meet two of your three conditions at most. Your father passed away two months ago."

Roy Wesley... dead?

Richard's brow furrowed immediately. Though the presence of Professor X and Cyclops had already suggested the White House couldn't satisfy all his demands, he hadn't expected his father—or rather, the original Richard's father—had died two months prior.

"Tell me, what kind of explanation does the White House plan to offer?" Richard asked directly, not bothering to inquire about how Roy Wesley had died.

It was obvious that Roy Wesley, a man in his prime, hadn't succumbed to natural causes. But the manner of his death was irrelevant—what mattered was how the White House intended to resolve this situation.

"That depends on what you're seeking," Professor X replied promptly. "As long as your requests are within their capacity, they won't refuse."

Richard shook his head at Professor X's response. "If that's their attitude, they clearly lack sincerity. And if they lack sincerity, I see no point in further discussion. I won't take action until the twenty-four-hour deadline expires, but if they can't provide a satisfactory solution by then..." He fixed Professor X with a cold stare. "Don't expect me to show restraint out of respect for you, Professor."

Professor X had intended to reason with Richard, but upon seeing the ice in Richard's expression, he wisely abandoned the attempt.

"In that case, we won't trouble you further," the Professor said. "We'll convey your message verbatim. I apologize for bringing such distressing news."

Professor X guided his electric wheelchair toward the apartment door. Seeing this, Cyclops immediately rose and followed without hesitation.

Natasha sighed resignedly and prepared to depart with Hulk in tow.

"I understand why you brought Hulk along," Richard called after her. "Let me be absolutely clear—this approach only intensifies my displeasure. Hulk acknowledges you because you're the only one who treats him like a person rather than a monster."

His voice hardened. "He's not your pet, nor is he a tool for you and S.H.I.E.L.D. to deploy. If there's a next time, I'll kill you regardless of how angry it might make Hulk. Do you understand?"

Though Hulk remained silent, it was evident he had been manipulated by Natasha into accompanying her. As for why she had insisted on bringing him, the reason wasn't difficult to deduce.

"I'm sorry. There won't be a next time," Natasha promised immediately.

Richard ignored her apology, rising to approach Hulk, who stood confused by the exchange.

"Big guy," Richard said with resignation, "don't blindly accept everything others tell you. You need to develop your own judgment. Understand?"

Hulk regarded Richard with bewilderment. After several seconds, he replied in his gravelly voice: "Hulk believes you. Hulk believes Natasha."

Hearing this, Richard sighed heavily. Clearly, Hulk hadn't grasped his point.

"Fine. As long as you're happy," Richard conceded. "The ignorant have their own protection. Go on back."

"Hulk not stupid!" the green giant protested earnestly.

The following day 10:00 AM

Richard encountered Natasha again—or more precisely, Natasha appeared at his door, sent by the White House. Unlike the previous night, she arrived alone this time.

"This is a comprehensive list of Department of Mutant Affairs personnel who interacted with your father from his capture until his death," she explained, opening a briefcase.

"Those marked in red have died by your hand. The rest have met with various 'accidents' since last night—car crashes, sudden cardiac events, food poisoning, laboratory incidents, home invasions, falls from buildings, suicides, disappearances." She handed him a folder. "Their names and personal details are all documented. You can verify everything."

She continued methodically, "Additionally, your previously frozen bank accounts and identification documents have been reinstated. Before my arrival, 1.5 billion dollars were transferred to your account in three separate transactions. Here's a replacement bank card—the PIN remains unchanged from your previous one."

Natasha extracted more documents as she spoke. "They weren't certain whether you intended to reside in Los Angeles or New York, so they've prepared estates in both cities. These properties previously belonged to South American narcotics traffickers and Russian arms dealers. Teams worked throughout the night to prepare them for your occupancy."

"Most of the antiques and collectibles originally belonging to the Wesley family have been recovered and transported to the Los Angeles estate. The remaining items will be secured within three days. Both properties have been thoroughly vetted—you can occupy them with complete confidence."

"As for private aircraft, yachts, luxury vehicles—they've purchased the latest models from the original manufacturers. Delivery will be arranged promptly. Finally, you now possess three private islands in the Caribbean."

"Should you have additional requests, they'll accommodate them by whatever means necessary."

Chapter 78: Humanoid Self-Propelled Nuclear Bomb, Angry Iron Man

While the White House typically operated with glacial efficiency, it had demonstrated remarkable alacrity when faced with an unstoppable death threat. Within a single night, they had arranged a comprehensive compensation package and provided Richard with what appeared to be a sincere explanation.

Richard vaguely recalled that the Wesley family's combined assets had totaled approximately three million dollars. Though nowhere near the billions commanded by someone like Tony Stark—and not even comparable to the overseas deposits and liquid assets "gifted" to him by Sebastian Shaw of the Hellfire Club—the Wesley family had still been undeniably affluent.

He had demanded triple compensation, yet the White House had delivered at least five times the original value. Beyond the increased financial settlement, they had also eliminated every Department of Mutant Affairs employee who had interacted with the original Richard's father. Both in appearance and substance, the White House had demonstrated sufficient sincerity.

Richard didn't bother taking the documents Natasha had placed on the table. He wasn't concerned about deception—the White House wouldn't dare attempt such a ploy. He spoke deliberately:

"I'm not an unreasonable person. Since they've shown proper sincerity, I'm willing to reciprocate with mercy. Tell them they can sleep peacefully tonight." His voice carried no particular menace, just cool certainty. "As long as they don't provoke me, I won't pay them an unexpected visit."

Relief flickered across Natasha's features. "I'll convey your exact words," she replied promptly. "If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave."

She rose to depart, but Richard's voice stopped her. "Wait. There's one more matter."

"What is it?" Natasha sat down again, her tone carefully respectful.

"Does Tony Stark know I killed Rogers?"

Surprise registered on Natasha's face. Though she couldn't fathom Richard's intentions, she answered without hesitation: "We haven't informed him yet. We also haven't told him that Bucky Barnes killed his parents."

"Evidently, you and Barton don't consider him a true friend," Richard observed coldly. "It's been nearly twenty-four hours, and you haven't planned to notify him. He finances the entire Avengers operation, and this is your gratitude?"

Had anyone else spoken to her with such derision, Natasha might have demonstrated precisely why she'd earned the title "Black Widow." Unfortunately for her, the man mocking her was Richard—someone neither she nor S.H.I.E.L.D. could challenge.

Before Natasha could formulate a response, Richard continued: "That's all. You may go." He paused, then added, "One piece of advice—if you don't want to watch Tony Stark die by my hand, you'd better tell him the truth. Should he foolishly attempt to avenge Rogers, I can't guarantee he'll leave alive."

On a personal level, Richard rather admired Tony Stark. In his estimation, among the original six Avengers, only two and a half members earned his genuine respect: Tony, Thor, and Hulk. Of course, this applied only under ordinary circumstances. If any of them positioned themselves as his enemy, he wouldn't hesitate to eliminate them, admiration notwithstanding.

After several seconds of tense silence, Natasha replied slowly: "I understand. I'll tell him the truth when I return."

She rose, gave Richard a slight bow, and departed from the apartment.

Once Natasha had left, Emma Frost approached Richard and asked softly: "The matter of your father and the Department of Mutant Affairs has concluded. What will you do next? Will you establish an organization like your father's to assist vulnerable mutants?"

"You're overthinking," Richard replied with a smile. "If I harbored such intentions, I wouldn't have dissolved the Crimson Manor my father built—certainly wouldn't have burned it to the ground with my own hands." He shook his head. "There are countless vulnerable people in this world. I have no interest in playing the saint. I'll help only those I choose to help." His smile widened. "For now, I intend to enjoy the decadent lifestyle of a billionaire for a while."

Though most people remained unaware of his actions the previous day, the White House's unexpected press conference had thrust him into the headlines. While major news outlets reported on him extensively, online forums buzzed with speculation about his activities.

If ordinary citizens merely wondered what he had done to prompt the White House to publicly rescind an S-level warrant, the mutant community—especially younger mutants—felt not just curiosity but admiration and envy.

Since its inception, the Department of Mutant Affairs had issued only two S-level warrants. Common knowledge held that once issued, such warrants were virtually never canceled. Typically, warrants remained active until the target was either captured or confirmed dead.

Yet not only had Richard's S-level warrant been canceled, but the announcement had come through a special White House press conference. To the younger generation of mutants, Richard had not only shattered the myth of the Department's invincibility through direct action but had proven a crucial point: with sufficient power, both the White House and the Department of Mutant Affairs would become remarkably "accommodating."

After the incident at the Los Angeles branch, approximately one-fifth of mutants residing in the United States had regarded Richard as something of an idol.

Now, the number of mutants who regarded him as an idol had reached an astonishing two-thirds of the population.

Richard had anticipated his following would grow, but after observing the skyrocketing membership on his personal website and forums, along with statistics from major media outlets, he realized he had vastly underestimated his impact on the mutant community. According to previous data from the Department of Mutant Affairs, approximately 6.6 million mutants resided in the United States—roughly one mutant per fifty people. Including global populations, the total mutant census approached 140 million.

Though Richard questioned the Department's methodology, the figure of 140 million mutants worldwide aligned perfectly with data he recalled from the comic event "The Genosha Massacre." This meant that in the United States alone, over 6.6 million mutants now viewed him as an idol.

Numerically, 6.6 million followers might not seem extraordinary—many internet celebrities could claim tens of millions of fans. But the influence Richard now wielded exceeded that of all internet celebrities combined.

While browsing a forum created by his more enthusiastic followers, Richard encountered a particularly intriguing post. The author, a senior member using the handle "Data Analyst," had compiled detailed statistics on Richard's known battles.

Through meticulous analysis of environmental damage and impact patterns, "Data Analyst" had reached a conclusion that appeared scientifically sound: Richard was effectively a "Humanoid Self-Propelled Nuclear Bomb"—specifically, one with an explosive yield equivalent to 3,000 megatons of TNT that could detonate repeatedly within short intervals.

To provide context for this staggering figure, the analyst had included comparative data from the Tsar Bomba, which had a yield of 50 megatons. That historic detonation had produced a fireball with a 4.6-kilometer radius and a mushroom cloud reaching 64 kilometers high and nearly 40 kilometers wide. Its shock wave had propagated over 1,000 kilometers, and the blast had shifted the Eurasian continent southward by 9 millimeters.

Though Richard's theoretical yield fell short of the Tsar Bomba's, the analyst emphasized a crucial distinction: while the Tsar Bomba could only detonate once, Richard's "humanoid nuclear capability" could activate multiple times in succession.

The post had not only generated over 3,000 replies in the forum but had been cited by newspapers and television news programs for its data and conclusions. The analyst had even factored in the destruction at the Department of Mutant Affairs headquarters.

Though the White House had attributed the headquarters' destruction to a chain reaction caused by a natural gas pipeline leak, anyone who had seen images of the building would find this explanation laughable. The perfectly smooth, flat fracture through the structure bore no resemblance to damage from a conventional explosion.

Yet the White House's absurd explanation surprised no one familiar with American politics. This was, after all, the same country that had once classified laundry detergent as a weapon of mass destruction. By comparison, claiming that a natural gas explosion could produce mirror-smooth fractures through reinforced concrete seemed almost reasonable—though the probability approached zero, it still exceeded the plausibility of laundry detergent as a WMD.

Noon A prestigious French restaurant in Manhattan—one that typically required reservations three weeks in advance

Richard and Emma Frost savored their meal with unhurried elegance. Though they hadn't made advance reservations, the maître d' had welcomed them enthusiastically upon arrival.

Neither had employed telepathic persuasion or intimidation. Their effortless entry stemmed from a simpler reality: Emma Frost owned the establishment.

While not as wealthy as Sebastian Shaw, Emma Frost remained exceptionally affluent by ordinary standards. Beyond the typical feminine penchants for designer clothing and accessories, she maintained keen business interests. According to her philosophy, a woman required her own enterprises. This acclaimed French restaurant represented one of her many ventures.

They ignored the curious glances of fellow diners, conversing and laughing as they enjoyed their meal. Having just finished their amuse-bouche, they were preparing to sample the appetizers when a red and gold figure streaked toward the restaurant at supersonic velocity.

Despite its incredible speed, onlookers immediately recognized the distinctive silhouette cutting through the air.

Iron Man.

Within moments, Tony Stark, encased in his armor, hovered above the restaurant. Under the astonished gaze of pedestrians and waitstaff, he landed at the entrance. His suit disassembled around him, revealing casual attire beneath.

Ignoring the flustered maître d', Stark strode directly into the dining room, making a beeline for Richard's table, his expression thunderous.

"You killed Rogers?" Tony demanded, his voice carrying throughout the restaurant.

His tone conveyed not mere displeasure but raw fury. Not only did Richard and Emma Frost hear his accusation, but most of the restaurant's patrons did as well. Predictably, diners turned toward Richard with expressions of shock and disbelief.

"Yes, I killed him," Richard replied, his demeanor perfectly composed. "If you're here to avenge him, I suggest you carefully consider whether it's worth the cost."

Unlike Tony's barely contained rage, Richard's expression remained utterly serene. He casually lifted his wine glass, took an unhurried sip, and regarded Tony with cool detachment.

Chapter 79: 100% Template, Anti-Richard Armor

After hearing Richard's words, Tony fell silent.

A moment later, he gestured to a nearby waiter to bring him a chair. Settling in beside Richard and Emma Frost, he stated flatly, "Rogers was my friend."

"Barnes, who killed your parents, was also his friend," Richard replied coolly. "And in Rogers' eyes, you weren't nearly as important as Barnes."

As Tony prepared to respond, Emma Frost interjected.

"Several people are texting right now, attempting to leak the news that you killed Rogers," she informed Richard. "Would you like me to intervene?"

"No, let them share it," Richard replied with a slight smile. "I don't mind this becoming public knowledge. I won't be the one with the headache."

Throughout America, Captain America commanded substantial public admiration. Countless people had grown up hearing tales of his heroism—Phil Coulson, a Level 8 S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, being a notable example of his devoted following.

Yet Richard remained unconcerned about being identified as Captain America's killer. From his first day in this world, he had never aspired to become a beloved superhero. Nor did he intend to become a world-conquering supervillain. If forced to categorize himself, "anti-hero" seemed most fitting.

Satisfied with Richard's response, Emma Frost ceased her telepathic monitoring and turned her attention away from the restaurant's patrons.

Tony, momentarily interrupted, cast an irritated glance at Emma Frost before addressing Richard again. "We'll discuss Rogers' death later. Right now, I want to know how you learned that Bucky Barnes killed my parents."

He leaned forward slightly. "Before coming here, I contacted Nick Fury. He confirmed it was Barnes and provided surveillance footage from that night." Tony unconsciously clenched his fists, raw anger and murderous intent flashing across his features.

Struggling to maintain his composure, he continued, "Fury also mentioned that only a select few within S.H.I.E.L.D. knew about this. Apart from them, only HYDRA operatives would have this information."

His eyes narrowed. "How did you know? I understand you possess telepathic abilities that allow you to access memories and thoughts at will, but you couldn't have extracted this from someone at S.H.I.E.L.D. This suggests either you're affiliated with HYDRA, or you know how to locate someone who is."

Though disturbed by Richard's execution of Rogers, Tony had relegated that concern to the background. Currently, only one objective consumed him: finding Barnes and personally avenging his parents. Nothing else mattered until that was accomplished.

"I do know how to find HYDRA personnel," Richard began, "but you should understand that information is never freely given in this world—"

"Just name your price," Tony interrupted. "Whatever you want, I'll provide it."

"Interrupting others is poor etiquette," Richard chided. "However, considering your current state, I'll overlook it. Besides, I'm not particularly difficult to accommodate. For those I admire, I'm happy to offer assistance." A small smile played at his lips. "You're fortunate—you happen to be someone I respect."

He continued more seriously, "Finding HYDRA operatives is straightforward. They've infiltrated S.H.I.E.L.D. extensively. You're familiar with Alexander Pierce, former S.H.I.E.L.D. Director and current Head of the World Security Council? His office occupies the top floor of the Triskelion."

Richard's voice remained steady as he delivered the bombshell: "He's not merely a HYDRA leader—he's the handler for 'The Winter Soldier,' Bucky Barnes. If you want Barnes, apprehend Pierce. Once you have him, Barnes will come to you."

He added a warning: "Be thoroughly prepared. Barnes isn't easily subdued."

Alexander Pierce is HYDRA's leader?

Tony stared at Richard in astonishment. Had anyone else made such an allegation, he would have dismissed it outright. But coming from Richard, the claim carried weight—not because Tony trusted him, but because he couldn't fathom why Richard would fabricate such information. Moreover, verifying Pierce's loyalties would be straightforward: capture him and confirmation would follow.

"I dislike owing favors," Tony stated firmly. "Whatever you desire, if it's within my capability, consider it done."

"That's unnecessary," Richard replied with an easy smile. "Consider it my contribution to the entertainment."

"No," Tony insisted, his expression serious. "I won't be comfortable remaining in your debt."

Noting Tony's determination, Richard considered briefly before responding: "If you're genuinely set on repayment, then utilize your considerable talents to create an 'Anti-Richard Armor' for me."

Anti-Richard Armor?

The request surprised not only Tony but Emma Frost as well. What purpose could such a creation possibly serve?

Tony's brow furrowed in confusion. After several moments of silence, he nodded. "If this is your desired compensation, I'll honor it. However, work on your Anti-Richard Armor won't commence until my vengeance is complete."

"That's acceptable," Richard agreed. "I'm not in any rush. Deliver it when you're finished."

Satisfied that Richard wasn't joking, Tony rose without further comment and exited the restaurant. Donning the armor stationed at the entrance, he rapidly vanished from sight.

Following Tony's departure, Richard calmly employed his telepathy to selectively erase portions of the other diners' memories. While he had no objection to public knowledge of Captain America's death, he preferred that Alexander Pierce remain unaware of Tony's impending revenge.

Forewarned, Pierce might not only complicate Tony's mission but could potentially alert HYDRA's S.H.I.E.L.D. moles to go into hiding. HYDRA wasn't prepared for open conflict with S.H.I.E.L.D.—if exposed prematurely, they would likely retreat deeper into the shadows rather than engage in direct confrontation.

Though Richard harbored no fondness for S.H.I.E.L.D., he detested HYDRA more profoundly. At the very least, S.H.I.E.L.D. occasionally contributed positively to the world.

8:00 PM Evening News

Every major New York television network led with identical headlines:

"Richard Wesley publicly acknowledges killing Captain America, igniting widespread controversy. S.H.I.E.L.D. denies the claim, stating that Captain Rogers is currently engaged in classified operations."

"Iron Man Tony Stark infiltrates S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, abducting World Security Council Minister Alexander Pierce. Intense firefight with S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel reported. S.H.I.E.L.D. issues statement claiming Minister Pierce is participating in joint Avengers-S.H.I.E.L.D. training exercise."

As Richard had anticipated, both he and Tony featured prominently in the evening broadcasts, their already considerable notoriety further amplified.

S.H.I.E.L.D.'s responses aligned perfectly with his expectations. Their denials—both regarding Captain America's death and Tony's abduction of Pierce—reflected the organization's standard operating procedure. Although American media constantly championed the public's "right to know," what citizens actually learned was invariably what authorities deemed appropriate for consumption.

Time advanced swiftly.

A week passed in the blink of an eye. For most people, these seven days held no particular significance, but for Tony Stark, they represented an indelible chapter in his life—the week he finally achieved his vengeance by personally eliminating Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier.

Manhattan Emma Frost's Apartment

Despite the White House's compensation including two estates—one situated near New York—Richard had yet to relocate. It wasn't that the New York manor lacked appeal; he simply felt no immediate desire to move.

To him, the physical environment—whether manor, luxury apartment, or forest cabin—mattered less than his personal preference. And compared to the White House's compensatory estate, he currently favored Emma Frost's luxurious apartment.

Tony, wearing designer sunglasses and an exquisitely tailored suit, lounged on the living room sofa as though he owned the place. He casually picked up the $50,000 bottle of whiskey from the coffee table and poured two glasses, offering one to Richard.

Richard accepted the drink and observed, "From your demeanor, I gather you not only completed your revenge, but Nick Fury also agreed to help manage the fallout. How did you convince him?"

Tony took a measured sip of whiskey before responding nonchalantly. "Convincing wasn't necessary. I simply informed him that if he declined to address the aftermath, I would publicize everything."

He swirled the amber liquid in his glass. "The World Security Council Minister being HYDRA's leader, countless HYDRA operatives embedded within S.H.I.E.L.D.—if these details reached the public, S.H.I.E.L.D. would be stripped of all authority, assuming it survived at all."

Tony's expression hardened. "If he wants to preserve S.H.I.E.L.D., he needs to handle this mess."

Richard smiled appreciatively. "I wouldn't have expected such tactics from you. I thought political maneuvering wasn't your style." He gestured toward the whiskey. "Let's be direct—you didn't bring a fifty-thousand-dollar bottle just for casual conversation. What do you want from me?"

He sipped the whiskey, reluctantly acknowledging its exceptional quality despite his limited expertise in fine spirits.

"Nothing specific," Tony replied quickly. "Just came by to talk."

"Let's dispense with the pretense," Richard countered. "Even if you merely wanted conversation, you wouldn't seek out someone you've barely met. Your social circle may be limited, but not nonexistent. If companionship were your goal, Pepper, Happy, or Colonel Rhodes would gladly oblige."

He fixed Tony with a knowing look. "Besides, there's a twenty-five-year age gap between us. Using the 'three years equals one generation' theory, that's over eight generations of difference."

Richard didn't need telepathy to discern Tony's true purpose; the dark circles beneath his eyes, visible even behind designer sunglasses, contradicted his casual façade.

"You're only eighteen," Tony retorted. "You didn't exactly behave like a typical teenager when you were killing people."

Richard ignored Tony's complaint, continuing to savor the exceptional whiskey. Seeing his comments had no effect, Tony finally relented. "I need a favor."

"What kind of favor?" Richard inquired, setting down his glass.

"I can't sleep," Tony admitted. "JARVIS says I'm experiencing severe anxiety attacks. Sleeping pills are ineffective. Every time I close my eyes, I see Barnes murdering my parents." He removed his sunglasses, revealing pronounced dark circles. "I thought killing Barnes would restore normalcy, but it's only worsened. In the past three days, I've slept less than two hours total."

"I'm not your therapist," Richard replied seriously. "And our relationship hardly warrants mutual assistance of this magnitude."

"I recognize our relationship isn't that developed," Tony conceded. "So I won't request help without compensation. I know you possess telepathic abilities—if you could help me forget my parents' murder, or provide false memories to replace it, I'd offer whatever reward is within my power."

He sighed. "I could eventually create a device to forcibly clear traumatic memories from the hippocampus, but development would require substantial time."

Hearing this, Richard considered briefly before responding, "Since you're being straightforward, I'll reciprocate. I can resolve your insomnia, provided you give me another suit of Iron Man armor. No need for a new design—your current model will suffice."

"Agreed," Tony replied immediately. Having already committed to the Anti-Richard Armor, one additional suit represented minimal additional commitment.

"I'll implant a psychological suggestion that will allow you to sleep peacefully whenever you desire," Richard explained.

Psychological suggestion?

Tony frowned. This clearly differed from his request.

"Can you guarantee its effectiveness?" he asked skeptically.

"Don't underestimate me," Richard replied with a confident smile. "Haven't you seen recent news coverage? The public now considers me an all-around Omega-level mutant. A simple sleep suggestion is trivial—I could alter your entire personality if I wished, with absolute certainty."

"You? An Omega-level mutant?" Tony scoffed. "If any mutant merits that classification, it's Dr. Jean Grey from Xavier's school. That's JARVIS's conclusion after extensive analysis."

As Richard prepared to counter this assertion, a mission panel suddenly materialized in his field of vision:

[Mission: Son of the Devil (IV)]

[Mission content: Defeat "Dark Phoenix" Jean Grey]

[Mission Reward: True Demon Form]

[Task time limit: None]

Defeat Dark Phoenix?

Richard's brow furrowed at the system's unexpected new mission. No time limit specified, with Vergil's true demon form as the reward?

Though he hadn't yet acquired Vergil's complete character template, he already possessed the Yamato, Summoned Swords, and Judgement Cut End. Adding Vergil's true demon form would dramatically elevate his template fusion percentage—potentially reaching 100% integration in a single step, once he obtained the full Vergil template.

Despite completing numerous system tasks, Richard only now realized the system could issue missions without specific deadlines or complete template rewards.

More concerning was the mission's phrasing: "defeat" rather than "kill." The system had never shown reluctance about eliminating important Marvel Universe figures—Captain America being a prime example. Using "defeat" instead of "kill" suggested that, by the system's assessment, Richard lacked the capability to permanently eliminate Dark Phoenix Jean Grey.

Was Phoenix truly that formidable in this universe? Perhaps this wasn't merely a comic book reality after all.

These thoughts flashed through Richard's mind in an instant. Tony, unable to see the mission panel, observed only Richard's sudden frown.

"Is your psychological resilience really that fragile?" Tony asked, bewildered. "Can't handle a bit of criticism?"

"As I said, don't underestimate me," Richard replied, refocusing. "My mental fortitude far exceeds your expectations. I'll implant a suggestion that will last approximately one month. If your condition hasn't improved by then, I'll help erase those painful memories entirely."

Without awaiting Tony's response, Richard employed his telepathy, seamlessly implanting the psychological suggestion into Tony's subconscious—as effortless for him as breathing.

Seeing Richard resume sipping whiskey mere seconds later, Tony asked in confusion, "Has it started? Or is it already finished?"

Umm...

For reasons he couldn't quite articulate, Richard felt Tony's phrasing could easily lead to inappropriate associations.

...

Chapter 80: Dark Personality, the First Omega Level

"It's done," Richard stated simply.

"For those with telepathic abilities, implanting psychological suggestions is effortless—as simple as lifting a glass to drink," he explained, gesturing to the whiskey.

"Right," Tony nodded. "I hope the suggestion proves effective."

He drained his remaining whiskey, then rose to his feet. "Nothing else to discuss. I'll be going now. If your suggestion doesn't work, expect another visit."

Richard merely nodded in acknowledgment.

He watched as Tony walked to the balcony, donned his armor, and departed from the apartment.

After Tony's exit, Richard finished his own whiskey and began to contemplate his situation. Though the system had issued a new mission, the absence of a clear deadline left him uncertain about when Jean Grey would transform into Dark Phoenix.

If this were the X-Men cinematic universe, he would know precisely when the Phoenix would emerge. Unfortunately, this wasn't that reality.

Quite challenging, he thought with an internal sigh.

He wasn't particularly concerned about defeating Dark Phoenix. The system's issuance of the task indicated he possessed the potential to complete it with his current abilities. Despite the system's occasional lack of consideration and detail compared to those utilized by other transmigrators, Richard remained confident of one certainty: the system would never assign an impossible task.

After contemplating the situation, he quickly reached a decision.

Visit Xavier's School.

Though he couldn't predict when Phoenix would transform into Dark Phoenix, Professor Xavier undoubtedly harbored similar concerns. If Phoenix turned malevolent, the X-Men and Xavier's School would be the first casualties.

Compared to Richard, who merely sought to complete the mission and claim his reward, Professor X had far more compelling reasons to prevent Phoenix's dark transformation.

Having made his decision, Richard's thoughts drifted unconsciously to Clarice. Despite their brief acquaintance—just a single day—she had left a profound impression on him. After all, she resembled that woman from his past so closely, at least in her younger years.

Decision made, Richard stood and walked to the study where Emma Frost was developing strategies to manage his considerable assets.

"I need to visit Xavier's School on an urgent matter," he informed her.

Though he'd never been a billionaire before, Richard understood the folly of merely living off wealth. Upon discovering Emma Frost's ambitions as a "career woman," he had promptly appointed her as his personal asset manager, tasking her with overseeing the vast holdings "gifted" by both Sebastian Shaw and the White House.

"Would you like me to accompany you?" Emma Frost inquired, looking up from her work.

Her distinctive preference for white extended to her current outfit—a crisp white office suit. Everything from her blazer and skirt to her high heels maintained the pristine color scheme. Only her stockings deviated from this pattern, being nearly transparent rather than white. Both her professional exterior and the intimate apparel beneath adhered to her monochromatic aesthetic.

Had Richard not psychically examined her psychological makeup and confirmed her simple preference for the color, he might have suspected some form of "white fixation" disorder.

"No need," Richard replied after briefly admiring her alluring figure. "I'll go alone."

"Very well. I'll await your return here," she responded promptly.

Richard nodded, then activated his power in her presence.

Teleportation!

In an instant, he transported from the luxurious Manhattan apartment to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

More specifically, he arrived at the school's entrance gates.

Westchester County, home to Xavier's School, was a suburban region north of New York City, approximately forty kilometers from downtown.

Though capable of teleporting directly into the school grounds, Richard had deliberately chosen not to. Appearing unannounced inside someone else's property would be unconscionably rude.

Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

After briefly examining the educational institution's nameplate, Richard proceeded through the gates at a measured pace.

Before he even approached the main building, he had already drawn considerable attention from the student body. This was hardly surprising—not only was he now as renowned in mutant circles as Magneto and Professor X, but his physical appearance alone commanded notice.

His flowing silver hair, striking features, and tall, athletic frame would have attracted attention regardless of his reputation.

As he passed, students who had been socializing on the grounds turned to stare, their expressions betraying surprise and recognition.

Though situated in suburban Westchester County, Xavier's School maintained connections with the outside world. The students remained well-informed about recent events beyond campus boundaries.

Accustomed to such scrutiny, Richard paid little attention to their stares as he continued toward the school's main building.

As he reached the entrance steps, Cyclops and Jean Grey emerged from the building, positioning themselves at the doorway to greet him.

"It's been a while," Jean observed as Richard approached. "Are you here to see the Professor or Clarice?"

"The Professor first," Richard replied.

Though he had encountered Professor X and Cyclops at Emma Frost's apartment a week earlier, that meeting had been primarily diplomatic in nature, concluding after just a few minutes without substantive discussion.

"The Professor is in his office. I'll escort you," Jean offered.

"Appreciate it," Richard responded politely.

Though he hadn't notified Professor X in advance, he knew that the moment he teleported to the school gates, the Professor would have sensed his arrival.

Following Jean and Cyclops through the corridors, Richard soon arrived at Professor X's office, where the benevolent telepath awaited, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his wheelchair positioned behind an elegant desk.

Professor X regarded Richard with a kindly expression, as though addressing a promising student. "Just days ago, I was considering sending Jean and Scott to New York to extend an invitation for you to visit us."

"I hope my unannounced arrival isn't inconvenient, Professor," Richard replied promptly.

Though he disagreed with certain aspects of Xavier's ideology and methodologies, Richard acknowledged the man's fundamental decency—someone who had dedicated decades to helping others.

"Not at all," Xavier assured him, maneuvering his wheelchair forward. "Please, let's sit and talk."

"Of course," Richard nodded, settling onto a sofa in the reception area.

"Jean, Scott, you should prepare for your afternoon classes," Xavier instructed, turning to the pair.

Though unaware of Richard's specific purpose, Xavier instinctively understood this wasn't a casual social call.

"Yes, Professor," Jean replied promptly.

Moments later, she and Cyclops exited the office, gently closing the door behind them.

Once they were alone, Xavier addressed Richard directly: "You didn't journey here simply to tour our facilities or visit an old man like myself. What brings you to us, Richard?"

Though Richard respected Xavier, he had no intention of revealing the system's existence. Instead, he spoke carefully: "This morning, I glimpsed fragments of a possible future—specifically, one where Dr. Jean Grey ascends to Omega-level status."

He paused meaningfully. "What I witnessed was... concerning."

Visions of the future? A precognitive ability?

Xavier's brow furrowed at Richard's revelation. While future prediction seemed implausible in conventional terms, mutant abilities frequently defied scientific explanation.

After several moments of contemplative silence, Xavier regarded Richard intently. "When you say 'concerning,' do you mean Jean achieving Omega status and losing control?"

"Precisely," Richard confirmed without hesitation.

In this universe, his advantage as a "prophet" from another world was limited, but not entirely nullified.

"Since you appear to understand the situation, I'll be forthright," Xavier decided. "What you've described has been my primary concern for some time."

He sighed softly. "When Erik and I first encountered Jean, we immediately recognized her extraordinary potential. From the moment we observed her abilities, we both understood she would eventually surpass us, becoming the first true Omega-level mutant."

"Though we shared this assessment, Erik and I fundamentally disagreed about how to guide her development. I won't elaborate on our philosophical differences, but ultimately Jean remained at the school, becoming my most accomplished student."

Xavier's expression darkened. "Just as I believed Jean would revolutionize mutant society, I discovered a disturbing duality within her—a dark personality harboring unimaginable power lurking in her subconscious."

"To prevent this darkness from corrupting her, I constructed psychic barriers within her mind, effectively sealing away this malevolent aspect of her personality."

"Initially, these barriers proved effective, but as Jean matured, her dark personality strengthened correspondingly. Fortunately, her self-control has similarly developed with age."

"Barring significant external trauma, the psychic barriers containing Jean's dark personality should theoretically remain intact indefinitely. However, I must admit," Xavier confessed with uncharacteristic vulnerability, "should her darkness breach these defenses again, even with the Cerebro amplification system, I cannot guarantee my ability to reinstate the containment."

"My primary reason for coming here is to discuss potential solutions with you," Richard explained. "Though I can't predict the full extent of Dr. Grey's capabilities should her dark personality assume control, I'd prefer to prevent these glimpsed futures from materializing."

He continued with calculated sincerity. "Additionally, Professor, you've cared for and mentored Clarice for over three months. Consider my assistance in preventing Jean's transformation as gratitude for your guardianship of Clarice."

"Of course," Richard added diplomatically, "if you've already formulated a strategy, please disregard my offer."