Richard wasn't surprised by Sabretooth's anger. If the Mutant Affairs Department had manufactured a clone of him, he would have reacted the same way—if not worse. Sabretooth wanted to teach them a lesson. Richard, on the other hand, would have considered wiping the department off the map entirely.
"What about Clarice?" Richard asked calmly. "Are you planning to involve her in this?"
If the system hadn't issued the "Son of the Devil (II)" mission, he wouldn't have minded delaying a few days. But he had a three-day deadline now. Whether he preferred Sephiroth's abilities or not didn't matter. Phantom Sword was still a reward worth claiming.
Sabretooth answered without hesitation. "She won't fight. She'll open the portal to get us in, and she'll open another to extract us."
Richard didn't like it.
Even if Clarice stayed outside the battlefield, she would still be part of the operation. That meant risk. But Sabretooth was her adoptive father. The final decision belonged to him.
Before Richard could say more, Clarice spoke softly. "I can only open portals about twenty kilometers right now. But if you signal me and tell me your location, I can open one and bring you out."
Her ability wasn't built for head-on combat, but that didn't mean she wanted to hide. There was resolve in her voice.
Richard studied her for a few seconds. Then he nodded.
"Fine. Extraction is your responsibility."
She nodded quickly, a trace of relief in her expression.
…
Los Angeles.
They stood on the roof of a mid-rise building, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across concrete and steel. The Los Angeles branch of the Mutant Affairs Department stood a few hundred meters away, an angular government structure surrounded by surveillance cameras and controlled access points.
The location wasn't classified.
Clarice had opened a portal directly to Los Angeles, then another to this rooftop vantage point. The operation could begin at any time.
But they didn't move.
Richard's magic power hadn't fully recovered yet. Sabretooth and Clarice also needed food and rest. Charging in immediately would be reckless.
After studying the building in silence, Richard turned to Sabretooth.
"You must have thought about how to get in. Tell me your plan."
In terms of raw power, Richard knew he had the advantage. But in combat experience? Sabretooth outclassed him completely.
After fleeing with Wolverine decades ago, Sabretooth had fought in nearly every major American war—Civil War reenlistments, World War I, World War II, Vietnam. He wasn't a strategist in the academic sense, but he understood battlefield rhythm, entry points, and how quickly things could spiral.
Sabretooth frowned slightly. "I did make a plan. But it was built around my own durability. You don't have my regeneration, so—"
Richard cut him off.
"Who said I don't?"
Both Sabretooth and Clarice stared at him.
"You have super healing too?" Sabretooth asked.
"Yes," Richard replied evenly. "It might not be identical to yours, but I recover quickly."
That was an understatement.
His original healing factor, plundered from Maika, had been Beta-level. Since then, it had been strengthened twice—once after combining with another regenerative factor, and once more after eliminating Aiden's team.
The system hadn't displayed an updated tier ranking, but Richard could feel the difference. His recovery speed had improved noticeably. Even if he wasn't quite on Wolverine or Sabretooth's level, the gap couldn't be large.
Sabretooth narrowed his eyes. "How many abilities have you awakened?"
When they first met, Sabretooth had assumed Richard only possessed two—long sword summoning and short-range teleportation.
But during the fight with Aiden's group, Richard had revealed far more. Blizzard-scale freezing. Lightning projection. Bounce. Enhanced strength. Reinforced physique.
From Sabretooth's perspective, it looked like Richard had awakened seven or eight separate powers.
Sabretooth himself had multiple abilities—bone claws, heightened senses, regeneration. That wasn't unheard of among high-tier mutants.
But seven or eight?
That was rare.
"Personal matter," Richard said calmly. "Not something I discuss."
Sabretooth studied him a moment longer, then shrugged. "Fine."
He shifted focus back to the building in the distance.
"If you can regenerate, this becomes simpler. I had someone gather intel. I know where they're holding my clones inside."
His tone hardened.
"We use Clarice's portal to enter directly into that section. Eliminate the clones. Find your father. Get out. Once we're clear, Clarice pulls us back."
Direct. Efficient. Brutal.
Richard considered it.
After fighting Inesa and Aiden, he'd already concluded something—the Los Angeles branch wasn't as overwhelming as he'd initially expected. Neither of those two had pushed him to the brink. More importantly, he had yet to experience a failed plunder.
Since he could only absorb Beta-level abilities for now, that implied neither Inesa nor Aiden had been Alpha-level threats.
If the branch were filled with true Alpha mutants, the situation would look different.
"Fine," Richard said. "We'll follow your plan."
Sabretooth nodded. "Tonight."
He turned to Clarice, ready to withdraw for preparation.
At that moment, Richard reached into the system space and pulled out a dark coat. He tossed it toward Sabretooth.
Sabretooth caught it without comment and put it on immediately. It concealed his frame better and broke up his silhouette.
Clarice opened a portal beside them, violet light spinning outward.
They stepped through.
The environment shifted instantly.
Los Angeles suburbs.
A worn residential building stood in front of them, its exterior faded and chipped. The interior apartment they entered was sparse—bare walls, aging furniture, minimal decoration. Functional. Nothing more.
"This is where Clarice and I stay when we're in Los Angeles," Sabretooth said bluntly.
The space smelled faintly of dust and old wood. There were signs of temporary habitation—food containers, folded blankets, a small table with basic supplies—but nothing permanent.
Richard glanced around once, assessing sightlines and exits.
Temporary safehouse. Low profile. Easy to abandon.
He nodded slightly.
There was nothing luxurious about it, but that wasn't the point.
It was enough.
.....
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