"Sentinel robot?"
Jack's voice rose despite himself. As intelligence chief of the Los Angeles branch, he understood better than most what that word implied. It wasn't just another piece of equipment or a tactical option. It was escalation.
He also knew exactly how terrifying the Sentinel units were.
If there was a single weapon that mutants collectively feared, it was that machine. Designed specifically to track, suppress, and eliminate mutant abilities, the Sentinel was often described with two simple words: natural enemy.
"Are you certain you want to request authorization from the branch director?" Jack asked carefully. "Even with Aiden and Belt dead, we still have personnel available. We're not out of options yet."
Benjamin's expression didn't soften. His jaw was set, and his eyes were cold.
"I won't let my men die for nothing again," he said, each word measured.
His fingers curled against the edge of the desk, knuckles whitening.
"I'll personally deploy the Sentinel to capture Richard Wesley."
The killing intent in his voice was unmistakable.
The Los Angeles branch was only one node in the larger network of the Department of Mutant Affairs, but since its establishment, the Operations Division had never suffered losses like this. Fifteen mutant agents dead within days. It wasn't just a blow to their strength. It was humiliation.
In Benjamin's mind, it was a direct challenge.
If he did nothing, if he responded with caution or hesitation, then he might as well admit incompetence. As director of operations, that was unacceptable.
Jack studied him for a second longer and realized further persuasion would be useless. Benjamin had already made his decision.
"Give me one hour," Jack said briskly. "I'll bring you a preliminary investigation report."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left the office, the broken remains of the tablet still lying on the desk.
…
Los Angeles suburbs.
Sabretooth's safe house.
The atmosphere inside the apartment was completely different from the tension brewing downtown. Warm light filled the dining area, and the scent of spices drifted through the air.
Clarice had spent more than half an hour in the kitchen, moving with quiet focus. By the time she called them over, four dishes and a bowl of soup were neatly arranged on the table.
Richard hadn't expected much.
Clarice was only seventeen or eighteen. It would have been reasonable if her cooking skills were average at best. After all, mastering a kitchen took time and repetition.
He was wrong.
The food in front of him wasn't just edible. It was surprisingly authentic.
Not American comfort food. Not improvised fusion. It was clearly modeled after traditional Chinese home cooking. The flavors were balanced, the seasoning confident rather than timid.
It wasn't restaurant-level, but it didn't need to be.
This was the first time Richard had eaten Chinese food since arriving in this world.
The body he occupied might have grown up fully American, but the consciousness within it had been shaped by a completely different upbringing. Compared to steak, bacon, fried eggs, hot dogs, or sandwiches, this felt familiar in a way nothing else had.
American food filled the stomach.
Chinese food felt like a meal.
By the time they finished, every dish had been cleared. Even Sabretooth, who usually ate with rough indifference, had quietly finished his portion without complaint.
Richard leaned back slightly in his chair, satisfied.
After the dishes were cleared and conversation thinned, he stood up.
"I'm stepping out for a bit," he said casually.
Neither Clarice nor Sabretooth stopped him.
A moment later, he activated Flash and vanished.
…
A forest beyond the suburbs.
Richard reappeared between tall trees, the ground soft with fallen leaves. He paused, scanning his surroundings carefully to confirm that no one else was nearby.
Satisfied, he reached into the system space and drew out the genuine blade.
The weapon gleamed faintly in the dim light, its edge unnaturally sharp. Tonight, they would attack the Los Angeles branch of the Department of Mutant Affairs. Before that, he wanted to familiarize himself with his newest skill.
Dimension Slash.
He gripped the hilt in his left hand and gave the blade a light, testing swing. The movement was smooth, almost casual.
Then he executed the skill.
The sword cut through the air with a sharp, metallic hum. Dozens of meters away, space distorted violently. A spherical region nearly two meters in diameter twisted as if reality itself had been stirred.
Dark shadows flickered within the warped area.
At the same time, seven or eight crescent-shaped slashes manifested from nowhere and sliced through the distorted sphere in rapid succession.
He hadn't locked onto any specific target. This was just a test.
Even so, the destructive potential was obvious. The pressure of the slashes alone was heavier than the Level 2 Eight Swords Flash he had used before.
"Dimension Slash proficiency +1."
The system's voice echoed in his mind.
He ignored it for the moment and opened his attribute panel instead, checking the cost.
Two points of magic power per use.
He narrowed his eyes slightly.
At Level 1, Dimension Slash consumed double the magic of Eight Swords Flash or Earthshaking at the same level. The system hadn't provided an explanation, but the answer wasn't hard to guess.
Dimension Slash was originally the exclusive technique of the Yama Blade.
If he were wielding that blade right now, the consumption would likely drop to one point, matching his other Level 1 skills.
Unfortunately, he didn't possess the Yama Blade.
Without it, he had to compensate with additional magic power.
Closing the panel, Richard practiced a few more times, adjusting his sense of distance and timing in the forest. The locking and release required precision, and he intended to have it under control before night fell.
Once satisfied, he activated Flash again and returned to the apartment.
…
Time passed quickly.
By the time the clock struck eight in the evening, darkness had fully settled over the city.
After dinner, Clarice lifted her hand and summoned her purple energy. A circular space door formed in front of them, shimmering faintly.
Just like in the morning, she set the exit point on the rooftop of a building a few hundred meters from the Los Angeles branch of the Department of Mutant Affairs.
They stepped through.
From the rooftop, the office building stood illuminated against the night sky. Compared to the morning, there was little visible difference. The structure remained imposing and secure.
The only noticeable change was the reduced activity inside. Fewer lights were on. Fewer silhouettes moved behind the windows.
Richard observed the building for several seconds before turning to Sabretooth.
"You checked the internal layout?"
"Of course," Sabretooth replied immediately. "The above-ground floors are just offices. Nothing we care about."
He gestured toward the lower levels of the building.
"The labs and holding cells are underground. Three floors, from what I've been told. The first basement level is a standard lab. The second basement is where our targets should be."
His eyes hardened.
"If my clones and your father weren't transferred, they'd be on B2."
Richard nodded slightly.
"And B3?"
Sabretooth's expression shifted, becoming more guarded.
"I don't know. My source said only a small group inside the branch has clearance for the third basement level. Even among their own people, access is restricted."
He paused before continuing.
"He told me I'd be better off staying away from it. Said there might be something down there… something dangerous."
Sabretooth wasn't easily intimidated. He had lived nearly two centuries and survived more battles than most could imagine. If even he described something as potentially frightening, it wasn't meaningless.
"Second basement," Richard said calmly. "That's enough."
He reached into the system space and drew out the two-meter genuine blade.
The metal caught the city lights as he held it at his side.
Clarice raised her right hand again, purple energy gathering as she prepared to open a portal directly into the second basement level. That had been her plan from the start.
Before she could release the energy, Richard spoke.
"Don't open it to B2."
She hesitated, glancing at him.
"Open it in front of the main entrance."
He looked toward the building's front doors, expression steady.
"I don't like sneaking in. I prefer walking through the front."
.....
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