"Everyone… I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry."
That evening, after dinner, the young mutants gathered in the large hall on the first floor of Xavier Manor. Not long after they settled in, Charles, Eric, and Moira returned from the CIA.
Moira stepped forward first.
Her expression was filled with guilt as she addressed everyone.
"The information I provided was wrong," she said sincerely. "Because of that mistake, I led all of you straight into danger. I feel deeply ashamed."
She paused, clearly struggling with the weight of responsibility.
"This failure was my fault. I won't try to deny it."
Her voice softened.
"Fortunately, no one was seriously hurt during the mission. If something worse had happened… I truly don't know how I could have faced any of you."
Every word she spoke came from the heart.
"I also bear responsibility," Charles added.
He looked around the room at the group of young mutants.
"You trusted my judgment, and I led everyone into Shaw's trap. This mission ended in complete failure, and the primary responsibility lies with me."
Eric stood beside him silently.
In truth, Eric didn't think anyone needed to apologize.
This was simply the nature of conflict.
War and confrontation were always full of unexpected variables. No matter how carefully someone planned, things could go wrong.
Moira, Charles, and even Eric himself had all done their best.
That was enough.
"Moira, Charles… how can you blame yourselves?" Raven said immediately.
She stood up and tried to ease the tension.
"This whole thing happened because Shaw is too cunning. It was a trap designed specifically for us. None of us expected it."
"That's right," someone else added.
"No one should blame themselves. Everyone came back safely, didn't they?"
"In fact," another mutant said thoughtfully, "maybe this isn't entirely a bad thing. At least now we understand our weaknesses better."
One by one, the others spoke up.
None of them blamed Moira or Charles. The group might be young, but they were far from unreasonable.
"Thank you all for your understanding," Charles said.
Then his expression turned serious again.
"But everyone is also correct about something else. This mission wasn't completely meaningless."
He looked around the room slowly.
"We learned something important."
"For example… we now understand how far we are from becoming real warriors."
The room fell silent.
Charles continued calmly.
"I don't need to point it out, because everyone already knows the truth. This entire mission depended on Rorschach."
He gestured slightly toward him.
"In fact, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say he completed the operation almost alone."
"Without him, the rest of us might still be trapped in that ambush."
"Rorschach," Charles said, giving him an approving nod, "you performed exceptionally well. Eric and I were right about you."
But Charles didn't stop there.
"What about the rest of us?" he continued quietly.
"Even Eric and myself."
His words made the room grow noticeably heavier.
"I'm not saying this to discourage anyone," Charles said carefully. "And I'm not criticizing anyone either."
"I'm simply stating the truth."
"We still need training."
He took a breath.
"Tomorrow morning, everyone will gather at the training field."
With that, Charles, Eric, and Moira left the hall.
The silence they left behind lingered.
No one spoke for a while.
Reality was heavy.
And everyone knew Charles was right.
Eventually someone stood up.
"I'm heading back to my room."
"Yeah… me too."
"See you all tomorrow."
The conversation ended quickly.
Everyone returned to their rooms quietly. Each person had their own thoughts to sort through after the long day.
"Rorschach."
Hank slowed his pace and approached him.
He looked slightly hesitant, as if unsure how to begin.
Rorschach understood immediately.
"Hank," he said quietly, "come with me."
Hank's face lit up.
He followed Rorschach to his room.
Once inside, Rorschach walked over to a drawer and took out a small syringe filled with dark red liquid.
"This is what you asked for."
He handed it over.
It was a blood sample taken from the ninja Rorschach had killed earlier.
Since he had promised Hank, he had made sure to collect it during the battle.
Hank accepted the syringe carefully.
For a moment he looked at it as if it were the most precious treasure in the world.
"Perfect," he whispered.
Then he looked up at Rorschach.
"Thank you," he said sincerely. "Thank you very much."
"You're welcome," Rorschach replied with a small smile. "I hope it helps."
He knew exactly what Hank intended to do.
Hank had been trying to develop a serum that would allow him to change his abnormal feet while preserving his mutant abilities.
In simple terms, he wanted to look normal.
If that goal could truly be achieved, it would undoubtedly mean a lot to him.
Of course, Rorschach also knew something else.
In another timeline, Hank's research had gone horribly wrong.
Instead of suppressing his mutation, the serum amplified it—transforming him into the blue-furred Beast.
If Hank succeeded this time, the result might be different.
He might look normal… but perhaps lose some strength in the process.
Whether that outcome would be good or bad was difficult to say.
"It will help," Hank said confidently.
His eyes shone with determination.
In fact, most of his research was already complete. All he needed now was a reference sample to make the final adjustments.
"Good luck," Rorschach said.
"Thanks again."
Hank left the room, still holding the syringe carefully.
—
The next morning, the entire group resumed their special training.
And the difference from before was obvious.
After the real battle in Manhattan, everyone had matured noticeably. Their mentality and focus were completely different.
Before, some people had complained about how exhausting or boring the training was.
Now, those complaints had vanished.
Even Eric spent far more time training than before.
The mission had shaken him deeply.
Although the "Shaw" they faced had been fake, Eric would never forget the feeling he experienced when Shaw grabbed his throat.
That moment of helplessness.
If he didn't grow stronger quickly, the same thing would happen when he eventually faced the real Shaw.
Eric refused to accept that future.
Naturally, Rorschach trained as well.
But his focus was slightly different.
He needed to adapt to his newly strengthened body.
His attributes had increased dramatically after the upgrade, and controlling that power required practice.
He also continued practicing his heat vision.
At first glance, firing beams from his eyes seemed simple.
But just like marksmanship with a gun, real precision required constant training.
The entire Xavier Manor buzzed with energy.
Everyone pushed themselves harder than before.
During one of the training sessions, Eric quietly approached Rorschach.
.....
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