The holographic attribute panel unfolded before Richard like a translucent projection suspended in midair. Lines of data stabilized into clear columns as his current status displayed in precise detail.
[Host: Richard][Race: Human (Alpha-level mutant)][Current Template: Sephiroth (Fusion 45%)][Exclusive Equipment: Authentic Sword, Phantom Sword][Skills: Eight Swords Flash lv3, Earth Shaking lv3, Sky Shaking lv3, Zanshin lv3, Iai Slash lv3, Prison Gate lv3, Black Magic Crystal lv3, Thunder lv3, Blizzard lv3, Flame lv3, Wind lv3, Dimension Slash lv3][Magic: 523/2000 (Recovery: 450 per hour)][X-Gene Superpowers: 19][Alpha: Plunder, Super Strength, Super Physique, Super Self-Healing, Teleportation][Beta: Energy Emission, Energy Absorption, Invisibility, Super Vision, Telepathy, Giant Body, Gravity Binding, Thermal Vision, Air Bullet, Flying, Attack Transfer, Telekinesis][Delta: Beast Instinct, Bone Claws][Task: None][Storage Space: Enabled]
When his skills advanced to Level 3, the system removed the old proficiency progress bars. Only the level remained visible now. Unless he deliberately opened a specific skill description, no granular usage metrics appeared.
More importantly, Level 3 granted him fine control.
Previously, using a skill had felt like selecting an option in a game interface—activate or don't activate. Now it was different. He could regulate output freely, adjusting power anywhere between Level 1 and Level 3 depending on circumstance. Magical consumption scaled proportionally.
The system hadn't provided an explanation, but the logic was clear to him. Before, he had been borrowing execution parameters from the template. Now, he had internalized them. Even without system assistance, he could deploy these techniques with precision and restraint.
He had mastered them.
If there was any dissatisfaction, it lay in the absence of new missions. For three months, the system had issued nothing. No new objectives meant no new template skills.
His gaze lingered on the 45% fusion rate.
Fifty percent likely marked a threshold.
Given the silence of the system since reaching the mid-forties, it was reasonable to assume that surpassing fifty percent would trigger something—either a new mission or an automatic awakening of higher-tier Sephiroth abilities.
One-Winged Angel form.Supernova.Heartless Angel.Declaration of Fate.
He imagined activating the One-Winged Angel transformation—silver hair flowing, black wing unfurling against the sky. A faint anticipation curved his lips.
His attention shifted to the X-gene section.
As he had predicted early on, psychic derivatives like Mind Isolation, Mind Charm, and Hypnotic Suggestion were not separate endpoints. They were components. When he plundered Beta-level telepathy from a female Mutant Affairs agent over a month ago, those fragmented abilities merged automatically into a consolidated telepathic framework.
The integration had been seamless.
Objectively speaking, his telepathy was not yet comparable to Professor X or the White Queen. In terms of scale and refinement, he remained below them.
It didn't concern him.
Telepathy was common enough. As long as he continued eliminating psychics, the ability would evolve naturally. Alpha-tier was inevitable. Omega-tier was not impossible, depending on targets.
Killing Professor X or the White Queen would accelerate that progression dramatically.
The thought registered without emotional fluctuation.
Though his total superpower count hadn't increased drastically, the qualitative improvement was significant. Compared to three months ago, he was operating on an entirely different level.
Even without template skills, few mutants could challenge him using X-gene powers alone.
He closed the attribute panel.
Teleportation activated.
Space folded, and in an instant he vanished from the tangled forest depths and reappeared inside his current residence.
Living under an S-level wanted order from the Mutant Affairs Department required isolation. Combined with his long silver hair—now difficult to conceal—blending into urban crowds was inconvenient.
For the past three months, he had lived far from population centers.
He entered cities only when necessary to purchase supplies. Even then, he froze supermarket patrons using Beta-level telepathy while shopping. Afterward, he would relocate to a different city entirely, preventing tracking patterns from forming.
The current residence was a small wooden cabin deep within the forest. He didn't know the owner's identity, but the interior design suggested affluence. The exterior was modest, almost rustic, resembling survivalist builds he remembered from before transmigrating.
Inside, however, it was fully furnished. Living room, bedroom, kitchen, bathroom—everything carefully arranged. It was clearly a holiday property owned by someone financially comfortable.
Over the past three months, he had rotated through similar cabins near different cities. It was efficient and discreet.
After returning, he prepared lunch slowly and methodically. Cooking was one of the few routines he retained from before crossing worlds.
When the meal was ready, he carried it to the dining table and opened his laptop. He selected a show suited to his tastes before beginning to eat.
Watching while eating had always been a habit. A good series made the meal more enjoyable, even if logically it couldn't alter flavor. He saw no reason to change the routine.
By the time the episode ended, his plate was empty.
He set the dishes aside without washing them immediately. Instead, he leaned back and began browsing online news.
Specifically, news about himself.
While the Mutant Affairs Department's operational details were not publicly available, media coverage still provided useful signals. It allowed him to gauge public sentiment and track shifts in political narrative.
He entered his name into the search bar.
Numerous articles appeared.
His viral popularity had decreased over time, as expected. Public attention cycles moved quickly. However, the broader impact of his actions had not diminished.
If anything, it had expanded.
One headline near the top caught his eye.
"New Leader of Mutants? Richard Wesley's Influence on the Younger Generation."
His expression shifted slightly.
He clicked the article.
The report framed him not merely as a wanted criminal, but as a symbolic figure among younger mutants. It referenced footage of his confrontations, analyzed his defiance of the Mutant Affairs Department, and discussed online forums where young mutants debated his ideology.
Some portrayed him as a radical extremist. Others described him as a necessary counterforce to institutional control.
The article quoted anonymous students claiming that he represented autonomy—mutants deciding their own fate rather than submitting to government oversight.
Richard's eyes narrowed slightly.
He had never declared himself a leader. He had never issued a manifesto or called for followers.
He simply acted according to his own objectives.
Yet influence did not require intention.
Public perception was a separate battlefield.
If young mutants began rallying behind his name, the Mutant Affairs Department would escalate further. Professor X might also feel compelled to intervene more directly.
He leaned back in his chair, expression calm but contemplative.
Influence was a variable.
And variables required management.
.....
Want to read ahead by more than 60 chapters. Then join my p@treon Right Now.
Link: p*atreon.com/BookReaderBoy (Remove the *)
Also Free members get 2 advanced chapters for Free as well.