Time passed quietly.
Before Richard realized it, three months had gone by.
He had assumed that Jean would lose control sooner rather than later. The system had issued the task. The warning signs were there. It seemed only a matter of time.
But nothing happened.
Jean remained stable. No abnormal fluctuations. No psychic outbursts. No visible cracks in Professor X's mental cage.
If anything, after Richard's subtle "reminder," Professor X had intentionally reduced Jean's field missions. Her exposure to high-risk scenarios decreased significantly.
The mission had no time limit.
So Richard waited.
Patience was not difficult when one lived well.
And in those three months, he lived extremely well.
Tony, now free from anxiety and insomnia, dragged him into the upper circles of New York's elite. Charity galas. Private auctions. Yacht parties. Penthouse gatherings.
Richard experienced what he privately labeled "the lower-class life of the upper class."
Decadent. Excessive. Entertaining.
The socialites and heiresses were expected. But what truly surprised him were the actresses, models, journalists, flight attendants, and ambitious college students who would do anything to squeeze into that glittering world.
After tasting that lifestyle repeatedly, he finally understood why Tony Stark had once been synonymous with "playboy."
Even Richard—who had always considered himself disciplined—noticed subtle changes in himself.
Lust is the root of all evil.
Pleasure is a blade that scrapes the bone.
Say no to gambling and drugs.
He mentally repeated the slogans, then promptly ignored them.
Still, he did not neglect his training.
In three months, Eight Blades Flash and Dimension Slash both reached Level 4. Their execution became cleaner. Faster. More destructive.
More importantly, Sephiroth's template fusion rose from 45% to 60%.
The progress was satisfying.
But it also brought disappointment.
He had expected that once he crossed the 50% threshold, the One-Winged Angel form—or at least signature abilities like Heartless Angel or Supernova—would awaken.
Nothing happened.
No transformation.
No new ultimate techniques.
Still, the gains were real.
His total magic surged dramatically.
[Magic: 5000/5000 (Recovery: 1500 per hour)]
Three months earlier, he had only 2000.
Now it stood at 5000.
The majority of that increase came directly from template fusion.
His magical control improved as well.
He could now conjure garments and weaponry seamlessly, just like Sephiroth.
After mastering the technique, he experimented further.
Masamune.
Yama Blade.
Instead of treating them as separate entities, he merged them.
Neither sword was ordinary metal. Both possessed metaphysical properties beyond conventional matter. Sephiroth could reconstruct Masamune from pure energy. The Yama Blade could merge with Nero's arm.
Through careful manipulation, Richard integrated Yama Blade into the magically formed Masamune.
The result was elegant.
Masamune retained its length and reach while gaining Yama Blade's "Separation" property. Its cutting potential increased. Dimension Slash felt smoother, more decisive.
If necessary, he could extract Yama Blade again, dual-wielding Masamune in his left hand and Yama Blade in his right.
And if he summoned the Phantom Sword as well?
Three-sword style.
Unlike a certain green-haired swordsman, however, he would not bite a blade between his teeth. Telekinetic control was far more dignified.
…
9:10 AM.
Silver Manor, New York suburbs.
After immersing himself in high society, Richard relocated from the White Queen's Manhattan penthouse to a sprawling estate he casually named Silver Manor.
The phone rang sharply, dragging him from sleep.
He glanced at the screen.
Tony.
He answered with mild irritation.
"You'd better have something urgent. If this is about recommending twin models again, I'm dismantling your armor."
Despite only knowing each other for a few months, they had developed a strange camaraderie.
"Do I sound that boring?" Tony shot back.
"Yes," Richard replied instantly.
"I'm not calling for that," Tony said, voice turning serious. "I'm calling because you mutants are about to have a serious problem."
Richard sat upright.
"What kind of problem?"
"Trask Industries developed an X-gene cure."
The words landed heavily.
"They're holding a press conference tomorrow morning."
Richard's expression hardened.
"Are you sure?"
"I wouldn't call if I wasn't," Tony replied. "From what I gathered, it neutralizes any mutation caused by the X-gene."
Silence stretched between them.
"You understand what that means," Tony continued. "And there's more. People at the White House mentioned you specifically. They're considering reaching out again."
Richard chuckled faintly.
"If they try to negotiate under threat, they'd better prepare for the consequences."
"Don't underestimate this," Tony warned. "Two months ago, the military placed large orders for specialized firearms and ammunition."
His tone lowered.
"If that cure gets into your system, you lose your abilities. Even you."
A pause.
"But if you're captured, I'll get you out. You're fourth on my friend list. I won't let anything happen to you."
Richard smirked.
"If I were that easy to catch, I wouldn't be your friend."
He ended the call.
The cure.
He had hoped it would not surface in this universe. There had been no Statue of Liberty incident. No Alkali Lake disaster.
Yet here it was.
He processed it quickly.
As long as mutants existed, governments would pursue containment methods. If someone with abilities similar to Leech had been found, development was inevitable.
"Is it dangerous?" the White Queen asked from beside him.
"For mutants with weak defenses, extremely," he replied.
She frowned.
"Bullets can't pierce your skin."
"That's not the issue," Richard said calmly. "What if it's aerosolized? Mixed into water? Embedded in food?"
The cinematic version with cure darts did not concern him.
But a mass-deployment model?
That changed things.
Still, even the cure did not worry him as much as one possibility.
If Jean were pushed emotionally—if the mutant community fractured under the promise of "normality"—if fear and betrayal surged—
The mental cage might crack.
Richard exhaled slowly.
This was not coincidence.
The X-gene cure might very well be the catalyst that turns Jean Grey into the Dark Phoenix.
.....
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