Why be a hero… when you can be a god?

"Good. I've always hated it when someone walks out in the middle of a play—"

"Especially one I'm directing."

The Black King narrowed his eyes, the casual elegance in his voice belying the tension in the room.

He wasn't just reacting to Ron's refusal to flee anymore. What caught his attention now was the deeper implication: this young man not only possessed others' abilities but had used them with frightening ease—and yet he remained unimpressed, unshaken.

Something about Ron didn't add up.

"No—no!"

Angel's face twisted with fear. After a moment of hesitation, she turned and dashed toward the Black King, dropping all pretense of loyalty.

"I-I'm willing! I'll join you! I want to help build a new era for Mutants—please, don't kill me!"

"Angel, what the hell are you doing?!"Alex and Darwin stared at her in disbelief, stunned by her open betrayal.

Ron's expression didn't shift in the slightest. He had seen through her from the beginning—this former stripper had already decided where her loyalties lay tonight.

"A wise choice," Black King said smoothly, giving Angel a satisfied nod. He turned back to the others, his gaze sweeping across the room like a cold blade. "Anyone else?"

His eyes finally stopped on Ron, narrowing further. He was about to speak—perhaps a threat, perhaps an offer. After all, he had already lost two powerful subordinates tonight.

But Ron didn't give him the chance.

"You've talked enough for today." His voice was flat, cutting. "Let me save you the breath."

With that, Ron moved.

In an instant, he slashed forward—razor-sharp claws cutting through the air, his expression as calm as if he were slicing through paper.

"Charge!"

As if answering a silent call, Alex and the others scrambled to their feet, roaring as they launched their attacks in unison.

Though their hope for escape had been dashed, Ron had returned. He hadn't abandoned them. That final gesture—standing against a monstrous enemy by their side—galvanized them with a surge of courage.

"The smart ones are always the minority," Black King remarked coldly, feigning a sigh of disappointment. His eyes darkened.

Without warning, he lunged at Ron, his fist smashing into him with blinding speed and brutal force. Boom! Ron was sent flying across the room, crashing into a wall.

In the same fluid motion, Black King intercepted Alex's high-energy arc blade with his bare palm, absorbing it effortlessly. Then, he turned, flicking his wrist—and unleashed a beam of energy from his hand directly at Banshee.

The young Mutant had just opened his mouth, preparing to emit a sonic scream—but he never got the chance.

The energy blast tore through his chest, leaving a fist-sized hole right through his torso. His body fell limp to the floor, mouth frozen mid-scream, smoke curling from the scorched wound.

"Banshee!"

"You bastard! DIE!"

Furious, Darwin slid forward on his knees, fists transforming into massive hammers of black, rock-like armor. With a roar, he slammed them into Black King's abdomen.

The impact—several tons of force, strong enough to launch a car—landed dead center.

And did nothing.

Black King didn't even flinch.

"I've seen street kids with more punch than that," he sneered, glancing sideways at the stunned Darwin.

Then, with a casual motion, he brought his fist down like a judge's gavel.

Bang!

Darwin was struck with the force of a falling tank. The devastating blow drove his head straight through the floor tiles, embedding half of his body into the ground with a sickening crunch.

Pop!

Angel buzzed into the air, her dragonfly-like wings fluttering furiously. She launched glob after glob of corrosive acid, aiming directly at Alex.

"Angel, you fucking traitor!"

Alex twisted his body, retaliating with a burst of high-energy arc blades. The two clashed mid-air, their powers flaring violently.

Swish!

Ron, who had been sent flying earlier, rebounded off the wall like a predator springing back into action. His agility was feline, his eyes sharp. From his hands, metallic spikes shot out—extensions of his fingernails, honed like tiger claws.

The moment danger loomed, his adaptive survival ability began to awaken and respond.

But—

"Too slow," Black King sneered, effortlessly catching Ron's wrists mid-swipe. "You're slower than my grandmother—and she's been dead for decades."

The sharpened claws stopped mere centimeters from Black King's face, completely immobilized.

"You should've noticed by now—I've been holding back with you," he said coldly, tightening his grip.

"Kid, they called you Ron, right? You're a rare kind. Don't make me kill you."

His voice dropped an octave, tone heavy with menace and calculation. It was a final warning—half threat, half offer—an attempt to bring Ron under his control.

"You can say that after you kill me!"

Ron scoffed, completely unfazed. His adaptive survival ability was fully engaged, pushing his body to evolve on the spot. His muscles thickened, compacted, and surged with growing power—his strength climbing higher with every passing second.

"Hmm?"

Black King's expression shifted slightly. For the first time, he was finding it difficult to maintain control.

His greatest advantage was his ability to absorb and redirect energy. Even with his strength amplified to its peak, he could lift eight or nine tons at most. But now—the force Ron was exerting was beginning to surpass that limit.

"Enough. Come under me. I can give you whatever you want."

Black King narrowed his eyes and triggered the kinetic energy stored in his body, pouring it into his grip in an attempt to shatter Ron's arms.

But in the next instant, Ron's body shifted again.

"I want nothing from you."

His skin and flesh morphed into a dense, steel-like composition, gleaming with a silver sheen. He had adapted once more—this time reinforcing his body to withstand Black King's crushing force.

"Still not listening, huh? Surely there is something you desire, right? Or should I just end you..."

Frustration finally bled into Black King's cold demeanor. His gaze darkened, and the patience in his voice vanished.

After two rounds of testing, it was clear—the young man before him would never kneel, never submit. Worse, his power was too strange, too unpredictable... too dangerous to leave unchecked.

Black King clenched his fists tighter, ready to unleash the energy coursing through his body and tear Ron apart.

But Ron only sneered.

"There is something actually. I'm gonna put some dirt in your eye."

With a mocking grin, he cut off Black King's momentum mid-sentence, throwing out a line straight out of Bully Maguire's playbook.

Bang—!

A flash of light.

The two of them teleported high into the night sky—directly above an enormous steel smelting furnace.

Beneath them, blazing flames surged within the massive pit, spewing out rolling waves of thick, black smoke.

"Goodbye." (A/N: See Ya Chump!)

Still in midair, Ron twisted his body, coiling like a spring, and launched a powerful double kick into Black King's abdomen, breaking free from his crushing grip.

The two separated mid-fall—one rising, the other plummeting.

"If I'd been here longer... if I'd already visited the bottom of the sea, I'd personally escort you to the Mariana Trench."

"But this..." Ron's voice echoed coldly through the wind as he descended.

"This furnace—consider it just an appetizer."

Only the howling wind and the roar of flames answered as the Black King tumbled straight into the inferno.

"Where is this?"

He'd been tricked.

Sebastian Shaw—once a high-ranking Nazi official, now known as the Black King—had never imagined a teenage boy to be this troublesome. Just as he was about to plunge into the blazing furnace, a familiar, acrid stench hit his nostrils. His face twisted in fury.

"Where the hell is this?!" he roared.

"A suburban crematorium."

Ron hovered above, eyes gleaming with cold mockery. His voice was calm, almost indifferent, as he delivered the line like a punchline.

Then, without giving Shaw a chance to react, Ron activated his teleportation and vanished.

"A what..? A crematorium, you say? I'll kill you, boy! I WILL—"

A howl of humiliation and rage echoed across the night sky.

"KILL YOU!!!"

Back at the CIA Base—

With a bang, Ron reappeared in the room.

Darwin had just managed to pull his half-buried body out of the floor. Shaw, unfamiliar with his survival ability, had failed to kill him. Darwin's head had instinctively transformed into hardened steel, allowing him to tank the devastating blow.

Wiping the dust from his face, he looked up at Ron, dazed.

"Where'd that guy go?"

He glanced around, confused. Black King had vanished.

"The suburbs," Ron answered flatly, his gaze shifting to the courtyard where Alex and the others were still fighting.

With a blink, he vanished.

In the next instant, he reappeared above Angel, who had just dodged one of Alex's attacks with a flutter of her wings. Hearing a sudden noise behind her, she instinctively turned her head—but it was already too late.

A gleam of silver flashed through the air.

Slash!

Blood sprayed from her neck, and her body dropped lifelessly to the ground.

Having ended it cleanly, Ron teleported back to the courtyard.

He glanced at the system template window in his mind.

Ability Points: 78,000

Recorded Template: Mutant – Sebastian Shaw (Black King) Unlock Cost: 120,000

Tonight had been productive—he'd acquired three new abilities and amassed a significant number of Ability Points. A very worthwhile night.

The only regret was that he still hadn't earned enough to unlock Shaw's powers.

"No matter," he murmured to himself, "There will be a second act soon enough."