Hale swallowed. "You're… that mutant?"
The words came out softer than he intended. Fear crept in—real this time. Not the loud, performative kind he used on camera, but the quiet kind that hollowed his chest.
He knew the reports. He knew the scale.
The mutant involved in last night's incident had been classified as Combat Alpha-level—the same category as Magneto, one of the most dangerous mutants on record.
The anchor froze.
Unlucky day, he thought dimly. He'd expected an angry activist. Maybe a radical. Not this. Not the man whose footage had been looping on every screen since dawn.
Someone near the lighting rig took an unconscious step back.
It hit the room all at once.
The calm man sitting under studio lights—hands relaxed, expression steady—was the one responsible for the bodies sprawled across last night's headlines.
A mass murderer.
And he was sitting three feet away.
No one moved. No one breathed too loudly.
"Yes," Luke answered calmly. "I won't sugarcoat it. I'll be frank. Killing doesn't faze me. My hands are stained with more blood than I can count—millions, at this point."
In Resident Evil, he was the one who exterminated the entire Umbrella Corporation—an organization with resources rivaling governments and millions under its control.
And if this government didn't change course, he wouldn't mind starting all over again here.
He let that settle before adding, evenly, "And you should understand something else. I don't mind if that number goes up."
Shock rippled through the broadcast.
Across the city—and far beyond it—viewers stared at their screens, the earlier momentum snapping in half.
Moments ago, many had seen him as a sharp-tongued patriot, someone saying the uncomfortable things no one else would. Now the mask they'd projected onto him shattered.
This wasn't a hero speaking.
This was something far more dangerous: a man who didn't seek approval, didn't plead for understanding, and didn't bother pretending he needed permission.
In the studio, no one interrupted him.
The anchor's mouth opened, then closed again. Hale's practiced confidence faltered, his smile gone entirely.
"And now," Luke said calmly, "your actions are creating more people like me."
"You call mutants powerful. Dangerous." His lips twitched, not quite a smile. "Yet you hunt them. Corner them. Drag them away like animals. Do you really not see the stupidity in that?"
He leaned back slightly. "A cornered animal fights back. And you're not dealing with animals—you're dealing with people. People who can level cities."
His eyes hardened.
"Picture this," Luke continued. "A mutant. Not a criminal. Just someone with a family. A life. And you decide to 'capture' them."
A brief pause.
"And their family dies in the process."
Hale stayed silent.
"That's the moment," Luke said. "Not ideology. Not rebellion. Mass destruction."
He leaned forward, just enough for the cameras to catch it. "People stay human because they have something to protect. Take that away, and restraint disappears."
"What's left," he finished quietly, "is a monster."
His gaze lifted straight into the camera.
"And you're the ones making them," Luke said. "You hunt innocents, label them monsters, kill them for existing—and then act shocked when some fight back."
The studio felt airless.
"So answer me this," Luke asked, voice low. "If mutants followed your logic—if they entered your cities the way you enter their homes, and decided every human was fair game—what do you think happens next?"
Across the country, everything slowed.
Arguments died on people's lips. Cars stopped. Protests fell silent.
People looked around—at crowded streets, at the strangers beside them, at the people they loved.
And for the first time, they weren't picturing mutants as the threat.
They were picturing the aftermath.
"And I understand why you're afraid," Luke continued, his voice steady. "Living beside people who possess powers beyond yours is uncomfortable. Fear is human nature."
"So let me ask this," he said, eyes fixed on the camera. "Is the government willing to take even one step toward coexistence?"
Hale answered immediately. "No. We cannot coexist with people who pose an inherent danger."
Luke nodded slowly, as if he'd expected that.
"Then I'll offer an alternative." He leaned forward slightly. "I will purchase an island. A sovereign location. Mutants will relocate there. Away from your cities. Away from your fear."
Hale stared at him. "An… island?" he scoffed. "Do you have any idea what that costs?"
He didn't believe this guy could even afford their smallest island.
Luke didn't reply with words.
Gold and diamonds spilled into existence midair, clattering across the studio floor—coins, bars, gemstones—more wealth than most people would see in a lifetime.
"I can afford it," Luke said calmly. "The only question is whether your government is willing to allow coexistence—or whether you'd rather admit you never wanted it in the first place?"
Hale hesitated.
And then—
The broadcast cut.
Screens across the country went black.
People stared at their TVs, remote controls clicked uselessly, murmurs rising in living rooms and bars alike. The question hung everywhere—what did the government say?—and the silence answered it far louder than any speech.
The broadcast never returned.
***
"Hmph. Coexistence."
William Stryker turned away from the monitor, lips curling in quiet contempt. The only reason he'd allowed the transmission to continue this long was simple: it fixed the target in one place so that they could make arrangements to deal with it.
A voice spoke behind him. "Orders, sir?"
Stryker didn't hesitate. "Proceed."
Outside the media building, the sky roared. Fighter jets screamed overhead, rotors thundered as helicopters dropped into position. Sentinels descended next—metal giants locking down streets with mechanical precision.
On the ground, armored vehicles rolled in, soldiers disembarking in sealed suits, loading weapons tipped with mutant-suppression compounds.
Civilians were forced back. Streets were cordoned off. Every exit was sealed.
"This was never about debate," Stryker said coldly.
He looked once more at Luke on the screen.
"The mutant delivered himself to us."
And now, the government's response was no longer words—but force.
*****
A/N: If you'd like to read chapters ahead of the Webnovel release schedule, you can join my Patreon!
The Patreon version is already updated up to Chapter 211.
👉 patreon.com/Universal_Peace