The battlefield was drowning in fog. Gunfire echoed briefly, then silence reclaimed the field.
Ryuuto blurred through the haze, his movements like a phantom slicing through the living. The decapitation blade flashed once — clean, merciless. A soldier's body split apart before he even had time to scream.
Blood sprayed across Ryuuto's white shirt, turning it crimson. He didn't flinch.
Another strike. Another life gone.
To him, this wasn't battle. It was release — a twisted kind of meditation.
If he wanted, he could've ended it all instantly. Origin Severance Mode would've wiped the field in seconds. But where was the fun in that?
Ryuuto fought for more than victory. He fought for feeling.
For the thrum in his veins.
For that sharp reminder that he was alive.
The mist rippled with motion — gunfire, screams, the clang of falling armor — and then, silence again.
In less than ten minutes, every soldier lay dead, their blood pooling into the fog. Only one remained: the Vice Admiral leading the armored division.
Ryuuto appeared in front of him, his foot lashing out.
Leaf Hurricane.
The man slammed into a steel wall with a crack. Armor dented. Bones shattered.
Ryuuto strolled toward him, crimson light reflecting off his soaked clothes.
"You devil…" the man rasped.
He wasn't wrong. Ryuuto looked every bit the demon — clothes drenched red, eyes sharp enough to cut steel.
"Where's the bomber?" Ryuuto asked softly. "And the humanoid armor?"
No answer. The man's lips moved, but no sound came out.
Right — Silent Killing Technique was still active.
Ryuuto released it, his voice cutting through the mist again. "I'll ask once more."
The Vice Admiral spat blood. "I won't tell you! Do your worst, freak!"
"Your tone," Ryuuto said, raising his blade, "makes it sound like I won't."
Steel sang. The blade fell.
And silence returned.
"Summon: Ten Thousands Snakes."
A ripple of dark chakra split the ground, and a massive serpent emerged — black-scaled, eyes glowing violet.
"Mmm, that fog…" The creature's voice was oily, ancient. "The Spectral Fog Technique — an assassin's art from the Hidden Mist, isn't it? I didn't expect you to master that. The density of this fog… tied directly to your chakra. Impressive. And—oh, so many corpses. Still warm, too."
Its tongue slithered out, tasting the air. "Seems I'll dine well tonight. Maybe bring a few back for the brood."
"Do what you want," Ryuuto said, dismissing the blade that vanished into mist.
The serpent laughed low and guttural, devouring bodies like a gluttonous storm.
There were over a thousand corpses. Ten Thousands Snakes wouldn't finish anytime soon — not that Ryuuto cared. He had someone else to check on.
He found Susan Storm still enveloped in the fog, her face pale and strained.
"Out of stamina?" he asked, kneeling beside her.
Susan shook her head but leaned forward, pressing into him.
Ryuuto blinked, then smiled faintly. "You know I'm covered in blood, right? You'll ruin your suit."
"I don't care," she murmured, eyes half-closed. "When they attacked earlier, I thought I was going to die. Then you showed up… and suddenly, I felt alive again. Like I could breathe."
Ryuuto stared at her quietly.
"I don't know what's in your heart, Ryuuto," she continued, voice trembling, "but I want to be with you."
"If I walk the road of Asura," he asked, "will you follow me?"
Her gaze hardened. "My hands are already stained with blood. A little more won't scare me."
A quiet laugh escaped him. "Heh… your words, not mine."
He leaned closer, emotion flickering in his eyes. Their lips were inches apart—
—and then, crackle.
A loud laugh echoed from the communicator.
Ryuuto froze. "Oh, hell no."
Susan's face went bright red.
They both realized the same thing — she'd forgotten to mute the line.
Every single X-Men operative still tuned in had just heard everything.
Including Natasha Romanoff.
High above the school, Natasha stood on the roof, wind tugging her red hair.
Her hand tightened around her binoculars as the open channel replayed Susan's "I want to be with you."
A sigh slipped out before she could stop it.
"Should've confessed first," she muttered.
Still, she refocused her lens toward the southeast perimeter.
Her mission came first — heartbreak later.
Nearby, Katie Dee, Jean, and Bobby Drake kept watch over their assigned zones, scanning for any sign of the bomber or humanoid armor.
"Let's go," Ryuuto said finally, taking Susan's hand. "It's done here."
She smiled weakly. "Carry me. I'm injured."
He chuckled. "Sure you are."
Still, he scooped her up easily, ignoring the sticky blood and chaos around them.
He didn't care who heard their earlier exchange — love and war had never been strangers in his world.
At that moment, he felt like a king carrying his queen across a crimson battlefield.
Meanwhile, at the Fantastic Four Base, Reed Richards was deep in conversation with a mutant student whose skin shimmered like a chameleon.
His phone buzzed. Caller ID: Secretary of Defense.
"Hello?"
"Reed! What the hell is going on over there?!"
Reed frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Turn on NBC right now!"
He did — and the news feed made his stomach drop.
Images of the Mutant School burned across the screen. Soldiers. Fire. Death.
"Why did you authorize this?" Reed demanded. "You know what kind of power those mutants have!"
"The operation was necessary," came the gruff voice on the line. "We needed to crush their resistance before it spreads."
Reed's voice hardened. "You sent an armored division into a hornet's nest. Ryuuto alone outclasses the entire Fantastic Four. If we can't handle him, what chance do your soldiers have?"
"I didn't call for your lectures, Richards! I want to know why Invisible Woman was fighting with them!"
Reed sighed, rubbing his temple. "When we decided to separate from government control, every member was free to choose their path. Susan made her own decision. You don't have the right to question that."
"Reed! The Fantastic Four are supposed to stand for justice!"
Reed chuckled dryly. "Funny how you remember that when it's convenient. Ever since the Avengers resolved the New York crisis, you've treated us like outdated tools. Don't preach 'justice' to me now."