Tristin floated in silence.
The black around him wasn't empty — it was alive. Breathing. Folding in and out like the lung of a sleeping god.
His body still steamed from the last fight — Kaneki's template had held him together. Barely.
Then the voice returned.
But this time… it wasn't cold.
It was awake.
<< SYSTEM CORE: UNLOCKED >>
<< TEMPLATE PROTOCOL: EVOLVED >>
<< INITIATING REWARD SEQUENCE >>
A pulse of white light shivered through the void.
<< TEMPLATE: KANEKI >>
STATUS: LOCKED – SHELL PURPOSE COMPLETENOTE: This template was a gift from a Watcher.
Selected to ensure base survival.
It will not evolve further.
The system paused.
Then:
<< YOU PERFORMED WELL >>
<< A NEW TEMPLATE HAS BEEN ASSIGNED >>
<< TEMPLATE: GOJO SATORU — INSTALLED >>
Abilities:
Six Eyes :
Flawless cursed Energy Control: Enables atomic-level precision, reducing technique costs to near-zero—effectively infinite stamina.
Hyper-Processing Mind: Warps perception, stretching moments into minutes for tactical analysis; grants unmatched intellect.
Omniscient Vision: Sees energy flows like a supercharged —analyzes attacks, deciphers techniques, and maps entire battlefields in an instant, even blindfolded.
When the fusion rate reaches **100%**, this template will be fully integrated into your core.
Upon completion, a **new character template** will be made available for selection.
Previously completed templates remain **permanently accessible**.
His eyes snapped open — and the void split with truth. Every particle, every current, every dying echo bent around him like rivers pulled toward gravity. For the first time, he saw everything.
"You are not a mutant.
You are not chosen by nature.
You were selected by something beyond it."
"And they are watching still."
Tristin steps forward, the void peeling back into light.
He hears it:
Applause.
Faint.
But there.
Undisclosed S.H.I.E.L.D. Black Site
Nick Fury watched the footage on loop. No sound. Just movement.
The boy — ripped through the last helicopter and vanished. No portal. No teleport flare. One second he was there, then the frame skipped, and the sky was empty.
He leaned forward, thumb brushing the edge of the monitor.
Maria Hill entered, file under her arm.
"We've confirmed it," she said. "Mutant classification. Every scan before the breach shows a buried X-Gene. No activation signature, no physical manifestation — until today."
Fury didn't look at her. "And now?"
"He's off-grid. Not hidden — gone. Cerebro can't find him. Xavier's gone silent. His last note just said, 'He's not dead.'"
Hill placed the file down on the desk. "Trask wants Sentinel teams mobilized. He's calling it Alpha-potential."
Fury finally looked up. "Of course he is."
He stood, slid the file shut with one hand.
"This wasn't a test gone wrong. This was a mistake given time to fester. They strapped a mutant to a table for four years and told themselves it wasn't dangerous because he didn't fight back."
Hill raised an eyebrow. "And now?"
Fury glanced at the frozen image again.
"That boy bled in silence. Now the world gets to hear what that silence sounds like."
He pulled out a phone. Not a standard one. Encrypted, dead signal unless patched into old S.H.I.E.L.D. fallback systems.
"Who are you calling?"
He looked at her.
"People who still remember what it takes to stop something like this before it gets worse."
Fury locked the office door behind him and keyed in the uplink manually.
No satellites
.No middlemen
Just old wires and older trust.
The line connected.
Three seconds passed.
Then four.
Then: a voice, crisp and alert.
"You know I don't appreciate unexpected calls, Nick."
Fury didn't blink. "And I don't make them without a damn good reason."
"So what is it this time?
Fury took a slow breath. "Black site breach. Subject classified mutant. Off-grid. Xavier can't trace him. I lost six choppers. Twenty dead. The last camera feed showed a boy who smiled while eating half a squad."
There was a brief silence on the other end. Then:
"And you want me to help find him."
"No," Fury said. "Not yet."
"Then what?"
"I want you to build a contingency."
"Containment?"
"If he says no to my offer... if he doesn't want to be an Avenger, or something worse is still buried in him... I need to know we have something ready. Just in case."
Another pause. More thoughtful this time.
"You think he's a threat?"
"I think," Fury said, "he doesn't know what he is yet. But when he figures it out, we better hope he likes our side of the fight."
"And if he doesn't?"
Fury looked at the frozen image still on the monitor — Tristin, cracked mask, red eyes, smiling like a man who'd stopped pretending to be human.
He leaned forward.
"Then I need you to build something that can stop a God before He learns to speak."
Westchester Institute. Cerebro Core. 3:14 A.M.
The doors opened with a soft hiss.
Beast entered, data pad in hand, tension visible behind his glasses.
"Professor," he said carefully. "Cerebro's output just spiked. And so did your vitals."
Xavier removed the helmet slowly, his hands steady—but cautious. As if the wrong move might shatter the world.
"It was a psychic event," he said. "Brief. Violent. It vanished almost the moment it formed."
Beast frowned. "I'm seeing chatter already. Not military—civilians. Footage from lower Manhattan. Something… something *clawed* its way through a rooftop. Then disappeared."
Xavier turned toward the main display. Still blank. Still silent.
"They always assumed he was harmless."
Beast tapped his screen. "Subject 016. Codename: 'Oracle.' No recorded mutation. No psionic trace. Containment-level clearance. They classified him as a passive precognitive."
Xavier shook his head. "He wasn't seeing the future, Henry."
Beast looked up. "No?"
"No. That mind wasn't reaching forward. It was trying to escape. Like it couldn't bear to exist in the present moment — like reality itself was something it refused to accept."
He paused, gaze distant.
"And beneath it all — rage. Hunger. Malice. But also fear. The kind of fear that makes you violent just to survive."
Beast's fingers tensed around the data pad. "Charles…"
Xavier turned to face him fully. His voice was steady, but heavy.
"We have to find him. Before he goes any deeper into whatever he's becoming."
"If there's still a part of him that can be guided back toward something human—"
He looked again at the silent Cerebro display.
"—we owe it to him to try."
Beast nodded grimly. "S.H.I.E.L.D. blackout protocols are collapsing. Footage is leaking already — bodies, gunships, survivors screaming about masks and red eyes. They've lost control."
Xavier didn't flinch.
"Can you trace him?" Beast asked.
"No," Xavier answered quietly. "No signature. No echo."
Beast swallowed. "Then he's gone."
Xavier turned away, his voice low and firm.
"Not gone. Just… somewhere I can't follow."
He was quiet for a moment longer.
Then:
"We call ourselves gifted, Henry."
"But this… this wasn't a gift waking up."
"It was something else — waking *in spite* of one."