X-23 Laura?

Suddenly—

[Mental Defense Experience +1]

The instant the system's cold notification sounded in his mind, Russell's instincts raised the alarm.

He spun around, his hawklike gaze locking onto the twisted wreckage of the elevator behind him.

A brown-haired girl stepped shakily out of its ruined doorway.

She looked no older than fifteen or sixteen, slender and still young in the face. But her eyes held emotions far too complex for her age.

Awe, unease, curiosity, and a barely perceptible trace of fear.

"Lord Russell is so powerful... Even my telepathy can't read his thoughts," the brown-haired girl murmured.

Noticing Russell narrow his eyes, the girl trembled. She hurried forward a few steps, head lowered and hands twisting together nervously, her voice plainly uneasy:

"I'm very... sorry, Lord Russell! I—I didn't mean to read your thoughts. It was just my... instinct. I promise it won't happen again."

Behind her, a louder commotion came from the elevator shaft.

A burly man built like a bodybuilder stood on a huge, twisted iron plate whose edges were still smoking, ferrying the surviving Mutants up from below.

The plate was clearly a piece of metal torn forcibly from somewhere. It now floated in the shaft as a makeshift elevator.

The man's ability seemed to be some form of Telekinesis or metal manipulation.

Judging by his control, its precision was nowhere near Russell's Psychic Telekinesis, but it was good enough for transport.

Russell gave no answer to the girl's frightened apology.

He simply stood guard by the door leading outside, calmly watching the elevator as more and more Mutants climbed up from underground and stepped into the surface world they had not seen in so long.

Most were in miserable shape: wounded, dressed in rags, their faces dazed with the shock of survival as they squinted against the sunlight.

"Laura! Laura! I'm here!"

The brown-haired girl, who had kept her head down, suddenly cried out in delight. Her unease vanished as she rushed toward a figure emerging from the crowd.

It was a blonde girl who looked no older than thirteen or fourteen. She was small, with a little baby fat still in her face, but her eyes held an animal wariness and detachment.

She wore an ill-fitting, tattered prison uniform and was barefoot, with dried blood on the soles of her feet.

Russell followed the brown-haired girl with his gaze. When his eyes settled on the blonde, he frowned slightly.

The blonde girl's hands hung naturally at her sides. But from between the knuckles of each hand protruded three sharp steel claws that gleamed like daggers, with dried blood still on them.

Laura?

A name flashed through Russell's mind.

The girl from Logan who had the same powers as Wolverine—X-23, also known as Laura.

She was a product of Genetic Engineering, with an Adamantium skeleton and claws, as well as Superhuman Healing.

Was it a coincidence? Or...

He did not rush to a conclusion. He merely filed the name away. As far as Russell was concerned, this Laura probably just happened to share X-23's name.

Time passed, and the stream of Mutants emerging from the elevator gradually dwindled, then stopped altogether.

The burly man controlling the iron plate was drenched in sweat and pale-faced, plainly exhausted from overusing his power.

He stopped lowering the plate to search. That meant there were no living Mutants left beneath the base.

Panting heavily, the burly man gave Russell a solemn nod.

Thirty-eight people.

Russell surveyed the ragged, battered survivors before him.

He clearly remembered that at least several hundred Mutants had been imprisoned in this base.

That meant more than ninety percent of them had died in the bloody revolt for freedom, in their fight against oppression. They would remain five hundred meters underground forever as cold corpses.

The cost was crushing. And most of the Mutants who had survived were Level One Mutants.

They had lived because their weaker abilities had kept them at the back, and because luck had been on their side.

But at least it was over.

The exit to the outside world lay just behind him. Dazzling sunlight poured through the open metal doors, casting a warm golden patch across the ground.

Every survivor looked at that light, their eyes brightening with some mix of excitement, longing, disbelief, and a trace of... fear of the unknown.

"Mr. Russell!"

A Mutant with burn scars on his face bowed deeply to Russell. His voice was hoarse but full of gratitude. "Thank you! If it weren't for you, we would have..."

He did not finish, but everyone knew what he meant.

If Russell had not destroyed the Suppression Collars' central control room, if he had not led them through one obstacle after another, if he had not reversed the elevator's fall at the last moment...

They would either still be lying in cold cells, waiting for their next dissection, or already be dead at the claws of those "Hounds."

"Lord Russell!" shouted another Mutant, parts of whose body were deformed. "I want to follow you! Wherever you go, I'll go."

His cry seemed to ignite something. More voices rose:

"Yes! Let's follow Lord Russell."

"Take us with you!"

"We'll do as you say!"

Russell raised a hand, quieting the restless crowd. He looked over every excited, expectant face. His voice was soft, but everyone heard him clearly:

"You're free. Now go."

He paused, his gaze steady. "You don't need to follow me. You'd be in more danger if you did.

You saw what I did. The guards who died, the equipment that was destroyed, the 'Hounds' that were killed... The government and the military won't let this go.

And I'll be the top target they come after. If you want to live, split up. The farther apart you are, the better. Find somewhere to hide and keep a low profile. That's the smart choice."

With that, he gave no one a chance to reply. He turned and walked straight toward the dazzling sunlight beyond the doors.

The thirty-odd Mutants remained where they were, looking at one another.

Russell had a point.

Escaping this underground base did not mean they were truly free. For Mutants, it only meant leaving one cage for another, much larger one.

The vast world outside was just as full of hostility, discrimination, pursuit, and killing.

The government and the military would never let them go. Search teams, Mutant trackers, perhaps even more advanced "Hounds," might already be on their way.

And Russell, who had fought through an entire base single-handedly, destroyed its central control room, and stopped a rocket with his bare hands, would undoubtedly be their top target. Every force hunting them would be set on him.

Staying by his side would be like walking to the execution ground with him.

As everyone hesitated, someone moved.

It was the brown-haired girl. The hesitation in her eyes lasted only an instant before giving way to firm resolve.

She took the blonde girl Laura by the hand and, without looking back, ran after Russell.

Perhaps the brown-haired girl's choice swayed them. Or perhaps it was the sight that greeted them beyond the doors.

The ochre desert stretched as far as they could see, its earth cracked beneath the scorching air. Whatever the reason, three more visibly deformed Mutants gritted their teeth and chose to follow Russell.

As for the others... after a moment of silence, they scattered in different directions and soon vanished among the dunes and rocks.