Looking at the fallen Mystique, Kurogai stood calm, his expression neutral. From the moment she chose to oppose him, she had become his enemy. And for Kurogai, hesitation had no place when dealing with an enemy.

"Dead… she is dead. What do we do now?"

"Forget what to do, we can't even move! Damn it, our bodies won't respond!"

"What kind of monster is this? How can he wield such terrifying power?"

For the newly mutated death-row prisoners, Mystique had been like a pillar—someone who gave them direction after their forced transformation. Her fall was a crushing blow. Bound and unable to move under Kurogai's curse, their fear only deepened, panic spreading like wildfire.

"Brother Kurogai, which one of the rest do we take on?" Skye asked. Until now, she had been focused on protecting Jean and the other scientists, unable to unleash her full power. Now, with them safe, she was eager to fight. But Kurogai raised a hand to stop her.

"Skye, you've done enough. You've worked hard protecting them. Take a breather now. I'll handle the rest of these insects myself."

His voice was cold, his gaze sharper than the edge of his scythe. He was furious—these wretches had dared harm Jean, and for that, they would pay. The anger inside him demanded blood.

"…I understand, Brother Kurogai." Skye hesitated for a moment, then nodded. She could sense his resolve. Instead of arguing, she returned to Jean's side, helping the shaken scientists regain their composure.

"It's your turn now."

Kurogai's voice dropped to a chilling murmur as he stepped toward the restrained prisoners. His scythe gleamed with an eerie, otherworldly glow, its presence alone enough to chill the soul.

Though their abilities had been sealed by his power, the genetic alterations in their bodies remained. That meant one thing—Kurogai could still harvest their blood. It was another reason he chose to handle this personally. But above all, they had hurt Jean. That was unforgivable.

He raised the scythe, its edge shimmering with grim finality, and swung.

The prisoners screamed in terror, thrashing against their bindings, but none could break free. Their cries were drowned out by the sound of Kurogai's weapon reaping its toll. Each strike drained their blood essence, absorbed fully by the cursed blade.

It was bloody—yet strangely beautiful. The weapon devoured every drop, leaving behind no mess, only the haunting image of lives being snuffed out in silence.

One by one, the condemned fell. In less than an hour, every last prisoner in the chamber was dead, their mutant genes collected by Kurogai.

But he didn't stop there. His steps echoed coldly as he moved deeper into the spacecraft. Others remained—mutants who had not stood with the witch. Proud, arrogant, and scattered across different parts of the vessel.

It made no difference. Wherever he went, the scythe followed, cutting them down one by one.

By the time half a day passed, Kurogai had slain the last of them. He finally lowered his scythe, his expression unreadable.

"That should be the last of them. Though… there are always strays."

He gazed out toward the endless sea beyond the ship. Most of the mutants lacked the ability to survive in such an environment. But perhaps one or two with aquatic gifts had slipped away. He did not care to chase them. If they had refused to join the riot from the beginning, then they weren't worth his time.

As the silence settled, a sudden message reverberated through his mind.

The third pupil ring is saturated. Advancement available. Do you wish to proceed?

A slow grin tugged at Kurogai's lips. He had been waiting for this moment.

"Finally. I've waited long enough."

The requirement had been clear: mutant genes. It was the reason he had allowed Jean and the others to pursue the gene experiments in the first place. Now, after all this time, the fruit of his plan was ready to be claimed. His pulse quickened with anticipation.

"Do it. Evolve."

The command resonated through him. The third ring of his Ultimate Pupil began to glow faintly, its intricate lines weaving into a more complex form. A warm current surged through his optic nerves, seeping into his eyes.

He could feel the change. His vision sharpened, reality itself bending slightly under his gaze. The Pupil was evolving again.

Slowly, Kurogai opened his eyes—now transformed.

___

Happy New month