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Chapter 69: I Can Fix Her
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[Information: Barely Richer Than An Ant]
[Natural Traits]
Envy(B): Slow. Stupefy. Brittle. Misfortune. Fade. Hollow. Recoil.
[Information Traits]
Technopathy(A). chanical Force(B). Information Vision(B). Ying Yang Harmony (A).
Ying Yang Harmony.
The term itself was familiar; a fundantal concept of complentary dualities from Chinese philosophy: light and dark, hot and cold, creation and dissolution.
The power to balance and manipulate such fundantal forces would have been a universe-altering boon.
But that’s not what he got.
The knowledge of the trait flooded into him, and it was… ludicrously specific.
This Ying Yang Harmony (A) revolved entirely around a very niche, very personal application of the concept: dual cultivation.
A Taoist sexual practice.
Its capabilities were intimate and profound: forging an eternal, unbreakable soul-deep bond between partners; catalyzing rapid mutual healing and recovery; enhancing spiritual senses; providing a continuous, gentle strengthening of body and soul for both parties; and fostering a state of profound taphysical harmony.
Adam stood frozen on the Xavier lawn, the wind ruffling his white hair.
How?
Why?
He wasn’t Chinese. He’d spent 95% of his conscious ti neck-deep in machinery, data, and combat.
His “debauchery” was a stress-relief valve, his happiest ti, sure, but it wasn’t his focus.
How could the culmination of his guided effort, his stolen genius, his accumulated cosmic attention, result in… this?
Was he supposed to offer himself as a cosmic sex toy to phisto to “Strengthen their bond”? The absurdity was so vast it looped back around to being terrifying.
He felt his sanity, already frayed, give another audible twang. He began to laugh, a quiet sound.
He had to find logic. He overclocked his brain, cross-referencing audience data streams, historical [Information] patterns.
The answer, when it ca, was both stupid and blindingly obvious. People are so fucking horny and perverted!!
Is all you guys think about is sex!?
The TV show of his life in the other world. It had gone stratospheric. The primary driver of its insane popularity? Two massive, incredibly engaged demographics: India and China.
The Chinese audience, in particular, has a cultural affinity for reincarnation narratives, power fantasy, and yes, harem tropes and cultivation thes involving yin-yang dual cultivation.
Their collective observation, their engagent, had statistically drowned out all other data points.
Their fan theories, their desires, and their cultural lens had shaped the [Information].
They hadn’t seen a technopath building a suit; they’d seen the ultimate cultivation protagonist collecting a celestial harem... Sohow.
And the [Information] had delivered.
Adam stopped laughing. He felt a profound, cosmic sense of irony settle over him.
He had tried to ga the system, and the system had gad him back with the power of demographic analytics.
Welp, he thought, the last of his coherent plans turning to dust. I guess the old boundaries of ‘extre’ just got redrawn.
He looked down at his hands, then towards the mansion where Jean was healing Charles.
The power thrumd within him, useless for fighting demons, useless for building better guns.
But it was an A-rank trait. It had potential. It just required a… different kind of strategy.
A slow, new, and deeply unsettling smile spread across Adam Cypher’s face. If the universe insisted on giving him a harem protagonist’s cheat skill in the middle of a demonic war…
…Then he would simply have to beco the most overpowered harem protagonist in all of existence.
FUCK NO!!! I don't fucking want this garbage long-term bullshit!! Give so good shit!?
Why do I want a relationship when my DMs are filled to the brim with ssages from models?
Why have a relationship with soone who's gonna die anyway? Just to fucking suffer?
So I have to fucking date a skeleton now and fuck it to establish the bond? Why don't the skeleton just shove its bone down my throat and drown out of this fucking reality?
Who the fuck designed [Information]? Why is it so good at being fucking logical? Be illogical for once and give what I want!!
Adam would've continued to complain endlessly had he not been snapped back to reality by the steps nearby.
It was Jean’s approach that anchored him back to the scarred lawn, her presence a warm counterpoint to the cold absurdity of his new… condition.
“Adam? Are you okay?” She asked, her brow furrowed. The darkness was gone from her eyes, replaced by familiar, vibrant green, now tinged with concern. “Did sothing happen?”
She felt his emotions chaotic like never before.
He shook his head, a faint smile returning. “I’m fine. Just… sothing ca up. An unexpected developnt.” He smoothly pivoted. “How’s the Professor?”
Jean’s expression softened. “His mind is strong. I didn’t need to do much but guide him back to the surface. That kind of brainwashing can’t hold a mind like his for long."
"It’s Scott and Ororo who need ti. Their bodies and minds… they were the conduits for the pain.” A shadow passed over her face. She gestured with her chin toward the limp, hovering form of William Stryker. “What will you do with him?”
Adam’s gaze shifted from Jean to the broken colonel. His mind, however, was studying her.
The ash of the Purifiers. The darkness he’d seen in her eyes; not just shadow, but a total eclipse filled with dancing embers.
The Dark Phoenix.
The term scrolled through his [Information] feed, a deluge of comntary and comic lore.
He pieced it together. The Phoenix Force was not a demon to be exorcised, but a cosmic constant; a being of creation, destruction, evolution, and rebirth, drawn to limitless psychic potential.
Jean Grey was its perfect match. A fragnt of it lived within her, a symbiotic, volatile reactor.
His understanding crystallized: The Phoenix doesn’t corrupt. It amplifies. It supercharges emotions, power, desire, and trauma.
The problem was Jean herself; or rather, the walls she and Charles had built. They helped, at first, but then... Repression. Fear.
The ntal barriers ant to protect her had instead created a pressure cooker.
When the lid blew, the Phoenix’s influence filtered through Jean’s conscience; it was driven by endless dark emotions.
A Dark Phoenix was Jean’s own unfiltered id, given the power to crack planets, her empathy erased by the sheer scale of her hunger and pain.
[The Phoenix isn’t evil! It’s a force of nature! Jean’s repression is the problem!]
[Nah, it's evil. It was made to be evil due to Jean's dark emotions and desires.]
[There are so universes where the Dark Phoenix is born due to the Hellfire Club's scheming. This one seems different.]
[But a Dark Phoenix is still a galaxy-level threat. Her “id” eating a star is kinda bad.]
[I can fix her!!]
So why was this newly stirred force so… well-behaved? Why had it receded when he touched her? He saw the answer in Jean now.
She stood taller. Her gaze was clearer, less haunted. The Phoenix had woken up, yes, but Jean doesn't seem to be fighting it.
She was… accepting it. Integrating it. The power wasn’t controlling her; she was learning to channel the river, not dam it.
Jean noticed his prolonged, studying stare. “Why are you looking at like that?” She asked, a hint of self-consciousness entering her voice.
Adam laughed, the sound breaking the tension. Instead of answering, he took a step back.
At his ntal command, the six-ard suit, which had been standing sentinel, whirred to life.
The V-shaped chest piece disengaged from its dormant state, detached from his torso with a series of magnetic clicks, and the limbs flexed.
Two arms reached out and grasped the comatose Stryker in an unbreakable hold.
“Let’s just say I’m appreciating the view,” Adam said cryptically, then gave the suit its orders.
The chanical marvel crouched, then launched itself skyward, thrusters blazing, carrying William Stryker towards the upper atmosphere.
A one-way trip to a final, disintegrating cremation in the thermosphere. Deletion from existence.
Jean watched it shrink to a speck, confusion and understanding warring on her face.
Adam’s relaxed smile returned. “Life,” He mused, “Can be beautifully destructive, don’t you think?” He turned his full attention back to her.
“Speaking of which… That power of yours. The dust. The dark eyes. Can you control it? Or do you need another hug?” His tone was light, but his single hazel and single grey eye were deadly serious.
Jean tilted her head; she could feel his emotions. She saw no fear. Only curiosity, calculation, and a bedrock of… envy.
“Do you think I can?” She countered, her voice soft.
Adam raised a brow. He gave the question genuine, careful thought. “I don’t fully understand it. And I usually avoid expectations; they limit surprise. But for you, I’ll make an exception.”
He t her gaze. “Yes. I believe you can. But more importantly,” He added, a smirk touching his lips, “The confidence in your own eyes is what convinces the most.”
A brilliant, relieved smile broke across Jean’s face. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug, burying her face in his shoulder.
“Since you believe in so much… I’m starting to believe in myself too. Maybe I’m becoming a little more like you.” She pulled back just enough to look at him.
“I don't fully understand how I did it before, but I feel like I can control it. I just need to… stop holding myself back. Accept all of it. So, don’t mind if I act a little strange sotis.”
“Sounds like fun,” Adam said, hugging her back, his voice a warm rumble in his chest.
[The bubbling romance! Fuck, my virgin heart can't handle it.]
[I hope Jean finds so peace. In almost every continuity in the comics, she's miserable.]
[Readheads for the win!!]
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