[22]

[Indeed, Dante. While it is technically possible to integrate the Ebony Blade into your body, it's important to remember that the sword essentially carries a curse with it. Its corrupted nature could potentially cause unforeseen problems or complications in the future. However, if you're willing to accept the risks, the process would indeed be quite similar to the integration of other artifacts.]

I absorbed Zyanya's cautionary words, a flicker of concern crossing my features. I understood the gravity of the situation but remained determined to proceed since it turns out pulling an Emiya Shirou was actually possible.

"What should I do about Armena and Laurie then? They don't exactly have a magical sword to wield like me."

[That's not necessary. Well, for the latter, at least. Anyone who acquires your brand essentially inherits a shroud of obscurity that gives them a certain level of immunity to mental intrusions, just like you. However, in a way, I suppose it could also be debated to be superior, as the brand irrevocably turns them into something akin to your belongings, subsequently allowing you full control over what's visible or not to the telepathic assailant.]

I was left rather stumped at that, feeling somewhat disappointed. The fact that I couldn't at least be given the same level of defensive measures in a mental sense that is given to whoever I decide to brand was more than a little insulting. However, I chose not to dwell on it for very long, and instead eventually moved on to more important matters.

Nodding in acceptance of the system's response, I carefully stowed the Aegis Breastplate and the holographic disguise mask into my inventory, their weightless presence a reminder of the power they held.

My gaze lingered on the holographic disguise mask for a moment before it blinked out of sight, considering its potential applications. However, my attention soon shifted back to the Ebony Blade, which reappeared on the kitchen counter before me.

As I reached out to grasp the handle of the Ebony Blade, an unsettling energy washed over me, sending shivers down my spine. At first, it felt like a cold chill creeping into my bones, causing my muscles to tense with apprehension.

But as I tightened my grip on the sword, the sensation began to shift. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the energy surrounding me transformed from unnerving to euphoric, like a rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and I felt my mind and will begin to sway under its influence.

Just as I felt myself starting to lose control, Zyanya's voice broke through the haze of sensation, reminding me of the risks and requirements of integrating the Ebony Blade into my being. With a jolt of clarity, I realized the gravity of the situation and knew that I had to act quickly.

Summoning all my resolve, I took a deep breath and plunged the Ebony Blade into my own chest. A blinding flash of light erupted from the point of impact, enveloping the room in its brilliance before fading away as quickly as it had appeared.

As the light dissipated, I found myself staring blankly at the wall in front of me, my mind reeling from the intensity of the experience. Sensations unlike any I had ever known coursed through me, and I struggled to make sense of them.

There was a differential increase in my energy, I realized, though I couldn't quite quantify it. It felt more like a brief wave of adrenaline, fleeting yet potent in its effects.

Taking a moment to collect myself, I focused on internalizing the sensations emanating from my pseudo-fusion with the Ebony Blade. It was a power unlike anything I had ever known, and I knew that I would have to tread carefully if I ever decided that harnessing its full potential was something I wanted to try and achieve. There was no telling what that truly entailed, however.

As I looked down at my hands, a strange sensation began to well up within me, growing stronger the more I focused on it. It was unfamiliar and unsettling, like a presence lurking just beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed.

But I refused to let it consume me. Shaking my hands off as if they were wet, I tore my gaze away, unwilling to entertain the thought of what might happen if I allowed the sensation to take hold.

Instead, I reached for my phone, fingers moving with purpose as I found Xavier's number once again. Taking a moment to gather my thoughts, I contemplated what I would say before finally dialing the number.

As the phone began to ring, I raised it to my ear, the sound of the ringing echoing in the silence around me. For a moment, I simply listened, the weight of the call resting heavy on my shoulders as I waited for Xavier to pick up on the other end.

As I waited for Charles Xavier to pick up the phone, a sense of anticipation tingled in the air. When he finally answered, his voice was calm and composed, with a hint of warmth that put me at ease despite my nerves.

"Hello, this is Charles Xavier speaking," he greeted, his tone carrying a certain amount of weight.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Xavier," I replied, my tone respectful. "My name's Dante Luca, and I..."

Returning the pleasantries, I found myself stumbling over my words slightly as I tried to articulate the reason for my call. But as the conversation flowed, I gradually found my rhythm, and eventually revealed the purpose of my inquiry.

"I know someone who could really benefit from your help," I explained, my voice growing more confident as I spoke. "She's a mutant, and she's looking for answers that only you can provide."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Charles responded, his interest piqued by my request. After a brief discussion, we came to an agreement to set up a meeting, scheduled to take place four days later.

As we bid farewell to each other, I was the one to end the call, a rush of adrenaline coursing through me as I hung up the phone. Without even giving myself a chance to second-guess my actions, and before I could dwell on the significance of the conversation, I immediately dialed another number, as I forced my mind to already be moving onto the next task at hand.

When Armena's voice came through the line, slightly timid yet still warmhearted, I couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. I wasted no time in proposing a visit to her house, two days from now, eager to pick up where we left off.

"My husband will pretty much be home the entire day tomorrow." She explained, and I understood.

As I made my intentions clear, Armena's response was surprisingly accepting, her desire seemingly fueled by the memory of our previous encounter. I couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at the prospect of seeing her again.

With those arrangements made, I ended the call and continued to move, the sound of my shoes echoing quietly across the floor as I made my way out of the apartment. As Laurie peeked her head out in curiosity, I wordlessly compelled her to return inside, knowing that I had no time to spare for questions.

With a sense of determination driving me forward, I set off, intent on daringly returning to the museum for some more items I remembering seeing while there, but had originally decided not to grab since I was afraid of somehow being caught. My mindset had shifted somewhat during my call with Xavier, and even though the future seemed very uncertain, I was now determined to live through this second chance at life of mine with a renewed vigor.

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Fuck all this hiding shit.

Once I acquired a few more items from the museum, I was intent on making a name for myself in some way or another by initially selling some of my merchandise for the low on the streets. Then, after I got a little buzz, I would gradually begin to escalate the improvement of my wares. At that point, however, I figured Harlem wouldn't be my only playground. Reaching out to other areas in Manhattan, at the least, was the best play if I wanted to go big.

Eventually, it would no doubt get me into some big trouble, but I would cross that bridge once I got there. I didn't want to just live out the rest of my life in hiding, in fear of being opposed by characters that I had grown up watching and developed varying degrees of attachment towards. It was what it was, I supposed.

Turning to glance up at the familiar sight of the museum for a brief moment, I slowly made my way around to the back instead of taking the same approach as last time, all while taking note of a few presences nearby that had clearly been alerted to the deliberately-created blackout earlier, as well as the disappearance of some of the museum's artifacts. The symbol etched into the outfits of the agents moving around the place was one I had been hoping to see much later on during my time in New York City, but it seemed a confrontation between SHIELD and I was going to be a rather inevitable occurrence some time within the near-future.

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I'd like everyone to keep in mind that Dante is just a human being. Also, he's sixteen years old, so curb your expectations of him being some kind of genius, or master planner, or whatever. The dude is just a teenager with a high sex drive and a delusion that the universe he's in is similar to a videogame, as his perception of the 'characters' around him are just that. Characters.

For the most part, anyway.