Rumble!!!
Lead-colored storm clouds blanketed the sky, thunder slithering through them like hidden dragons.
Waves of wind surged like tides, driving the clouds forward with a roar like a dragon tearing through the air.
Between the rolling banks of cloud and the vast waters below, it was as if a divine dragon soared through mist and fog, until it was torn apart by a brilliant azure light. The deafening sound was like spring thunder rolling endlessly, carrying for dozens of kilometers, stirring up boundless waves across the heavens.
Those startled by the great noise looked up from the ground, thinking German warplanes had arrived.
But the sight before their eyes shattered their understanding of reality.
Amid the constant snowfall and the dim gray-white sky, a massive rift, hundreds of feet wide, split the heavens apart. Wherever the azure light passed, it dragged with it piercing sonic booms and fierce gusts.
The world above became crystal clear, the storm clouds and snow gone.
Long-absent sunlight poured through the rift, casting a straight beam of golden warmth over the towns and forests along its path.
Those who had suffered under the ravages of war, seeing both the sunlight and the dazzling blue radiance, believed that the Valkyries, Odin's messengers of good fortune, had descended. One by one, they knelt, praying fervently for blessings.
That blue streak was none other than the man called Luca.
Inside, his heart burned with urgency. He drove the power in his body without restraint, desperate to go faster.
Faster.
Faster!
Even faster!
The parting gift he had left for Yvette, without even realizing it at the time, had been a shard of his own soul.
And just minutes ago, he felt that shard flare to life, triggered by her rage. Through it, he could clearly sense the despair and terror that now filled her heart.
Yvette… was in danger!
Rage boiled in his chest, and at some point his eyes had turned a burning crimson-gold.
Driven by the mix of fury and fear, his speed suddenly multiplied several times over. The terrifying sonic booms roared like thunder across the sky, shattering even the tangible barrier of sound before him.
In just minutes, he crossed mountain ranges and forests.
A small town, both familiar and strange, grew larger in his sight. But the towering flames and rolling columns of black smoke made his heart seize painfully, a heavy dread flooding his mind.
No… it can't be.
With Old John there, nothing could have happened…
He told himself this over and over, but as he drew closer, the metallic tang of blood carried on the cold wind, the rivulets of red winding through the streets, and the crumbling ruins in his view made his heart grow colder and colder.
From the sky, he dove and landed steadily at the edge of town.
Up close, the scene was even more brutal, impossible to look upon.
Bodies lay everywhere, sprawled in all directions, thousands of them, covering the streets. Blood ran down to the base of the mountain, staining even the snow deep red. Severed limbs and chunks of flesh were scattered among them, a vision straight out of hell.
The corpses, frozen stiff, still bore the expressions they'd worn in their final moments.
Despair. Anger. Resentment. Fear. Pleading. Twisted agony.
Faces he knew, villagers who had once cared for him, were now lifeless, struck down without mercy.
"Yvette… Old John…"
His gaze hardened as he stepped forward.
This ancient town, rich with history, had now been reduced to rubble under the bombardment. Thousands of vibrant lives had been snuffed out. Everywhere he passed was silent, the snow underfoot soaked red with blood.
Finally, he reached the town square.
The weathered stone tiles were shattered under the barrage.
Crater after crater pocked the ground, at least a thousand shells by rough count, densely packed across the square, silently testifying to the brutal battle that had taken place here.
"Someone's still alive?!"
The man's eyes narrowed slightly when he noticed a surviving presence. Without hesitation, he followed the faint trace of life.
In the area where shell craters were densest, countless collapsed ruins had piled into a mound several meters high. The source of that lingering life force was buried directly beneath it.
With a stride forward, the man raised his palm. He struck out with the force of a mountain sliding into place.
Hundreds of tons of rubble shattered like sand ground apart by a raging tide, then were swept away by a fierce gust of wind.
The "survivor" buried underneath was Old John.
But calling him a "survivor" wasn't entirely accurate. At this point, he barely resembled a human, only the upper half of his body remained. Most of his organs were exposed, with even his intestines spilling across the ground.
An ordinary man would have been dead long ago from such wounds.
But Old John was a pure-blooded Asgardian. Though far from the mightiest of his kind, his vitality was many times greater than that of any human. And it seemed that sheer willpower was keeping him alive, if only barely.
"You… came back…"
Old John's dull eyes struggled to focus on the man before him.
"What happened here?"
The man's voice was calm, too calm. Not a ripple of emotion seemed to touch it.
But anyone could see the flames of fury burning within those crimson-gold eyes, flames that threatened to consume everything.
"They… called themselves Hydra…" A bitter smile crossed Old John's face as he forced the words out. "Their leader… a man named Johann Schmidt… told me to hand over the Cosmic Cube, or else he'd kill… everyone."
The Cosmic Cube?
A sudden, splitting pain erupted in the man's head, as though something within was struggling to break free.
Unaware of the man's reaction, Old John pressed on, knowing he had little time left. "I… believed their lies. But after Schmidt got the Cube, he also wanted to take Yvette."
"Yvette was taken?!" The man's voice turned icy as he forced himself through the blinding pain.
"Yes… I couldn't stop them… I could only watch… as they took Yvette away." Tears of blood slid down Old John's face. His agitation made his wounds worse, and he coughed up fragments of his own shattered organs. "I… I know this has nothing to do with you… but I have one last request."
"Tell me. I will grant it."
The man agreed without hesitation to the old man's dying wish.
"Yvette! Yvette! Yvette!"
Summoning the last flare of his life, Old John reached out, clutching the man's sleeve in a death grip. His bloodshot eyes locked onto the man's, and with all the strength he had left, he cried, "Please… you must save Yvette… please… please…"
The man dropped to one knee and took the old man's hand, answering each word with solemn weight. "Rest assured, I will save Yvette."
"Th… thank you…"
Hearing the man's promise, the last light faded from Old John's eyes. His bloodstained hand slipped limply away.
The old man's soul scattered into motes of light, drawn toward Helheim.
"Farewell…"
The man murmured, lifting his gaze to the sky, a strange sorrow creeping into him.
It wasn't because of Old John's pitiful state.
It was because, faced with such cruelty, he felt no sorrow at all, only the numbness of someone long accustomed to death and ruin, like a machine stripped of all feeling.
The only emotion left to him was… anger.