After the crisp crack sounded, it was as if even the wind in the forest had stopped.
The only sound left was Levi's own traitorous heart, pounding wildly in his chest—thump, thump, thump—so loud it felt obnoxious even to himself.
His body reacted purely on instinct.
He gripped the M1A1 submachine gun tightly, the icy stock pressed into his shoulder, the muzzle locked on the direction the sound had come from. His trigger finger rested lightly, ready to squeeze at any moment.
Friend or foe?
The thought flashed through his mind.
He didn't move—didn't even dare breathe normally. In this environment, the slightest unnecessary noise could turn him from hunter into prey.
Snow was the fairest witness of all. It recorded every footprint, exposed anyone who tried to hide.
Levi tilted his head and listened. The enhanced hearing granted by his healing factor let him catch sounds far too subtle for ordinary people.
"Scrrk… scrrk…"
Footsteps crunching softly through deep snow. Careful. Disciplined. And more than one person—at least three or four, moving in a loose formation, searching in his direction.
Levi's heart sank.
The Howling Commandos were all unruly hardcases. Even when cautious, they'd never move with footsteps this clean, this regimented. Especially Logan—when that guy walked, he practically announced it to a kilometer-wide radius.
So there was only one possibility.
Enemies.
Fantastic luck, Levi cursed silently. Just fell out of the sky, haven't even caught my breath, and I run straight into a patrol.
What now?
Run? Don't be stupid. Running through snow left a trail even a blind man could follow. A few bursts of gunfire later, and even with a healing factor, getting riddled with bullets would hurt like hell.
Fight head-on? They had numbers—and automatic weapons. No matter how tough he was, he was still flesh and blood. One clean headshot, and it was over.
Levi's brain kicked into overdrive, just like when he used to debug code in his old life—rapidly analyzing every possibility, hunting for the single path that led to survival.
He quickly scanned the terrain.
He was in a relatively open patch of forest, with little real cover. About fifteen meters to his left lay a massive pine tree that had been knocked down by wind and snow, stretched across the ground like a natural barricade.
That's it.
Decision made.
Without hesitation, he dropped low, almost flattening himself against the snow, crawling toward the fallen tree with quiet, deliberate movements. He made sure not to make a sound.
The short distance took him less than ten seconds.
He slipped behind the thick trunk and stilled, exposing only his eyes through gaps in the branches, staring into the darkness ahead.
Soon, several black shapes emerged between the trees.
Four of them.
They wore white German snow camouflage and carried MP40 submachine guns. Their muzzles covered different angles as they advanced in a textbook diamond formation.
Professionals. Trained and experienced.
Levi's heartbeat quickened. He shrank even lower, barely daring to breathe.
As they drew closer, he could hear their heavy breathing in the cold—and snippets of low-voiced German.
He didn't understand the words, but the intent was obvious.
They were searching for survivors from the crash.
An opportunity.
Levi's eyes narrowed.
He couldn't hide forever. The area wasn't large, and they'd eventually find his tracks—or the parachute snagged in the trees. He had to strike first.
An ambush.
His gaze locked onto the soldier at the rear of the formation.
Trying to take the leader first was stupid in this situation. The best move was to start from the back—quietly, one by one.
He drew his K-BAR knife, gripping it in reverse. The cold handle instantly cooled his sweaty palm, calming his nerves.
The four-man patrol passed the fallen tree. At their closest, they were less than five meters away. Levi could clearly see frost on their gun barrels and the red, windburned skin around their noses.
His heart climbed into his throat.
The first three soldiers passed.
The last man was about to move by his hiding spot.
Now.
The instant the rear soldier's back was fully exposed, Levi moved.
His body sprang forward like a fully drawn bow released. Silent—nothing but a rush of snow-laced wind.
The soldier seemed to sense something and started to turn—
Too late.
Levi's left hand shot out, clamping over the man's mouth like a steel vise. At the same time, the cold blade in his right hand slid cleanly into the side-back of the man's neck—and cut.
"Mmgh—!"
The soldier's body stiffened violently, eyes bulging. Any sound or struggle was smothered by Levi's grip. Warm blood sprayed across his hand.
Levi didn't let go. He supported the man's weight, easing him down into the snow.
No extra noise.
One kill.
He had just started to relax when the three soldiers ahead stopped almost simultaneously.
Spotted?
Levi's heart lurched.
The man in front—clearly the squad leader—raised a hand, signaling a halt, and scanned the surroundings with sharp eyes. They'd noticed their missing teammate.
"Hans?" the leader called quietly in German.
No answer.
Only the wind.
The three remaining soldiers snapped back-to-back, guns raised, muzzles covering the darkness around them. The tension spiked instantly.
Levi knew the truth now.
He was exposed.
The element of surprise was gone. There was no more stealth—only brute force.
He didn't hesitate.
At the exact moment their attention was stretched thinnest, he burst out from behind the fallen tree, his M1A1 roaring to life.
"RATATATATAT!"
Orange muzzle flashes tore through the darkness in a lethal fan. Bullets poured out like rain.
The three soldiers reacted instantly, diving for cover and firing back.
"BRRRRT!"
Three MP40s answered, rounds whipping past Levi's head and smashing into the tree behind him, sending splinters flying.
Levi fired a burst, then ducked back behind the trunk immediately. Standing still against three submachine guns would've been suicide.
A bullet grazed his arm, tearing a bloody groove through his sleeve. Pain flared—but the healing factor kicked in instantly, numbness and itching spreading as the bleeding stopped.
Damn it, Levi cursed internally, teeth clenched. This power saves your life, but it sure as hell doesn't spare you the pain.
He was pinned down. If this dragged on, they'd flank him.
Think.
An idea flashed through his mind.
He pulled a grenade from his webbing, yanked the pin, counted two seconds, then lobbed it hard to the right.
The grenade arced through the air and landed about ten meters away from the soldiers.
BOOM!
The explosion ripped through the forest, blasting snow and dirt skyward. The sudden firelight illuminated half the trees.
The soldiers flinched. Their gunfire stuttered as they instinctively turned toward the blast.
That was the opening.
Levi burst out from the opposite side of the trunk, his submachine gun barking again.
"RATAT!"
This time, no spray.
Controlled fire.
One soldier, just rising from the snow, took two rounds to the chest. Blood blossomed—he collapsed without a sound.
Another managed to swing his gun—
Levi's next shot punched cleanly into his skull.
Two down.
Only the leader remained.
The squad leader was tough. Instead of panicking, he rolled behind a tree and fired wildly toward Levi, trying to suppress him.
Levi's magazine ran dry.
He ducked back, swapped mags in a smooth motion—less than three seconds.
At the same moment, the enemy's gunfire stopped too.
Reloading.
Chance.
Levi's eyes went cold.
He didn't fire.
He charged.
Like a beast unleashed, he sprinted straight at the tree.
The leader finished reloading and looked up—
—and nearly lost his soul.
A dark figure was rushing him at inhuman speed.
He raised his gun, but it was already too late.
Levi closed the thirty-plus meters in a heartbeat.
Just before the man could pull the trigger, Levi kicked his wrist viciously.
Crack!
Bone shattered. The MP40 flew free as the man screamed.
Levi followed instantly, smashing an elbow into the man's temple with brutal force.
Thud.
The leader's head slammed into the tree trunk like a rotten melon. He slid down limply, unconscious—or worse.
Silence returned.
The fight was over.
Less than a minute, start to finish.
Levi stood there, panting heavily, adrenaline still flooding his system. He looked at the four bodies scattered across the torn-up snow.
There was no triumph.
Only exhaustion—and relief.
He crouched by the leader's body and began searching it. Magazines. Grenades. Chocolate.
All useful.
Nothing wasted.
Then—
His gaze fell on the man's collar insignia.
It wasn't the Iron Cross.
It wasn't the SS skull.
It was a small but grotesque metal emblem.
A black skull—beneath it, several twisted shapes like octopus tentacles.
Levi's pupils shrank to pinpoints.
His breathing stopped.
He yanked open the man's collar.
There it was again—tattooed on the side of his neck. The same symbol, larger and clearer, tinged with a sinister red.
"Hydra…"
The word slipped from Levi's lips without him realizing it.
He sprang up and checked the other bodies.
Every single one.
Same emblem.
Same tattoo.
Understanding crashed down on him all at once.
Now he knew why their plane had gone off course.
Now he knew why they'd run into a patrol so "coincidentally."
This wasn't just some ordinary German-occupied zone.
Their drop had landed them squarely inside Hydra's perimeter.
This forest—
was Hydra territory.