No one goes out of their way to crush an ant.
Because no matter how much an ant mutates, no matter how hard it struggles, it can never pose a threat to a human.
To Senju Haruto, Captain Rogers was nothing more than such an ant.
Perhaps from Rogers' standpoint, he could not accept the Superhero Registration Act. Perhaps he would become one of its staunchest opponents.
But at the end of the day, in the grand scheme of things that Haruto was shaping… no one could stop the momentum of the Registration Act.
And no one could possibly interfere with his plans.
Not even Steve Rogers possessed that kind of power.
Besides, there was nothing in this world that could not be altered. And even if such a thing did exist—it was nothing more than the illusion of some higher deity.
If Rogers could be made to "willingly" put his name down in support of the Registration Act, then countless more superheroes would follow his lead.
Refusing to thaw him out because of political calculations—or even killing him here outright—was ultimately meaningless.
"With the current level of technology, thawing Rogers would be impossible. But before magic?" Haruto's voice rang with calm certainty. "Your technology is nothing but the tip of the iceberg."
As he spoke, he lifted his right hand. From the center of his palm, red light flared, weaving together into a dazzling magic circle.
Vast power surged from Haruto's hand, rippling outward, slipping through glass as if it didn't exist, and lancing directly into the massive block of ice sealing Steve Rogers.
Nick Fury, Coulson, and every scientist present could only stare, their faces etched with shock.
Fury had known Haruto was strong, but the force before his eyes now—this he could not categorize.
It was not ninjutsu. It was not a dōjutsu. It wasn't any bloodline technique at all.
"…So this is magic."
Coulson's throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.
As a Level Seven S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, he had clearance to countless secrets—even about extraterrestrials. But magic… that was another realm entirely.
Until this moment, Coulson had doubted it even existed. He had always dismissed it as the invention of overimaginative writers.
And yet here it was, unfolding right before his eyes.
The sheer reality of it made Coulson's mind reel. In that instant, he realized the world was far larger, far stranger, than he had ever grasped.
Under Haruto's spell, the ice began to melt at a speed visible to the naked eye.
Steve Rogers' pulse began to climb.
"Director Fury! Agent Coulson! He's responding!"
One of the scientists cried out, unable to contain his excitement.
Fury and Coulson both turned instinctively, their eyes flashing toward the monitors.
Five or six breaths later, the ice had completely liquefied, streaming off the metal table in rivulets.
Coulson's pulse quickened—every indicator showed normal. No, not just normal—better than normal.
Stronger than any ordinary human.
It meant Rogers' body had survived intact.
"We did it."
The scientists were equally thrilled.
Many had grown up hearing legends of Captain America. To see him revived before their eyes—it was the stuff of history.
And beyond that, this was proof.
Freezing and reviving a human was no longer just theory. If perfected, it could change everything about life itself.
Terminal illnesses could be bypassed, patients entrusted to the future where medicine would advance beyond imagination.
They had no means to replicate Haruto's thawing technique—nothing close to rivaling magic. But the concept had been proven possible.
Most astonishing of all, though, was that magic itself—something once dismissed as myth—had just been demonstrated, undeniable and real.
Human society, human history itself, would never be the same.
Some of the scientists were already on the verge of tearing off their lab coats and begging Haruto to take them in as apprentices.
But just as one of them worked up the courage to step forward—
Steve Rogers' eyes snapped open.
His heart rate spiked, climbing rapidly past 140.
The scientists held their breath, eyes fixed on the vitals, praying no complications arose.
Thud!
With a single motion, Rogers shot upright from the table, legs slamming down on the steel so hard that the metal dented beneath his feet.
His gaze was wild, filled with disorientation and alarm.
But his body—his body was the picture of health. Stronger, fitter, sharper than anyone in the room.
And yet his heart continued to pound faster.
"…Where is this?"
His voice was raw, his throat working as he scanned the unfamiliar lab. His breathing grew rapid, almost frantic.
The advanced equipment and the lab's scale told him one thing immediately—this was not America.
In Rogers' mind, frozen in the 1940s, only one possibility fit.
Only the Red Skull could have built a place like this.
Only Hydra could have technology this advanced, this polished.
But then—if this was Hydra's lab, what had happened?
He remembered the Red Skull vanishing before his eyes.
He remembered piloting the bomber away from his allies.
He remembered crashing into the ocean alongside the explosives.
So why—why was he here, alive?
Had the bombs failed to detonate? Had he somehow survived the impossible?
No matter how he turned it over in his mind, only one conviction hardened within him:
This was Hydra's laboratory.
Everyone here was Hydra's pawn.
And then his eyes dropped to the ground.
There—his shield lay within reach, its surface gleaming wet amid the puddles of melted ice.
Another test? Another experiment?
The thought chilled him to the bone.
He sucked in a breath, leapt from the table, and snatched the shield in one seamless motion.
Without hesitation, without even a second of doubt, he hurled it—
Directly at Nick Fury and Agent Coulson.
Boom!
The star-marked shield smashed into the reinforced glass before Fury, sending a thunderous crack rippling through it.
The shatter pattern spread in an instant, spiderwebbing outward.
But the shield did not embed itself. Instead, as if mocking physics itself, it ricocheted back into Rogers' hand.
The very instant it left the glass, the entire pane exploded into fragments.
Every person in the room—Fury, Coulson, scientists alike—sucked in a sharp breath.
"The glass here is designed to withstand artillery fire," one of them gasped. "But the Captain shattered it in a single strike…"
Coulson clenched his fists tight, eyes burning with awe.
Super Soldier Serum.
The legend was real.
The Captain's power was no myth.