Levi looked at Gabe Jones, slumped against the rock wall beside him, his face pale as paper, and felt a jumble of emotions churn in his chest.
It wasn't that he saw Gabe as a burden. They were comrades—just an hour ago they'd been sharing chocolate on the plane. Levi wasn't the kind of person who could abandon a teammate to die.
What really irritated him was that this whole situation had completely blown his already shaky plan to pieces.
"Levi… you…" Gabe was clearly still reeling from what he'd just witnessed. When he looked at Levi, there was gratitude in his eyes—but also a kind of astonishment, like he was staring at something he couldn't quite understand.
"That strength of yours… what the hell was that about? I swear, I used the pry bar with everything I had, and that trap didn't even budge."
There it was. He knew the question was coming.
Levi sighed inwardly, but his expression stayed calm. There was no way he could say, Yeah, I've got a cheat ability and copied a healing factor, strength included.
While packing up the med kit, he replied in a half-joking, half-serious tone,
"I honestly don't know. Maybe I got blown up by too many shells back on the battlefield and something short-circuited upstairs. Sometimes I just feel like there's endless strength in me… and other times I'm just a normal guy. Comes and goes. Guess it's luck."
It was the best excuse he could come up with—vague enough to explain his abnormal strength, but flexible enough to cover him later.
If one day he wasn't that strong, he could always blame it on "bad luck."
Gabe nodded, half-convinced. War was a place where the impossible happened every day. He'd seen men survive bullets through the heart—and others lose their minds from sheer terror.
Compared to that, one guy suddenly becoming stronger didn't seem that outrageous.
Gabe tried to stand up. The moment he put weight on his left leg, a spike of agony shot through him. He groaned and collapsed back down, cold sweat instantly beading on his forehead.
"Don't move!" Levi said sharply, steadying him.
"The wound's too deep. No broken bone, but the muscle and blood vessels are torn. If you keep moving, it'll start bleeding again."
"But we can't stay here," Gabe gasped, anxiety written all over his face.
"Hydra patrols could come back any time—and the captain… the others… they're waiting for us."
He was right. The cave was only a temporary refuge. That bear trap alone proved this area was a hunting ground—either set by a hunter or the Germans.
Levi spread the captured map on the ground again, studying it under the dim yellow glow of the kerosene lamp.
"Look," he said, pointing.
"We're roughly here. This spot sits right near the intersection of several patrol routes. We dodged one group, but after dawn they'll sweep the area more thoroughly. If we stay, it's only a matter of time before we're found."
Gabe leaned in to look. His expression darkened. The dense web of dotted lines on the map looked like a spider's net—and they were trapped right in the middle.
"So what do we do?"
"We move. And we move before dawn," Levi said firmly.
"The farther we get from this area, the better."
His finger slid slowly across the map as his mind raced. He needed a path through this death trap—something that led toward the factory's outskirts without cutting through patrol hot zones.
Finally, his finger stopped at the northeast corner of the map. There was a crude icon of a small cabin, labeled in German: Jägerhütte—hunter's hut.
"Here," Levi said.
"This place is far from the main patrol routes, and the terrain around it is rough. Perfect for hiding. We go there first. You recover, we observe the factory, then decide the next move."
The plan made sense—but Gabe glanced down at his useless leg and gave a bitter smile.
"The plan's good. I'm the problem. I'll just slow you down."
He paused, then added quietly,
"Maybe you should hide me here. Leave me food and water. Go on alone. You're stronger—you've got better odds."
Levi looked at him. His gaze was calm, but there was an unyielding firmness in it.
"Don't say that crap. I don't abandon teammates."
In his past life, Levi had been a selfish office drone—everything was about efficiency and maximizing personal gain.
But somewhere along the way—through artillery fire, through death—something cold inside him had begun to thaw.
Maybe it was Logan saying, Kid, I like you.
Maybe it was Dum Dum Dugan welcoming him aboard.
Or maybe it was Captain America himself, with that almost naive stubbornness.
He realized he was starting to think like a real soldier.
Gabe stared at him, stunned. In Levi's dark eyes, he saw something deeply familiar—the same light he'd seen in Steve Rogers'.
He nodded heavily and said no more, simply clutching his M1 carbine to his chest.
"All right," he said. "Let's go."
Saying it was easy. How to go—that was the real problem.
Levi tried supporting Gabe, letting him hop on one leg. After just two steps, Gabe was drenched in sweat and nearly passed out. Every jolt felt like a knife digging into his wound.
"No good," Levi muttered.
"You'll tear it open again."
Carrying him on his back? Worse. Snowy mountain paths, slippery footing, and a 180-pound man—it wasn't realistic.
There had to be another way.
Levi's gaze swept around the cave, finally landing on the thick shrubs near the entrance.
His eyes lit up.
He moved quickly, cutting down two of the sturdiest, most flexible branches with his knife. From his pack, he pulled out all the spare rope and bandages.
Gabe watched, puzzled.
Levi laid the two branches parallel, lashed shorter sticks across them as supports, then took off his coat and tied it over the frame.
A crude but solid snow sled took shape.
"My God…" Gabe muttered.
"Levi, how does your brain even work?"
"Less talking. Get on," Levi said, wiping sweat from his brow.
Gabe lay down carefully. It wasn't comfortable—but compared to hopping on one leg, it was paradise.
Levi wrapped the rope around his body and gave it a test pull. Heavy—but manageable.
"All right. Let's move."
Just as they were about to leave, Levi suddenly paused.
He sniffed the air.
There was a faint, sharp herbal scent.
He followed it to a crack in the rock near the cave entrance and found several thick-leafed plants with serrated edges.
He plucked a leaf, sniffed it, then chewed a bit. Bitter and spicy—then cool.
Arnica.
He remembered a survival documentary from his old life. Alpine hunters used it for bruises and inflammation.
No way…
He quickly gathered a handful, crushed them between stones into a dark green paste.
"What are you doing?" Gabe asked warily, eyeing the foul-smelling mush.
"Saving your leg. Deal with it."
Before Gabe could protest, Levi unwrapped the bandage and slapped the cold paste directly onto the wound.
"AAAGH—!"
The burning, icy sting was intense. Gabe nearly jumped out of the sled.
"Don't move!" Levi snapped.
"Want to keep your leg? Then trust me."
Strangely, the pain faded within a minute, replaced by a soothing coolness. The searing agony dulled rapidly.
Gabe flexed his toes. The pain was down by at least seventy percent.
"God…" he whispered, staring at the green paste, then at Levi.
"You some kind of wizard now?"
Levi smiled faintly as he rebandaged the leg.
"A good soldier needs a few survival tricks."
Inside, he thought: Knowledge really is power.
With everything ready, Levi extinguished the lamp, tied the rope, and dragged his wounded comrade out into the night.
After more than an hour, Levi was nearly spent. He stopped, leaning against a tree, breathing hard.
As he reached for his canteen, something caught his eye.
On the horizon—light.
A hazy yellow glow illuminated the sky, and within it stood several towering silhouettes, like black iron spires.
Levi's heart clenched.
He checked the map. Then the glow. Then the map again.
No mistake.
That was the factory.
They were far too close.
According to the map, it should've taken most of the night to get here.
So why could they see it already?
Unless—
Levi's pupils shrank.
There was only one explanation.
The map… was wrong.
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🎉 Power Stone Goal Announcement! 🎉
I'll release one bonus chapter for every 200 Power Stones we hit!"
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