A thin wisp of smoke still curled from the muzzle of the gun.
Several dozen meters away, the man standing in the shell crater was looking straight at Levi.
That gaze was like a blade—cutting through the air, cutting straight through him. Levi felt as if he'd been seen through inside and out.
That was Captain America.
Steve Rogers.
He was right there. Alive. Not the moral symbol from the movies, not the poster-boy idol from propaganda reels—this was a soldier who had just fought his way out of a hail of bullets.
His face was smeared with soot and mud. Blond hair, soaked with sweat and melting snow, clung to his forehead. His chest rose and fell heavily, each breath exhaling thick clouds of white vapor. There was fatigue in his eyes, and caution—but above all, there was a will as hard as steel.
This man was the real thing.
Only one thought remained in Levi's mind. Watching through a screen, you just thought he was strong. Facing him in person, you could feel it—the presence of someone who could hold an entire battle line by himself.
"Hey! Rookie! What are you staring at—trying to get yourself killed?!"
Captain America's shout slammed Levi back to reality.
Another wave of bullets swept in. More Hydra soldiers poured down from the ridge, their firepower heavier than before.
Levi jerked back behind the rock, swearing under his breath. Damn it—almost forgot this was still a battlefield.
"Gabe! Cover me!" Levi yelled over his shoulder, then rolled hard and slid out from the other side of the rock.
He couldn't keep hiding. Captain America was drawing the frontal fire—this was his chance. The combat instinct in his body was screaming at him to move, to fight, to tear the enemy apart.
The desire to survive crushed everything else.
If he wanted to live, he had to kill the ones trying to end him.
As Levi rushed out, he dropped to a half-kneel in one smooth motion—raise gun, aim, fire. The sequence was so fast it barely felt human.
"Rat-tat-tat!"
The MP40 roared again.
He ignored the scattered infantry behind cover. His mind instantly locked onto the biggest threat—a Hydra soldier just setting up an MG42 off to the front-left. If that thing opened up, they were all dead.
Levi clamped down on the muzzle and dumped the entire magazine.
A dense stream of bullets stitched a line of death through the air. Blood burst from the machine gunner's chest as he fell backward. The assistant gunner beside him took a hit to the leg and collapsed, screaming.
One down.
Levi rolled immediately, dodging incoming fire. Bullets screamed past his head, close enough to raise goosebumps—terror mixed with adrenaline.
As Levi rolled, Captain America moved.
He vaulted out of the crater, shield raised, charging straight into the storm of gunfire.
A madman.
That was the only word in Levi's head. Dozens of rifles forming a fire net—and he just ran into it?
The next second, Levi realized how wrong he was.
Captain America's path zigzagged left and right, instinctively avoiding the densest fire. Most bullets slammed into the shield with sharp clang clang clang sounds, leaving not so much as a scratch.
Vibranium.
A few rounds hit his body—but they only made him stagger slightly. Nothing could stop his advance.
This was a super soldier.
Levi felt his blood ignite.
This—this was the power he craved.
"Left! Rocket launcher!" Levi shouted.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a Hydra trooper in the trees hoisting a dark tube onto his shoulder. The front glowed with eerie blue light—one of Hydra's energy weapons.
If that hit, even Captain America would be in trouble.
Levi fired immediately.
The distance was too great; the bullets shredded bark instead, splinters flying.
But it was enough.
Captain America reacted the instant the shot rang out. Without even looking, he snapped his arm and hurled the shield.
"Whoosh—!"
The shield didn't fly at the launcher directly—it smashed into a chest-high boulder beside him.
CLANG!
With a deafening impact, it ricocheted at a bizarre angle and slammed straight into the launcher's head.
A dull thump.
The man collapsed without a sound.
The shield arced through the air and returned neatly to Captain America's hand. He caught it without breaking stride.
Beautiful.
Absolutely beautiful.
Levi felt like cheering. One warning shot—and Captain America instantly understood, solving the problem in the most efficient way possible.
The feeling was intoxicating.
With Levi providing suppressive fire and overwatch from the flank, Captain America tore straight into Hydra's line like a human wrecking ball.
He blocked with the shield, smashed throats and joints with its edge. His punches and kicks carried crushing force—anyone hit head-on went flying with shattered bones.
Levi's role became clear and simple: control the flank, suppress fire, and eliminate anyone trying to ambush.
Between them, a wordless understanding formed.
A short burst from Levi meant three o'clock, behind the rock—grenade incoming.
And every time, Captain America responded instantly, a shield throw sending some poor bastard sky-high along with his own grenade.
One spearhead.
One support.
The rhythm of the battle belonged entirely to the two of them.
Hydra finally broke.
Their bullets couldn't pierce the cursed shield. Their flanking maneuvers were strangled by unseen gunfire. Panic spread through the ranks.
Someone screamed and dropped his weapon, running.
That was the first domino.
Moments later, the rest followed—crying, scattering, fleeing into the snow.
The battle was over.
Only wind, blood, and corpses remained along the riverbank.
Levi leaned against a tree, nearly collapsing. He gasped for breath; the MP40's barrel was hot enough to fry an egg.
He stared at the tall figure nearby, who was also bent over with hands on his knees, breathing hard.
They… won?
Then the man straightened.
Captain America slung the shield onto his back and walked toward Levi, steady but cautious.
Levi instinctively raised the empty submachine gun, the muzzle lowered to show he wasn't hostile.
"Easy, soldier," Captain America said, voice hoarse but calm. "The fighting's over. I'm not your enemy."
He stopped a few meters away, eyes sweeping over Levi's ill-fitting Hydra uniform, then past him to Gabe.
"You with the Howling Commandos?" he asked.
"Yes, sir!" Levi snapped to attention on reflex.
Captain America's gaze returned to him. There was scrutiny there now—and a hint of approval.
"What's your name, soldier?"
"Levi, sir! D Company!"
"Levi…" Captain America repeated, the pronunciation a little stiff. Then he smiled—tired, but genuine.
"You did good, Levi. Very good."
He paused, then added more solemnly,
"It's been a long time since I've seen a soldier like you. Welcome to the war."
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