Being supported while walking felt damn awful.
Especially when the person supporting you was none other than the legendary Captain America—Steve Rogers.
Levi could clearly feel it: Steve's hand, which looked like it was casually resting on his back, was anything but idle.
More than once, that hand applied extremely subtle, incredibly clever pressure—lightly pressing, sliding, probing along the muscles of Levi's back.
Damn it.
He was testing whether Levi was really as weak as he appeared!
Levi cursed internally, mentally sending his regards to Steve's ancestors for eighteen generations straight, while his facial acting instantly skyrocketed to Oscar–best-actor level.
He cooperated perfectly with Steve's probing strength, letting his body present the textbook look of total muscle relaxation—core strength completely gone, limbs limp—a truly authentic post-exhaustion collapse.
At the same time, he deliberately kept his breathing shallow and rapid, his face deathly pale, lips cracked, looking exactly like some unlucky bastard dragged straight out of the ICU with late-stage organ failure.
"Cough—cough… cough cough…"
He immediately committed to the act, coughing violently as if he were about to hack up a lung. His face drained of even more color as he leaned against Steve, voice weak and barely audible.
"Captain… I'm fine…"
Steve's body stiffened—not because of Levi, but because his super-soldier senses had picked up footsteps echoing from the left passage ahead.
He stopped instinctively, held his breath, and listened.
Two full seconds passed.
Then Captain America made his decision.
With a sharp hand signal, he whispered to the team, "Change direction! Everyone—right side! Absolute silence!"
No one objected.
The squad turned without a sound, slipping like ghosts into the narrower, darker side tunnel.
And sure enough—
Less than thirty seconds after they left the main passage, three HYDRA soldiers carrying MP40s appeared exactly where they'd been moments earlier, flashlight beams sweeping back and forth through the empty tunnel.
Everyone's backs were instantly soaked in cold sweat.
From that point on, the journey became eerily smooth.
Several times, they could even clearly hear HYDRA soldiers on the other side of a single wall, cursing loudly in German about something.
Finally, after more than half an hour of nerves stretched to the breaking point, they crawled out of the underground maze through a long-abandoned ventilation duct.
The moment icy fresh air rushed into their lungs, everyone felt as if they'd crossed into another world, greedily gulping breath after breath.
Outside, dawn was just beginning to break.
In the distance, the once-arrogant, heavily fortified HYDRA factory had been reduced to a burning ruin. Thick black smoke coiled into the sky like an ugly dragon, staining half the heavens an ominous, apocalyptic gray.
"We… we really did it."
Dum Dum Dugan stared at the sea of flames, murmuring in disbelief.
They hadn't just rescued all the prisoners—they'd wiped out one of HYDRA's most important secret bases in Europe.
A feat so absurd it sounded fake. Hell, this could be a movie.
"Let's move. Find a place to regroup," Steve broke the silence, fatigue finally creeping into his voice.
"We're heading to the hunter's cabin marked on the map."
The cabin was a prearranged emergency safe point, located more than ten kilometers east of the factory, deep in a dense conifer forest.
Supplies—food, water, basic medical gear—had been hidden there in advance.
For a unit that was out of ammo, wounded, and running on fumes, it was paradise.
Another grueling march through the snow followed.
In truth, Levi's body had already recovered for the most part.
I mean—come on.
The abilities he'd copied weren't just Super Soldier Serum and Tesseract energy. He also had a passive skill he'd ripped from Logan—one that was basically a bug in human form:
[Regenerative Factor].
…
The cabin was built from thick logs and looked old, its roof buried beneath heavy snow, blending perfectly into the surrounding landscape. You wouldn't spot it unless you were right on top of it.
The door creaked as it opened, a scent of wood and dust rushing out.
But to these survivors, it smelled better than any French perfume.
"Falsworth, check everyone's wounds!
Dugan, take a team and secure the perimeter!
The rest of you—start a fire, boil water, get the food out!"
The moment he stepped inside, Steve began issuing orders. The squad moved with disciplined efficiency, the mark of an elite unit.
Levi was carefully helped to sit by the fireplace, his back resting against the rough stone wall.
"Get some rest," Steve said, looking at Levi's pale, bloodless face with a trace of guilt and concern.
"I'll help out."
Levi nodded weakly, too exhausted to speak.
Soon, warm orange flames crackled in the hearth, driving away the biting cold. A mess pot was set up, snow melting into bubbling water.
Each man received a brick-hard piece of black bread and a cold can of beef. With hot water, they devoured it like wolves.
It was the first hot meal they'd had in two days.
Under the comfort of food and fire, the atmosphere gradually relaxed.
But what needed to come… still came.
Once everyone had eaten and the worst injuries were treated, an oppressive silence settled over the small cabin.
All eyes—intentionally or not—shifted like searchlights toward the young Eastern man resting by the fire with his eyes closed.
Finally, Logan couldn't take it anymore.
He finished his bread in a few bites, wiped his greasy hands on his filthy uniform, and strode over, looming above Levi like a predator studying prey.
"Kid," he said, voice low but heavy as a stone dropped into calm water,
"cut the bullshit. Tell me the truth—what the hell are you?"
The question was blunt, aggressive, filled with challenge and judgment.
The air in the cabin instantly froze. The Howling Commandos barely dared to breathe.
Levi slowly opened his eyes and looked up at Logan's feral, probing gaze.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied calmly, without a ripple in his voice.
"Don't fuck with me!" Logan snapped, stepping closer, nearly jabbing a finger at Levi's nose.
"I've been alive for centuries—my nose is better than a dog's! You smell different now! That power—the power that crushed a man into paste—what is it?!"
"I already explained," Levi said evenly.
"It's something I awakened to. An ability. The cost is enormous—you saw how close I was to dying."
"Bullshit!" Logan spat.
"Close to dying? You healed faster than anyone! This half-dead act is all fake!"
"Logan!"
Steve's sharp command cut in, stopping things from escalating. He stepped between them like a wall, pushing Logan back slightly.
"Calm down," he said first to Logan.
Then he turned, crouching so he was eye-level with Levi.
"Levi," Steve said gently,
"we're comrades. Brothers. We fought side by side and escaped HYDRA together. I want there to be no secrets between us."
"I'm not prying into your privacy," he continued, pausing, then asking the real questions—slowly, deliberately.
"But I need to know: what are the limits of your power? And is it… controllable?"
This wasn't curiosity anymore.
This was a commander assessing risk—a living superweapon whose stability could determine whether the whole team lived or died.
Levi fell silent.
He met Steve's sincere yet terrifyingly sharp eyes and knew there was no easy way out.
Simple lies wouldn't fool men this perceptive.
"Captain," Levi sighed, rubbing his temples,
"what are you so worried about? Logan has regeneration. You're far beyond normal humans thanks to the serum. I'm the same—I just have… something extra."
"I don't know what it is. Some invisible medium."
"I can—at a cost that's hard to imagine—forcefully distort or compress a small area. You saw it. Blocking bullets. Crushing enemies."
"But…" His voice weakened, hoarse with lingering fear.
"Every time I use it, it's like burning my life away. If I didn't have something like Logan's regeneration, I'd already be dead—gone without a trace."
"As for the limit… I don't know. I only know that what I did in the base was my absolute limit. One more time, and I'm sure I would've exploded on the spot."
"And control?" He shook his head helplessly.
"I don't have any. It only triggers when my life is in real danger. I can't command it."
Steve fell into a long silence.
He looked down, expression shifting as he processed the weight of what Levi had said.
After a long while, he raised his head and spoke solemnly.
"I understand."
"Levi, whatever it is inside you—you saved all our lives today. That's beyond dispute."
"From now on, your ability is classified as the highest-level secret of the Howling Commandos. S-Class. No one—including Colonel Phillips—is to say a single word about it."
He stood and scanned the room, voice firm and absolute.
"Yes, Captain!" everyone answered in unison.
"And you," Steve said, turning back to Levi, his gaze complex but resolute,
"you need to learn to control it. Not to fight—but to stay alive."
"We'll help you."
He placed a heavy hand on Levi's shoulder.
This time, there was no probing—only the solid, unspoken trust of a comrade willing to stake his life.
Levi met his gaze and nodded just as firmly.
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