The sky shimmered a deep, vivid green.
Not a single cloud could be seen.
Across the endless dunes of golden sand, two white camels moved steadily forward.
"Do you really use magic? Good heavens! That's just unbelievable—you only said a single word, and the raging sandstorm stopped!"
Evelyn, perched atop one of the camels, had now asked Herman the same question for the sixty-eighth time since they'd set out.
Roughly every ten minutes or so, she would repeat it with the same mix of awe and disbelief.
As a woman of remarkable education for the wartime era she lived in, Evelyn had always been a devout believer in science. Everything she'd ever been taught—by her teachers, by the books she studied—had reinforced one thing: the supernatural did not exist. Every unknown phenomenon must, without exception, have a rational, scientific explanation behind it.
But that belief had begun to crack the moment she met Herman, when she'd watched the furious sandstorm vanish into nothing right before her eyes—simply because he had spoken.
Was that science?
Absolutely not.
No law of physics or logic could explain what she had witnessed. Evelyn felt as though her entire worldview had been turned upside down, her reality suddenly laced with something dreamlike and unreal.
How she wished Herman would just tell her it was coincidence, so she could cling to her orderly, scientific sense of the world.
"If you can't accept my previous explanation," Herman said with a faint grin, "then maybe it's simpler—I'm just too handsome, and the desert can't help but grant my wishes."
"But you're the one who said earlier that even if you were handsome, the desert wouldn't show mercy. Clearly, your logic's flawed."
Herman rode alongside her on another white camel.
He had purchased the pair for several gold bricks—strong, broad-shouldered animals with endurance far beyond the norm. White camels were considered lucky in the desert, symbols of blessing and good fortune.
To Herman, it was a trivial expense—some gold in exchange for sturdy mounts and a bit of luck.
The Egyptian trader, however, had insisted white camels were sacred to their gods. In the end, his devotion couldn't withstand the temptation of six gleaming gold ingots. Such was the undeniable power of wealth—something that never failed to draw a rueful smile.
As for traveling by camel, Herman wasn't particularly fond of it. He could easily soar into the skies and view the desert in its entirety, but even then, he couldn't pinpoint the location of Hamunaptra. The desert was full of secrets and mysteries hidden beneath its sands.
Besides, he couldn't very well carry Evelyn into the air with him. Even setting aside whether she'd agree, her navigation skills relied on the landmarks and terrain below. Up in the air, she'd be lost completely—an encyclopedia of the desert, perhaps, but not of the sky.
"You really have no shame…" Evelyn muttered, rolling her eyes. She admitted he was handsome, but claiming the desert obeyed him because of his looks was beyond ridiculous.
Still, those expressive amber eyes of hers only made her exasperation more captivating. Even when she rolled them, paired with her refined, exotic features, she looked effortlessly beautiful.
"Thanks for the compliment. Everyone I meet says the same thing."
Herman's smile didn't waver, his tone light and teasing.
The camels continued their slow, rhythmic pace. With nothing pressing to occupy him, he found amusement in provoking Evelyn's prim and proper composure.
"Do you wizards… need to eat children to strengthen your magic?" Evelyn suddenly blurted out, recalling some old folktale she must've read.
"..."
Herman froze.
Eat children?
What kind of nonsense was that?
"How many times must I tell you—it's not witchcraft. Just… special abilities. And no, I don't eat people."
He let out a helpless laugh as he repeated himself yet again.
"I know, I know—you've explained that," Evelyn said earnestly. "But to me, these 'special abilities' are still mysterious magic. Aren't wizards born with their powers?"
"Maybe it's genetic—or perhaps some secret of life itself—something that gives you abilities ordinary people could never imagine."
Evelyn's tone was completely serious. It was her last act of defiance—the stubborn urge to rationalize the unexplainable, to categorize "magic" as a branch of science not yet understood.
And, in a way, she wasn't entirely wrong.
It was just that…
"What you're describing is called a mutant."
Herman sighed helplessly.
He was beginning to regret ever showing his abilities in front of Evelyn and Jonathan.
All he'd wanted was to set off a little earlier—he hadn't expected it to trigger such an intense reaction from Evelyn.
Then again, this era was far less accustomed to the supernatural. People—especially intellectuals—found it difficult to accept things beyond the realm of science. In the future timeline of the Marvel Universe, no one would bat an eye. Ordinary citizens would simply marvel at superpowered beings, and even scientists would treat them as commonplace phenomena.
"What's a mutant?"
Evelyn's eyes lit up with curiosity at the unfamiliar word. She leaned forward slightly, eager to know more, like a student pressing her teacher for an answer.
Their two camels walked side by side through the endless sand. Yes—only two. Jonathan, the habitual thief, had been left behind in the last town thanks to a small "trick" from Herman.
Making an ordinary man come down with a bad cold was child's play for someone of Herman's level—it only took a thought.
Jonathan knew perfectly well that Herman was behind it, but with no proof, he didn't dare argue. Shivering under his blanket, he'd still managed to repeat his dying wish to Evelyn at least twenty times: once they found the gold, it was to be split fifty-fifty.
The siblings apparently shared a fondness for repeating themselves. Evelyn had no real interest in gold, but she humored him with a polite promise. As for whether she actually intended to bring him any back... well, the answer to that was obvious.
"Mutants are what you just described—humans who gained superpowers due to mutations in their genes," Herman explained casually. Then, as if something amusing had just come to mind, he chuckled and added, "Actually, maybe they don't even count as humans anymore."
He was reminded of a famous joke from Marvel lore—the never-ending debate about whether mutants were truly human.
To most people, of course, they were. Mutants were born as humans, their abilities stemming from the mutant gene within them. Before their powers awakened, they were indistinguishable from anyone else. The differences—physical or otherwise—only appeared after mutation.
Genetically speaking, there was no reproductive barrier between humans and mutants, and their DNA was nearly identical. From a biological standpoint, mutants were indisputably human.
However...
In Marvel Comics' official stance—the company that literally created their universe—mutants had been declared non-human.
Why? Simple: taxes.
If mutant figurines were classified as "human dolls," they'd be subject to a 12% import tax. But if they were labeled as generic "toys," Marvel only had to pay 6%.
So, in true corporate fashion, Marvel's legal team worked hard to "prove" mutants weren't human. Once mutants were officially deemed non-human, the company's tax bill would be cut in half. After much deliberation, they found their loophole—mutants were mutated lifeforms, many with appearances drastically different from humans.
That argument held up. Marvel filed an appeal... and actually won. The court ruled that mutants were legally non-human.
Herman couldn't help but laugh inwardly at the absurdity of it all.
No wonder that, in certain parallel universes, Professor X goes insane after seeing Deadpool break the fourth wall and learn about Marvel's corporate decisions. The poor man had spent his entire life trying to prove mutants were human—only for the creators themselves to declare otherwise.
Who wouldn't lose their mind?
"Genetic mutation? And it creates people with superpowers? From the way you're talking, it doesn't sound like a one-off case... Are you seriously expecting me to believe that?"
Evelyn already struggled to accept Herman as a supernatural being—accepting that there could be an entire group of such individuals was nearly impossible.
Even if their powers really did come from genetic mutations, to a scholar like her, the idea sounded like pure fantasy.
If she hadn't personally witnessed Herman dispel a storm with a word—or seen him tuck physical objects into some kind of "special" pocket space—she would've dismissed him as nothing more than a con artist.
"Of course," Herman said calmly, his eyes glinting with quiet amusement. "Time will prove me right."
He gave Evelyn a meaningful look.
Now that she had found herself in the Marvel Universe, it was only a matter of time before she learned how truly extraordinary this world could be.
Mutants would begin appearing publicly toward the end of the Second World War. In truth, governments already had some knowledge of them by now.
The Black King, founder of the Hellfire Club, was secretly conducting experiments on mutants for the Nazis—and HYDRA's shadow was deeply involved as well.
If Herman's guess was correct, Magneto was still imprisoned in a concentration camp at this very moment.
He wondered idly whether their paths would ever cross in the future.
And then, a curious thought struck him.
Given his relationship with Wanda... if he did meet Magneto one day, how exactly was he supposed to address him?
...
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