Sometimes, luck really was a strange thing.
Take Herman, for example—his luck had skyrocketed when he drew the Diamond-tier identity of the Lord of Dragons. Yet, despite such divine fortune, the beat-up old car he was riding in suddenly broke down.
Of course, Wolverine Logan's car had changed hands countless times over the years, so breaking down wasn't exactly unexpected.
"Good thing you suggested stopping in town for the night. Otherwise, we'd be sleeping on the road."
Logan spent quite a while tinkering with the vehicle, but even his impressive mechanical skills couldn't bring back a car whose parts were already falling apart.
After days of driving, this breakdown was inevitable.
"Correction—only you'd be sleeping on the road," Herman said lightly. He could retreat into the [Otherworld] at any time to rest. In that realm, not only could he sleep in a king-sized bed, he could also cuddle a tiny divine dragon softer than any cat.
"Huh?"
Wolverine stared at him blankly. He had no clue what Herman was talking about and couldn't make sense of his words at all.
He was just about to ask when the car suddenly made a loud popping sound. Smoke began pouring from the engine, and his focus immediately snapped back to his vehicle.
"Yeah... that's done for."
Logan finally gave up on trying to repair it himself. His face was smudged with soot from the thick black smoke billowing out of the hood.
"Guess I'll have to find a repair shop before we can get moving again," he muttered with a resigned sigh. "Hard to believe—once upon a time I could fix a tank with my bare hands, and now I can't even fix a lousy car."
"These old antiques are just too delicate!" he grumbled. He knew how broke he was at this point in time, but that didn't make the situation any less frustrating.
"Or maybe," Herman said with a hint of amusement, "your skills have gotten rusty?"
The words carried a subtle implication that went completely over Logan's head.
"Impossible! I'm a professional!" he shot back—though his tone wavered a little near the end.
After all, he now carried a soul from the future. Cars from the World War II era were ancient relics by his standards, long extinct in his time.
His mechanical expertise from the future wasn't exactly suited for this era's technology.
As Herman's words sank in, Logan began to doubt himself. Maybe I really have gotten too used to fixing future cars... and forgotten how to handle these old classics?
It was a very real possibility.
Still, he refused to admit it. He didn't notice the deeper meaning behind Herman's remark—the one subtly pointing to his identity.
To Logan, Herman was simply a mysterious man from the past. No matter how strange or insightful he seemed, there was no way someone from this era could possibly see through his secret—that he carried the soul of a man from the future.
What he didn't know was that Herman wasn't from this era either.
Naturally, that possibility never even crossed his mind.
"Really? I don't buy that," Herman said with a teasing blink.
His tone made Logan's confidence falter again for reasons he couldn't quite explain.
"Anyway, we can't go anywhere until the car's fixed. I'll look around for a repair shop. You want to check into a hotel or something?" Logan scratched his nose awkwardly, trying to change the subject.
"I'll take a walk around the city. Meet me at that hotel tonight." Herman casually pointed toward the tallest luxury hotel in the skyline.
"Alright," Logan agreed with a nod.
Over the past few days, he'd come to realize that Herman was anything but poor. Anyone who maintained such fastidious habits and ceremony even while traveling through the wilderness clearly wasn't hurting for money.
Watching Herman blend effortlessly into the crowd, eyes glinting with curiosity as he explored the city, Logan couldn't help but feel a flicker of doubt.
A man like that—powerful, composed, and clearly wealthy—wasn't someone ordinary.
And yet... in all his years in the future, Logan had never heard the name Herman.
The thought had been gnawing at him more than once during their "road trip."
They were now nearing the border of the Soviet Union, and for days Logan had been turning the question over in his mind: who exactly was this man?
By all logic, even if Herman had been a reserved kind of powerhouse—someone less famous than Magneto or Professor X—he shouldn't have been completely absent from history.
Especially not from the memory of a man who taught it.
Could it be that he left behind no legend simply because he died unexpectedly? Wolverine Logan couldn't help but think so.
From his perspective, that was the most reasonable explanation for why there was no trace of Herman in history. Of course, it was also possible that Herman was an exceptionally low-key powerhouse who had hidden his identity all his life.
However, based on what Logan had learned about him these past few days, he doubted that someone bold enough to buy drinks with gold bars could ever stay low-key forever.
"Better not think too much about it. I won't be staying in this era much longer anyway... Once I'm back, I'll have to study this period carefully."
Logan sighed inwardly, then turned to smother the smoke rising from under the hood before carefully locking his old car.
He had no idea how long he could remain in this timeline. Before the time jump, the eccentric experts at the X-Mansion had never told him how long the transfer would last. He just assumed they wouldn't let him live long enough to reach the future again.
"I do like this era, but..." Memories of the future flickered through his mind.
He still had unfinished business waiting for him there. Even if this period was far more peaceful than the one he came from, he didn't want to linger here and slowly fade away. All he wanted was to finish his duty—and finally rest.
Lighting a cigar where he stood, Logan began asking around for a mechanic.
...
Meanwhile, Herman was taking in the sights of a grand World War II-era city. He enjoyed a lunch rich with Soviet-style flavors.
The snow outside the restaurant looked beautiful—quiet, serene.
The war hadn't yet devastated the Soviet Union. The major cities still appeared prosperous on the surface, with the occasional flower girl passing gracefully along the street.
"Want to try this?"
Herman was attempting to feed Aurelion Sol.
As expected, he failed again.
The young Starforger clearly had no interest in Earth's delicate, low-energy foods. A steak, for instance, held no appeal whatsoever.
This was already Herman's thirtieth attempt to feed him. Of course, he knew a being like Aurelion Sol could never actually starve.
Still, much like a person who loves feeding their cat just for the joy of it, Herman wanted to experience the same simple pleasure of caring for a pet.
But Aurelion Sol clearly didn't understand his feelings. Every time Herman offered food, the little dragon just stared back with a puzzled, wide-eyed expression.
Understandable, really.
A newborn god-dragon wouldn't know how to behave like a pet. It was natural that it couldn't play the part of a well-trained companion.
Right now, Aurelion Sol was like a blank slate—much like a newborn human infant. The only thing it truly enjoyed was instinctively roaming the starry expanse.
Herman had considered letting it out to pet or observe up close, but after some thought, he decided against it—for Earth's safety.
Even releasing it into outer space wasn't entirely safe. In some ways, a young, thoughtless godling could be even more terrifying than a rational deity. At least the rational ones could be reasoned with.
But a nascent god like Aurelion Sol lacked even the most basic understanding of restraint. It was like handing a nuclear detonator to a child—one push of a button, just for fun, could spell disaster.
Even in its juvenile stage, Aurelion Sol possessed Universal-level strength. If it were let loose to "play," it could easily trigger catastrophic destruction.
Universal-level.
Herman understood exactly what that meant.
A god could destroy a civilization with something as casual as a sneeze. That was the scale of such power.
Despite being newly born, Aurelion Sol's strength could already rival Thor's in his Rune King state.
And that was saying something.
Those familiar with Marvel's lore knew that in the early days, Captain America was the benchmark of combat power—but in later eras, Thor became the new standard.
Among Thor's many forms, Rune King Thor stood at the top.
It was one of his mightiest incarnations. In the vast Marvel Multiverse, the power levels of both heroes and villains weren't fixed—they shifted dramatically across different eras, events, and parallel universes.
Every Marvel hero had their moment of glory.
For the Hulk, that was the Green Scar period.
For Thor, it was the Rune King era.
Rune King Thor—an absolute powerhouse of the cosmos, a being on a Universal scale.
Stronger than Odin by an entire tier.
The aftershock of his power alone could easily annihilate a star.
Aurelion Sol possessed comparable might.
If he got even slightly excited, the entire solar system could descend into chaos.
He was far safer staying within the [Otherworld]. Even if he completely wrecked the place, Herman—holding supreme authority over that realm—could restore it with ease.
"Speaking of Rune King Thor… I never expected him to be that ruthless."
As Herman sipped his tea, he used his will to continue bonding with Aurelion Sol within the [Otherworld], while simultaneously voicing his thoughts about Thor's legend.
Rune King Thor was, without a doubt, terrifyingly resolute.
In the history Herman knew, when Asgard was on the brink of a catastrophic disaster, Thor chose to emulate his father's method—he hung himself from the World Tree for nine days and nine nights, seeking to comprehend the ancient runes and gain the power needed to avert the calamity.
He succeeded.
In the end, Thor fused the Odinforce with the power of the runes, earning the title of "Rune King."
His strength far surpassed Odin's.
The reason was simple—Odin had gouged out one of his eyes in pursuit of power, but at least that self-mutilating God-King had spared the other.
Thor, on the other hand, gave up both.
Twice as ruthless, twice as strong.
It was no wonder his power exceeded Odin's. Perhaps among the Asgardians, the measure of one's might was how much they could mutilate themselves for power. By that logic, the Blind Monk from Runeterra would probably get along well with Rune King Thor.
Both were blind.
Herman was living comfortably these days—drinking tea, waiting for Wolverine to fix the car. Ever since the [All-Seeing Eye] had granted him a new identity, he'd been mentally prepared for the world to change again.
However...
Even after spending several days casually observing different parts of Earth, he hadn't noticed anything strange. Still, he didn't believe for a second that the [All-Seeing Eye] had suddenly grown a conscience. More likely, as always, its meddling would happen the moment he looked away.
Experience had already taught him plenty about the [All-Seeing Eye]'s capricious nature. His summary of its behavior was, without question, accurate.
And sure enough—
While Herman was enjoying his afternoon tea and admiring the charm of old-world streets, many kilometers away, in a remote and isolated nation, the [All-Seeing Eye] was stirring up another variable.
"Meteor! It's a meteor!"
Dark-skinned warriors gripped their vibranium spears tightly, their primitive-looking garb belying the advanced technology woven into every piece of their gear. Faces tense, they gazed toward the heavens—where a massive meteor blazed through the sky, hurtling toward the earth.
This was Wakanda.
Located in East Africa, it had remained hidden from the world for centuries.
On the surface, Wakanda appeared to be a poor, agrarian country. In truth, it was the most technologically advanced nation on Earth.
Its secret lay in vibranium, a rare and invaluable resource found nowhere else. To protect it, the Wakandans had long sealed their borders, concealing their true strength from the world.
For generations, Wakanda had lived in peace.
Until today.
That peace was shattered by a meteor streaking through the sky. Through their high-tech telescopes, countless citizens witnessed the colossal object descending from above.
And before it fell—
A rift had opened in space itself.
"What's happening?! That didn't come from space!"
The current King of Wakanda immediately ordered his men to investigate.
"Could it be… another vibranium fall?"
As king, the Black Panther knew far more than his people. He understood why Wakanda alone possessed vibranium—and the hidden truth behind its arrival long ago.
"Fortune... or disaster?"
The Black Panther frowned, unease creeping into his heart. He had grown accustomed to peace and despised anything that threatened to disturb it.
After a long and anxious wait, the guards finally returned with their report.
"Your Majesty—it's an egg! A... massive egg!"
Their words left the Black Panther stunned, torn between disbelief and confusion.
He went to see it for himself.
And there, at the center of a vast crater, lay a colossal egg the size of a mountain.
It truly was an egg.
The Black Panther's normally composed expression gave way to one of horror and awe.
Who had ever seen an egg larger than an aircraft carrier?
How had such a thing fallen from the sky—and miraculously not obliterated all of Wakanda in the process?
Every person present, from the royal guards to the king himself, could scarcely imagine what kind of creature could produce something so massive, so terrifying in scale.
Could such a being even exist on Earth?
"For us... this can't be good," the Black Panther muttered, his gaze fixed on the enormous egg, worry etched across his face.
Crimson patterns pulsed faintly across the shell, glowing and dimming like a heartbeat.
The sight filled him with an overwhelming sense of dread.