As everyone knows, though the Infinity Stones are among the most powerful artifacts in the Marvel Universe, they are not unique. Identical Stones exist across different parallel universes, and their timelines can be traced.
Now, during the era of World War II, the Tesseract—imbued with the power of the Space Stone—was in the hands of the Nazi organization HYDRA. It had become an unexpected windfall in their pursuit of supernatural power.
The Tesseract's energy seemed limitless, surpassing all known scientific understanding. HYDRA's scientists came to believe it was the ultimate energy source, the key that would enable HYDRA to dominate the world.
Yes—HYDRA's domination, not the Nazi Party's.
Though HYDRA existed within the Nazi system, its members' loyalty to the Führer was far shallower than they pretended. Every HYDRA operative's true allegiance lay with their leader, the Red Skull.
HYDRA was a parasitic growth feeding on the Nazi regime—a cancer nurtured by its host's blood. The Red Skull's supposed loyalty to the Führer was nothing more than an act. To be fair, he did hold a certain fear and respect for that failed art student.
However, Red Skull's nature made him a man who could never tolerate serving beneath another. If given the chance, he would seize the opportunity to forge his own empire.
The Tesseract, to him, represented exactly that opportunity.
Together with his most trusted subordinates and scientists, he had been experimenting on the artifact and had successfully extracted immense power from it. The Marvel Universe, after all, was never short of extraordinary technology.
It was no wonder Earth was regarded as the center of the Marvel Universe—the most exceptional planet of all. Despite being confined to a single world and unable to step into the cosmos, humans still managed to harness the universe's most divine objects. Even utilizing a fraction of such power was something that most interstellar civilizations could never achieve.
Throughout history, the Infinity Stones had passed through countless civilizations, and every one of them was destroyed by the misfortune that followed.
Only humanity—still struggling to master the basics of nuclear energy—had achieved what others could not.
Using the Tesseract, Red Skull and his men had already developed advanced weaponry, waiting only for mass production before unleashing it upon the world.
Because of this, the Tesseract's significance to both HYDRA and Red Skull could not be overstated. The cold-eyed officer seated in the underground hall didn't dare let it out of his sight.
If not for ancient records stating that the ruins beneath Tønsberg required the Tesseract's power to unlock, the power-hungry Red Skull would never have sent it there.
"It's clear that I am Lord Red Skull's most trusted subordinate!"
The officer's eyes gleamed with pride at being entrusted with such a mission.
Of course, he knew the soldiers accompanying him in the heavily armed trucks—wielding HYDRA's most advanced energy rifles—weren't just there to guard him and the Tesseract. They were also there to make sure he didn't try to run off with it.
Even so, that knowledge did nothing to shake his loyalty. Every man deemed a confidant by the Red Skull had long been thoroughly indoctrinated. In the art of brainwashing, Red Skull may well have surpassed even the Führer himself.
Truly, the student had surpassed the master.
"You'd better hurry and open this door. My patience is running thin."
The cold-eyed officer could barely contain his excitement. He imagined the glory of earning Red Skull's personal praise—a reward he believed would be the highest honor of his life. Overcome by impatience, he barked at the team of scholars.
"We understand! We're just as eager to uncover the history sealed behind this gate!"
The white-bearded scholar, the team's most senior expert, carefully picked up the Tesseract. His face glowed with anticipation as he approached the massive bronze gate.
"This shouldn't be difficult... Look here, there's a recessed spot."
Speaking as he worked, the scholar placed the Tesseract into a distinct indentation at the very center of the bronze gate—where the countless serpent carvings converged.
Because the recess sat high up on the gate, he had to climb a stepladder brought in by the soldiers to fit the cube into place.
Click. Click. Click—
As soon as the Tesseract was embedded, a faint, crisp sound echoed through the hall, clear enough for all to hear.
The recess, perfectly shaped to fit the cube, suddenly clamped down, locking the Tesseract tightly into position.
It was as if some hidden mechanism had been triggered. The deep blue, silent energy within the Tesseract erupted outward, and streams of brilliant azure light flowed from it, spreading across every inch of the bronze gate's engraved reliefs in the blink of an eye.
The radiance illuminated the intricate carvings, making them appear alive, glowing with dazzling brilliance. For a moment, the light was so blinding that everyone inside the grand hall was forced to shield their eyes.
The brilliance was overwhelming. Every scholar and the grim-faced officer instinctively raised a hand to block their vision.
Most fared well enough—just discomfort and squinting.
But the white-bearded scholar, still clinging to the hanging ladder closest to the gate, was not so lucky. He too raised his hand reflexively to shield his eyes but, in doing so, forgot his precarious position.
Then—
Thud!
As expected.
Startled by the sudden flare of light, the old man lost his balance. The strength of one frail hand wasn't nearly enough to keep him steady, and he tumbled from the ladder, crashing hard onto the stone floor below.
The heavy impact, followed by his pained cry, made it clear he had fallen badly. Yet in truth, fortune had spared him—had he not already descended partway, a fall from the gate's mid-height would have shattered ribs even on a strong man.
By comparison, landing face-first and losing a few of his remaining teeth was almost a blessing.
Of course, the white-bearded scholar didn't see it that way.
"A curse! This gate—it's cursed!" he shouted, blaming his misfortune on some supernatural hex. In a world where extraordinary forces existed, it wasn't an entirely irrational thought—some ruins did indeed harbor mysterious curses.
Still, whether he had truly been struck by one was anyone's guess.
"Shut up."
The cold-eyed officer snapped, his tone sharp with irritation as he stared at the bronze gate.
He shot the scholar a venomous glare. As one of Red Skull's closest lieutenants—a butcher forged in rivers of blood—his gaze alone was enough to silence the old man. Even with blood dribbling from his mouth, the scholar clamped his hands over his lips and said no more.
No one in that hall understood HYDRA's cruelty better than these conscripted scholars. Once they had joined, there was no leaving. It wasn't that none had tried—those who did rarely survived to tell the tale, their deaths coming quietly at home.
Everyone knew what that meant.
Creak... creak... creak...
The eerie blue glow spread across the entire gate. After countless silent centuries, the bronze structure began to move. The intricate, intertwining reliefs shimmered with the Tesseract's light as the carved serpents slowly began to twist and shift, their bodies sliding into new positions.
It was as though an enormous mechanism had awakened, its deep, grinding sounds echoing through the underground palace, heavy and endless.
The rolling noise, combined with the unsettling motion of the gate, made even the seasoned officer uneasy.
"A miracle! It's an absolute miracle! My God—such craftsmanship! Could it be that the super-ancient civilization possessed technology far beyond our own?"
The scholar in gold-rimmed glasses was trembling with excitement, eyes wide with disbelief. He couldn't comprehend how humans of antiquity could have created such intricate mechanisms and keys to unlock them. Had aliens really come to Earth?
It seemed impossible—humans tens of thousands of years ago couldn't have built something like this. The whole thing felt dreamlike, unreal.
He knew HYDRA's mission was to unearth the secrets of super-ancient civilizations, and he understood such ruins held things that defied comprehension.
Even so, he remained a man of science. To him, everything—no matter how strange—had a rational explanation. It was just that modern science had yet to reach such heights.
Take this bronze gate, for example. In his eyes, it used an energy-locking technology far beyond human capability.
It was so advanced, so impossibly precise, that even as an eyewitness to its discovery, he couldn't help but associate it with extraterrestrial intervention.
The scholars were aflame with excitement.
But the grim-faced officer only grew more cautious. No one knew what dangers might lie beyond that gate.
HYDRA had uncovered many ruins across the world—and suffered terrible losses in doing so. Only recently, the officer had heard of an entire team wiped out in Egypt.
He had no intention of sharing their fate.
"I'm definitely not that unlucky."
The cold-eyed officer muttered inwardly, nerves coiled tight as he prayed under his breath. His gaze locked unblinking on the bronze gate.
But then—
After a flurry of shifting movements, the bronze gate suddenly halted. The countless serpentine carvings that had been gliding fluidly across its surface froze all at once.
"What's happening? Why isn't it opening?"
The officer frowned, turning sharply toward the scientists and scholars.
"We're... not sure. Maybe the key malfunctioned?" one scholar in his thirties ventured uncertainly.
Bang!
A deafening gunshot split the air.
The sound alone made the rest of the scholars tremble. Every head turned toward the officer in horror. Without warning, he had raised his gun and executed the man who spoke.
"I don't want guesses. I want an answer. Don't make me feel disappointed again."
Lowering his peculiar pistol, the officer exhaled slowly. He had drawn it originally to protect himself from any danger behind the gate—but instead, he'd used it to remind everyone who held the power here. HYDRA demanded obedience, and he would have these scholars serve like livestock if necessary.
"Yes... yes, understood."
The remaining scholars and scientists were pale as chalk, fear written across every face. Their eyes darted toward the nearby floor, where a pool of blood was already spreading.
They all knew HYDRA's weapons were capable of horrific things—rumors spoke of guns that could melt flesh into ash—but none of them had expected to witness that power turned on one of their own.
"Good. Now find me a way to open this damned gate."
The officer's voice was cold and calm, but the threat in it was unmistakable.
Driven forward by terror, the group of scholars shuffled toward the massive gate, forced into motion like cattle prodded to work. The bronze structure still pulsed faintly with the blue glow of the Tesseract's energy as they began their analysis.
"Such a unique form of energy... It's a divine masterpiece!"
Unlike the scholar with the gold-rimmed glasses, whose mind worked strictly by scientific reasoning, the hunched old scholar beside him spoke more like a theologian. His voice quivered with religious awe as he whispered reverently.
"God? You ignorant fool," the officer spat. "This is nothing more than an advanced gate built from cosmic core energy. Its creators are hardly gods."
He gave a sharp, derisive laugh.
To this HYDRA officer—thoroughly indoctrinated by Red Skull—no being in existence could surpass their leader.
Red Skull was the god of HYDRA. Every officer believed without doubt that he would lead them into a glorious, unstoppable future.
Of course, none of the scholars dared to disagree, even if their thoughts differed. The corpse cooling nearby was warning enough. They were scientists, yes—but not irreplaceable ones.
"I think it's just old... maybe we need to restore some parts," one muttered nervously.
"Nonsense. Something this advanced wouldn't decay with time! I think we're missing another component besides the cube key," another replied.
"Or perhaps there's some kind of mechanism—a riddle we need to solve?" suggested a third.
Though their hearts were heavy with dread, their curiosity still burned. Even under the officer's threat, part of them longed to uncover the secrets of the super-ancient civilization.
...
Meanwhile, far away, in a quiet café somewhere in the Soviet Union—
"Hm?"
Herman paused mid-sip, the coffee cup hovering just before his lips. His gaze drifted toward the distant horizon, eyes narrowing into a sharp gleam.
Just now, he had felt it again—that same presence calling to him from beyond the world.