When the Ancient One had exiled from the universe, Herman had once sensed a voice calling out to him—from Earth, at this very point in time.
Yet whatever it was that had called him disappeared without a trace after guiding him back into the correct universe, only to deposit him at the wrong point in the timeline.
Since then, Herman had tried more than once to use his enhanced vision to observe every corner of the Earth, but no matter how hard he searched, he couldn't find anything out of the ordinary.
He never expected that, before even reaching New York to look for clues, that strange call would resurface once again.
Only this time, it came far too suddenly—and vanished just as fast.
It hadn't lasted even a hundredth of a microsecond, and despite the fleeting moment, Herman still couldn't pinpoint its source. The sensation vanished again, as if deliberately obscured by something. Whatever it was, the place it originated from must have contained some form of interference capable of blocking his perception entirely.
If his sensory ability could be compared to a GPS system, then the location of that calling voice must have had a counter-tracking mechanism in place. Otherwise, with his current level of existence, no matter how brief the call, he should have been able to lock onto it instantly.
"That direction..."
Though Herman couldn't determine the exact coordinates, his perception had advanced to a higher level since the first time he'd felt the call.
And now, standing within the Marvel Universe itself, he could at least make out a general direction.
West.
The direction of the United States—though the signal seemed to stretch even farther than America's borders, beyond the reach of its land entirely.
The precise location remained hidden, but Herman was certain the direction he sensed wasn't wrong.
"Looks like it's time to end this trip."
He hadn't expected to sense the call a second time, but now that he had, he knew it wasn't something to ignore. The entity reaching out to him had carried an urgency this time, as if urging him to come quickly—only to be cut off once more.
He still couldn't tell what was calling to him, or even if it was a living being, but his instincts told him it was something he couldn't delay investigating.
Whatever the case, his peaceful road trip had to end here.
Thinking of Wolverine, Herman quickly made up his mind. Logan's condition was indeed strange, but it could wait. He would deal with this first—then return later to find the Wolverine from the future.
With that thought, Herman's figure vanished from the café. On the table where he'd been sitting, he left a few bills—enough to cover his coffee and a generous tip.
Moments later, a beautiful waitress approached, hoping to ask if he needed anything else—and maybe to ask for his number.
She froze.
Her eyes darted around in confusion, searching for the handsome stranger she'd just worked up the courage to approach tonight. He was gone. She couldn't even recall seeing him leave.
In truth, by the time she reached his table, Herman had already found Wolverine elsewhere in the city.
Events seemed to be unfolding one after another. First, that mysterious call had reappeared. And now, Wolverine was facing an entirely new problem.
"Hm?"
When Herman found him, Logan had just finished tinkering with his beat-up old car. Before Herman could even bring up the idea of parting ways, Logan's eyes rolled back—and he collapsed to the ground.
His life signs were stable.
Breathing normal.
Heartbeat steady.
Yet he had simply fallen unconscious, just like that.
The sudden collapse of such a large man drew the attention of several passersby. Someone fainting in the middle of the street wasn't something people saw every day. Some onlookers pulled out their phones to call for help, while others cast wary, suspicious glances at Herman, standing nearby.
They probably thought he'd attacked the man.
In times like these, street violence wasn't exactly rare. But faced with Herman's powerful frame and intimidating presence, not a single person dared step in as a "good Samaritan."
At most, a few whispered and pointed from a safe distance—until Herman's eyes flicked toward them.
Then, one by one, they quickly scattered, terrified by a single look.
"What's going on?"
Herman hadn't quite figured out what was happening with Wolverine Logan either.
He examined him closely and soon discovered that Logan's soul was... unstable—its state slightly chaotic, as if two presences had just been forcibly separated.
"I see…"
A faint crease formed between Herman's brows as a hypothesis took shape in his mind. Moments later, he noticed Logan's eyelids start to twitch—despite the man having been completely unconscious a moment ago.
Within seconds, Wolverine's eyes snapped open. Groaning, he clutched his aching head and pushed himself up from the ground. When his senses cleared, the first thing he saw was Herman standing a few steps away.
Snikt—!
A sharp sound split the air as Logan's bone claws shot out instinctively. The battle-hardened veteran—scarred by too many wars and carrying the weight of old trauma—snarled at Herman, his stance tense, voice low and aggressive.
"Damn it! Who the hell are you?! Why am I here?!"
Two questions—but enough to make everything clear.
The soul from the future—the Wolverine who had traveled back—was gone. The body's original owner, the present Wolverine Logan of this timeline, had reclaimed full control.
The Logan who'd spent days with Herman had vanished completely. This one had no memory of any of it, as though he'd fallen into a deep sleep and woken to find the world changed around him.
Naturally, confusion and suspicion followed.
And then—
"Where's Sabretooth!?"
His memories were still stuck in that last moment before he'd blacked out—the fierce battle with Sabretooth. Instinctively, he reacted as if still in the fight, adrenaline flooding his system.
Normally, Logan was good at hiding what made him different from ordinary people. But this version—his mind locked in that brutal memory—was all raw instinct and combat reflex.
He turned on Herman, eyes blazing.
"Sabretooth…"
Herman sighed inwardly. What could he even say? Tell him to go back to the jungle and check whether Sabretooth's corpse had already been eaten clean?
"You… are you one of Sabretooth's men?!"
Logan's voice dropped to a growl. He could feel it—something overwhelming radiating from Herman, something that made every instinct scream danger. The hair on his arms bristled.
"As expected," Herman murmured, calm and unshaken. "Time tempers people—it changes them. You really are nothing like the man you'll become."
He looked at Logan, a flicker of amusement crossing his eyes. "You're certainly not a friendly person right now."
"You're talking nonsense…" Logan growled, still not understanding a word. His fragmented memories—Sabretooth's ambush, the blood, the rage—kept flashing through his mind.
"My point is…" Herman's lips curved into a faint smile. "See you in the future."
Before Logan could respond, a surge of black light swept across Herman's body. His casual clothes dissolved, replaced instantly by a sleek black battle suit.
Then—boom!
He rocketed upward like a launched shell, leaving behind a crater of shattered pavement and a stunned Wolverine staring up at the sky.
Around them, the crowd erupted into chaos.
"My God! That man just flew!"
"He went straight into the air!"
"Did you see that? He's flying! Is he some kind of superhuman? Or a secret military experiment?!"
"This can't be real—am I dreaming?!"
"Someone record it! His clothes—did you see them change?!"
The noise of astonishment echoed through the street as Herman vanished into the clouds.
…
The crowd that had been watching Herman rocket skyward had originally been focused on Wolverine Logan, but the sudden spectacle left them stunned.
Wolverine, who had been keeping his guard up against Herman, was just as shocked. What the hell? Why did that mysterious guy suddenly take off without a word?
A flying mutant? A one-second costume change? And what did that "See you in the future" even mean?
Logan, never much of a scholar, could only stare blankly as confusion spread through the district of the city, which quickly fell into chaos.
Herman had already soared far beyond the reach of ordinary eyes.
"Who could resist the temptation of admiring Earth from space?" he murmured.
He hadn't even accelerated fully. Even so, his speed was terrifying. In a single instant, the clouds he tore through exploded outward in rippling waves of air, propelling him higher than any aircraft could ever reach.
His velocity was beyond comprehension—not even future satellite surveillance could track it, managing only to capture a faint, indistinct blur.
The roar of the wind crashed in his ears as he tore through the atmosphere, breaking into the frigid, silent expanse of outer space.
"Earth really does look far more beautiful now than it will decades from now," Herman said softly, gazing at the planet still mostly untouched by industrial pollution.
He sighed with genuine emotion. Here, all was still and silent. The blue planet stretched endlessly beneath his eyes.
Before his transmigration, Herman had seen a set of photographs showing Earth's appearance across decades—how its vibrant blue gradually dulled under a gray haze. Now, seeing it with his own eyes, he understood how the weight of modern industrial progress had scarred Earth's natural beauty.
No wonder people said humanity was the planet's own disease.
"Out here in space, I actually feel at home."
Floating in the vacuum, Herman felt no discomfort at all. He enjoyed it. His divine body didn't need to breathe, and he could constantly absorb and release the purest cosmic energy.
Though different from Kryptonians, who grew stronger by basking in sunlight, a Universal-level being like him could also enhance itself by drawing in cosmic energy.
It was much like cultivation in fantasy worlds—slow, but undeniably effective. Herman spread his arms wide as he absorbed and released the cosmic flow.
Behind him, his black battle cloak fluttered under the sun's radiant light, looking every bit the part. He savored the feeling of embracing the Earth, that intoxicating sense of "all things beneath me."
No wonder so many lost themselves in power. Only by reaching this height could one truly witness the world from this level. That feeling of having the world bow beneath one's feet—it was exquisite.
Herman found himself momentarily entranced. Looking down at Earth, even from this vast distance, he could ignite the divine fire in his eyes and see every corner of the world in perfect clarity.
"Divine Vision..."
He could perceive everything—animals roaming across the plains, couples exercising under rooftops, every detail of life unfolding before him.
Of course, he still hadn't found what he was searching for, but that didn't matter. For now, he was simply observing.
He felt a subtle tremor within—"all beings are but ants." What were ants, really? Under divine sight, all things were equal.
Everything was an ant. To higher life forms, an elephant was an ant. A tiger was an ant. Even mighty mountains and rivers—still ants. As for humans, those fragile little monkeys? Naturally, no exception.
All the same.
There was no contempt in the thought, nor was it a sign of him being consumed by power. It was simply a truth unfiltered by emotion. Under his current perspective, every living thing appeared as an ant.
Even the largest creatures were insignificant. Imagine a being gazing down upon the world for millennia—eventually, no creature in its sight would seem remotely comparable.
"Even this planet... feels a little small to me."
Herman extended his hand, as if to grasp the Earth—yet hesitated, afraid it might crumble from the lightest touch.
It was a strange feeling. But he didn't linger on it. He still remembered why he had come into space.
"There."
Locking onto New York's position, Herman dove downward. His body streaked through the sky like a meteor, trailing a brilliant arc of light as he fell toward Earth.
To find the voice that had called to him, New York was the only place to start. His instincts told him that in this most extraordinary city of the Marvel Universe, he would find the clues he sought.
Like a meteorite descending from the heavens, Herman landed silently in New York, where air defenses were still primitive.
Only—
He hadn't expected what came next.
The moment he touched down, he ran straight into something absurdly dramatic.