Under the influence of that "Comprehension" trait, Herman finally understood the voice that had been echoing in his ears. At the same time, he immediately recognized the language—it was Enochian, the tongue of angels.
Like the Enochian inscriptions carved into the staircase, it was a divine language that had no place in the Marvel Universe.
"Remarkable."
Herman's gaze fixed on the massive bronze gate standing in the center of the grand hall.
He stepped over the filth, blood, and corpses scattered across the floor as he approached, showing no interest in the scholars who lay dead—victims of the cold-blooded officer. He had already learned the truth while probing the shallow memories of the dead woman outside.
Every expert and scholar involved in the excavation had been slaughtered by that officer. Their fate was the price of siding with the Nazis.
Whatever reasons they had, their decision to join the Nazis had not come from coercion or threat. In the end, they chose to join because the regime offered them opportunity and convenience—and by enjoying the benefits of the Nazis, they also accepted the risk of being discarded once they outlived their usefulness.
"What a magnificent gate."
Herman stood before it. The bronze doors towered dozens of meters high, exuding a grandeur that inspired awe.
Because the Space Stone had been taken by the cold officer and sealed away in a specially made safe instead of being brought underground, the bronze gate now remained closed, its reliefs once again a jumble of chaotic carvings.
To the scholars before him, those carvings had only been obscure and indecipherable symbols. But to Herman, whose understanding of Enochian had awakened through the "Comprehension" effect, they had become legible—records written in Enochian script.
The ordinary scholars and the Nazi soldiers under that officer's command had not been granted that same "Comprehension." That was likely because the Enochian language, by its very nature, could not be learned by humankind. But Herman had reached the threshold required to trigger that power—his Universal-level existence far surpassed it.
If he wished, Herman could spend centuries—or even millennia—creating his own unique script, imbuing it with properties similar to Enochian.
Even Odin, a Sky Father–level being, had created the runes of Asgard. As a Universal-level life form, Herman simply lacked the time or interest to do so.
Of course, he could also tell that any divine language or rune he created would not match the Enochian script in power or sanctity. This language possessed shielding abilities beyond the Universal scale—a testament to the "Creator" who made it, a being of at least Multiversal existence, perhaps even beyond that.
After all, Enochian was tied to angels and to God.
The God of the Marvel Universe clearly lacked such might. But if this relic had merged into the world because of Herman's influence...
Then perhaps, given how beings like Supergirl, Savitar, and Deadpool had appeared in the Marvel Universe, this relic might be connected to the true, supreme God.
"The God of the DC Universe is equivalent to the One-Above-All in the Marvel Universe."
Herman couldn't be certain, though. The relic could just as easily have come from another universe that had merged into this one.
No one knew what kind of power or nature the gods of the Dark Universe or other unknown realities possessed.
Herman turned his focus back to the Enochian script on the bronze gate, attempting to decipher its meaning.
"God led His warriors to drive out the demons that ravaged the mortal realm, bringing hope and boundless futures to all creation.
He was the beginning of all that should not exist, and the end of the universe. After ending calamity, He foresaw an even greater disaster to come.
Thus, God left His warriors here."
It was clear. The Enochian inscription on the bronze gate was neither the work of an angel nor a mark left by God Himself. From the phrasing, it was obvious that it had been written by a "third party" unconnected to either.
"To write in Enochian... that's no ordinary feat. Maybe the builders of this underground palace merely uncovered the secret of this bronze gate and built their sanctum around it."
"The Enochian seals on the outer towers might have been placed there by whoever wrote this tale—to ensure no one would ever uncover this history."
Several names surfaced in Herman's mind—Marvel figures capable of such a feat. Among them was one aspect of the Vishanti Trinity: Agamotto, a Multiversal being who had once wandered Earth with boundless curiosity.
He, too, could have received the "Comprehension" blessing upon nearing the gate—and he certainly had the kind of mind that loved unearthing secrets and leaving riddles behind.
"It could be someone else—even a character outside the Marvel Universe."
Herman's mind grew increasingly clouded with questions. This underground palace radiated strangeness in every corner. Most crucially, why was it calling out to him? And what did that voice mean by "My Lord returns"?
Was it referring to the inscription carved into the bronze gate—that God had left behind His warriors, and therefore, God would one day return to this world?
"Perhaps the answer lies behind this door."
Herman examined the structure of the bronze gate, his gaze soon locking onto the central indentation—clearly designed to prevent any cosmic mimicry.
"Does it require a key?"
His eyes flickered briefly. He knew this gate had been opened before, and he also knew that the so-called key was the Tesseract. This wasn't knowledge drawn from anyone's memory; the air itself still carried faint ripples of energy that hadn't yet faded from the Tesseract's power.
Every Marvel fan knew the story of the Tesseract—the Space Stone—falling into HYDRA's hands during World War II. Herman was no exception.
He even knew more.
The Tesseract was currently in the tent above ground. The containment vessel HYDRA had built couldn't possibly block his perception. Still, Herman didn't rush to retrieve it. He wouldn't dare bring the Tesseract from this era into the future.
For now, the Tesseract would serve only as a temporary key—nothing more. It didn't interest him much. What did capture his curiosity was discovering just how extraordinary this bronze gate truly was.
"All things have an end; all must face death's arrival."
Standing before the bronze gate, Herman pressed one hand against its surface.
In the unseen realm, an overwhelming wave of black death energy erupted from his palm, spreading across the entire underground palace and even reaching the small town above. It became a realm shrouded in death.
The density was so thick that ordinary people could feel the chill and unease creeping into their bones.
"What's happening? Why did it get so cold all of a sudden?"
"My heart's racing."
"I feel anxious too. Is it because of those damn Nazis?"
"They don't seem right either."
...
In the town, the controlled residents reacted in confusion and fear, but the Nazi soldiers' reactions were far more intense. Many of them had faced countless battles between life and death and were unusually sensitive to the scent of death. Unease and irritation spread quickly among them.
None of them knew that, at that very moment, deep below in the underground palace, death energy strong enough to wipe out an entire nation—perhaps more—was spiraling out of control under Herman's command, wrapping itself around the bronze gate.
He tried to use the death energy to corrode and decay it. Yet no matter how much he pushed the Law of Death, the gate remained utterly unaffected—not even a single trace of change.
It stood as it always had.
Silent.
Lonely.
It felt eternal—beyond beginning or end, beyond existence or nothingness. Such an anomaly even made Herman click his tongue in disbelief.
"Is it really that unnatural?"
Never one to bow to superstition, Herman's eyes glimmered with platinum light. Terrifying rays of divine fire surged forth like a roaring torrent.
The divine fire's power, strong enough to melt divinity itself, raged violently against the bronze gate, setting off rippling waves and bursts of light.
But, frustratingly, the platinum-gold divine fire—like the death energy before it—failed to affect the gate at all. Even the power that could consume gods and demons couldn't make it yield.
Just as Herman was about to give up, a sound echoed.
"Creak... creak... creak~"
An unexpected change began.
Though the divine fire continued to envelop the gate, leaving no signs of melting, something extraordinary was happening.
As streams of platinum fire flowed over the surface, the entire gate became bathed in its white-gold glow. Then, the flames began to gather, converging naturally at the indentation where the Tesseract should have been placed.
In moments, the divine fire filled the recess completely, forming a cube-shaped object that radiated a dazzling, unearthly brilliance.
It resembled the Tesseract in form, yet it was far more extraordinary. This "key" forged from divine fire triggered the bronze gate's activation mechanism. The carvings on its surface began to move and transform wildly.
"Click-clack-clack~"
Mechanical sounds echoed from within the gate. Seconds later, the shifting reliefs on its surface aligned, forming the figure of a person—an angelic being surrounded by endless streams of radiant light that unfurled behind it like wings.
"Hm?"
The sight struck Herman with familiarity. He had only recently acquired a pair of wings woven from billions of rays of light.
Coincidence?
This... damn it... how could that be possible?
Before Herman could process what was happening, the bronze gate erupted once more with a thunderous roar—far louder than before.
It wasn't opening...
It was fading.
The bronze surface itself was dissolving, layer by layer, as if melting away into nothingness.
"Rumble~"
The ground began to quake. The entire underground palace started to collapse.
Soon, the bell tower above them gave way as well. Amid the violent tremors, Herman felt the ground rising rapidly beneath him.
Before long, the ascending earth carried the transforming bronze gate—and Herman standing within the underground chamber—bursting straight through the surface.
Sunlight poured across the gate. The bronze sheen had completely faded, replaced by a golden brilliance that glowed even brighter and softer than the sun itself.
The entire town was bathed in that radiance, as though it had been placed within a magnificent golden hall. Under this divine light, the sicknesses and wounds of countless people and animals vanished completely.
Even a man who had just lost an arm to the Nazi soldiers for disobedience watched in disbelief as his severed limb regrew before his eyes.
One by one, everyone in the town fell to their knees, bowing low to the ground.
Their eyes fixed upon the outskirts of town—a mysterious place emanating a majestic aura, glowing like a miniature sun. When the last trace of bronze faded, the great gate revealed its true form: a door of pure white metal.
Its surface gleamed with an intense golden light—brilliant, sacred, and awe-inspiring.
The dazzling radiance spread outward, softly transforming everything it touched. The once-barren land around the town bloomed with lush, vibrant life in an instant.
And that was not all.
The light from the gate pierced through the clouds above, flooding the entire region with brilliance. There was no longer a trace of darkness or corruption anywhere.
Even shadows... no longer existed.
A gentle, melodious song drifted between heaven and earth.
Soft and serene, yet imbued with a power like that of a sacred hymn.
It felt as though the light itself was offering blessings to all creation.
For reasons he couldn't explain, as Herman gazed at the golden gate shining in the sky, a deep tremor stirred within his heart.
He could sense countless souls behind that radiant gate—still slumbering, yet no longer trapped in lifeless stillness.
And as he reached out with his perception, he felt their joy. The air around him seemed to echo with countless overlapping voices, whispering and calling out to him.
"They have waited for eons... awaiting their master..."
Herman lifted his head, staring at the transformed gate, his heart trembling violently.
"Yet they have only awaited me..."
The feeling in his chest grew stronger, almost overwhelming.
"Why... do they cheer for me?"
Reflected within Herman's pupils was the image of the sacred Gate of Heaven.