Time passed, and night fell.
In the hills behind the small town of Tønsberg, over a thousand new gravestones now stood.
The man had gathered the bodies of the villagers, buried them one by one in the back hills, and set up stone markers bearing their names. He also left behind a record of this cruel history, hoping that future inhabitants would know what had once happened here.
Old John was buried in the church he had guarded during his lifetime.
From start to finish, the man had not used a trace of any special ability, only his own physical strength. He didn't even fully understand why he chose not to take the easier way. It was as though some voice in the depths of his mind told him that he must, and could only, do it this way.
It felt as if… doing otherwise would make him even further removed from humanity.
After burying everyone, the man found a few bottles of mead among the ruins, then headed off in a certain direction, leaving the town behind.
Though he had not recovered his memories, there was one thing he knew he must do.
…
…
…
Twelve days after Norway's fall.
The man had crossed the entire European continent, arriving at the Siberian plains of Russia.
The Axis powers, led by Germany, had spread the flames of war across all of Europe. No country was spared.
Masterpieces of human artistry and wisdom, countless ancient and magnificent buildings, and many things beyond any measure of value, had been reduced to rubble under artillery fire. With the advance of war's iron heel, countless people were displaced, and scenes of misery stretched for thousands of miles.
On the Eastern Front in Russia, the fighting could only be described as hell on earth.
It was the most intense, largest-scale, fiercest, and most casualty-heavy front of the entire Second World War.
Over the course of the war, more than sixty-one million lives were lost. The forces committed here were the greatest of any front in WWII, showcasing the full extent of a highly industrialized nation's capacity for war.
Compared to the propaganda image of the "Russian Bear" in later generations, the Russians of this time were the true embodiment of the name.
Under the leadership of the "Man of Steel," millions of Slavs charged forward with cries of "Ura!", pitting flesh and blood against a steel tide. In temperatures dozens of degrees below zero, they halted the German advance, dragging them into a deadly winter.
"The Soviet–German War…"
The man sighed, continuing his trek through the wind and snow.
Though his memories had not yet fully returned, he recalled the general course of the war, and the reason he was here was simple, a fragment of Yvette's soul had once shown violent fluctuations in this place.
The soul fragment did not constantly give him Yvette's location.
Only when Yvette's emotions were at their most intense, activating the fragment's power, could the man sense the resonant pulse between their souls and receive information that revealed her whereabouts.
The last time the fragment had been triggered, he had "seen" a broken, fleeting image.
Yvette seemed to be placed inside a special container, surrounded by some kind of viscous, unknown blue liquid. Through the thick glass of the container, he could vaguely see many people in lab coats working busily in what appeared to be a laboratory.
It was obvious, Yvette was being used as an experimental subject.
Those calling themselves Hydra seemed intent on exploiting Yvette's power to alter the course of the Soviet–German War.
Whooo..whooo..whooo..
The winter of 1942 was several times colder than usual.
Blizzards raged, with temperatures plunging to minus forty or fifty degrees Celsius.
Yet in Siberia there was an anomaly, a man who, with nothing more than a thin black coat, could walk through the snowstorms unaffected by the cold in the slightest.
His path was not fixed, sometimes walking straight, sometimes turning abruptly, seemingly wandering aimlessly.
In truth, he was not lost. He was searching for traces of isolated German troops.
Though he could not determine Yvette's exact location, one thing he was certain of was that Hydra had close ties with Germany. The simplest way to find that secretive organization was to capture German soldiers and force the information out of them.
He had no intention of engaging in the main battlefield.
Therefore, his targets could only be German units that were alone or carrying out special missions.
Darkness gradually fell, and the man found a place to rest.
It was a war-torn, bombed-out city, riddled with bullet holes and craters. Collapsed floors leaned against one another, barely forming a space big enough for a person, just barely.
Still, compared to other exposed spots, it wasn't bad. At least it offered shelter from the wind and rain.
The man didn't necessarily need to rest, but the weather worsened at night. Instead of wasting time looking for German soldiers in such conditions, it was better to stay put for a while and head out again at dawn, when they'd be easier to find.
He bent down and squeezed into the cramped space, only to discover two people already inside.
By a small pile of embers, a pair of blond siblings huddled in fear in a corner. The older sister looked about twelve or thirteen, the younger brother only seven or eight.
The sister gripped a small knife in trembling hands, pointing it at him.
From their emaciated, skin-and-bone appearance, it wasn't hard to tell they hadn't eaten in a long time. Their faces were cracked and sore from the cold, and their wide, fearful eyes stared at him without blinking.
The man was silent for a moment before understanding their situation.
They had lost their parents in the brutal war. Orphaned, they hid in the ruins, avoiding German patrols and struggling to survive.
He knew these two were far from alone.
Countless families had been torn apart by the war. Countless orphans remained in the ruins. Without a miracle, these children wouldn't survive the long winter, they'd freeze or starve to death.
"Don't be afraid. I'm not a bad person."
The man took a few cans of beef from inside his coat and carefully tossed them toward the siblings.
He had plenty more of such things, taken after wiping out a German unit. Since he had run into these two, he couldn't just ignore them. At worst, it would mean a few missed meals for himself. For him, getting more wouldn't be hard.
The siblings' eyes lit up at the sight of the canned beef.
After two days of hunger, they were at their limit. Without food, the cold would soon claim them. The sister timidly picked up a can, and seeing that the man meant no harm, finally lowered her knife.
Clink
She hastily pried open the can, scooped out a piece of beef with her fingers, and fed it to her brother.
She fed him several chunks in a row, swallowing hard herself before taking only a tiny piece for herself, savoring it slowly. A blissful expression spread across her face, as if she were tasting the finest delicacies.
It was hard to imagine...
That such oily, tough, and unappetizing canned beef could make someone smile like that.
The man took out clean water and handed it to the siblings, who were eating frantically.
"Don't rush. There's plenty of food. Eat slowly."
He left them almost all his food and water, along with several warm cotton coats. Then he quietly rose to leave, deciding not to disturb them further.
But just as he was about to go, someone tugged at his sleeve.
Turning back, he saw it was the younger brother.
"This… for you…"
The boy lifted his childish face, holding in both hands a gleaming gold medal.
"This was my father's most precious medal. I… I only have this. If I give it to you, will you help us drive away the Germans?"
The man looked at the medal, still stained with blood, silent testament to its owner's bravery.
The boy, mistaking his silence for dissatisfaction, hurriedly pulled a few drawings and several tiny colored marbles from his pocket. With frostbitten hands, he said timidly,
"I'm sorry… These are all I have. They're my most precious treasures. I'll give them all to you!"
The older sister walked over and, from her dirty clothes, took out a few crumpled banknotes. Slowly, she held them out.
"This is the pension for our father and mother… We only have this much. Please don't think it's too little, Uncle."
The banknotes, too, were stained with dried blood.
That blood-stained medal, those crumpled notes, the tattered drawings, the colored glass marbles, worthless to others, yet carrying the purest hopes of two children.
The man looked down into their honest, trusting eyes, and something stirred deep within him. In that moment, he made a decision.
He knelt down, gently ruffling their hair, and took their treasures as though they were priceless.
"Uncle promises you, I will drive the Germans away. But before that, you must live. Both of you. Understand?"
…
Walking through the snowstorm, the man's resolve was set.
He would end this war ahead of time, no matter if it changed history, no matter what consequences it might bring.