Damn it all—what kind of mess is this?
Levi stood in the snow, staring at the bodies of the fallen Hydra soldiers at his feet. His emotions were a tangled mess, like someone had overturned a jar of mixed spices in his chest.
Fear—of course there was fear. He was completely alone, with no idea how many more Hydra soldiers were lurking nearby. The gunfire just now had definitely alerted others.
But after the fear…
Another emotion slowly welled up from deep inside him.
Excitement.
A tense, greedy, almost pathological excitement.
Where was he right now?
This was Hydra's nest.
And what did Hydra have?
Black technology far beyond this era.
In the movies, what kind of weapons did Red Skull's troops use? Those blue energy guns—one shot and a man turned into flying ash. Compared to that, the "rat-tat-tat" submachine gun in his hands was practically a toy.
Sure, these guys looked like ordinary patrol soldiers, still using conventional firearms—but this was Hydra. Their gear had to be better than that of regular German troops, right?
As the saying went: The bold get rich, the timid starve.
He was already in this deep. Overthinking it now wouldn't help. If he was going to die, he might as well grab some capital first.
Once that thought surfaced, it refused to go away.
Levi's eyes lit up.
Without hesitation, he squatted down and began his first-ever post-transmigration career move—
Looting corpses.
He went straight for the squad leader he'd taken down with a single elbow strike. Higher rank meant better loot—that was universal truth.
He searched quickly.
First, weapons.
A well-maintained MP40 submachine gun, plus three fully loaded magazines. Levi stuffed all the magazines into his vest without ceremony. From the man's belt, he unclipped two German stick grenades—powerful, long-throw, perfect for assaults.
Next—food.
From an inner pocket, he pulled out a black, oil-paper-wrapped block. Opening it revealed a high-energy compressed ration, rich with the scent of meat and nuts—way better than the dry crackers in his own pack. There was also a small tin with several pieces of chocolate inside.
"All good stuff," Levi muttered, shoving a piece of chocolate into his mouth. The sweetness dissolved on his tongue, energy flooding back into his body. Sugar was life—fast calories and a great stress reliever.
As he flipped the body over, his hand brushed against something hard and rectangular in an inner pocket.
He paused, then pulled it out.
A small notebook, bound in leather.
He opened it, using the snow's reflected light to see inside.
A hand-drawn map.
Crude, but with critical locations clearly marked. His eyes immediately locked onto a large red X labeled "Fabrik"—factory. He recognized that word.
Around it were several dotted lines, annotated with times and numbers.
Patrol routes. Schedules.
Jackpot.
Levi's heart nearly leapt out of his throat.
This thing was worth more than a hundred submachine guns. With this map, he was no longer blind in this deathtrap of a forest. He could avoid patrols, choose safer paths—and more importantly, he now knew exactly where the Hydra factory was.
He folded the map carefully and tucked it deep inside his clothing, right against his body.
A talisman.
Suppressing his excitement, he continued searching the squad leader.
Soon, he found something else.
A palm-sized black metal box, with a red button and several short antennas. It looked like a radio—but far smaller and more refined than anything from the WWII era.
"Hydra internal communicator," Levi murmured.
He didn't know the frequency, and he didn't speak German—but the device itself screamed advanced tech. After a moment's thought, he pocketed it anyway. It might come in handy later.
He moved on to the other three bodies.
Regular soldiers—less impressive. Mostly ammunition and rations. Still, Levi followed the principle of no loot left behind, stripping them of magazines and grenades.
When he finally stood up, he felt like a different man.
He discarded his empty M1A1 and slung a nearly new MP40 over his shoulder. His vest bulged with magazines. Six stick grenades hung from his belt. His pack was stuffed with chocolate and high-energy rations. Hidden close to his chest were a map pointing the way—and a piece of future tech.
This was a full-on upgrade.
From peashooter to heavy firepower.
His sense of security skyrocketed. As always, a man's greatest confidence came from sufficient firepower and supplies.
Just as he was about to leave, his gaze drifted to the first soldier he'd killed—the one whose throat he'd cut.
The man's backpack had split open when he fell, scattering its contents across the snow.
Levi hadn't paid attention before.
But now, something caught his eye.
A faint, glowing blue light.
"What's that…?"
Curious, he walked over and nudged aside the snow with his boot.
There it was.
A semi-transparent blue cube, no bigger than his fist. It looked like crystal, but inside, streams of light slowly flowed and rotated, emitting a pure, steady energy glow.
It lay quietly in the snow, that blue radiance eerily beautiful in the darkness.
Levi crouched down, hesitated for a moment—
Then picked it up.
The cube was cold, but not biting. Smooth. Almost warm.
He could clearly feel it—a faint yet incredibly refined energy pulsing within.
"This is… an energy cell?"
His mind immediately flashed to the Hydra weapons from the movies.
Those blue energy guns—their power source had always been the Tesseract. And this little cube, in both color and energy signature, felt eerily similar.
Understanding struck him like lightning.
This was almost certainly a standardized energy core, refined from the Tesseract—the battery for Hydra's energy weapons.
Levi's breathing quickened.
Carefully, reverently, he tucked the energy cube into his clothing. His heart felt like it was about to overload.
First the map.
Then this.
What, is the universe afraid I won't die fast enough—so it's handing me all this treasure to make sure Hydra drags me down with them?
He was still riding the high when a distant sound drifted through the wind.
"Woof! Woof woof!"
Dogs.
More than one.
Levi's expression changed instantly.
The gunfire had drawn a larger search party—and they'd brought tracking dogs.
In snow, a man's nose might fail.
A dog's wouldn't.
The blood on the ground was a glowing arrow pointing straight at him.
Move. Now.
He wasted no time. Casting one last glance at the bodies, he silently thanked them—"Much appreciated for the gear, brothers"—then turned and vanished into the deeper darkness.
He didn't take the shortest route toward the factory.
That would be suicide.
Instead, using the patrol routes on the map, he chose the most remote, least traveled path—moving in the opposite direction.
Rushing the factory now would be walking into a trap.
He needed to lie low, ride out the heat, wait for daylight.
Then plan his next move.
The wind and snow grew heavier, quickly covering his tracks—burying the bodies, erasing the violence.
The forest returned to silence, as if nothing had happened.
Only a lone black shadow, armed with new equipment and a burning heart, moved swiftly and resolutely through the frozen wilderness.