Nathan listened to the old woman's explanation without visible surprise.
In his mind, the beast's motives were predictable—either to escape his control, cause him trouble, or do both at once. Judging by what he was hearing now, it seemed the creature was indeed aiming for both.
The old woman's voice trembled as she continued, "Lord Cthulhu, in the guise of Hei Kong, may be attempting to borrow power from other high-level demons—beings like Dormammu or Mephisto—to sever the contract binding him to her body."
She explained that when Lord Cthulhu first entered Hei Kong, a special binding was formed—a contract so absolute that it would remain until one party died. Only a being with dimensional dominance—a Dormammu-level entity—could forcibly break it through overwhelming might. If such a contract were destroyed, Cthulhu would be free to abandon Hei Kong's body entirely, find a new host, and escape Nathan's hold.
"But…" she went on cautiously, "…Lord Cthulhu rarely attempts this. Such a technique is incredibly complex, requiring layers of deception to hide his true identity from those dimensional masters. If they realized who he truly was, they might seek to capture him themselves."
In the past, Cthulhu had never faced an opponent capable of truly imprisoning him. If someone tried, he would simply complete Hei Kong's integration and kill them outright. Only a desperate situation would push him to use this dangerous escape plan.
The gathered elders all turned their gaze to Nathan with something deeper than fear—respect born from dread. They now understood: this man had driven their god to desperation. Even the evil god was willing to take risks just to be rid of him.
Nathan frowned slightly. "Why say it will cause me trouble? If the beast borrows power in Hei Kong's name, shouldn't the debt be hers to pay?"
The old woman inclined her head. "It is… but demons are greedy, my lord. They always take more than they're owed. Dormammu, for instance, has long sought to invade Earth. If he gets the chance, he won't just collect his debt—he'll take everything around it. Even if the one in the Himalayas drives him back, he won't leave without trying."
"And Mephisto?" Nathan pressed.
"If the debt is owed to him," she replied, "he will almost certainly notice you when he comes to collect. After all, you have been entangled with the leader for so long. He delights in bargaining for the souls of the powerful. If he sees you, he will make an offer—then do everything possible to take your soul."
Nathan's expression darkened. Dormammu was a problem. If the beast was this quiet, she was likely already setting this plan into motion. Given the permanence of her imprisonment otherwise, the move made sense.
The fastest solution, Nathan knew, was to simply kill Hei Kong and send the beast into another reincarnation cycle. But that meant losing a rare living specimen and an irreplaceable vault of knowledge. Letting her go, however, risked her stirring up more trouble elsewhere. He needed a different approach.
"How long will it take to complete this secret technique?" Nathan asked.
"A month," the old woman answered.
Nathan calculated instantly. "Then there's about half a month left." He suspected the idea had begun after his last surge in power. The timing fit—the beast had seen the hopelessness of her situation and begun plotting escape.
His scythe shifted slightly, the cold blade grazing the old woman's throat, drawing a bead of blood. "What do I need to do?"
---
Meanwhile…
On a winding mountain road outside a small town, an armed convoy roared forward, chasing a single car at breakneck speed. Gun barrels jutted from the pursuing vehicles, spitting streams of bullets.
Da-da-da! Sparks exploded across the fleeing car's chassis as rounds slammed into it.
Inside, three figures kept low—Wolverine, Mystique, and the young Wolf Girl. They'd been on the run since their last close call. Essex's forces were relentless, and today was no different.
"Damn it!" Wolverine growled, a fresh graze bleeding along his cheek. "These dogs just won't quit!"
Mystique ducked lower. "Strange… they're not pressing as hard as I expected. With Essex's reach, they could swarm us endlessly. We should've been buried in bodies by now."
"Maybe," Logan muttered, "but we still have to shake this pack."
Then—BOOM! BOOM!
Explosions tore through the air behind them. Fire engulfed the road as several pursuing vehicles were ripped apart, blocking the rest of the convoy.
Wolverine's eyes widened. "An ambush? Someone's helping us?"
Taking the chance, he floored the gas, and the car shot through the mountain pass, leaving smoke and wreckage behind.
At the next intersection, a lone vehicle blocked their path.
Mystique's eyes narrowed. "Essex? But… only one car?"
The driver's door opened, and a man stepped out with hands raised.
Wolverine stiffened. Mystique's lips curved. "It's him."
Wolf Girl blinked. "Why does he look so much like Logan?"
"Because," Mystique said, "that's Logan's brother."
Sabretooth. Younger in appearance than Logan, still in his prime, his sharp smile was as dangerous as ever.
"Logan," he called, "follow me. Essex won't take long to regroup."
Wolverine didn't hesitate. Soon, both cars were speeding away.
---
They stopped in a forest clearing dotted with tents—a hidden Mutant camp. More than twenty mutants were there, most wounded. Missing limbs, scarred faces, ragged clothes; every survivor bore the mark of Essex's cruelty.
Some tended weapons. Others cooked over open fires. All carried the heavy air of people living one bad day away from extinction.
Wolverine, Mystique, and Wolf Girl followed Sabretooth into the camp without surprise. They'd seen too many such outposts—flickering sparks of resistance scattered across a darkened land.
The Mutant race was teetering at the cliff's edge. New births had ceased. Essex's machine ground relentlessly toward extinction. Some mutants had surrendered to despair. Others fought on, choosing to die standing rather than live on their knees.
And in this bleak landscape, rumors had begun to spread—rumors of a savior.
Some claimed a Mutant of unimaginable power existed, one who could topple Essex and reverse their fate. Others spoke of a reincarnated "Son of God" who would restore Mutant freedom and even cure their infertility. Still others whispered of an ancient Mutant about to awaken and lead them to a new age.
The truth was simpler: these stories had been planted. The Wolf Girl, backed by Wolverine and Mystique, had carried them from camp to camp, offering hope to the hopeless. She never named the savior, only swore he existed. And in desperation, belief bloomed easily.
As the stories traveled, they twisted into legend. Soon, the Mutant underground believed a savior was out there—ready to blaze like the sun and burn away their darkness.
Nathan, of course, knew nothing of the tales. He was not in the world's underbelly, but the underbelly was full of his legend.
---
When the trio entered the camp, every eye turned to them—and especially to Wolf Girl.
"It's been so long since we've seen a Mutant child," someone murmured. "And she carries a mission…"
"Wolverine's daughter?" another guessed.
Sabretooth smirked. "Close enough."
They crowded forward, questions spilling over each other.
"Does the savior really exist?"
Wolf Girl met their gaze without hesitation. "Yes. We'll find him soon. When we do, everything will change."
They turned to Wolverine. He nodded solemnly. "We will find him."
Hope lit their faces—right before a shell screamed through the air.
BOOM! Sabretooth was thrown backward, blood spraying.
"Enemy attack!" someone roared.
---
Back in the Hand's tunnel, Nathan's question still hung in the air.
The old woman nodded slowly. "There is a way…"
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