He was born into a debt he never owed.
Johann Schmidt came into the world with quiet breath and heavy weight—a boy burdened not by sins of his own, but by the consequences of a world broken by war. The Treaty of Versailles had stripped his country's pride before he could even understand what pride was. He was five when the guns of the First World War first spoke, too young to grasp the meaning, yet old enough to feel the fear clawing at the adult voices around him.
And with fear came something else.
Pain awakened him.
It started the night the neighbor's dog died in the street—old, loyal, barely moving in its final days. Johann cried as he felt the heartbeat fade, not with his ears, but with something deeper. The rhythm stopped, and something inside him grew still. From that moment on, he could feel every heartbeat around him—thousands of them—each one a drumbeat in the dark, a tether to life. When one stopped, he knew.
At first, it crushed him. He loved animals. He loved people. His mother's touch was gentle, and her voice was soft when she called him mein Schatz. But one winter night, he watched as a woman and her children froze to death beside a dead hearth. Their father, returning from the factory at dawn, collapsed over their bodies and screamed. That scream stayed with Johann.
It reminded him of the day he lost his mother.
She had been ill for months—her cheeks sunken, her body frail. The doctor came once. Just once. There were no good medicines. No meat. No firewood. And no mercy. Still, she smiled when Johann came home from school, always telling him how proud she was of his mind, of the things he learned.
But the world was not proud of her.
She died without dignity. Just like so many others.
Johann's father followed soon after—his body failing from wounds he had carried since the war. They festered, untreated. "Only pride will keep you upright when everything else fails," he told Johann with his last breath. "Use everything you have to your advantage, son."
So Johann did.
His gift—his curse—grew. The heartbeat of Berlin became a symphony in his mind. He knew who was afraid. Who was dying. Who was lying. He learned to still the rhythm of his own blood, to sharpen it, to command it. He could make it thin or thicken like oil. And he could make it dance outside of his skin.
The Rise of a Crimson Genius
By 1923, Johann Schmidt had entered the University of Greifswald. Medicine and natural sciences were his focus. But truly, he studied life itself. Blood, organs, the dance of mortality. His professors couldn't keep up. His notes were immaculate. His memory, perfect. He graduated as valedictorian. Still, no applause filled the void he carried.
Outside the lecture halls, Germany was changing. Whispers of supremacy, of rebirth, of a new Reich filled the beer halls and alleyways. The Nazi movement grew like a virus, and Johann listened. Because they spoke of strength. Of cleansing weakness. Of power earned through will alone.
That language, he understood.
For he had seen weakness—starving in the cold, weeping over lifeless children, buried in unmarked graves. And he would never be weak again.
Blood as Power, Blood as God
Johann's powers deepened. In secret, he tested them. His blood was not just a carrier of life—it was a weapon. He could shift its state, turning it to blades, tendrils, shields. He learned how to create decoys made from his own living essence. He trained his body to regenerate using molecular redirection. He discovered how to feel a person's intent by the rhythm of their heart. And, once, he made a man commit suicide by turning his own blood against his brain.
He called it Dominus Sanguinem—the Lord of Blood. Himself.
And the farther his reach extended, the more he heard. Heartbeats… not just in Berlin. Not just in Europe. But beyond—beating from the stars, faint yet pulsing. Something ancient, patient, alien. Something alive in the void.
It terrified him.
And fascinated him.
Johann began to see his mission not as conquest, but preservation. Supremacy, yes—but not for glory. For defense. He would build a world strong enough to resist the monsters he sensed beyond the veil. If only the strongest survived, then only the strongest would remain when the stars bled red.
He would save them all. Whether they wanted saving or not.
Because all life bleeds.
And all blood... belongs to him.
The Last Thing He Loved
In his quietest moments, when sleep almost came, Johann could still hear it—the echo of his mother's heartbeat. Faint. Receding. The last thing that ever truly loved him.
He didn't know if it was memory or madness.
But he clung to it.
Because he had nothing else.
And in that drop of blood...He found his reason to become God.
Next Chapter is him Becoming a super soldier even if is consequences brought him problems the benefits will make him a terrifying opponent for everyone and will met Abraham Erskine that will also escape escape immediately afterwards with the help of the allies and go to the USA start project rebate because he knows about Johann Schmidt the Eldritch Gods and how this war may bring humanity to it's knees and the first hero the marvel ever made will show up to be the fist star to light up the sky even if he's more machine than man.