Berlin, The Third Reich -1941
By the time they finished talking, the sun was high. It was nearly noon.
Ernst retreated to his quarters, collapsing into a leather armchair.
He poured a glass of water, his hand trembling slightly, not from fear, but from the weight of the variable he had just introduced.
He had saved Edie Lehnsherr.
In the original timeline, her death was the catalyst for Magneto. By keeping her alive, he altered the fundamental chaotic equation of the future.
Calculated risk, he told himself.
'A leash is better than a trigger.'
Ernst closed his eyes, his mind drifting back to the beginning.
He wasn't Ernst Shaw. Not originally.
He was a man from the 21st century, a man who had died in a sudden, violent traffic accident.
When he opened his eyes, he was an infant in 1920s Germany, staring up at the face of a monster.
Sebastian Shaw.
To the world, Shaw was a nightmare.
To Ernst, he was Father.
And Shaw loved him. It was a fierce, protective love born of biology.
Shaw's mutation, the ability to absorb and metabolize energy, had a side effect: sterility.
His cells were too volatile to create life.
Ernst was a statistical impossibility. A miracle.
Ernst's mother was an ordinary woman who died birthing him.
Shaw barely remembered her name, viewing her merely as the vessel that delivered his only heir.
But for Ernst? Shaw would burn the world down.
It was a complex dynamic. He knew his father was a villain destined to be killed by Magneto.
But self-preservation was a powerful motivator.
If Shaw fell, Ernst lost his shield.
So, Ernst adapted. He used his adult intellect to master physics, chemistry, and biology by age ten.
By fifteen, he was hailed as the "Boy Genius of Berlin."
He joined Shaw at the Schmidt Research Division.
While Shaw played with genetics and tortured prisoners in the camps, Ernst turned his attention to engineering.
War was the perfect incubator for innovation.
He didn't give them nukes, that would end the game too quickly.
Instead, he gave the Wehrmacht precision.
Better ballistics, advanced alloys, superior communications.
His work caught the eye of the Führer himself.
At twenty, Ernst was decorated and given the rank of Major General in the Science Division.
A meteoric rise, bought with future knowledge.
But with higher clearance came darker secrets.
Ernst stood up and walked to a map on the wall.
It wasn't a standard military map; it was marked with zones of "Unexplained Phenomena."
This wasn't just the X-Men universe. It was a chaotic amalgamation.
Intelligence reports spoke of "Special Assets" in the British Isles. Not mutants, but wizards.
The British government was quietly employing a hidden society of wizards.
'Hogwarts', Ernst thought grimly. Or something like it.
The reports detailed skirmishes where German units were routed by "impossible storms" and "lightning from clear skies."
Germany had countered by recruiting outcast Dark Wizards, fueling their dark arts with the blood of concentration camp prisoners to combat the British covens.
Magic was real. And it was messy.
But the threats didn't stop at magic.
Across the Atlantic, an American industrialist Howard Stark was revolutionizing Allied technology.
If Stark was here, Captain America wasn't far behind. And later? The Hulk. Thor. Thanos.
Closer to home, Ernst had met a colleague in the chemical warfare division, Dr. Isabel Maru.
She wore a ceramic partial mask to hide her face. Doctor Poison.
That meant Wonder Woman existed.
And if Diana Prince was walking the earth, then so would Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne.
The Justice League. Darkseid. Doomsday.
Ernst rubbed his temples. The migraine was returning.
This world is a meat grinder, he thought.
'And I am just a man.'
He had no powers. No energy absorption, no steel skin.
If he wanted to survive the coming age of gods and monsters, he needed to evolve.
He needed an army.
He had already started.
While Hitler wanted bigger guns, Ernst had argued for better men.
He refused to build the atomic bomb just yet.
Instead, he introduced "Project: Titan."
Using his knowledge of 21st-century sports science, nutrition, and special forces training, regimens used by the SAS and Navy SEALs, he revolutionized the training of elite German units.
He combined this with chemical enhancement baths to push human physiology to its absolute breaking point.
The results were terrifying.
His unit, the "Wolfsbrigade," moved faster, hit harder, and endured more pain than any standard soldier.
They were masters of assassination, sabotage, and guerrilla warfare.
Hitler was pleased. He gave Ernst more funding.
But it wasn't enough. Adult soldiers had limits.
Their bones were already set; their minds were already formed.
Ernst needed a blank slate.
He sat back at his desk and pulled out a file stamped TOP SECRET.
The proposal was simple, cruel, and efficient.
Phase Two: The Cradle.
To build a true super-soldier, training had to begin before birth.
He needed to alter the prenatal environment, injecting specific hormonal cocktails into pregnant mothers to maximize the fetus's bone density and muscle fiber development.
The children would be born strong.
And from the moment they took their first breath, they would be Ernst's.
Indoctrinated. Trained. Perfected.
Hitler had balked at the cost and the time frame.
"I need soldiers now, Major General, not in twenty years," the Führer had argued.
But Ernst had been persuasive.
He argued that the Reich was eternal; they needed to plant trees today to harvest the wood tomorrow.
Finally, Hitler agreed to a compromise.
He allowed Ernst subjects from the camps for a pilot program.
Ernst tapped the file.
"The fruit is irrelevant," he whispered to the empty room, a dark hunger entering his voice.
"I just need what the mothers produce to grow it."
—-
Omake;
"Ernst is the only normal human in a room full of gods, aliens, and wizards, and his solution is:
'I'm going to science the hell out of this.'
Refusing to build the nuke because it ends the game too quickly?
That's not strategy; that's a gamer wanting to farm XP before the final boss. Ernst is playing the long game.
Hitler: "I want soldiers now!"
Ernst: "Patience, mein Führer. Good things come to those who wait 20 years."
Hitler: "I don't have 20 years."
Ernst: "Not my problem. I have a medical case and a dream."
—-
Authors note:
Me here. I have analyzed the physics of 'Writer Motivation.'
It turns out, my typing speed is directly correlated to the number of shiny blue rocks (Power Stones) in my inventory.
200 Power Stones = 1 Bonus Chapter
10 reviews = 1 bonus Chapter