For Levi, time had lost all meaning.
He felt as though he had sunk into an endless abyssal sea, absolute zero darkness wrapping around everything. There was no light, no sound, no sensation— even the spark of thought itself was extinguished the instant it fell into that void.
Who was he?
Where was he?
How much time had passed?
He didn't know.
There was only nothingness.
The energy he had forcibly copied from the Tesseract—vast as a sea of stars—was now wreaking the most primitive and brutal destruction inside his body. Like a caged beast trapped in a porcelain shop, it tore and crushed every cell, trying to erase his very existence from the material plane.
Yet within Levi's body, two other forces stubbornly resisted this annihilation.
One was the S-rank Regeneration Factor, the foundation of his survival. It was like a tireless repairman: the instant a cell was destroyed by cosmic energy, it immediately went to work repairing it. Though the repair speed lagged far behind the destruction, it never stopped, stubbornly maintaining the basic integrity of Levi's body so that he wouldn't instantly disintegrate into cosmic dust.
The second force was the Super Soldier Serum.
It acted more like an indestructible internal framework, reinforcing every aspect of his body—from bone density to cell membrane toughness—far beyond human limits. If an ordinary human body was a wooden house, Levi's was a reinforced concrete fortress. The cosmic energy was terrifying, yes—but destroying this fortress required far more time and effort.
And so, within his body, a horrifying balance formed.
Destruction.
Repair.
Destruction again.
Repair again.
This endless cycle continued in darkness and ice for a very, very long time.
Long enough for oceans to change and empires to turn into dust in history books.
…
No one knew how much time had passed.
The ice that initially encased Levi, carried by glacial movement and fragmentation, eventually broke away from Greenland and became a drifting iceberg in the Arctic Ocean. Carried by unknown currents, it wandered south in lonely silence.
Then, a powerful warm current altered its fate.
The iceberg drifted farther south, melting rapidly in increasingly warm waters, shrinking day by day.
Finally, in 1995, near the coast of California, the iceberg that had once imprisoned two legends reached its end and shattered completely.
The wreckage of the Valkyrie, along with Steve Rogers, sank into the deep, dark ocean—waiting decades to be discovered by Howard Stark's son.
Levi, however, was luckier.
A massive chunk of ice containing him was caught by a strong undersea current and violently pushed toward the nearby shore.
Crash—
With a heavy impact, the ice broke apart. Levi's body—like discarded debris from another era—was thrown onto a deserted beach by the waves.
Warm Californian sunlight fell for the first time on his face, a face frozen in youth for fifty years.
That warmth shattered the fragile balance inside him.
The regeneration factor and super soldier serum surged forward like reinforcements, while the cosmic energy—after fifty years of constant erosion—finally showed signs of exhaustion.
Levi's eyelids trembled.
Then his eyes snapped open.
He gasped for air like a drowning man.
"Cough—! Cough!"
Icy seawater mixed with blood spilled from his lungs. He collapsed on the sand, every cough burning like fire inside his chest.
Who am I?
Where am I?
Am I… still alive?
Memories flooded back—World War II, the Howling Commandos, Steve's resolute back, Red Skull's mad laughter, the Tesseract, the crashing plane, endless cold.
He struggled upright, staring around blankly.
A strange beach. Cliffs behind him. Endless blue sea ahead.
Everything seemed normal.
Then he noticed what wasn't.
A deafening roar tore through the sky as a sleek jet streaked overhead—far too advanced for World War II.
Far out at sea, a colossal steel ship moved slowly across the horizon, like a floating city.
Levi looked down at himself. His WWII uniform was torn, soaked, reeking of mold and salt.
He staggered up a dune.
On the other side—
A wide black highway. Cars of all colors and smooth designs speeding past.
"…Where is this?" he muttered hoarsely.
Before he could process it, two black sedans screeched to a halt nearby.
Men in black suits and sunglasses poured out, weapons raised, moving with silent precision as they surrounded him.
Two figures approached.
One was a tall Black man in his thirties, expression cold, eyes sharp as a hawk.
The other, a younger white man with a perfectly measured, polite smile—standing subtly in a protective position.
"Don't move. Raise your hands," the younger man said calmly, gun unwavering. "We just want to ask a few questions."
English. Levi understood—and relaxed slightly.
He raised his hands. Right now, he could barely stand.
The Black man stepped forward, eyes lingering on Levi's WWII uniform and unnaturally young face.
"Who are you?" he asked calmly. "Why are you here? This is a restricted military zone."
Levi opened his mouth—and realized he had no answer.
"I… don't know," he said truthfully. "I woke up on this beach."
The Black man crouched, collected a blood-stained ice fragment, sealed it in evidence.
Then he looked Levi straight in the eyes.
"One last question," he said evenly.
"What year is it?"
Levi froze.
"…1945."
The younger man—Phil Coulson—looked shocked.
The Black man—Nick Fury—looked grave.
"Target confirmed," Fury said into his comm. "Identity unknown. Claims to be from 1945. Activate Level-A containment."
As Levi was escorted away, he overheard:
"Fury… do you think he's telling the truth?"
"That's not the point. A man in a fifty-year-old uniform appearing here… is not normal."
Fifty years.
Levi finally understood.
He hadn't crossed worlds.
He had simply slept for half a century.
…
Days later, in a white room.
Levi pieced together the truth.
It was 1995.
This place was S.H.I.E.L.D.
The project was Project Pegasus.
And today—
The beginning of Captain Marvel's story.
Levi stood as alarms blared.
His eyes burned with resolve.
His chance had arrived.
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