As the sun dipped below the horizon, the world was swallowed by nightfall.
In the dazzling neon glow of the big city, no one had the faintest idea what twisted horrors might be lurking in the shadows, eyeing their tender, delicious flesh.
James led Polaris and Blink down a winding country road. After sundown, they'd already left the city limits. According to the glowing marker on the playing card, Dean's current location was somewhere out in the suburbs.
The trio was long used to a life of constant running—always on the move, sleeping rough under the stars. So even though the mountain path they now walked was treacherously winding, none of them complained. They simply pressed forward, determined to find the person Alex had spoken of as soon as possible.
As they moved swiftly, James stayed sharp, never lowering his guard.
Sure, this world was a lot safer than the one he came from. But this was still an alternate reality. There was no way he could fully relax.
Especially not after Alex had explained the kinds of demonic entities that roamed this universe—beings created by the God and the monsters shaped by Eve. Their power levels were terrifying. Even if they didn't seem like a threat at first glance, all it took was one mistake for things to go fatally wrong. While it was true that with the right tools—holy water, incantations, maybe enchanted weapons—even regular humans could hunt them, the danger was far from negligible.
In James's century-long life, he'd heard countless myths and horror stories—about vampires, zombies, ghosts, and all manner of nightmares. But most of them were just fiction born from bored minds. Even the few true ones usually turned out to be incidents caused by mutants who couldn't control their powers.
Before mutants were fully revealed to the world, those "monsters" thrived in folklore, misinterpreted and rewritten over generations until they became legend. But once mutants were exposed, the world turned on its own mythology. Everything supernatural was branded as superstition and heresy—even in America, where freedom once reigned, reading the Bible had become taboo.
But that was James's world.
Here, in this mutant-free universe, those myths were real. And the creatures in them? They were genuine monsters—man-eating ones.
"Is it really this far?" Polaris huffed, starting to lose her patience as they trudged farther. "This is a lot more than that 'tiny bit of margin for error' you mentioned."
"Almost there. I promise, we're close," James muttered, a hint of a headache creeping into his voice. In a place where none of them knew the terrain, they'd been walking for what felt like forever. If they weren't all enhanced individuals, they'd probably have given up already.
"Sure, almost there—just like the other eleven times you said that. Real convincing," Polaris rolled her eyes. She'd been hearing that same line all the way through the forest, which had been nothing but darkness and trees with no change in scenery whatsoever. "I said this when we left the city—we should've just jacked a car. Would've been way faster. But no, you didn't listen."
"This isn't our world," James shot back, glancing at her. His tone dropped a notch. "Stealing a car here isn't as simple as you make it sound. You think the cops wouldn't come looking? Don't forget—we can't afford to be on anyone's radar."
Polaris understood that Logan was right. This world gave her a strange mix of familiarity and alienation. If they exposed themselves recklessly, it could definitely lead to trouble. Her complaints were just venting.
The three of them continued onward until, in the distance, a small town hidden in the darkness came into view.
Though calling it a town was generous—"remote village" was more accurate. It was surrounded by farmland, and from a weathered roadside sign, they could just make out the name: Sweet Wheat Village.
"Is this the place?" James narrowed his eyes as he gazed at the quiet buildings cloaked in night.
The town seemed peaceful, tranquil even, but something about it didn't sit right. James's natural instincts were flaring, the kind of internal alarm honed over a century of war and survival. Whatever it was, it gnawed at his nerves.
"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go find him!" Polaris, seeing a potential destination at last, moved forward eagerly.
But after only a couple of steps, she was halted by James's outstretched arm. She frowned. "What? Why are you stopping me?"
"Better safe than sorry." James's voice was steady, his eyes scanning the pitch-black surroundings. "Before we came, Alex mentioned that Dean was a professional demon hunter—works with his brother, never stays in one place. If he's here now… odds are, this isn't a random stop."
"I know," Polaris rolled her wrists, warming up. "Which is why it's our turn to shine, right?"
James sighed lightly. It had been a while since he'd seen a mutant kid with this much spark.
Shaking his head, he said, "Our mission is to bring Dean and his brother to Alex. That's it. We're not here to play local hero."
"When did the legendary Wolverine turn into such a buzzkill?" Polaris crossed her arms. "You sure weren't like this when you were butting heads with my father."
"That was different," James said, waving a hand dismissively, as if he didn't want to revisit that part of his life.
"Different how? You of all people know your adamantium claws were useless against my father's powers. But you still stood in his way every single time," Polaris argued.
"I said it was different. You don't understand—"
James stopped mid-sentence.
He froze, his words caught in his throat.
Polaris didn't miss a beat. "I don't understand what? Say it."
"Shhh!"
James wasn't in the mood to bicker anymore. He raised a hand, motioning for silence, then lifted his head and sniffed the air—just like a predator catching a scent.
Polaris and Blink exchanged glances. Whatever Logan smelled had to be serious. It was rare to see him drop into full combat awareness like this. The two women immediately tensed and began scanning the darkened landscape around them with caution.
Time seemed to stretch out endlessly.
Just as Polaris was about to lose patience, there was a sudden crack—the sharp, unmistakable sound of brittle leaves being crushed underfoot, coming from the woods behind them, slightly to the right.
It echoed clearly in the otherwise dead silence of the night.
The moment the sound broke out, all three turned toward it simultaneously, their eyes locked on the shadows beneath the trees.
The crunching grew louder.
Then, slowly, a humanoid silhouette emerged from the darkness.
It was a young man—looked no older than seventeen or eighteen. When he saw the three figures in front of him, he visibly startled. But James could tell right away that there was more confusion than fear in his eyes.
He sniffed the air. A foul, metallic stench hit his nose, sharp and nauseating, and it nearly made him recoil. But with Polaris and Blink right behind him, James didn't take a single step back.
While James and the others stood ready for a fight, the boy on the other side was sizing them up too.
He leaned his head forward and took a deep sniff, as if trying to confirm something. A moment later, his expression turned conflicted, and his eyes settled on James with a strange, puzzled look.
James was about to speak when the boy beat him to it.
"You must be Uncle Egg, right? So polite—coming all this way and even bringing snacks!"
Snacks?
Polaris and Blink exchanged baffled glances, but James didn't react at all. His face stayed stone-cold, calm and unreadable, as he stared down the kid.
Seeing that the muscular man before him didn't show any particular emotion, the boy seemed to grow bolder. He chuckled and added cheerfully, "First time meeting—I'm your nephew, Jim. You really picked the right time to show up."
As he spoke, Jim stepped a bit closer to James and, in a voice only the two of them could hear, grinned and whispered: "My dad just caught a couple of demon hunters to go with his drink."
.....
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