Marvel With Zanpakutou

Chapter 827: What Year Is It?

The Fire Festival had ended.

After the festivities, all that remained was loneliness.

The villagers’ faces flushed with drink and smiles and staggered home, supporting each other as they returned to their warm hearths. They sat by the fire, warming their hands and enjoying the comfort of their families.

But one girl remained, standing alone, her gaze fixed on the path leading out of the village.

Old John didn’t disturb her. Draped in his thick fur coat, he quietly stood nearby, keeping watch over her.

Time passed, and the night grew more profound.

A cold drop landed on her forehead, biting with the chill of winter.

Yvette slowly extended her hand, watching as a delicate snowflake landed in her palm.

The final snowfall of the year fell in thick, soft flakes, like feathers, as if to bid farewell to the man who had left, and the months they had spent together seemed to fade away with the cold wind, disappearing into the northern breeze.

The snow, carried by the wind, made the already cold night even colder.

"Let’s go inside, Yvette," Old John finally spoke, unable to bear seeing his granddaughter suffer any longer. He took slow, hesitant steps toward her and gently urged, "He’s not someone who belongs here. He was bound to leave someday."

Yvette lowered her head deeply, her hands turning purple from the cold. Tears streamed down her face as she bit her lip hard, her voice trembling as she whispered, "I... I understand, Grandpa..."

The girl had always been understanding ever since she was little.

She understood her grandfather’s concerns and knew that Luka would never stay, but she just couldn’t let go.

Until the end, she couldn’t say the words she wanted to.

"I... I liked him..."

Yvette threw herself into Old John’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably. "Grandpa... I liked Luka... but why... why wouldn’t he let me say it... even if he was going to reject me...?"

...

...

...

The man trudged through the snow-covered mountains, sleepless throughout the night.

At the break of dawn, a piercing golden light appeared, casting a radiant glow across the mountain peaks. The sky was painted in hues of red and gold, and the snow-covered forests and hills sparkled like a scene from a fairy tale.

But, unfortunately, no matter how beautiful the landscape, it meant nothing to him. He only wanted to find the nearest human settlement.

If he continued in this direction, it wouldn’t take long—just a few days—before he’d live like a wild man in the wilderness.

While his physique wouldn’t let him starve or freeze to death, his appearance was definitely at risk.

"I should’ve asked Old John for a map," the man muttered, dreadfully gazing out at the endless mountain ranges. "Please don’t let me get lost. I really don’t want to become a caveman."

Having already left, though, going back would be too humiliating.

With a self-deprecating laugh, he chose a promising direction and ran.

It’s often said that going up a mountain is more accessible than going down.

But that didn’t seem to apply to him. His descent was as swift as lightning, and he paid no mind to the steep slopes. He tore through the thick snow like an avalanche, leaving a trail of snow and debris in his wake.

The man descended from the mountain’s summit in just a few minutes.

Ahead of him lay a forest blanketed in snow. All was silent—nature seemed to be sleeping under the thick white layer.

An experienced hunter would know better than to enter a forest right after a heavy snowfall. This is when predators like bears come out to hunt, seeking to stockpile fat for the winter.

The sun sank lower in the sky as the man walked through the woods.

It had been two days since he left the village. He hadn’t eaten a drop of water or a bite, and his stomach growled with hunger.

Just as he began to wonder whether he’d have to eat snow or grass for dinner, a roar interrupted his thoughts.

"ROAR—"

The thunderous growl shook the snow from the branches.

As his thoughts had conjured it, a massive brown bear, standing over two meters tall, appeared. Its fangs dripped with saliva, and its eyes gleamed with violent intent as it locked onto the man.

A bear of that size was undoubtedly the king of the forest.

Its massive claws alone could tear apart most living creatures, and a single swipe would be enough to break bones or worse.

Food was scarce in the harsh Nordic winter. To this starving bear, the scent of a human was like a gift from the heavens.

Drooling hungrily, the bear roared again and charged at the man, its powerful legs shaking the snow-covered ground. It moved like a land-bound tank, scattering snow with every step.

An ordinary person would have turned and fled at the sight of this beast.

But the man... wasn’t an ordinary person.

After all...

He wasn’t the only one in need of food.

The bear’s eyes were filled with confusion. It couldn’t understand why the human in front of it wasn’t running away. But hunger and instinct drove it forward, its massive form barreling toward its prey.

In the bear’s experience, nothing could survive its full-speed charge.

That was an ancient memory written into its very genes, a primal instinct.

But in the next moment, the bear’s charge abruptly stopped.

Like a speeding tank coming to a sudden stop, the bear’s powerful momentum caused snow to explode into the air, the impact sounding like thunder.

The man had stopped the charging bear with just one hand.

His arm, pale and smooth like jade, was now covered in strange red markings as if blood had seeped through his skin to form an intricate pattern.

"I’m sorry..." the man murmured, his eyes downcast. "The law of the jungle—survival of the fittest."

With that, a blue light flashed from his palm, piercing through the bear’s skull and sending a mix of red and white matter splattering everywhere.

"At least I’ve got dinner now," the man said with a sigh of relief, summoning a blue sword of light into his hand.

He had skinned and butchered the bear in a few swift movements, set up a campfire, and roasted the meat over the flames.

After a hearty meal and a brief rest, the man continued his journey.

The next day, by noon, he finally saw a town.

But...

The problem was...

He wasn’t sure if he could even call it a "town."

What lay before him was a pile of ruins. From the scattered debris, he could make out the traces of what had once been a bustling town. But now, it had become a hell on Earth. The streets were littered with people who resembled walking corpses, their eyes devoid of hope, filled only with the emptiness of despair.

The man crouched beside one of them, asking gently, "What happened here?"

The man didn’t respond. He stared blankly into the distance, his eyes hollow. Then, suddenly, his pupils contracted in fear, and he scrambled away, screaming, fleeing into the rubble.

Rumble... Rumble...

The sound of heavy iron tracks echoed through the streets, drawing the man’s attention.

Soldiers in full gear, wearing steel helmets and carrying rifles, marched proudly alongside massive tanks. They moved through the ruined streets, ruthlessly slaughtering anyone in their path.

A black flag fluttered atop one of the tanks.

Amid the cries and wails of the people, the black flag, decorated with a slanted swastika, flapped in the cold wind.

The man’s eyes narrowed, locking onto the familiar black flag. A flood of memories surged through his mind, the pieces slowly coming together.

A swastika flag...

Hitler...

The German army...

World War II...

Fragments of memories raced through his mind, forming a single word.

A word that had once struck terror across the globe sent shivers through Europe, and instilled fear in the hearts of millions. A word whose translation meant nothing less than the Nazi Party, the iron boot that had trampled over the European continent.