Whoosh! Whoosh!
Across the Siberian plains, the blade-like gale suddenly grew several times more violent along with Apocalypse's burst of anger.
Caliban trembled as he crashed to one knee upon the solid frozen earth. Web-like cracks spread beneath his knee, and his forehead nearly touched the ground. He vaguely sensed that this progenitor of mutants, awakened after thousands of years, deeply loathed the new world order established by that mysterious family.
Yet ever since accepting Apocalypse's enhancement and transformation, Caliban had submitted to him more and more completely from the bottom of his heart, as though a feeling of obedience rose from the depths of his bloodline.
"Who the hell is making all that noise?!"
A rough, booming Russian voice rang out from within the stone house. The wooden door, patched over and over with nailed-on oak planks, was violently shoved open. A heavy stench of strong liquor, body odor, and sweat rushed forth, remaining thick and undispersed even amid the gusting snowstorm.
The man stood bare-chested, large and powerfully built. His dense, long black body hair seemed particularly suited to this frozen environment. His black hair and thick beard were filthy and matted together, and he glared menacingly at Apocalypse and the other man outside.
His eyes assessed them, yet he showed neither fear nor surprise.
Inside the small house, a slender woman stood beside the stove. Her features were lovely, and she had long chestnut hair. She seemed reluctant to look outside, her gaze evasive, and she appeared to be fairly young.
Her disheveled hair and rough skin made the woman look especially old. She tightly held a thickset, sturdy boy in front of her, and the boy, broad-faced and solidly built, watched the outside warily.
Seeing that the two men had skin and physiques clearly unlike ordinary