Sorrow of the Endgame · Moment of Rebirth

The Trauma of Endgame, The Moment of Rebirth

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That feeling never truly went away.

It was not pain, nor tearing, but a more fundamental stripping away—as if every particle constituting existence was hollowed out in an instant, consciousness floating in absolute nothingness, without direction, without time, only endless, cold "nonexistence".

The last push Su Ying gave him, the warmth of her palm, and the resolute smile in her eyes of "this time it's my turn to protect you" were still branded on the fragments of his soul.

Then, the snap.

Then, annihilation.

Then...

Lin Xiao suddenly opened his eyes, heavy gasping making his chest heave like a worn-out bellows. Sweat soaked his rough military-green vest, clinging clamishly to his skin. He instinctively reached out to touch his chest, his cheeks—intact, warm, and alive.

It was not the battlefield of Wakanda, nor the ruins of the Avengers Compound, nor... the cliff of the Soul Stone sacrifice.

Before him was a low concrete ceiling covered in water stains and rust, a few exposed pipes winding across, emitting a dull sound of running water. The air was filled with a turbid odor mixed with machine oil, sweat, and cheap tobacco. His ears caught an unfamiliar language, carrying a heavy Eastern European accent, spoken at a rapid pace and interspersed with the crisp sound of colliding metal machinery.

German.

Lin Xiao's pupils suddenly contracted.

He propped up his body, his movements somewhat staggering due to muscle stiffness. Beneath him was a cold iron-framed cot, laid with a mattress so thin every spring could be felt. The room was long and narrow, lined with identical cots on both sides, mostly empty, save for the distant corner where two men in gray combat uniforms sat with their backs to him, talking in low voices, one of them holding a half-smoked cigarette.

On the grayish-green wall, a faded, barely recognizable emblem made Lin Xiao's heart sink heavily.

It was a skull surrounded by numerous tentacles, with crude lines and a certain primitive savagery.

Hydra.

Not a historical symbol in a museum, not a scanned image in S.H.I.E.L.D. secret files, but a real, crudely painted imprint in reality.

"Hey, Lin, awake?" A slightly raspy voice came from beside him.

Lin Xiao turned his head to see an Asian youth with a flat top and a fresh scar on his face sitting on the neighboring bed, cleaning an old-fashioned pistol. The youth's gaze carried a hint of casual fatigue, along with a trace of appraisal toward the "newcomer".

Lin... Lin?

Fragments of memory began to rush in frantically, not belonging to "Lin Xiao", but to the original owner of this body. Fragmented images: chaotic recruitment in a small Eastern European border town, simple physical tests, a few hollow slogans about the "New Order" and a "better world", and then being shoved into a truck and sent to this Hydra outskirt stronghold hidden deep in the mountains, lacking even an official designation.

The original owner was also called Lin, or more accurately, bore only a single code-like name: Lin. Chinese descent, early twenties, parents dead for years, wandering in Eastern Europe for a long time, joining Hydra innocently and cluelessly for a meal and a trace of illusory "belonging". Meanwhile, at an even earlier time when even the original owner had a vague impression of it, he seemed to have been approached by someone claiming to be from an "international security organization", stuffed with some money, and asked to "keep an eye on unusual things here", regularly passing messages through a dead drop.

A S.H.I.E.L.D. peripheral informant. The lowest-level, most disposable kind.

Lin Xiao lowered his head, looking at his young hands, which were covered with light calluses and tiny cuts. The knuckles were somewhat thick, traces left by long-term physical labor and basic combat training. The arm muscles were clearly defined, but far from muscular. This body was far more tender and fragile than the battle-hardened, scar-riddled vessel he possessed during Endgame.

No Super-Soldier Serum, no Vibranium armor, no Asgardian divine power, not even a decent set of gear.

Only a life as humble as an insect, and two behemoths that could crush him at any moment—Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D.

Su Ying...

The name pierced his mind like a red-hot iron rod. The woman who stood by his side after S.H.I.E.L.D. collapsed, supported him through the despair of Infinity War, and finally turned to ash before his eyes. Her laughter, her sharp-as-a-blade gaze in battle, the occasional softness she only revealed to him...

Was she still alive? At this point in time, in 2011, shortly after Captain America was dug out of the ice, in an era where the Hydra cancer cells within S.H.I.E.L.D. were multiplying wildly, where was Su Ying? Had she already become a S.H.I.E.L.D. elite agent? Or... had she not yet joined?

Immense grief and even greater anxiety gripped his heart simultaneously. But the next second, something much colder and harder rose from the depths of his soul.

He was back.

It was not a dream, not a hallucination. Although science could not explain it, and although it defied all known laws of physics, he had truly returned to the past, to the starting point where tragedy had not yet struck and everything still had a chance to be redeemed.

Thanos's snap, the annihilation of half of all life, the despair of comrades turning to dust in his arms one by one... Those images were still vivid. But right now, they were no longer an unchangeable endgame, but a cause-and-effect hanging on the future timeline that had to be severed!

The elation lasted less than a second before being extinguished by the coldness of reality.

Who was he now? A low-ranking Hydra grunt, a S.H.I.E.L.D. pawn expendable at any moment. What did he have? Aside from this ordinary body and the memory in his mind spanning over a decade regarding major future events, absolutely nothing.

Strength? Resources? Allies? All zero.

And what he had to face was the upcoming Battle of New York, the Helicarriers of Project Insight, Ultron's mechanical legions, Thanos's Black Order, and those six Infinity Stones capable of rewriting reality... Time, like the Sword of Damocles hanging overhead, was falling second by second.

I cannot panic... Lin Xiao pinched his thigh hard, the sharp pain quickly focusing his chaotic thoughts. Step one: survive. Change the first point of death.

He forced himself to calm down, like a precision machine, and began searching his memories. About this base, this time point...

Right, it was tonight.

According to the original owner's vague memory fragments, and Lin Xiao's own sporadic reading of "past life" declassified S.H.I.E.L.D. files, this Hydra peripheral base on the edge of the Carpathian Mountains would be raided by a local anti-government insurgent group on this autumn night in 2011. The raid itself was small in scale, and Hydra would quickly suppress it, but the original owner "Lin" would be struck in the abdomen by a stray bullet in the chaos; because the base's medical facilities were crude and no one paid attention, he would drag on until the next morning and die of blood loss.

The death of an insignificant minor character would not even be detailed in Hydra's internal casualty reports, and S.H.I.E.L.D. would certainly not bat an eye at the disappearance of a peripheral informant.

But for Lin Xiao, this was the first threshold he had to cross. If he could not even change his "own" predetermined death, how could he talk about changing the fate of the entire world?

He took a deep breath and began to carefully observe his surroundings while silently working his new body. Muscle memory remained, and some basic military movements and combat skills seemed branded into instinct, which was a blessing in disguise. He needed weapons, needed to understand the layout of the base, and most importantly, needed to know where the insurgent group would attack from and what their specific attack method was.

The original owner's memory was too blurry, remembering only the sound of explosions, gunfire, and a sharp pain in the abdomen. But Lin Xiao was different; he possessed information perspectives from the future, from a higher dimension. He struggled to recall the data he had seen in his past life, trying to piece together a more complete picture.

For an outskirt base like this, defensive priorities usually focused on the front gate and main passageways. The insurgent group had limited firepower, and a direct assault was too costly, so... infiltration? Demolition of key nodes?

His gaze swept across the mottled walls of the barracks and landed on the two Hydra soldiers still talking in low voices. They spoke in a local dialect mixed with German vocabulary, fast-paced, but Lin Xiao managed to catch some fragments relying on the original owner's linguistic retention and past-life experience.

"...over by the warehouse... old Peter's complaining... ventilation system always makes strange noises lately..."

Ventilation system?

Lin Xiao's heart skipped a beat. A detail almost forgotten suddenly surfaced from the depths of memory—a post-incident S.H.I.E.L.D. evaluation report had mentioned that during this raid, the insurgents took advantage of their familiarity with the base structure (very likely having an inside man), planting explosives in advance at key nodes of the ventilation ducts to create chaos and cut off power to a certain zone. Although the explosives ultimately failed to detonate fully due to reasons (the report was vague), it did cause short-term command confusion inside the base.

Was the death of the original owner "Lin" really a stray bullet? Or was it that in the chaos, he happened to run into an area affected by the explosives?

An opportunity. And also a risk.

If he could find and defuse the explosives in advance, not only might he save himself, but he could also merit credit in the chaos—even the smallest bit—to gain a foothold to climb upward in this rigidly hierarchical organization. Even just changing from a "grunt" to a "somewhat useful grunt" was a crucial first step.

But how could he explain knowing the location of the explosives? How could a newly arrived, ignorant peripheral soldier know attack details that even most people inside the base were unaware of?

Lin Xiao's brain spun at high speed. An excuse? Coincidence? Or... actively fabricating a reasonable "discovery" process?

Time was running out. The sky outside had grown completely dark; night fell early in the mountains, and dim yellow incandescent lights flickered on in the barracks. In the distance came the passwords of the changing guards and heavy footsteps.

He had to act.

Lin Xiao stood up from the cot, pretending to be still somewhat groggy from sleep, rubbed his face, and walked toward the crude washbasin in the corner of the barracks. Passing the two chatting soldiers, he deliberately slowed his pace, his ears capturing their conversation.

"...must have been those mountain rats trying to steal diesel or parts."

<div>"The boss said to heighten security, especially at that abandoned old exhaust vent on the flank; even though it's sealed, you never know..."</div>

Flank, abandoned exhaust vent.

Lin Xiao memorized the keyword. He walked over to the sink and splashed his face with ice-cold water, the bone-chilling cold making him sharper. The mirror reflected a young face tinged with vicissitudes, black hair messy, eye sockets sunken, yet the gaze no longer held the blank numbness of the original owner, but settled with a burning, nearly paranoid sharpness forged through destruction and reignited.

This face would be the starting point of all his future schemes.

He returned to his bunk and began organizing his meager personal items: a change of gray combat uniforms, a pair of heavily worn combat boots, a canteen, a multi-tool knife, and... a few crumpled dollar bills hidden in his sock along with a slip of paper with a string of numbers written on it—a S.H.I.E.L.D. contact method? Or the unlock code for a dead drop?

Lin Xiao memorized the slip in his mind, then tucked the dollars back. Now was not the time to use this line; he needed to establish a firm foothold in this snake pit first.

Night had completely fallen. More lights came on in the base, but many corners remained immersed in thick darkness. The outlines of distant mountain ranges resembled the spine of a giant beast, silently dormant.

Lin Xiao used a stomachache as an excuse to leave the barracks, heading in the direction of the "flank" he remembered and had just overheard. The base was small, enclosed by several half-submerged concrete buildings and barbed wire, its main structure being a Cold War-era air defense facility. He avoided the main passages and patrol teams, weaving through the shadows like a ghost.

The air was filled with the damp chill of mountain nights and the scent of rotting vegetation. His steps were light, his breath steady; the experience of wandering in more complex and dangerous environments in his past life now became his greatest asset. Although this body was not strong, basic stealth and observation skills seemed a cut above what the original owner's level should have been—was it some sort of instinctive enhancement brought by the soul? Or a subtle chemical reaction from the overlap of two lives' memories?

He didn't dwell on it; there was no time now.

Soon, he found the so-called "abandoned exhaust vent on the flank." It was a concrete structure at the very edge of the base, close to the rock wall; the original ventilation duct had rusted and broken, crudely sealed with thick iron wire and wooden boards, surrounded by overgrown weeds, clearly neglected for a long time.

Yet Lin Xiao keenly noticed that the edges of the sealing boards bore very fresh scratch marks, distinct from rust, very faint, as if someone had touched them recently. Furthermore, the weeds nearby showed signs of having been carefully trodden on and then attempted to be restored to their original state.

This was it.

He did not immediately step forward, but lowered his body, hiding behind a clump of bushes, and observed carefully. Time ticked away; mountain winds blew through the forest, making wailing sounds. The base's searchlights occasionally swept across the area, then quickly shifted away.

Suddenly, an extremely faint "click" sound, almost masked by the wind, came from inside the exhaust vent.

Not an animal. The sound of mechanical devices.

Lin Xiao's heart sped up slightly. It was here. The insurgents were inside making final preparations. According to "history," they would set a timed or remote detonation device, then evacuate, waiting for the general assault to begin before detonating to create maximum chaos.

He estimated the time. If memory served, the general assault would launch around midnight. Thus, his window of opportunity was narrow.

He had to go in and defuse the explosives. But there might be someone inside, at least one person. Head-on conflict? The combat capability of this body might barely suffice against ordinary soldiers, but facing armed personnel prepared for battle, and inside a narrow, dark pipe, the odds of winning were too low.

Draw the tiger away from the mountain? Make a commotion to lure the people inside out?

Just as Lin Xiao's mind rapidly weighed the risks and success rates of various options, inside the base, a shrill alarm bell pierced the night sky without warning!

"Woo—woo—woo—"

Following closely, bean-like gunfire erupted from the main gate direction, mixed with muffled explosion sounds and vague shouts. Had the insurgents launched their attack early? Or had his appearance, like the wings of a butterfly, triggered subtle changes?

There was no time to hesitate!

Lin Xiao leaped out from his hiding place, rushing toward the abandoned exhaust vent in a few strides. He forcefully ripped away the rusted iron wires and loose wooden boards, exposing a dark pipe opening barely wide enough for one person to squeeze through, carrying a cold wind mixed with rust, dust, and a faint chemical odor.

He did not hesitate and crawled inside. The interior of the pipe was narrow and cramped, requiring him to crawl forward. Darkness swallowed everything, save for a faint trace of extremely weak, swaying light far down the pipe bend—possibly a flashlight, or another light source.

Lin Xiao held his breath, crawling forward hands and feet, trying his best not to make a sound. The inner walls of the pipe were cold and rough, scraping against his clothes and skin. The alarm and gunfire came through the thick concrete structure, becoming muffled and distant, making the dead silence inside the pipe all the more oppressive.

He could feel his heart pounding heavily in his chest, blood rushing in his eardrums. The calmness that never left him when facing the Chitauri army, Ultron robots, or Thanos himself in his past life now rippled slightly due to the limitations of this weak body and the critical nature of the opening move.

Close, closer.

That weak light was right around a bend ahead. Lin Xiao stopped moving, cocking his ear to listen. Aside from the distant faint gunfire, there was only his own breathing and heartbeat inside the pipe. The person who planted the explosives seemed to have left.

He cautiously poked his head out, looking toward the bend.

It was an intersection node of the pipe, where the space was slightly more spacious. Leveraging the extremely faint moonlight filtering through some unknown crack, Lin Xiao saw several brick-sized objects wrapped in waterproof cloth fixed to the pipe supports, with several wires of different colors extending from them, connecting to a palm-sized black box with a simple screen and buttons.

A remote detonation device. Just as he had anticipated.

He breathed a sigh of relief, preparing to crawl over and disarm it, when his gaze suddenly froze right beside the detonation device—there, in the shadows of the pipe wall, a deeper shadow seemed to curl up.

Not debris. The outline... looked like a person.

Lin Xiao's entire body tightened instantly. Did the person not leave? Or... an ambush?

He slowly, exceedingly slowly, retreated half a step, his right hand reaching toward the multi-tool knife tucked behind his waist. His eyes locked dead onto that shadow.

One second, two seconds...

The shadow seemed to move, ever so slightly.

He could wait no longer. Whatever that was, the explosives had to be dealt with. Lin Xiao took a deep breath, lunged forward abruptly, his left hand flashing out to grab the black detonation device while his right-hand knife hovered horizontally across his chest, pointing alertly toward the shadowed area.

His actions were already fast enough, but the reaction in the shadows was faster!

Just the moment Lin Xiao's finger was about to touch the detonation device, a cold metallic reflection thrust out from the shadows, precisely pressing against his throat. That was a short, sharp dagger held in a hand wearing a black tactical glove.

Immediately following, a face lifted from the shadows, meeting Lin Xiao's gaze.

That was a face belonging to a female. Smudged with a bit of dirt, it still could not conceal the clear and sharp lines beneath. Her hair was neatly tied back behind her head, a few stray locks clinging to her sweat-dampened temples. Her eyes glowed astonishingly in the dim light, like a tigress lurking in the darkness, carrying undisguised vigilance, scrutiny, and a trace of... surprise?

Gaze met gaze.

Outside the conduit, the sound of gunfire raged. Inside the conduit, time seemed to freeze. Lin Xiao could feel the cold sensation from the blade of the dagger at his throat, and he could also clearly see his own young, taut face reflected in the other person's eyes.

Who was she? Someone from the resistance? Another faction within Hydra? Or... something else?