At this very moment, Natasha couldn't help but tense up again.
The man before her had claimed he was a villain—would he simply get rid of her next? The thought rose unbidden in her mind.
Moments ago, she had accepted death calmly, but now, seeing all the instructors who had pursued her lying dead, her desire for freedom and survival reignited. Though these few instructors didn't represent the entire Red Room, at least for today, she no longer had to worry about being found. She finally had time—time to break free from the Red Room's control.
The realization set her heart ablaze.
For years, she had been trying to escape the instructors' grasp. Despite being exceptionally gifted among her peers, she had never succeeded—just like everyone else.
The instructors of the Red Room were simply too powerful.
No matter how carefully the trainees planned their escapes, the ending was always the same: they would be tracked down and brought back.
Many times, Natasha, like most others, had felt despair at such a suffocating life. Yet today, unexpectedly, she had gained true freedom.
The instructors were dead.
At least for a long while, no new ones would be sent to hunt her down.
Gazing at the headless bodies sprawled on the ground and the streams of blood slowly spreading beneath them, Natasha felt a flicker of joy. But that joy was quickly followed by an overwhelming sense of unreality.
Were these truly the same instructors she had once feared like demons?
Once upon a time, countless girls like her had believed these demonic instructors to be omnipotent—terrifying beings capable of leading teams of children deep into enemy territory with ease. Their training and punishments were so brutal that no girl had ever managed to resist them.
And yet, these once-invincible figures had been wiped out so effortlessly today.
Their deaths came silently, swiftly, almost too easily. In that instant, Natasha realized that even the so-called strongest operatives were just as fragile as ordinary people.
No different at all.
The shock reverberated deep in her soul, shattering everything she thought she understood.
It was as if her entire worldview had been overturned.
At the same time, the psychological weight that had haunted her for years—the shadow cast by those instructors—crumbled to dust.
The so-called Red Room training, the Black Widow program... all of it suddenly seemed laughable. Against a force so strange and unstoppable, how long could even the most skilled agent resist before death claimed them?
Natasha didn't need to ask anyone for the answer.
She already knew.
Impossible.
From the frozen expressions on the instructors' faces, Natasha could tell that these elite operatives hadn't even had time to react to the mysterious man's power.
Just a single instant—no chance to use a lifetime's worth of skill or experience.
Even she, having witnessed their heads burst before her eyes, couldn't comprehend that unseen, untouchable force.
Of course, she had her suspicions.
"Is this... a superpower?"
It took Natasha quite some time to collect herself. She lifted her head and looked at Herman, her expression filled with mixed emotions.
In this era, the existence of mutants had yet to be revealed to the world. However, because Red Room operatives differed from ordinary people, Natasha—being one of its elite trainees—had been exposed to knowledge inaccessible to most.
Among that knowledge were files about individuals with superpowers.
There existed a rare group of people on this planet who possessed unimaginable abilities, capable even of manipulating the very elements of nature.
Once, Natasha had thought such information was no different from stories about aliens—fabrications born from intelligence agencies chasing myths and hearsay.
But today, she finally realized that the world wasn't nearly as simple as she had imagined.
The young man before her, with his striking appearance and unfathomable composure, fit the description of a superpowered being perfectly. If such extraordinary individuals truly existed, then the deaths of her instructors were easily explained.
Superpowers, huh...
It made sense that ordinary people couldn't comprehend them. Based on the information she'd seen, Herman was likely one of the strongest among them.
After all, if every superpowered being was this strong, why would countries bother training secret agents at all? Focusing solely on developing superhumans would clearly be far more effective.
"You can certainly interpret it that way."
Herman didn't deny her assumption.
He did, after all, possess the identity of a [Hidden Superpowered Being]. Unlike pretending to be a mutant, this title was one he genuinely lived up to.
"Ah... I see... Your abilities are really incredible."
Natasha hadn't expected him to admit it so straightforwardly. Feeling uneasy, she quickly offered him praise—partly sincere, partly an attempt to please him.
Now that all the instructors were dead, Herman was the only one left who could pose a threat to her.
As an orphan who had endured inhuman training since childhood, Natasha wasn't naive enough to trust Herman simply because he had saved her life.
"You're worried I'll turn you into a headless corpse too?"
Herman didn't even need to read her mind to see the fear written across her face.
She wasn't yet a full-fledged agent and still lacked the skill to mask her emotions—though perhaps it was just that her mind was overloaded from everything that had happened today.
"You... you can read minds?!"
Natasha's eyes widened in alarm.
She hadn't realized that her expression had completely betrayed her thoughts. Her reaction might have been blind luck, but it wasn't wrong—Herman truly could read minds.
"That's not important. What matters is, if you're still so eager to die, I can oblige you," Herman said, lowering his voice with a trace of dark humor.
His tone was serious, his expression grave, and it scared Natasha half to death. The young Black Widow instinctively took several steps back.
"No... there's no need for that... I like living. Living is great," Natasha stammered, shaking her head furiously.
"Alright, as you wish."
Herman shrugged lightly, his tone casual. He had never intended to harm her anyway—S.H.I.E.L.D. would serve him quite well in the future.
"Um..."
As she watched him walk toward the SUV, Natasha's expression turned uncertain. She hesitated, then bit her lip and gathered her courage to speak.
"Thank you for freeing me from my nightmare... Thank you for saving my life."
Her voice was sincere.
Killing a few Red Room instructors might have meant little to Herman, but for Natasha, his actions had completely changed her fate.
"You're welcome. They wanted to kill me too. I simply wanted them to understand how kind my warnings really were."
Herman glanced at the wailing souls trapped in the [Realm of the Dead], a faint smile forming on his lips as he reached the SUV.
Originally, he had planned to just get in the car and leave. He hadn't intended to get further involved with the young Black Widow.
The jungle road ahead was rough, but he trusted that a future top-tier agent could handle herself.
However, when he opened the car door, he saw the girl still standing in the muddy, bloodstained grass—dazed and lost. She had no idea what to do next.
That was when it struck him. In the original timeline, Natasha wasn't supposed to have escaped the Red Room yet.
Ordinary children often felt lost about their future at that age.
And for a Red Room orphan, trained since birth to be a weapon... how could she be any different?
Herman realized he might need to point her toward a path.
Otherwise...
Who knew if, when he returned to the future, the Black Widow would still be there in S.H.I.E.L.D.?
A capable agent like her was far more useful than most.
"I really am a kind person."
Herman sighed, closing the car door again before walking back toward Natasha.
"You feel free all of a sudden, and while that makes you happy, you have no idea what to do next, do you?" Herman pointed out, perfectly describing her current state.
"Are you reading my mind again?"
Natasha's eyes widened, her reaction confirming that Herman's guess had been spot on.
"Listen, I don't have time to give you a lecture about life. I'll just tell you one thing—your instructor wasn't wrong."
"You have talent far beyond that of most people. If you use it to pursue what you truly want, your life will become more extraordinary than you can imagine."
It was rare for Herman to offer genuine encouragement without a trace of mockery.
The effect, however, was predictably underwhelming.
Instead of enlightenment, Natasha responded with a bitter smile.
"Talent? Killing, deception, manipulation, theft... those kinds of talents only earn hatred and fear. I don't see them as any sort of divine gift."
Her laughter was laced with self-mockery. Natasha despised the idea of being a killer, and her mood quickly sank into quiet despair.
"Besides," she continued softly, "you and my instructors said the same thing—that I'm an unqualified agent, too emotional for the job."
She hadn't forgotten his earlier "critique" of her so-called bravery, and she was sure it would stay with her for a lifetime. Now, she used that memory to justify her self-denial.
"Why are you so obsessed with being an agent?" Herman asked, raising an eyebrow as if genuinely puzzled by her thinking.
"What do you mean?"
Natasha blinked, confused.
"I mean, no one ever said you have to be an agent. You've broken free from those who controlled you. You can choose any life you want—teacher, gardener, scholar, chef. Whatever interests you, you can try it."
Herman's calm tone struck something deep within her.
Yes... being an agent was a label forced upon her by the Red Room.
Why was she still clinging to it?
"It seems you understand now," Herman said. "Do what you love. Your talents aren't limited to being an agent, and what you've learned isn't meant only for killing."
His words carried a strange weight, resonating deep within Natasha's heart. For the first time, her mind felt clear.
"I... can I really?"
Her voice trembled with a fragile mix of hope and uncertainty. Beyond endless training and missions, she had never imagined having the right to want anything.
"Of course you can. Remember, talent is a gift from God. But greatness—that's something you have to earn yourself. You have the right to choose how to use your gifts."
Herman raised his hand and tossed something toward her.
"Huh?"
Though still unsettled, Natasha's training kicked in, and she instinctively caught what he threw.
"This is..."
Her eyes widened in shock. In her palm lay a twisted, misshapen bullet core.
In an instant, her mind connected the dots.
The bullet fired by the Chief Instructor... that was why it hadn't hit her. Of course! She hadn't escaped death by chance—the man before her had caught the bullet with his bare hand!
God...
Bullets moved faster than sound. And someone had actually caught one mid-flight?
Natasha, still inexperienced with the wider world, felt an indescribable wave of awe crash through her. She stared down at the warped bullet, her thoughts in turmoil.
She understood enough science to know how physically impossible that should be.
It was... beyond reason.
"Vroom—"
The sound of an engine starting pulled her out of her daze.
Looking up, she saw Herman's SUV speeding away down the dirt road. He clearly had no intention of taking her with him.
"Greatness must be earned... pursue what I truly want, huh."
Natasha murmured softly, watching the dark vehicle vanish into the distance. There was no sadness or loss in her expression.
Repeating his words under her breath, her eyes gleamed with a new light. They had awakened something deep within her, something long dormant.
"I'll do it..."
Natasha carefully tucked the deformed bullet into her chest pocket. It wasn't just a parting gift from the nameless man.
It was proof of her rebirth.
Clearly, Herman had changed history once again. But no one could say what consequences that change would bring to the future.
...
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