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Canada — The Rocky Mountains
At a massive logging camp deep in the Rockies, the short, broad-shouldered Sabretooth—Victor—leaned against a stack of logs, staring ahead with a complicated expression.
This was Victor's second time in the Rocky Mountains.
The first time, he had come as the feral beast known as Sabretooth, slaughtering without restraint.
This time, however, he was here under orders—to recruit his mutant brother, Logan.
Victor's gaze remained heavy and conflicted.
In front of him was a group of rough-looking lumberjacks, chopping trees while chatting loudly.
"Logan, you don't even know how tired you are," a bearded man said as he brought his axe down on the final tree and looked ahead. "If you don't take a break, we're striking."
"Old Sam, there's no use pretending you're not old anymore."
"How long have we been at it? You're the one who can't keep up—your stamina's shot."
"Hey, Sam, no striking! We still have to beat that kid Logan!"
The workers laughed and teased the man named Sam. At the same time, their gazes unconsciously drifted toward the silent figure nearby—Wolverine, Logan.
He wore torn jeans, his upper body bare.
A cigar hung from his mouth as his muscles tensed and coiled beneath his skin, every fiber of his body radiating raw, violent power.
"Hmph… without realizing it, the urge to kill inside me has taken over again."
Logan felled another tree with a single swing, then wiped nonexistent sweat from his brow and let out a bitter chuckle.
After parting ways with Victor, Logan had come here to work as a lumberjack. In his free time, he drank at a nearby bar.
His regenerative abilities left him endlessly energetic—and never drunk.
That, ironically, made things worse.
As time passed, Logan felt more and more like a caged animal. The cells in his body grew increasingly violent, increasingly bloodthirsty.
Especially after recently encountering younger versions of Professor X and Magneto, the rage and killing intent inside him intensified.
Every night, he dreamed of battlefields—of slaughter without restraint.
Logan knew he was losing control.
Just like his mutant brother Victor, he was on the verge of becoming a bloodthirsty beast.
That was why he had rejected Professor X and Magneto's invitation—directly and rudely.
He was afraid that if he accepted, the tyrant within him would take over completely, turning him into another Sabretooth.
"Lately, I've been dreaming more and more… and my claws keep coming out on their own."
Logan spat out his cigar and hid his right hand behind his back.
Snikt.
His claws shot out instantly.
The sharp bone claws looked dull and rusted, stripped of their former color and edge.
James Logan was trapped.
He tried to vent his endless energy by chopping trees, but that only pushed him closer to collapse.
Still—he knew what he truly wanted.
He wanted to fight.
"Guys, I think we should take a break."
Logan forced his claws back in, lifted a log at his feet, and carried it over to the pile.
Boom.
He tossed it aside casually and was about to sit down with the others—
Sniff. Sniff.
Before he could sit, his nose twitched.
His expression changed instantly.
He smelled something familiar.
Something he had known before.
"Who's there?"
Logan's pupils shrank sharply. The wild ambition surging inside him made his body tense in an instant.
Ignoring his coworkers' confused looks, Logan walked deeper into the lumber yard.
"Logan, my mutant brother… your reactions have gotten slow."
A familiar voice sounded as Logan reached a stack of logs.
His pupils contracted violently.
"Victor!"
Logan looked up in shock at Sabretooth Victor, who sat casually atop the logs. Disgust and suspicion flickered in Logan's eyes.
Logan knew his brother's scent well—
The stench of blood, slaughter, and beasts.
But this time, he hadn't smelled that savage aura at all.
That made him doubt—was this really Victor?
Logan scanned Victor cautiously.
Victor was about the same height as a normal man—actually shorter than Logan himself.
This was what Victor had looked like before World War II.
After decades of battle, Victor had grown over two meters tall.
Not only that—Victor now wore an expensive, perfectly tailored suit.
On his wrist was a luxury watch Logan recognized instantly.
A Patek Philippe—over a century of history.
But more eye-catching than the watch was the exquisite medal pinned to Victor's left chest.
It resembled a blood-red ruby eye, dazzling in its brilliance.
Engraved upon it were the words:
"Mutation and Glory."
"Hey, Logan, my mutant brother—what kind of eyes are you looking at me with?"
Victor was thrilled to see Logan, excitement rising in his voice. But when he noticed the suspicion in Logan's gaze, irritation flashed across his face.
ROAR.
Victor snarled.
A ferocious, brutal aura erupted from his body. His eyes turned crimson as terrifying wildness burst forth like an unchained beast.
"Is this the only way you can recognize me, Logan?!"
Victor's voice became savage and murderous, radiating raw, predatory intent.
"It really is you… Victor."
Sensing the familiar killing posture, Logan finally exhaled in relief. His animal instincts confirmed it.
Only then did he recognize Sabretooth Victor.
"What are you doing here?"
Now certain, Logan glared at Victor and demanded coldly.
"Logan, you seem to be living comfortably," Victor sneered.
"So comfortable that you've forgotten you're a mutant."
"As my king says—some mutants are born to deny their own power."
"They choose to live among human children… and even call it integration."
"James Logan Howlett—"
"You disappoint me."