As one of the northernmost countries, Canada hadn't fully entered winter yet, but everything was already blanketed in heavy snow.
In Alberta, in the basement of a bar on the outskirts of a town, an underground fight was taking place.
One of the fighters in the ring was the reigning champion of the local underground fight scene. The other was Logan, better known as Wolverine, a lone wanderer who had drifted here by chance.
Logan didn't enjoy fighting. Or rather, he didn't believe hurting others was ever something to take pride in. But unfortunately, he was Wolverine. A lone wolf.
He never stayed in one place for long. He had no citizenship, no identification, and no ties to any government or nation. All he could do was drift from place to place like a shadow.
And for someone like him, who had no official identity, illegal fighting was the easiest way to earn money. The organizers didn't care where you came from. As long as you won, you got paid.
As for why he wandered like this… Logan didn't remember anymore. He only knew that he had been roaming the world alone for 170 years. Most of his past memories were long gone. (Since mutants had never been exposed to the public, Logan never went through the Weapon X experiment.)
He had no idea where he was heading. He knew about his unique abilities, but he also understood one thing very clearly: someone like him could never truly have a home.
Lost in thought, Logan didn't focus on the fight. His opponent took the chance to land a heavy punch straight to his face.
His nose caved in immediately, and blood spurted out.
"Nice hit!"
The crowd roared with excitement, cheering for their champion who seemed on the verge of yet another easy victory.
Outside the octagon cage, dressed in black, Ororo had quietly arrived. Using the coordinates Charles had sent, she had tracked Logan here. The moment she laid eyes on him in the ring, she knew it was him.
"Let's see... what exactly can you do?" Ororo muttered.
Back in the ring, the crowd's cheering snapped Logan out of his daze. He realized he was still in the middle of a fight. Holding his nose, he slowly stood up and returned to his fighting stance.
"His nose..."
The audience below couldn't see clearly, but the reigning champion standing opposite him saw everything. Though Logan's nose was smeared with blood, it wasn't broken. As a seasoned fighter, he could tell—what should've been shattered by that punch was perfectly intact.
The discovery shocked him. It sparked some guesses in his mind. But he didn't have time to think further. Logan was already charging toward him.
To be crowned champion in the underground boxing scene, his fighting skills needed no explanation. The lack of strict rules in these illegal bouts also allowed him to adopt a much deadlier fighting style. Dealing with his opponents' attacks was no challenge for him.
Several attacks came quickly, and Logan found himself blocked or hit in various parts of his body with brutal force. But gradually, the tide began to turn.
The champion's stamina was not endless. Each blow he landed on his foe drained his energy. Yet Logan, who should have fallen long ago, kept getting back up like nothing had happened and launched attack after attack.
As time went on, the champion began to gasp for breath, his movements slowing.
'This guy... something's wrong with him.'
He already had the answer in his mind, but he no longer had the strength to defeat Logan or the chance to speak it aloud. Completely exhausted, he couldn't dodge the next punch. It landed square on his face, and he collapsed, unconscious.
"The winner is decided!! The victor is our challenger, Wolverine, Logan!!!"
The referee's shout echoed through the arena, met with thunderous cheers. But Logan, standing in the ring, paid them no mind. His only concern was getting the prize money after the match.
That was, of course, never in doubt. His victory had caught all the regulars off guard. No one expected him to win, and because of that, the bookies made a fortune. Naturally, they wouldn't shortchange him.
But not everyone was pleased with the outcome, especially the defeated champion.
Although he fought in this backwater town's underground boxing matches, he wasn't entirely ignorant of the world outside. He'd heard the rumors. Tensions between humans and mutants were rising.
After what just happened in the ring, he was almost certain that Logan was a mutant.
...
"Hey! I know exactly what you are!"
The champion sat down beside Logan in the bar after the match, swatting the beer he had just picked up out of his hand, spilling it across the table.
"If I were you," Logan said calmly, "I wouldn't keep talking."
There was a time when he thought that he and his brother were just a bit different from others, but lately, he had learned the truth. He was a mutant. Beings who were now being watched by governments and ordinary people all over the world.
Over the past few years, Logan had faced plenty of hostility because of who he was. So the champion's attitude didn't surprise him.
"I won't say anything? Why the hell not?" the man sneered, grabbing Logan's shoulder. "Let me tell you something, freak. You don't even have the right to be in this tournament. So how about you leave that money right here and crawl back to whatever piece-of-junk car you came in?"
With that, he shoved his hand straight into Logan's pocket, trying to take the prize money himself.
That, however, was something Logan couldn't tolerate.
He could endure the discrimination from ordinary people because he couldn't deny his identity as a mutant. But the money was something he had to keep.
Suddenly, his body exploded with strength far beyond that of any normal person could match.
The champion might've been strong, but he was still just a human. His body had natural limits, built-in safeguards to stop his muscles from tearing themselves apart.
But Logan didn't have such problems.
He once had that same instinct, but 170 years of life, along with the experiences of two world wars, had long since dulled that reflex. As long as he wanted it, his muscles could unleash their full potential.
As for muscle injury? With Logan's abilities, who would even care about muscle damage?
Against strength pushed beyond the human limit, the champion didn't stand a chance. Logan slammed him straight into a wooden pillar. His fist was locked tight under the man's jaw, and on both sides of his head, two bone claws had already extended, pinning him in place.
"I told you," Logan growled, "If I were you, I'd stop talking."
One more claw, the middle one, and he could pierce straight through the man's head.
"Let him go, freak!"
The sound of a bullet being chambered made Logan pause for a moment.
Behind him, the bartender had raised a shotgun and was aiming it at the back of his head.
At this point, Logan didn't dare make a sudden move. If his head got blown off, even he would need time to heal. And during that time, who knew what could happen to his body?
If someone chopped him up and turned him into a pile of meat, would he still come back? Logan didn't know the answer to that, nor did he want to find out.
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