640. A World Out of Balance!

Old Wolverine had been feeling uneasy lately.

Oh, he had long since abandoned that old nickname, and even discarded his given name.

He was no longer Wolverine, nor was he Logan. After registering as a ride-share driver, he reclaimed his original name—James Howlett.

Sitting quietly in the luxury car he rented, James the old wolf couldn't shake the feeling that something major was about to happen. And this event might very well bring even greater disaster to an already broken world.

James knew this uneasy feeling wasn't for nothing. He'd always had a sharp sense for danger. Though his healing factor could regenerate him from nearly any wound, it didn't mean he feared nothing.

Cyclops, Jean Grey, Beast… one by one, his friends had left his life. The emotional torment never ceased eating away at him from within.

James didn't know what kind of disaster was coming, nor where this world was headed. All he wanted now was to take Charles and Caliban and run as far from this land as possible.

The tension was building, so much that James felt like he could hardly breathe. He took a swig of liquor to dull the anxiety gnawing at him.

The bad feeling only deepened—especially after a recent encounter with two unfamiliar mutants.

Yes, James could tell at a glance. The two who showed up to help him the other day were mutants, just like him. In fact, their abilities might even surpass his. But even so, old James wanted nothing to do with them.

Mutants were gone. It wasn't a joke when people said there hadn't been a new mutant born in ten years. The once-glorious "new humans" were nearly extinct, destined to become a footnote in history.

James didn't know where Alex and Petra came from. He guessed maybe they'd escaped from some lab, or crawled out of some backwater village.

Either way, James wanted no part in their lives. Right now, he didn't have the power to help them. Hell, he could barely take care of himself.

Just then, the sound of a car door opening startled him. Before James could react, someone slipped into the back seat.

Frowning slightly, old James slowly turned his head.

"Buddy, I've already accepted a ride request. You'll have to grab another car."

"Heh heh heh…"

In the back seat, a lean, buzz-cut man let out a cold laugh at those words. He took off his sunglasses, and James clearly saw the tattoo peeking out from the man's neck.

Staring directly at James for a long moment, the man finally broke the silence. "Logan, nice to finally meet you. I've admired you from afar for a long time."

"You've got the wrong guy," James said flatly, his face cold. Still, an unexplained sense of irritation welled up inside him.

"Hah, no need to get tense, Wolverine. I'm a longtime fan. You know, I grew up reading your comics. I've always been fascinated by your kind." The man gave a slight smile.

"Who the hell are you?" James growled, voice full of warning.

But the man didn't seem to care in the slightest. Instead of answering, he kept speaking on his own terms.

"I used to think you were in Phoenix. My informants said you'd been active there for years. But just last night, I got a call from some buddies down in Texas.

They told me something strange had turned up near an off-ramp on Highway 54. Local police had received a missing persons report. Nothing unusual there—folks go missing all the time around that area, as you know.

But guess what? The cops pulled the surveillance footage and saw that once those people got off the highway… they were never seen again. Not once. The police investigated every building in the vicinity, dug three feet into the ground, and eventually found the buried bodies of those thugs."

As the stranger spoke, James's face grew darker and darker. It was obvious now—the thugs the man was talking about were the same punks who'd tried to steal his car tires not long ago.

To avoid drawing attention, James had left Texas deliberately. But clearly, that hadn't been enough—he was still being hunted.

Unbothered by Wolverine's expression, the man kept going.

"From the footage, there weren't many people on-site that night. Just a few trucks hauling cargo. But one thing stood out—a 2024 Chrysler. Hard to miss. And that immediately made me think of you."

At this point, the man leaned forward, staring straight into James's eyes, and spoke softly.

"Listen, old wolf. I'm not here for you. Believe it or not, I mean it. At least… not this time. I came here to find out what exactly happened that night."

"I don't know what you're talking about. Get the hell out of my car." James replied coldly.

Sensing Wolverine's hostility, the man gradually put away his smile. He pressed his lips together and sighed.

"You don't need to worry. I'm not interested in you. I just want to know who was responsible for what happened. You might not realize how serious the situation is. Sure, the mutants have vanished—but the world's gotten even messier.

A lot of people have shown up here out of nowhere, and just as many have disappeared without a trace. No one knows where they came from, or how many invaders there are. The only thing we can do… is try to keep the world safe. That's all."

Silently listening to the man's words, old James instinctively thought of Alex and Petra from that night. But it was only for a brief moment—he quickly shook his head.

"I was drunk that night. I didn't see anything."

"Really?" The man smirked. "I know you're hiding something, my dear old friend. You know—your bald pal down at the southern border?"

At those words, Wolverine's heart immediately tensed.

"What do you want?" Though James was far from calm inside, he kept up an outward air of composure.

"I want your cooperation," the man said seriously. "Our world is being invaded by some kind of evil force. And now… it's my responsibility to deal with it. So—"

As he spoke, the man pulled out a business card and gently placed it on the back of James's seat.

"If anything comes to mind, contact me."

Without waiting for a response, the man opened the door and stepped out of the car.

James watched him walk away toward a Cadillac parked at the corner. Only then did he slowly withdraw his gaze.

He picked up the business card. At first glance, it looked completely ordinary—no flashy design, just black letters on a plain white background.

On the front: Alkali-Transigen Institute. Beneath that: a name—Donald Pierce. On the back, there was another corporate name: Essex Corporation.

James stared at the card for a long while, dazed.

Then, suddenly, he cursed out loud and ripped it to shreds.

—

One day later, just before dawn, Wolverine drove out to the coast near Golden Sea.

"Mr. Esperanza, please. I know I said June, but I need that boat now. Really."

While making the call, old James carefully scanned his surroundings, afraid that some faction might be tracking him—or that something else could be following.

He had been on the run for most of his life—no one understood this situation better than him.

Ever since he was a child, James had been fleeing. Even after being transformed into Wolverine, he kept running. Later, he had a home—but now, that home was gone. And besides running, he had no other choice.

"Why the hell!?"

Suddenly, James grew emotional. Clutching his phone tightly, he growled in a low voice.

"We had a deal! Why are you raising the price now? Listen to me, I really need that boat. I'm just moving up the timeline a bit, that's all."

But quickly, his tone softened as he pleaded.

"Okay, look, I've got two gold bars with me. It's real currency—30 ounces. That's more than enough to meet your price, even higher than what you asked."

"What? You want cash!?"

James froze for a moment, then blurted out in frustration.

"Where the hell am I supposed to get cash right now!? Can't you just sell the gold at a shop yourself!? Hello?"

"Hello? Hello!?"

A busy tone buzzed from the phone. Clearly, the other party had hung up.

James slowly lowered the phone, barely restraining the urge to throw it against the dash. He cursed under his breath and rubbed his temples in frustration.

The gold Alex had given him was indeed good stuff—neither plated nor raw ore, but pure gold. Even on the black market, those two bars would fetch a hefty price.

But James knew that, given who he was, there was no legal way for him to convert the gold into cash.

Unless… he was willing to make a trip into the black market and see if one of the gang factions there would take it off his hands.

But anyone familiar with those people knew—an old man walking in with something that valuable wouldn't leave in one piece. James didn't want to kill again, and he certainly didn't want to return to that kind of life.

Just as Wolverine was being torn apart inside, a highly unstable purple portal suddenly opened up above the roof of the car.

A second later, two women fell straight through it and crashed hard into the spacious back seat.

The abrupt event startled James so much he nearly lost control of the wheel, barely managing to avoid smashing into a guardrail.

Then, through the rearview mirror, he stared in shock at the two uninvited, unfamiliar girls.

One had purple hair. The other, deep green.

After landing inside the car, they didn't move at all—apparently knocked out cold by the fall.

James stared in silence at the bizarre sight, saying nothing for a long while.

Eventually, he let out a heavy sigh.

"Fuck!!"

.....

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