American comics: I am full of martial virtues and I love to be kind to others.

After the meeting, Lynn and Sarah returned to the cabin. It was completely dark outside, even though it was only seven o'clock in the evening. A cold wind howled, shaking the cabin windows.

“What do you think?” Sarah asked, while preparing dinner—the military rations they had brought.

“The wound pattern is indeed unusual,” Lynn said, reviewing photos on his laptop. “It’s too regular; it doesn’t look like typical wild animals. And all the victims are described consistently—huge, fast-moving, and strong.”

"Do you think they're mutants?"

“Very likely,” Lynn said, “Perhaps a mutant with some kind of bestial ability, who has been hiding in this remote place for many years. Or perhaps a new mutant who doesn’t know how to control their abilities.”

“But why attack people?” Sarah asked. “If he’s just a lost mutant, why doesn’t he seek help instead of attacking people?”

“Perhaps he’s lost his mind,” Lynn said. “Some mutant mutations affect the mind, especially bestial types. Or… he might have been isolated for too long and become feral.”

“We’ll go to the scene tomorrow,” Sarah said. “Maybe we’ll find more clues.”

That night, Lynn lay in bed, listening to the wind outside. The remote island, the dark winter night, the unknown threat—all these elements combined to create a primal, instinctive fear.

He recalled the old woman's tales of Tunitak. Although he was an FBI agent and scientifically trained, he knew that many legends had a basis in reality. Perhaps hundreds of years ago, similar creatures roamed this island, leaving behind these stories.

Perhaps what he is about to face is not just a mutant, but some ancient and mysterious being.

At six o'clock the next morning, Lynn was awakened by urgent knocking on the door. He quickly dressed, opened the door, and saw Officer Tom standing outside, his face full of tension.

“We’ve found him,” Tom said, panting. “A hunter spotted a suspicious figure on the hills to the north. I’ve gathered a few men and we’re about to go investigate. Do you want to come along?”

“Of course,” Lynn said, “after we get the equipment.”

Five minutes later, Lynn and Sarah, fully equipped, boarded Tom's snowmobile. It wasn't fully light yet; the eastern sky was only faintly tinged with the pale light of dawn. The temperature had dropped to minus twenty-two degrees Celsius, and the wind was biting cold.

"Where is he?" Lynn shouted through the wind.

“About three miles north, near the cliff,” Tom replied, “there’s an abandoned hunting lodge there, and the hunter who found him said the figure was active in that area.”

The snowmobiles sped across the snowfield, kicking up clouds of snow. Lynn could see two more snowmobiles ahead, carrying John and two other villagers. They were all carrying hunting rifles—in this remote place, almost every man hunted and had a weapon.

Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at their destination. It was a low hill with some rocks protruding from the snow on top, and a dilapidated wooden hut half-hidden in the snow.

Tom gestured for everyone to stop and lowered his voice: "It's just ahead. Be careful, everyone. If it really is that thing, it could be very dangerous."

Lynn and Sarah drew their pistols, while the others raised their shotguns. They slowly approached the cabin. Lynn noticed footprints in the snow—large, fresh, and still steaming.

Suddenly, the door of the cabin was kicked open, and a figure rushed out.

It was a man of medium build but muscular, wearing tattered jeans and a heavy leather jacket. His hair was disheveled, and his face was covered in a beard, but what was most striking was his eyes—wild, alert, like a wild beast cornered.

"That's him!" a villager shouted. "That's the monster!"

"Everyone, don't move!" Tom raised his shotgun. "You're surrounded! Hands up!"

The man stopped and scanned his surroundings. When his gaze fell upon the gun barrels, a cold smile crept across his lips.

"Are you sure you want this?" His voice was low and hoarse, carrying a threat.

“We just want to ask you a few questions,” Lynn said, trying to ease the tension, “about the recent attacks.”

“I didn’t attack anyone,” the man said. “Get out of the way now, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“We can’t let you leave,” Tom insisted, “at least not until we figure it out.”

“That’s your fault,” the man said.

Suddenly, he clenched his fists, and from between them emerged six gleaming metal claws—three in each hand, each about ten inches long and as sharp as a blade.

“Oh my God,” Sarah whispered.

Lynn immediately recognized the iconic weapon. He had seen the X-Men files and knew that only one person had that feature.

“Wolverine,” Lynn said.

The man—Wolverine—turned to look at Lynn, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. "You know me?"

“The FBI file,” Lynn said, “Logan, right?”

“Call me whatever you want,” Wolverine said, “but I said I don’t want trouble. Let me go.”

But the villagers were terrified by the metal claws. One of them nervously pulled the trigger, and a bullet flew toward Wolverine.

Wolverine reacted with astonishing speed; he dodged to the side and then charged at the man who had fired the shot. His speed was almost imperceptible; he covered a distance of over ten meters in an instant.

"Don't shoot!" Lynn shouted, but it was too late.

More gunshots rang out. Bullets struck Wolverine in the chest and shoulder, but he seemed completely unfazed, continuing his charge. He slashed at a villager's shotgun with his claws, slicing the metal barrel in two like butter.

The villager backed away in terror, and Wolverine's claws stopped a few inches from his throat.

“Next time, I won’t hold back,” Wolverine growled.

Tom and another villager flanked him from the side, firing simultaneously. The bullet struck Wolverine in the back, his body jolted, but he didn't fall. Instead, he turned and slashed at Tom's shotgun with his claws, severing it in the same way.

“I told you, I don’t want to hurt you,” Wolverine roared, “but if you continue like this, I’ll change my mind!”

Lynn saw that the situation was spiraling out of control. Wolverine was restraining himself, but if the villagers continued their attack, he might eventually actually hurt them. And with Wolverine's abilities, these ordinary people were no match for him.

"Cease fire, everyone!" Lynn shouted, stepping between the two sides. "Cease fire immediately!"

“Agent Holt, he’s a monster!” a villager shouted.

“He’s not the one you’re looking for,” Lynn said firmly. “Trust me.” “How do you know?” Tom questioned, still holding his shotgun with the barrel cut off.

“Because if he really wanted to hurt you, you would all be dead by now,” Lynn said directly. “You saw his speed and strength. He could have killed you all, but he just disabled the weapon. He was restraining himself.”

These words made the villagers stop and think. Indeed, although Wolverine's attack looked fierce, it did not actually cause any casualties.

Lynn turned to Wolverine. "Logan, I need your cooperation. Put your claws away and let's talk calmly."

Wolverine stared at Lynn for a few seconds, seemingly assessing his sincerity. Finally, his claws slowly retracted into his fists and disappeared.

“You have five minutes,” Wolverine said, “and then I’ll leave.”

“That’s enough,” Lynn said, then turned to the others. “All of you step back and give us some space.”

John hesitated for a moment, but finally nodded. "We'll wait for you at the snowmobile station. But if he does anything dangerous..."

“No, it won’t,” Lynn assured him.

The villagers slowly retreated, remaining vigilant. Sarah stood beside Lynn, her hand on her holster, ready to provide support at any moment.

“You’re a brave man,” Wolverine said to Lynn, a hint of approval in his voice, “or a fool. Standing between me and a bunch of armed men isn’t a wise choice.”

“I’m an FBI agent, doing stupid things is part of the job,” Lynn said half-jokingly, “but I’m serious, Logan. You’re not the attacker we’re looking for.”

“I know I’m not,” Wolverine said, “but it seems your friends don’t think so.”

“That’s because you arrived at the wrong time,” Lynn said. “There’s been a series of attacks on this island recently, and people have been seriously injured. The victims described the attackers as having huge claws, being very fast, and incredibly strong. The abilities you just demonstrated perfectly match those characteristics.”

“But I didn’t attack anyone,” Wolverine emphasized. “I’m here for other reasons.”

"What's the reason?" Sarah asked.

Wolverine was silent for a moment, seemingly considering whether to tell the truth. Finally, he sighed, "I came here to live in seclusion, to cultivate...if you can understand the word."

“Cultivation?” Lynn repeated.

“I’ve lived a very long time,” Wolverine said, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes. “Too long. I’ve seen too much war, too much death. Sometimes, my beastly side gets the better of me, and I become uncontrollable. I need to get away from people, to find my balance in the wilderness.”

“So you chose one of the most remote places in the world,” Lynn understood.

“Exactly,” Wolverine nodded. “It’s cold, isolated, and sparsely populated here. It’s the perfect place for me to focus on my inner self and control my animalistic instincts.”

How long have you been here?

“About a month,” Wolverine said, “I found a cave on the west side of the island and stayed there alone. I went out hunting occasionally, but always far from the village. I didn’t want to have any contact with people.”

"Do you know about those attacks?"

“I know,” Wolverine said. “I’ve smelled those smells—blood, fear. But I didn’t do it.”

“Have you seen or heard anything suspicious?” Sarah asked. “With your sensory abilities, perhaps you noticed something that others didn’t.”

Wolverine thought for a moment, "There are indeed some strange things. A few weeks ago, I smelled a scent at the north end of the island—a very peculiar scent, like a wild beast and a human, but not entirely either."

"Could you describe it in more detail?" Lynn asked, taking out his notebook.

“It’s hard to describe,” Wolverine frowned. “My sense of smell is hundreds of times stronger than an average person’s; I can detect subtle differences. That scent… it has mutant characteristics, but it also has something primal, wild, stronger than any mutant I’ve ever seen.”

"You think it's another mutant?"

“Possibly,” Wolverine said, “but if so, then he’s closer to the beast than most mutants. I tracked that scent for a while, but it always disappeared into rocky areas or near water, making it difficult to maintain a consistent trail.”

"direction?"

“To the north, near those cliffs and the coast,” Wolverine pointed into the distance, “there are many caves and fissures, good places to hide.”

How far is it from the village?

“About five to seven miles,” Wolverine said, “far enough to remain hidden, yet close enough to raid a village if necessary.”

Lynn and Sarah exchanged a glance. This was the first concrete clue.

“Logan, I need your help,” Lynn said directly. “You have the ability to track and fight, and you clearly know this island better than we do. Help us find the real attackers.”

Wolverine shook his head. "I'm not a member of the X-Men anymore, and I'm not a hero. I'm here to get away from all this."

“But people are getting hurt,” Sarah said, “and the next attack could be fatal. Can you really just stand by and do nothing?”

Wolverine fell silent. Lynn could see the struggle within him. Despite his claim of wanting to be alone, he wasn't inherently someone who could ignore the suffering of others.

“Listen,” Lynn said, “I don’t need you to become an X-Men again, or some kind of hero. I just need your expertise. Help us find that thing, stop it, and then you can go back to your training.”

“Moreover,” Sarah added, “if we don’t address this issue, the villagers will continue to panic. They might organize an even larger search. Then, the entire island will be searching the wilderness, and your seclusion will be completely shattered.”

This argument seemed to be working. Wolverine considered it for a moment, then finally nodded. "Alright. But there are a few conditions."

"explain."

“First, I won’t hurt that thing unless absolutely necessary,” Wolverine said. “If it’s a mutant, it might just be lost and not know how to control itself. I’ve been in that state, I know how it feels.”

“Agreed,” Lynn said. “Our goal is subjugation, not killing.”

"Second, after this is over, you must make sure the villagers know I am not a threat, and then let me continue my reclusive life. Do not mention me in the media, and do not report my location to Professor X." (End of Chapter)