Chapter 114 - Broken Beyond Repair

(Marvel, DC, images, manhuas, and every anime that will be mentioned and used in this story are not mine. They all belong to their respective owners. The main character "Karito/Adriel Josue Valdez" and the story are mine)

No POV

The morning air was still.

For the first time in months, Lux and Kayle slept—truly slept. No tremors in the walls, no screams just outside the window. No nightmares they hadn't already spoken aloud the night before. The weight hadn't vanished... but it had shifted. Two strangers carried some of it now.

In the apartment above the ruins, Ace sat cross-legged on the floor, half-listening to the girls breathe. Rest like this was rare. He wasn't about to interrupt it. Not when Peter was out doing what Peter did best—taking care of the rest.

Elsewhere...

Nanotech laced itself over Peter's skin like muscle memory. The Iron Spider suit snapped into place without a sound, adjusting to the shadows of what used to be a thriving city.

Demacia's bones stretched for miles. Streets cracked under the weight of old battles. Homes collapsed into themselves like lungs exhaling for the last time. Statues wept stone tears. He moved through it all with silent precision, avoiding patrols, logging patterns.

Nothing yet.

Until he reached it.

The Grand Plaza.

What once stood as the ceremonial heart of Demacia—its symbol of unity, law, and glory—was now a gutted monument of decay. Massive sweeping arcs of white stone bent overhead, casting long shadows across a plaza floor covered with cracks, blood, and ash. At the center stood a towering statue, likely once a king or champion, now blackened with soot and webbed with runes not of this world.

Thousands of stone pillars surrounded the plaza like judgmental sentinels, many of them fractured. Yet from high above, the layout remained unmistakable—intentional symmetry. This place was designed to be seen. To be remembered.

Now it was something else.

Peter crouched on a ledge overlooking the grand walkway below, eye lenses narrowing.

Portals.

Dozens of them.

Black-rimmed, unstable, humming with Dark energy. Soldiers emerged in formation—jagged armor, alien movement, eyes like dying stars. Others disappeared into the void, vanishing to gods-knew-where. Some of them barked commands. Others dragged screaming prisoners—what was left of them.

Peter's jaw tightened behind the mask.

This wasn't just a foothold.

It was a base.

A launchpad.

A factory of endless corruption.

And worse... the plaza pulsed beneath him, like the entire city was being fed rot from this very spot. Dark energy wasn't just leaking—it was being pumped. Forced into the veins of this world. Controlled. Stabilized by something or someone with terrifying power.

Anasis.

He whispered the name internally. The source of this entire mess. The reason this dimension was breaking apart under its own weight. Whoever—or whatever—Anasis was becoming, it had found a way to weaponize entropy itself.

Still crouched, Peter took another breath and exhaled slow.

The others didn't know this yet. They hadn't seen the scale. The infrastructure.

But Peter had.

And he wasn't going to wait.

Because if this base was allowed to keep running, then whatever came next—the real fight—would start with the Darks having reinforcements in the thousands.

Not on his watch.

He rolled his neck, nanotech adjusting the moment his muscles tensed.

"Okay," he whispered to himself. "Let's ruin some shit."

And without another word, Spider-Man launched himself into the storm.

The wind screamed past him as Peter dove off the ledge, nanotech rippling to accommodate the change in posture. Midair, he twisted once, fired a line—thwip—and caught a bent support beam jutting out from one of the broken towers. He swung wide over the edge of the plaza, boots brushing shattered archways and glyph-ridden stone.

He moved like a ghost.

No sound. No light.

Just momentum and intent.

Below him, the plaza boiled with Dark activity. Portals bloomed and withered like infected wounds. Each one shimmered with different hues of corruption—void purple, sulfuric green, that uncanny blue static that made your skin itch just by looking at it. He saw foot soldiers bearing gear from twenty different universes—some in spiked armor, others in biomechanical suits, one even dragging a cursed blade pulsing with runes straight out of an eldritch horror novel.

No pattern. No allegiance.

Just chaos in uniform.

Peter clung to the side of a broken statue near the outer rim of the plaza. It gave him a high enough vantage point to scan what mattered most: layout, flow, entry points.

The plaza had been turned into a chokehold.

Six main portals in constant use. At least twenty auxiliary gates opening at irregular intervals. Two processing chambers on the east and west wings—those were grim. He saw civilians being dragged inside one, and nothing coming out. His knuckles clenched.

Focus.

He adjusted his mask's HUD, activating deep scan.

Data flowed.

Power conduits ran under the plaza, branching from the center like a nervous system. Every portal was feeding from it. But the root—the core—sat directly beneath the statue at the heart of it all.

"Bingo," Peter whispered.

He looked closer.

Beneath the statue, embedded deep into the foundation, was a swirling mass of crystallized dark matter—volatile, alive. And at its center, a containment shell covered in shifting glyphs. Whatever that thing was, it wasn't just stabilizing the base.

It was the base.

Take that out, and everything collapses.

But there was a catch. Of course there was.

Two sentries stood guard—taller than anything else he'd seen. Armored head to toe in obsidian plates that pulsed with molten cracks. Not just soldiers. Not grunts.

Commanders.

They didn't pace. They didn't move. They waited.

That was enough to make Peter pause. This wasn't some reactive force. It was organized. Disciplined. Patient.

Which meant so did he have to be.

He slipped off the statue and swung lower, landing silently on a hanging fragment of balcony just meters above the east wall. His HUD continued scanning.

Explosives wouldn't do it. Not directly.

He needed a chain reaction. Overload the core. Break the glyphs. Create instability across the network and let the plaza cannibalize itself.

Doable.

Stupid.

Dangerous.

Classic.

Peter pulled a small orb from the nanotech sleeve on his wrist. It morphed into a spike, which he jabbed into the floor. The interface blinked to life.

"Mini-drone—full mapping. Tag all visible nodes."

The spider-bot dropped and skittered silently into the cracks, pulsing with red light. He watched its feed populate on his HUD—node after node after node—forming a lattice of energy channels under the surface.

It was a web.

And he was the spider.

"Alright," Peter muttered. "First, unplug the machine. Then, break its bones."

He started moving again, this time with intent. Slipping from ledge to ledge, wall-running under beams, swinging low through broken archways. He planted charges on each node the drone pinged. Small, compact, non-lethal—until they weren't.

Every step brought him closer to the center.

The enemy presence intensified.

He ducked beneath a balcony as a squad passed. They were speaking in tongues—like their voices were out of sync with their mouths. One of them stopped, sniffed the air. Peter froze.

The soldier turned.

Waited.

Then kept walking.

Peter exhaled, then whispered, "Nanotech deodorant: 10/10 recommend."

He moved again.

The plaza core loomed ahead now. The statue towered above him—its face cracked, half-erased by whatever cursed force now used this place as its backbone.

One last node.

He crept beneath the statue's pedestal, tucked in shadows deeper than night. His HUD pinged: Final glyph stabilizer located. It pulsed in sickly green light, wrapped in chains of runes that bent physics around them.

He planted the final charge.

The nanotech retracted, slithering over the charge like a sheath, syncing with the energy pulse.

"Detonation set."

Peter stood, slowly, and looked up toward the surface.

The twin commanders were still there.

Motionless.

Waiting.

He didn't like it.

Then again, he never liked these things when they started.

He stepped back into the shadows and pulled up his comms—only to remember he'd left it off. No warning. No heads-up.

Good.

They didn't need to know what he was about to do.

Not until it was done.

Peter looked up at the glowing core beneath the statue. His breath fogged the inside of his mask.

"Alright, you bastards," he muttered.

And then he launched himself toward the surface in a blur of red and gold, landing in the middle of the Grand Plaza—right between the twin titans—like a meteor.

The entire base stopped moving.

Every soldier turned.

And Spider-Man just stood there, cracking his knuckles.

"Surprise."

Every soldier—every grotesque, jagged, mangled silhouette of something once mortal—stared at the man standing between the twin commanders.

Spider-Man didn't move.

Didn't flinch.

Didn't need to.

The twin titans stepped forward, their armor steaming with unnatural heat, their weapons dragging behind them like cleavers pulled from hell. Their footsteps cracked the plaza stone with seismic force.

Peter just tilted his head.

"I've seen scarier things in a middle school cafeteria."

One of the commanders raised its weapon.

Peter vanished.

Crack.

The sound wasn't thunder. It was space rebelling.

In less than a heartbeat, Peter was behind the first titan, fist buried into the back of its helmet—nanotech gloves reshaped into a vibrational disruptor. The impact launched the beast forward, skidding across the stone like a freight train hitting ice. The second commander roared and charged.

Peter spun midair and caught its blade—with one hand.

The soldiers below gasped. Or maybe that was just their bodies trying to remember fear.

"You're swinging this like it means something," Peter said, gripping the blade's edge. "It doesn't."

His free arm split into five. Nanotech tendrils laced with light from the Speed Core coiled like serpents. They struck the commander in a single synchronized burst—wrapping its limbs, locking its joints, pinning it mid-lunge. Peter raised the monster above his head with one arm and slammed it into the stone so hard the plaza shook.

And still, he didn't break a sweat.

Dark Soldiers moved now. Swarms of them.

All of them.

At once.

Peter turned to face the flood. "Guess we're skipping introductions."

He raised one hand. The air shimmered.

With a hum, his suit shifted. Red and gold warped, becoming darker, sleeker—Marvel's Spider-Man Advanced Suit, reimagined through plot-forged nanotech. Arm blades shimmered out, eyes sharpened.

They attacked.

Blades. Bolts. Spells. Screams.

Peter moved through them like wind.

He dodged without dodging, phased through blades, backflipped onto heads, kicked one soldier into five more, then spun into the air, legs glowing with kinetic buildup. He unleashed a concussive wave mid-spin that collapsed an entire vanguard like dominos.

He landed without sound.

More came.

He welcomed them.

Webs turned to energy tethers, slamming enemies into pillars. His palm ejected a swirling orb of unstable plasma—a borrowed idea from another Earth's Iron Man, fused with his own flair. The orb detonated in a miniature implosion, sucking three Darks into nothingness.

A dozen soldiers fired corrupted projectiles.

Peter turned intangible for a second.

They passed through him.

He re-solidified and grinned. "Too slow."

He slid into the Velocity Suit without a blink—red glowing lines crackling with raw speed-force. Not full power. Just a taste. Enough to disappear in a blur, appearing behind lines that hadn't even noticed he was gone.

He whispered to the last of them, "Boo."

They exploded into arcane dust.

Peter stood at the center of their corpses, breathing slow. Controlled.

The plaza was nearly empty now—only the two commanders were crawling back up, damaged but not out.

He sighed. "Alright. Final round."

He launched into the air and shifted suits again—back to Iron Spider, this time with a little flair. The legs unfolded behind him, but now they burned with energy from the Nexus itself, lines of luminous code weaving across their surface.

He raised both arms.

The explosives he planted earlier—every single one—lit up on his HUD.

"Lights out."

He snapped.

The plaza erupted.

One by one, the power nodes detonated beneath the surface, not with brute force, but destabilization. Glyphs shattered. Energy lines backfired. The core beneath the statue cracked—and screamed.

The statue exploded from within.

The shockwave dropped the commanders to their knees. Their armor flickered, destabilizing with the energy matrix they'd relied on.

Peter landed in front of them as the sky above began to split from the feedback.

He cracked his neck.

"Tell your god the walls are cracking.

Tell him the Web remembers.

And tell him the next time we come...

Nothing will be left standing."

He walked away.

Behind him, the plaza imploded in silence.

Not because of stealth.

But because everything—every last whisper of the Darks' grip on this city—was gone.

Ace's POV

The blast came low and distant, a deep rumble rolling through the ruins like thunder cracking through old bones. Windows shivered. Dust trickled from the ceiling like ash falling in slow motion. Outside, I heard the flapping of scorched crows scattering into the dim sky.

I didn't even blink.

Just sighed and leaned back in the chair, counting under my breath.

"...Three... two..."

Right on cue, the bedroom door flew open.

"What was that?!" Lux's voice was tight, her staff already in hand, eyes wide with panic.

Kayle came in just behind her, blade drawn, wings twitching, every inch of her braced for war.

I tilted my head toward them without even getting up. "That? That was Peter."

They froze.

Lux's fingers loosened on her staff. Kayle didn't lower her weapon.

"...What?" Kayle snapped.

I stood and gave a lazy stretch, popping my neck. "Relax. He probably found something he didn't like and blew it up."

"The base?" Lux asked, blinking.

"Yeah."

Kayle took a step forward, her expression hard. "You mean the one at the Grand Plaza?"

"Mhm," I said with a nod.

Lux stared at me like I'd just told her the sun rose in reverse. "But—how did he...?"

I scratched the back of my neck. "We picked up the energy spike last night. Peter went out early, followed the trail, confirmed it was the real deal. Looked bad. Told me he'd handle it. Guess he did."

"You knew?" Kayle's tone sharpened.

I gave her a look. "We sensed it, yeah. But you both were finally sleeping for once. Didn't think waking you up would've helped much."

Lux shook her head. "We didn't tell you because we thought it was suicide. We couldn't even get close to that place. It twisted everything. Our power turned on us."

"Well," I said, glancing toward the broken skyline, "Peter's not exactly your usual guest."

They stared at me.

Not with awe. Not with amazement.

Just... stunned.

Kayle slowly lowered her sword. "You're saying he destroyed the base. Alone."

"Yep. Should make getting to Ixtal a whole lot easier now."

Lux furrowed her brows. "You're saying that like it's no big deal."

I shrugged. "For him? It's Tuesday."

A heavy silence filled the room.

I could see it on their faces—the realization, the shift. For the longest time, they'd seen us like reinforcements. Backup. Maybe a flare of hope in a hopeless war.

But this wasn't hope.

This was a reset.

Kayle turned back toward the window, her voice a notch softer. "He did what I couldn't."

"He did what none of us could," Lux echoed, quietly.

I kept my tone casual, but I looked at them both. "You two held the line when everything else fell. That mattered. But now... it's our turn."

Kayle looked at me, really looked. Like she was finally starting to see the man behind the title. I didn't flinch. I just let her look.

I wasn't trying to be anything special.

I was just me.

"Still," I muttered as I walked toward the hallway, "he could've at least warned me. If I knew he was gonna nuke half the plaza before lunch, I'd have made tea."

That earned a small laugh from Lux.

Kayle didn't laugh—but I saw her shoulders ease just slightly.

They'd spent so long thinking they were the only ones strong enough to carry the burden.

Now they knew the truth.

They weren't alone.

Then front door clicked open just as I sipped my tea.

Didn't even need to turn around.

Footsteps—quiet, measured, but dragging a little. Nanotech peeled off Peter's face with that soft hiss it always made. He stepped inside, not limping exactly, but not strutting either.

Still breathing. Still standing.

Show-off.

"Oh, look," I said without looking. "He lives."

"Morning, sunshine," Peter muttered, rolling his neck like someone who just drop-kicked a god and pulled a muscle doing it.

Lux turned from the window like she'd seen a ghost. Kayle was on the couch, sword still in hand, but even she didn't stand right away.

They were both quiet.

Then Lux blinked. "You really did it."

Peter gave a half shrug. "If by 'it' you mean reducing a Dark base to atmospheric seasoning, then yeah. I did."

Kayle stood now, blade catching the last of the fractured sunlight. "You tore down the entire base. Alone."

Peter didn't even flinch. "Wasn't my first solo gig. Though definitely the most dramatic."

I raised my cup in a mock toast. "Could've given a heads-up about the fireworks."

He plopped into the chair across from me like his bones were tired of being heroic. "And ruin the suspense? Come on. Gotta leave something for the fans."

Lux walked closer, slow. Her face still pale, but there was clarity there now—like someone had just pulled the weight of a kingdom off her shoulders.

"You don't get it," she said. "That base wasn't just strong. It was... choking us. We thought it was untouchable."

Peter didn't grin. Didn't gloat. Just nodded like that mattered.

"Good thing I don't do untouchable."

Kayle crossed her arms, brows narrowed. "How?"

Peter lifted a hand like he was counting on his fingers. "Nanotech. Plot armor. Bullheaded optimism."

I coughed a laugh. "You forgot: reckless disrespect for evil architecture."

"Right. That too."

For a few seconds, none of us said anything. And for once, the silence didn't weigh us down.

It just sat there. Full. Settled.

Then Lux spoke. One word.

"Thank you."

And I watched it hit him harder than any blast had.

He nodded once. "Anytime."

Kayle stared at him, still. That unreadable expression on her face. Like she wasn't sure if she was looking at a man or some force of nature that had decided, randomly, to fight for their side.

"You are... more than I expected," she finally said.

Peter didn't respond. He just leaned his head back and shut his eyes.

"I get that a lot," he mumbled.

I took another sip of tea.

Yeah. He really does.

I glanced out the cracked window, steam curling from my cup. The sky looked a little less sick. The air didn't claw at my lungs like it did when we got here. Even the shadows felt... lighter.

"You feel that?" I asked, voice low. "The city doesn't hurt anymore."

Peter cracked one eye open. "Yeah, that might be because I deleted the ulcer feeding it."

I gave him a look. "No shit, I saw Oppenheimer at the window happen, for a second time."

His other eye opened, both narrowing into a flat stare. "Well, duh? No shit Sherlock."

"Just saying, I could've joined in the fun. Y'know? Instead of lazing around here."

"Oh, right, lemme just stop mid-ass kicking to give Ace a courtesy text," he said, raising his hands in mock innocence. "My bad for not checking in while erasing interdimensional cancer."

"Common courtesy," I said with a shrug. "Heroes these days."

He groaned. "You're the worst."

"You love me."

Peter looked ready to launch a witty comeback but stopped. Something in his posture shifted, more serious now. He stood, brushing off imaginary dust from his suit.

"All jokes aside," he said, glancing at the two girls still watching from opposite ends of the room, "we should move. Now. No more waiting."

Kayle's gaze locked with Lux's. They didn't speak, but I saw it—tightness behind their eyes. Fear not for what had happened, but for what still could.

They weren't thinking about the Darks in general.

They were thinking about them—those two monsters they'd faced before.

Demi-Fiend. Nahobino.

Names like weight.

Peter noticed it, too. The moment their energy shifted. He didn't ask what was wrong. Didn't press. He just stepped forward and spoke, quieter now.

"I know what you're thinking," he said. "And I'm not gonna pretend this road is safe. It's not. Those two you faced... they aren't just strong. They're cruel. Designed to break you."

Lux flinched.

"But you're not alone anymore," he continued. "You don't have to face that fear by yourselves."

Kayle's grip on her blade relaxed—just slightly.

"I'm not here to drag you through it," Peter added. "I'm here to walk it with you. And so is he." He nodded toward me.

"Unfortunately," I muttered.

Peter almost smiled. Almost.

"We're not asking you to be fearless," he finished. "Just brave enough to take the next step. That's it."

For a long moment, no one moved.

Then Lux exhaled, deep and shaky. She gave a tiny nod.

Kayle didn't say a word. But she sheathed her sword.

Good enough.

Peter turned, checking his suit systems one last time. "Alright. Grab what you need. We move in ten."

As they scattered to prepare, I caught his eye again.

He didn't say anything.

He didn't need to.

I nodded once.

We were back on the road.

And this time, no one walked it alone.

No Pov

The ruined streets of Demacia stretched out before them, quiet and dead. Dust clung to broken stones like old memories refusing to be forgotten. The sky remained choked in that familiar gray hue—neither night nor day, just a smear of sorrow above their heads.

Four figures walked in silence.

Kayle kept to the edge, eyes scanning every broken wall, every shadow that moved just a little too much. Her wings were drawn tight to her back, her stride calculated. She moved like a blade—not drawn, but ready.

Lux stayed in the middle, walking slower than the rest, her hands tight around her staff. Her eyes kept darting to alleyways, rooftops, corners. Peter could hear her heartbeat. Too fast. She didn't mask it well.

Peter didn't say anything at first. He simply tilted his head, side-eying her behind the mask.

She wasn't just anxious.

She was terrified.

He caught Ace's attention with a glance and a small nod.

Ace gave one back—short, knowing.

Peter turned his attention to Lux. "So," he said, casually enough to be deliberate, "your staff."

Lux blinked. "What?"

He pointed at it. "It's kind of badass. Always wondered—why that, exactly? Staffs aren't easy to wield."

Lux hesitated, then glanced down at it. "Oh. It's not just a staff. It's part channeling focus, part artifact. I modified it a little after my training under the Illuminators."

Peter nodded with interest. "Magic shotgun, huh?"

She gave a nervous half-smile. "Sort of. It responds to light. And me. I can bend arcane patterns through it a lot faster than just free-casting."

Ace whistled behind them. "Sounds like someone min-maxed their stat sheet."

Lux almost laughed. Almost. "I wouldn't say that. It was more out of necessity. Magic in Demacia used to be... frowned upon."

"Right," Peter said. "Nothing says 'welcome home' like anti-mage laws and public paranoia."

Ace leaned forward, glancing at her staff. "So does it go boom, or does it go fwoosh?"

"...Both?"

"Nice."

They shared a short laugh, but it faded fast. Lux's hands hadn't let go of the staff. Not really.

Peter noticed. Again.

He let the conversation drift back to neutral, just enough to keep the air from freezing again.

Meanwhile, Kayle was watching rooftops like she expected the heavens themselves to rain hell.

Ace drifted back beside her, casual as ever.

"You know," he said, "you don't have to scout every ten seconds. That's my job."

"I trust my own eyes," Kayle said flatly, not even glancing at him.

"Fair," he replied. "But you're wasting energy. You've been tight as a bowstring since we left."

"I have reason to be."

Ace smirked. "Yeah. And I've got reason to start singing show tunes when the silence gets too heavy. Doesn't mean I should."

Kayle's eyes narrowed. "You're mocking me."

"Yup."

"Why?"

"Because you're wound up so tight, I'm surprised you haven't vibrated through a wall."

Kayle huffed. "This is not a game, Guardian."

"No," he said, serious now. "But right now, it's not a war either. You get that, right? No patrols. No threats. Peter cleared the board."

She didn't answer, but she didn't snap back either. He took it as progress.

Back ahead, Lux and Peter were in full-on conversation now.

"Well," Lux said with more energy than she'd shown all day, "arcane structuring is built on leyline proximity, but you can get around that with proper sigil work—"

Peter nodded, eyes wide with exaggerated curiosity. "Totally. Totally. And when you say 'sigils,' are we talking the kind that burn into the ground or the floaty ones?"

"Depends on what school you're tapping into."

"Right. Floaty's gotta be Evocation."

"No, that's more explosion-based. What you're thinking of is Abstract Binding. Looks like floaty nonsense. Isn't."

Peter pretended to write that down in the air. "Got it. Floaty nonsense equals deadly nonsense. Noted."

Lux laughed.

And not just a small one.

A real, bubbling laugh that startled even her. She clapped a hand to her mouth like she'd broken something sacred.

Peter only smiled beneath the mask. He didn't let the moment turn serious.

"That laugh's illegal in at least three timelines, y'know," he said.

She giggled again, even as tears threatened to well up behind her eyes.

He noticed.

So did Ace.

And neither mentioned it.

"You're deflecting," Kayle said quietly to Ace.

"Yup," Ace replied without missing a beat.

She gave him a look.

"You do it too," he added.

Kayle didn't argue.

Just like that, the group kept moving. Conversation flowed, laughter rose and faded like cautious waves.

None of them mentioned the dead.

None of them mentioned Garen.

And because of that—Lux walked taller.

Even if it was just a little.

Even if it wouldn't last.

Peter counted that as a win.

The ruined path that once led proud Demacian banners into the world now opened up to fractured stone and ash. Rubble lined the way like graves. Wind swept across the land, dry and hollow. They were close now—the end of the city's reach.

Peter walked ahead, suit glinting under the pale sky. His mask was still on, nanotech humming softly across his body. Beside him, Ace moved with an unhurried step, hands in his pockets like he didn't care—but Peter knew that wasn't true. Ace never really "didn't" care. Not when the air started to change.

Not when the silence deepened.

Peter's Spider-Sense screamed.

It wasn't a tingle. It was a siren. A thousand alarms going off in his skull. His step halted instantly, hand shooting up.

"Stop."

Lux froze mid-step. Kayle's wings flared. Ace, without needing to ask, activated his Observation Haki. His pupils dilated, sensing the unnatural presence that had entered the area.

They were no longer alone.

Peter's voice came low, even. "We've got company."

Ace stepped forward slightly. "Dark?"

"Worse," Peter said. "One of them."

Without needing to say more, Ace turned to the two girls. "We're taking the long way around. Peter will handle this."

Kayle frowned. "Alone?"

"You'll only get in his way," Ace said bluntly.

Peter didn't wait for objections. He walked forward, toward the source. His footfalls were silent over gravel and glass.

A figure stood at the edge of the city.

Still.

Like he'd been waiting.

Demi-Fiend.

His form was humanoid, but only barely. Muscles carved like statues. Tattoos burned like ancient circuitry along his skin. His presence twisted the horizon behind him. Even the ground didn't want to be near him. A strange silence clung to him like armor.

Peter stopped a dozen feet away.

"Well," he said, hands on hips. "Look what crawled out of Hell's discount bin."

No response.

"Seriously, did you guys have to wreck the place and leave it smelling like burnt pride?"

Demi-Fiend blinked. Once.

Peter tilted his head. "Not the chatty type? No witty villain monologue? No final warning before the 'end begins' or whatever?"

More silence. The Dark One didn't even flinch.

Peter gave an exaggerated shrug. "Okay. Strong silent type. Got it."

He walked a slow circle around the figure, like observing a statue. His tone shifted slightly, casual melting into edge.

"You know, Demacia didn't fall quietly. Those people? They fought. They screamed. They cried for someone to save them. And you?"

He stopped in front again. "You didn't even blink."

The mask folded back, revealing Peter's face.

"I don't forget screams like that."

Demi-Fiend didn't move.

But Peter did.

His stance lowered, shoulders angling into a ready posture. The air shifted around him as the nanotech flexed.

"This isn't vengeance," he said, voice quieter now. "This is accountability."

For a second longer, they just stood there. One unmoving. The other patient.

Then Peter spoke again. "You're not walking out of here."

The Iron Spider mask gleamed over his face.

And in the next heartbeat, the battlefield was born.

The air cracked.

Peter was gone in a blink.

The Iron Spider suit surged forward, propelled by energy far beyond earthly physics. In less than a millisecond, he closed the distance between himself and the Dark One. Fists collided with nothing—Demi-Fiend had already moved.

A blur. A ripple.

The air itself bent under the strain of the forces at play. Peter flipped mid-air, nanotech legs stabbing into the broken ground to anchor himself as he slid. The impact shattered a crater beneath him. He looked up—and Demi-Fiend was already on him.

Peter barely dodged, ducking beneath a sweeping strike that tore through the air like a scythe through silk. It was fast. Too fast. Not in speed, but in intent—Demi-Fiend didn't just swing; he unwound the space in front of him. Reality buckled, and Peter had to twist his whole body just to not exist in that line anymore.

A normal Spider-Man would've died right then.

But Peter wasn't normal.

Not anymore.

"Okay," he muttered under his breath, flipping over rubble and hurling a blast of webbing laced with concentrated kinetic force. It slammed into Demi-Fiend's shoulder—and dissipated like smoke.

Demi-Fiend turned his head slightly.

Unbothered.

"I hate that look," Peter said.

He activated a new configuration.

His suit shimmered and then reformed, taking on a sleeker, sharper version of the Spider-Armor MK-IV—enhanced for sustained dimensional combat. Every fiber buzzed with power siphoned from the Nexus Core, the arcane Speed-Source pulsing at his back like a heart.

Demi-Fiend raised a hand. One symbol burned across the palm, and with a single motion, time itself began to warp.

Peter stumbled—his body slowed, dragged by entropy—until he forced the override.

"Plot armor, bitch," he hissed, slipping free from the temporal bind, moving even faster now, adjusting his perception ahead of real time.

The second clash was brutal.

They collided mid-air, shockwaves flattening the ruined remnants of nearby buildings. Fist met forearm. Energy met entropy. Peter spun, landing a hit to the ribs—Demi-Fiend didn't budge. Instead, he opened his mouth and exhaled a wave of pure Conceptual Decay.

It wasn't fire. It wasn't light. It was the idea of unbeing made manifest.

Peter braced his arms. His suit shifted again, nanotech forming a shielding lattice—one derived from Adriel's core tech, interwoven with symbolic safeguards harvested from the Nexus of Imagination itself. Even so, it nearly buckled.

He hit the ground hard, skidding for meters.

Static flooded his HUD.

:: Nanotech integrity: 82%

:: Reality field stress: Critical

:: Suggest combat frame velocity-mode deployment

Peter groaned. "Already? We just started dating again."

He stood up. His suit healed. His eyes locked onto Demi-Fiend, who stood unmoved, watching.

"You know," Peter said, exhaling, "you've got the personality of a toaster. No offense to toasters."

He charged again.

This time, he didn't go head-on.

He blurred—zigzagging at quantum levels, reappearing at Demi-Fiend's side. Nanotech tendrils lashed out, punching through the corrupted air, delivering energy discharges tuned to target metaphysical stability.

Demi-Fiend actually took a step back.

Just one.

But it was enough to tell Peter what he needed:

He could hurt him.

Not easily. Not without consequence.

But it was possible.

The third round came fast.

Demi-Fiend roared—not with voice, but with power. Symbols tore open around him, runes from a thousand dying languages flaring to life. Reality surged as spells erupted: Ice, Force, Death, Fire, Mind—all of it.

Peter danced through hell.

Every movement mattered.

Every dodge was life or death, not just physically but existentially. And through it all, he laughed. Just a little.

"You're really bringing out all the toys, huh?" he called mid-flip. "What's next? Demon form? Second health bar? QTE I can't skip?"

Demi-Fiend lunged. Peter met him.

They clashed in the air again—this time, Spider-Man's velocity mode activated for just two seconds. Long enough to slam a charged punch into the Dark One's chest, cracking the conceptual shield that shimmered across his skin.

Peter hit the ground again—rolled—landed in a crouch.

"You're strong," he admitted, breathing heavier now.

Demi-Fiend raised his head slightly.

"But so am I."

From the back of his shoulders, the four mechanical legs of the Iron Spider deployed fully. The glow from his suit deepened, crimson and gold surging like a burning star.

And with that, Peter leapt again.

He darted in again, velocity-mode still disengaged, relying now on pure reflex, speed, and the decades of refined combat skill Adriel had beaten into him. His fists blurred as they connected with Demi-Fiend's body—rib, shoulder, chin, a spinning knee into the gut, then an elbow straight into the temple.

Each blow sparked feedback.

Not elemental.

Conceptual.

Demi-Fiend didn't stumble, but his head tilted. Peter was faster. Way faster. And it showed. The Dark One swung in retaliation, fists slamming like gravitational waves. Peter slipped under them, spun behind, landed another combo—cross, hook, heel stomp.

He was pressing him.

Winning.

Demi-Fiend raised an arm and tried to grab him. Peter broke the grip, spun with the momentum, and kicked off his chest, launching backward into a low crouch.

"You're durable, I'll give you that," Peter muttered, panting lightly, suit shimmering with microfractures. "But you throw hands like a philosophy major."

Demi-Fiend lunged.

Peter caught the arm, pivoted, and flipped the demon into the ground with enough force to quake the broken road. He followed it up with a leaping punch, one of his mechanical limbs anchoring into the earth for extra momentum. The hit connected. Cracks webbed out from the impact site.

Then he landed a knee. Then a palm strike to the throat. Then he spun into a wide haymaker that knocked Demi-Fiend clean through a stone archway.

Peter didn't pause.

He pursued.

Through rubble. Through sound. Through motion.

Fists and feet blurred as the battle turned into a storm of movement and aggression. Peter ducked under a counterpunch, drove his shoulder into Demi-Fiend's chest, and unleashed a flurry of rapid strikes. Every hit sparked cosmic recoil, but Peter didn't slow down. Not even when blood ran from his nose under the mask.

Not even when his knuckles burned from contact.

He was on fire. Not literally. Just in rhythm. In control.

He was the faster one.

He was the better fighter.

But Demi-Fiend wasn't playing to that.

Peter landed a clean punch and pushed off again, flipping into a three-point stance.

Then stopped.

Because the ground under his feet changed.

No, not the ground.

Everything.

The world glitched.

A flicker.

Like a page of a book being forcibly turned.

Demi-Fiend rose slowly, chest heaving, body glowing now with a more twisted energy. One of his Magatama activated—Peter couldn't tell which, not visually—but the air hissed.

Reality itself dimmed.

"Of course," Peter muttered. "You'd change the rules."

The moment shifted.

Suddenly Peter couldn't feel the ground. Gravity bent. Time bled sideways. The very concept of where they were became distorted. Demi-Fiend had shifted the battlefield, pulling them into an abstract space where logic and law meant nothing.

"Tactical retreat time," Peter said and shot a line of web to a floating chunk of broken stone. He hurled himself forward, barely dodging a bolt of black lightning that sang as it passed him.

But now the hand-to-hand advantage was gone.

Because there was no 'hand'.

Demi-Fiend had become metaphor. His punches now carried intent more than force. A wave of his arm tried to erase Peter from history. Literally.

The Spider-Sense screamed louder than it ever had before.

Peter rolled through the air, activating counter-constructs within the nanotech. Safeguards. Plot-thread anchors. Anything that kept him anchored to narrative reality.

He landed on a shard of ground floating midair.

"You're really a pain in the ass," he said, panting.

Demi-Fiend launched himself like a comet.

Peter met him.

The collision was brutal. Explosive. It shattered the floating platform. Sent both hurtling.

Peter rebounded midair using the mechanical limbs, latching onto raw idea-space, swinging around to slam a concussive web bomb into Demi-Fiend's side. The impact actually bent the Dark One sideways—but only for a second.

Peter spun a webline and retracted fast, putting distance.

"This isn't working," he said aloud. "He's escalating."

He landed on another floating plane of thought-geometry, the suit repairing again, nanotech nearly strained.

He needed a break.

A reset.

A distraction.

Then, for a split second, a ripple of energy passed through Peter's field of awareness.

Another presence.

Not here.

But close.

Nahobino.

Peter's eyes widened behind the mask.

"Ace," he said, almost a whisper.

And as if summoned by the thought, a flicker of light sparked on the horizon. A different battlefield. Another confrontation.

Peter looked back at Demi-Fiend, whose body now cracked with otherworldly energy, symbols of power dancing across his frame.

Time to finish this.

Or at least, hold the line.

He crouched low again, lips tight.

"Let's go, ugly."

Ace's POV

I kept my pace steady. Didn't look back.

The rumble from Peter's fight cracked the sky behind us like divine thunder, but I didn't flinch. Couldn't afford to. The girls were already rattled enough, especially Lux—she was practically trembling with every step, like the ground might open up and swallow us whole.

"You just left him," she finally said, voice sharp with panic. "You left him there alone!"

I didn't stop walking.

"Peter can handle it."

"That's not the point!" she snapped. "You saw what that thing was!"

Kayle was the one who grabbed my arm—not gently. "That wasn't a Dark patrol. That was him. One of the two. Demi-Fiend. You expect him to fight that thing alone?"

I yanked my arm free. "Yes."

Her wings twitched at the sharpness in my voice, but I didn't care. I wasn't here to argue. I was here to move.

"Why?" Lux asked, breath catching. "We could have—"

"You couldn't have," I cut in, stopping cold.

They both froze as I turned around to face them, my tone heavier now. Blunt.

"You can't hurt them. Not the true ones. Your magic twists, your blades shatter, your will breaks before you even land a blow. These things aren't like the others. They don't just kill—they unmake. And Peter's buying us time by keeping that one away from you."

They stared at me, silent. That kind of truth hit harder than fire ever could.

"But he'll—"

"Peter's not just Spider-Man," I said, more quietly now. "Not anymore. He's a Guardian. My partner. He doesn't need saving."

I was about to turn again when something—wrong—tickled the edge of my skull. A pressure in the air that didn't belong. I felt it like a shift in gravity, like the horizon just leaned in and whispered something horrible.

My eyes narrowed.

Observation Haki flared in an instant.

"Shit," I muttered.

Far above us, perched like a vulture on the curved frame of a broken spire, was him.

Long blue hair drifted in the breeze like it was underwater. A black-and-blue bodysuit clung to a lean figure that looked too graceful to be dangerous. But I knew better.

Nahobino.

He stood like he didn't need to breathe. Like he wasn't even part of this world. His eyes locked onto us with a stillness that made my blood run hot.

Lux followed my gaze first. Then Kayle. They both froze.

"That's the other one," Kayle whispered. Her voice didn't even sound like hers.

I stepped forward, fists tightening. My flames were already responding to my pulse—cosmic embers licking around my knuckles, shifting between colors even the eye didn't know how to read.

"Run," I said.

Neither of them moved.

"I said run."

"Ace—" Lux started.

"Run!" I snapped, turning my eyes on them now. "No arguing. No stalling. Don't look back. You can't help here—you'll just die."

Kayle hesitated, but she understood faster. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was something deeper. She grabbed Lux's arm and took off, wings flaring just enough to give their sprint an edge.

I didn't watch them go.

My focus locked onto Nahobino.

He stepped off the building.

Didn't fall.

He descended, like gravity bent for him instead of the other way around. His form shimmered—his mere presence warping the air like a heat mirage on a collapsing star.

I didn't wait.

Didn't talk.

Didn't monologue.

I roared forward, cosmic fire erupting from my heels and cracking the earth beneath me. My fist lit up like a newborn sun, coated in black-purple flame that hissed with antimatter burn.

Nahobino raised a hand. Casual.

We met in the middle.

My punch collided with an invisible wall, like space itself had bones. The air screamed. Buildings disintegrated in a ripple. Reality blinked.

Nahobino didn't move.

But I grinned.

"Alright, quiet boy," I muttered. "Let's dance."

And with a blast of dark matter fire and Speed Force crackling at my heels, I charged again.

The sky cracked before either of us touched.

My flames surged outward, no longer just heat. They were cosmic pressure—burning stars pulled from the seams of dying galaxies. Nahobino didn't flinch. He blinked. The space between us folded like glass under boot.

I moved. Faster than light? No. Faster than cause. Faster than intent. My fist came for his face, and the ground behind me turned to obsidian dust.

He caught it.

With two fingers.

The explosion that followed split the city in half.

Flames licked the clouds. Debris atomized midair. Wind tunnels carved out trenches behind us, ripping towers from their roots. Lux and Kayle, miles away now, would have been vaporized if they'd stayed a second longer.

Nahobino stared at me, still expressionless, but his arm trembled. Just a flicker. Barely there.

But it was enough.

"Didn't expect a spark to sting, huh?" I growled.

My left hand came up, fingers forming a spiral. Speed Force crackled down my arm like a thunder god's vein, mixing with my flame until my whole body felt like a supernova inside a cyclone.

I brought my palm to his chest.

"Starburst Drive."

The impact punched a crater the size of a castle into the earth.

Nahobino flew—actually flew—skimming the ground before flipping mid-air and landing hard on a fractured dome. His boots cracked it. Smoke curled around him. Finally, finally, he adjusted his stance. Like he was taking me seriously.

"Good," I muttered, wiping a smear of black ichor from my cheek. "Let's get ugly."

He vanished.

Not moved—vanished. Like a thought unfinished. Like logic skipped.

I twisted just in time to catch his blade with my wrist, my Haki reinforcing the limb as cosmic flame curled around his steel. Sparks flew. A second blade came, conjured mid-strike, but my Speed Force bent my motion—redirected me in real time, skipping angles.

He stepped forward.

Each step rewrote the field. Reality glitched. The light around us turned wrong. I felt my equilibrium lurch like I was walking through memories that weren't mine.

"Nahobino!" I barked, slamming my fists together.

I released a dome of dark matter fire. The blast wave was silent. Everything it touched, it erased.

He dodged.

But not entirely.

One arm glowed with scorch marks—tendrils of reality rebelling against my fire's command. He hissed. First sound he made. Like air refusing to breathe him.

"Not invincible, huh?"

He raised a hand. Space inverted.

Suddenly, I wasn't here. I was outside of here. I saw Demacia from orbit. Then from a thought. Then from a myth.

"Shit."

He hit me.

Everything around me imploded into color. Pain became shape. Concept tried to rewrite me, turn me into something else—erase me. But my flame—my fire—pushed back. It didn't burn like heat. It burned like defiance.

I screamed and snapped back into form midair.

Landed on one knee, blood trailing from my lips, body steaming.

Nahobino descended like a god coming to reclaim a throne.

I looked up at him. Grinned.

"I've died before. Didn't like it. Not in the mood for a rerun."

My aura surged. Speed Force wrapped my feet. My flames turned violet-black. A phoenix of anti-light.

I launched.

We clashed again.

And this time, the world screamed with us.

I blurred between worlds as I moved—feet dragging streaks of violet-black fire through the broken air. He met me mid-strike, that damned blade of his glowing with the force of a star, but I wasn't swinging fists anymore.

I was a storm.

Every punch I threw twisted the air into coils of dark matter flame, hammering at his body like the wrath of collapsed suns. He parried some—barely. Others hit clean, sending out shockwaves that shattered what was left of Demacia's skyline. A palace behind him crumbled in a blink.

He retaliated with a swipe of his hand—not his sword. A gesture.

Reality obeyed.

I felt my body trying to turn inside out again. My bones felt like equations being rewritten. But I moved—faster than the rewrite. Speed Force surged in me like a living god, and I slipped past the corruption trying to consume my flesh.

My counter was immediate—shoulder-first into his gut, sending him flying through six buildings like paper walls. He tumbled once, then landed on his feet, blade dragging behind him and cutting a crater into the ground.

He looked at the cut on his cheek—thin, glowing.

His eyes narrowed.

Then he screamed.

It wasn't rage. It wasn't even pain.

It was power.

The city around us folded. The sky bent like it wanted to cry. Lightning danced sideways across a horizontal horizon. Nahobino stepped forward and the ground refused to let him touch it, floating beneath his feet like it worshipped him.

"Alright," I muttered, cracking my knuckles. "You're leveling up."

He appeared in front of me in an instant, blade thrust for my chest.

I caught it—barehanded.

The force drove me back twenty yards, skidding across glass and molten concrete, boots dragging sparks. My hands bled from the clash, skin splitting in perfect lines.

He tried to push deeper.

I smiled at him through grit teeth. "Not today."

I let the flames explode.

They weren't just fire anymore. They were pressure. Thought. Resistance forged into heat. They coiled up his arm, burned concepts that shouldn't have burned. He staggered for the first time.

I broke his stance with a roundhouse, then followed with a downward strike, fists igniting the air around us.

He hit the dirt.

But he didn't stay down.

With a single gesture, my flames died.

Not because he beat them.

Because he spoke their death into truth.

My eyes widened. "Oh you tricky—"

He snapped his fingers.

My ears rang as space around me collapsed in a dome of soundless light. The dome cracked, then reversed. Suddenly I was crushed into a moment so small I could barely think.

But I moved.

Even here.

Even trapped in a concept trap, I could move—because my flame wasn't a trick. It was who I was. I am.

I exploded outward again, reborn through resistance.

He came back at me with a thousand slashes in a single step.

I met him at every one.

We weren't fighting for land anymore. Not even for lives.

We were rewriting laws with our fists.

His blade clashed against my cosmic fire. His spells warred with my will. Every time he tried to define me, I broke his definitions.

Until finally—

One punch landed clean. Right to his chest.

It wasn't just force.

It was memory.

I showed him—through the hit—who I was.

Ace.

Flame reborn.

Speed shared by gods.

The guardian who would not bend, would not break, and sure as hell wouldn't fall here.

He skidded backward, kneeling, for the first time since the start.

We both paused.

Breathing. Watching.

Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled from Peter's side of the city.

And I grinned, bloody teeth and all.

"This ain't over, pretty boy," I said.

Nahobino looked up at me, unreadable.

And I stood taller.

Because I wasn't done yet.

Not even close.

No Pov

The battle between Ace and Nahobino tore through the air like gods rewriting scripture with their fists.

Cracks of energy split the sky as their blows landed—each collision a burst of unreality and elemental fire. Ace moved like a meteor wreathed in violet-black flame, his Speed Force-enhanced body darting in blurs that snapped the light around him. Nahobino answered with terrifying grace, a ghostly blade of blue light humming through the air like silence turned lethal.

Their battle had no rhythm—only escalation.

Buildings disintegrated around them as they clashed in midair, across rooftops, down broken avenues. Nahobino's sword carved open space itself, slicing not just stone but the concept of structure, and Ace retaliated by searing through dimensions with blasts of dark matter fire, bending the rules of gravity and combustion.

Still, Nahobino kept smiling.

He moved like a phantom prince. Cold, beautiful, distant. Every strike of his contained cosmic precision—there was no wasted motion, no hesitation. But Ace? Ace fought loud. Every motion was force. Every swing of his fists carried the weight of survival, not prophecy.

For a while, they matched each other—two titans painting the battlefield with contradictions.

Until Nahobino paused. Just for a second. His eyes flicked toward the east.

And the sky exploded.

A red streak—blazing, violent—shot across the horizon.

Spider-Man.

Peter's body smashed through four buildings before he skidded into a cracked courtyard, nanotech armor fraying with every bounce. Dust and debris erupted in a radius. He rolled once, then came to a halt, groaning, one eye lens cracked.

Ace turned toward the sound instinctively.

Demi-Fiend dropped from the sky like judgment itself.

Without a word, he joined Nahobino at his side.

Ace's body screamed in warning. Every instinct flared. Observation Haki surged in his mind like thunder. This wasn't just a continuation.

This was an ambush.

Demi-Fiend struck first—no buildup, no charge. Just a punch that carried the weight of annihilation. Ace barely blocked, fire screaming off his arms, sliding backwards as Nahobino rushed in from the left.

Two gods.

One Guardian.

Ace fought to keep up, flames coiling like serpents around his limbs. He weaved between one conceptual strike and another, ducked under a pulse of Almighty energy, flung a fire-laced kick into Nahobino's ribs—only to be grabbed by Demi-Fiend mid-motion and hurled like a comet into a crumbling tower.

He crashed through it.

Emerged coughing blood.

Still standing.

The city around them burned again.

Not because of conquest.

But because of what it took to stand against these two.

And Ace, through the haze of pain and static, still smiled.

Because this wasn't about winning.

This was about holding the line long enough for something—anything—to change.

The ground cracked beneath Ace's feet as he steadied himself. Smoke curled around his shoulders like a second skin. Rubble tumbled behind him from the tower he'd torn through, but he didn't look back.

Demi-Fiend and Nahobino walked forward in unison—graceful, silent, devastating. Each step they took seemed to crush reality underfoot. The pressure in the air was suffocating. Ace's lungs burned, but his fire didn't falter.

He moved.

Faster than light. Faster than thought.

Flames burst from his feet, igniting the space between him and his enemies. He launched forward with a punch aimed at Demi-Fiend's chest, but Nahobino intercepted mid-blink, sword meeting fist in a sonic boom that shattered nearby windows.

Ace spun, redirected the blow into a burst of cosmic flame that struck Nahobino full in the side. The Dark God staggered—but didn't fall. In the same heartbeat, Demi-Fiend blurred in, caught Ace's leg mid-kick, and slammed him into the ground with the force of a meteor.

Crater.

Ace surged up from it, flames flaring wide. He wasn't trying to win. Not anymore.

Just survive.

He clashed with both again—dodging a swipe of conceptual blades, parrying a fist that could rewrite existence, answering every move with fire and fury. He burned at speeds mortals couldn't see. His strikes left trails of violet-black flame, remnants of dark matter heat that denied physics.

Still, it wasn't enough.

A beam of erasure from Nahobino seared through the air. Ace barely redirected it into a collapsing wall. Demi-Fiend vanished and reappeared behind him, slamming him into the stone with a strike that echoed like a death knell.

Ace's vision blurred. His knees buckled.

Until—

Something shifted.

A sound cut through the chaos.

THWIP.

A red-and-blue blur crashed down between Ace and the incoming final blow. A fist caught Demi-Fiend's wrist mid-strike and redirected it into the ground. A shockwave tore through the street.

Spider-Man stood, mask glinting, suit charred but whole.

"You guys tag teamed my friend?"

Peter's voice was low, but steady.

He turned his head toward Ace without looking away from the Darks. "Sorry I'm late. Had to fly across the city. Literally."

Ace coughed, smirked through the blood. "Took your sweet time."

Peter cracked his neck. "Let's even the odds."

They moved together.

Demi-Fiend and Nahobino surged forward, twin harbingers of apocalypse.

But now?

They met resistance.

Ace and Peter exploded into motion. The air turned electric. Spider-Man blinked through dimensions, Speed Force snapping lightning between his limbs. He caught Nahobino mid-cast, drove a fist of compressed time into his side, flinging him across the street.

Ace intercepted Demi-Fiend with a rising kick wreathed in collapsing starfire. They danced between broken stone and floating debris, exchanging godlike blows.

Spider-Man zipped back in, assisting without words. A webline caught Nahobino's blade mid-swing, just long enough for Ace to land a point-blank fireburst into his chest.

Together, they created rhythm.

Guardian and Guardian.

Fire and Web. Speed and Force.

Nahobino tried to flank—only to be caught in a dual pincer.

Demi-Fiend unleashed a wave of destructive chaos—only for Ace to burn straight through it.

Spider-Man vanished, reappeared above, and slammed into Demi-Fiend with a kinetic vortex that split the clouds.

For a moment, just one breath of a second—

The Darks staggered.

Not defeated.

But surprised.

And in battle like this?

That was enough.

Ace nodded at Peter. "Let's see how long we can keep this up."

Peter grinned behind his mask. "Until they blink."

They charged.

The charge broke the sound barrier.

Peter hit first, blinking through space with a punch layered in compressed momentum—something between a railgun and a thunderclap. Nahobino deflected it mid-spin, the clash bending light around their forms. Behind him, Ace struck low, aiming to snap his ribs inward with a flame-drenched uppercut—but Nahobino twisted unnaturally, almost glitching through the movement, escaping with only a scorched trail smoking along his torso.

Demi-Fiend met Peter in the air, no words, no warning—just a dropkick that detonated the skyline. Buildings shattered under the force, spiraling into dust as Peter was slammed through three city blocks in a blink.

Ace turned just in time to see it—but couldn't move. Nahobino was on him. A barrage of slashes, elemental surges, curses wrapped in light—magic that felt like equations unraveling the concept of fire itself.

Ace tanked it with clenched teeth, dark flames swirling violently as he roared through the assault, finally pushing Nahobino back with an expanding nova of anti-light. The impact tore craters into the earth.

But the second Ace blinked—

Demi-Fiend was there.

A knee drove into his gut, sending him skyward. Nahobino followed, warping behind him mid-air, and together, they struck.

Concept and Chaos.

Ace was hurled like a broken comet, crashing through an ancient wall with the force of a fallen star. He didn't move.

Peter reappeared in front of his body before Nahobino could follow up.

The webline he threw wasn't a web at all—it was a stream of Speed Force, sharp and vibrating like plasma. It slashed across Nahobino's chest and sent him tumbling back, but even Peter could see it—he barely flinched.

Too strong.

Too fast.

Peter looked down at Ace. He was getting up, barely. Breathing ragged. Flames flickering, unstable.

"They're adapting," Ace said, wiping blood from his chin. "Every second this goes on, they're learning us."

Peter didn't respond. His lenses narrowed. Inside, he was calculating every possibility—and none ended clean.

Demi-Fiend landed beside Nahobino, their auras intertwining like a stormfront eating sunlight. Their eyes burned with the promise of entropy.

They moved again.

Together.

And this time, the Guardians couldn't stop them.

Peter tried to intercept Demi-Fiend—only to be caught mid-jump and slammed down with a force that caused the ground to sink like a collapsed lung. His suit screamed with proximity warnings—nanotech stretching to compensate, Speed Force sparking wildly.

Ace launched a desperation blast toward Nahobino, a black-pink inferno of cosmic fire that could have leveled a city.

Nahobino walked through it.

No resistance.

No damage.

Ace's eyes widened. "No way—"

Nahobino was in front of him.

The sword flashed.

Ace barely phased out in time, reappearing meters away with smoke curling from a fresh gash in his side.

Peter blinked back in, catching Ace mid-fall.

"We're losing the edge," Peter said through clenched teeth.

Ace didn't argue.

They hit the ground hard, side by side, both breathing heavy, bloodied and burnt.

The battlefield was no longer theirs.

It belonged to gods now.

And the gods were pissed.

But even then—even as Nahobino and Demi-Fiend advanced with silence and fury—neither Guardian backed down.

Peter stood tall, mask cracked down one side, nanotech whirring in overdrive.

Ace pulled himself up, fire dancing in his open palm, eyes blazing even brighter than before.

"Still got one more dance in you?" Peter asked.

Ace smirked. "If I drop, I'm taking at least one with me."

They stepped forward, broken but burning.

Against the impossible.

Against the end.

But Guardians never run.

They only rise.

The ground trembled as the four forces met again.

Ace moved first, his flames no longer gold or violet—they were something else now. A shade of fire that didn't cast light, only gravity. Dark matter laced every burst. It sucked in color. Erased warmth. His hands tore through space like blades.

Peter followed, Speed Force igniting like a second sun behind him. The cracked edges of his mask revealed a snarl. No quip. No joke. Just intent. He zipped in front of Demi-Fiend before he could blink, grabbing his arm, anchoring him with kinetic chains, and shouted:

"NOW!"

Ace launched a firestorm punch that cracked reality around it. The explosion tore across the battlefield like a nova. Demi-Fiend screamed for the first time—not in pain, but in resistance. He flexed and the ground shattered in response, breaking the chains, but not before the flames had burned deep into his shoulder. Smoke rose from raw skin.

Nahobino charged Peter.

This time, the blade struck true.

A long gash opened across Peter's torso, spraying sparks and blood. Nanotech desperately tried to seal the wound, but the blade had bypassed it—cut through resistance, code, and power. Peter roared, kicked off Nahobino's chest, flipped, and drove his feet into the side of his head midair, sending him sprawling.

But not for long.

Nahobino hit the ground, rolled once, and stood like it was nothing.

Ace collapsed beside Peter, breathing hard. Blood dripped from his jaw.

"We can't match them in endurance," he muttered. "They don't run out. We do."

Peter's mask peeled halfway off, revealing one bloodshot eye and a wild grin. "Then we stop dragging this out. We finish it."

Nahobino and Demi-Fiend were already coming again. Together.

So Ace and Peter split.

Ace shot upward, flames spiraling, baiting Demi-Fiend into the sky. He followed like a missile. Fire and chaos clashed high above, meteors of energy erupting with every strike. Cosmic fire screamed through the clouds, illuminating the storm of fists and blades.

Below, Peter disappeared mid-step and reappeared behind Nahobino, slamming a vibrating punch into his spine. Nahobino twisted, blade up, slashing Peter across the ribs—but Peter gritted through it, grabbed Nahobino's wrist, and suplexed him through a fountain of broken metal and ash.

They didn't talk.

There were no words left.

This was war.

Nahobino retaliated with a wave of almighty energy that broke Peter's footing, then warped behind him and plunged the sword through his back.

Peter choked.

The blade exited through his chest.

He reached up, gripped the blade, and broke it.

Nahobino's eyes widened.

"Guess you're not the only one who gets plot armor," Peter gasped, coughing blood, then spun with a roundhouse that knocked Nahobino across the square.

Above, Ace screamed through gritted teeth. Demi-Fiend had broken his left arm—the limb hung uselessly, burned to the bone. But Ace kept fighting, kept burning.

He slammed his right fist into Demi-Fiend's gut, detonating a fireburst that cracked the sky.

Demi-Fiend responded with a pulse of chaos so violent, Ace's right arm dislocated from the feedback.

He was falling.

Peter appeared mid-fall, caught him with one hand, spun, and dropped them both back to the earth in a crater of energy.

They stood again.

Barely.

Blood caked their faces.

Ace's arm hung limp, twisted wrong, his breath ragged.

Peter's chest pulsed with light where the nanotech struggled to stitch him together.

But both glared at the Darks.

Demi-Fiend and Nahobino paused.

Why?

Because Guardians weren't supposed to still be standing.

Peter grinned.

"You're strong. We get it. Gods, monsters, big scary blades. But see..."

Ace finished, voice like sandpaper: "We were never the ones supposed to win. We were the ones supposed to stop you."

They stepped forward.

Together.

One final push.

Win or die.

The battlefield exploded once more.

Peter didn't wait. As Ace staggered, his arm dislocated and limp, Peter spun in close, grabbed the shoulder, and with one brutal wrench and a jolt of bioelectric energy, snapped it back into place.

Ace screamed through clenched teeth, and before the sound even faded, he was moving again.

The Guardians surged forward.

The battlefield responded.

Demi-Fiend caught their scent first, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. Not respect. Not fear.

Just acknowledgment.

Then the fury returned.

Nahobino blinked through space, already charging another Almighty pulse. Peter met him mid-flash, slamming a Speed Force-charged elbow into his ribs and dragging him mid-air into a twisted slam that shattered the stone beneath them.

Ace was fire incarnate, now dual-wielding spheres of collapsing flame like twin suns. He hurled one directly into Demi-Fiend's path—a feint. The real hit came from below, a rising uppercut laced with anti-matter.

Demi-Fiend didn't flinch. He took the hit, blood spraying from his mouth—and then he smiled.

He caught Ace by the throat and drove him into the ground.

The impact cratered three city blocks.

Peter reappeared instantly, webs flying, grabbing Ace mid-fall and slinging him back toward the fight.

Ace twisted in the air, flame already re-igniting. He landed on both feet and charged again.

And then came the shift.

Demi-Fiend roared.

The air twisted. Time fractured. The world turned wrong.

Nahobino joined in, chanting something in a language older than reality. Glyphs burned into the sky. Their blades no longer looked forged—they looked inherent.

Peter and Ace didn't hesitate.

They collided in a storm of blood and fire.

Ace screamed as a slash opened across his chest, deep and brutal. His retaliatory blow melted half the nearby ruins, sending chunks of glowing rubble across the battlefield. Nahobino warped through the falling debris, driving his sword into Peter's thigh. The Spider-Man howled, spun mid-air, and drove a heel into Nahobino's jaw, teeth flying.

Blood sprayed.

This wasn't graceful anymore.

It was murder.

Peter caught Demi-Fiend's fist, but it shattered two fingers. He used the pain, the kinetic rebound, and slammed his head into the Dark's face.

Ace grappled with Nahobino mid-air, both of them spinning in a death spiral. The Guardian bit down, literally bit into Nahobino's arm to stop the blade from piercing his side. Fire erupted from his mouth like a dragon exhaling directly into bone.

Nahobino screamed and threw him.

Ace crashed through a building, again.

Peter saw it too late.

Demi-Fiend blinked behind him, whispering something Peter couldn't hear.

Then light exploded.

Peter screamed as something cracked against his skull. A chaos-imbued blow from Demi-Fiend, amplified by cosmic entropy. He hit the ground hard, but rolled with it, eyes already searching for Ace.

Ace was on one knee. Eyes dazed. Bleeding. Concussed.

Too slow.

Nahobino and Demi-Fiend moved together.

Like dancers.

Like executioners.

Peter turned just in time to see both blades flash.

One for his chest.

One for his arm.

He blocked the chest shot.

He didn't see the second.

Shhhhlick.

His arm—his right arm from shoulder to wrist—was gone.

A red spray filled the air.

The pain didn't register at first.

Just cold.

Then the world screamed.

Peter fell, clutching at the cauterized stump. His body twitched, instincts trying to fight when there was nothing left to swing.

Ace roared from the distance, forcing himself up, staggering toward him.

But the damage was done.

The battlefield fell silent.

Only the sound of Peter's breath. Shallow. Ragged.

The Darks watched.

Amused.

And for the first time—the Guardians weren't standing.

They were broken.

Ace was barely upright, his breaths shallow, body trembling with concussion. Blood streaked down his temple, and his flames flickered wildly, trying to hold shape.

Nahobino walked toward him, sword dragging behind him, slow and deliberate. Confident. Cruel.

Across the rubble, Peter kneeled, cradling the stump where his right arm used to be. Blood poured freely from the wound, nanotech unable to stabilize the loss. Demi-Fiend stood over him, grinning now. No words. Just towering victory.

"Pathetic," Nahobino said coldly. "So much for Guardians."

Ace coughed, raising his one good hand. "Go to hell."

Demi-Fiend kicked Peter hard in the ribs. The Guardian flew back, crashing into a wall and slumping down.

"You die as insects," Demi-Fiend muttered.

But then—

The air changed.

Sharp.

Cold.

Primordial.

A low growl rumbled through the dust. Then it rose into something else. A shriek. No—an animal roar.

Nahobino paused.

Demi-Fiend turned—

Peter moved.

But it wasn't Peter.

Not anymore.

The Iron Spider suit twisted violently, like it was rejecting its user's form. Nanotech bulged, warped, split apart as bones cracked and skin darkened. Hair vanished. Muscle tore through flesh. 6 arms burst from his sides, and his legs twist and grew.

His mask cracked wide.

Revealing fangs.

Multiple red eyes opened across his face.

The Iron Spider suit adapted, covering the transformation like a grotesque webbing of flesh and armor.

A Monster had awakened.

And it was furious.

Peter's roar was like thunder wrapped in hatred.

Demi-Fiend lunged—but Man-Spider caught him mid-air.

Slammed him into the ground.

Over.

And over.

And over.

Shockwaves shattered what remained of the street. Buildings collapsed just from the vibrations.

Demi-Fiend screamed—a real scream this time—as Man-Spider pinned him down and bit into his shoulder, tearing out a chunk of flesh and power alike.

Nahobino turned, eyes narrowing—but he took a step back.

Even he felt it now.

This wasn't strategy. This wasn't planning.

This was rage.

Pure, monstrous, uncontrollable rage.

Demi-Fiend kicked upward, trying to scramble back, but Man-Spider's claws tore through his knee. Blood—real blood—splattered against the rubble.

He tried to use chaos energy. Too late.

Peter's monster form shredded through the blast and ripped his second arm off.

Ace, barely conscious, blinked through his haze.

"...Peter?"

No answer.

Only carnage.

Demi-Fiend reached for a Magatama—

Peter sank his claws into his chest.

And then ripped.

There was no scream.

Only silence.

Demi-Fiend exploded.

Not just into gore.

But into conceptual shreds.

As if reality itself rejected his existence.

And standing in the center of that rejection—

Was a monster.

Covered in blood.

Breathing heavy.

Still snarling.

Ace stared. His lips barely moved.

"...holy shit."

Nahobino tightened his grip on his blade.

The tide had shifted again.

But now?

It wasn't in anyone's control.

Not anymore.

The battlefield fell still for a moment. Just one.

Then Nahobino moved.

He didn't rush. Didn't scream. He approached like a shadow rising behind the last candlelight. His grip on his sword tightened, every strand of his hair pulsing with radiant, divine energy—but his golden eyes were fixed.

Fixed on the thing that wore Peter's face.

Or... what was left of it.

Ace was still struggling to breathe, his vision blurry. His observation haki crackled erratically in his mind, like it couldn't decide if what he was seeing was a friend or a goddamn apocalypse.

Because whatever Peter had become... it wasn't human.

It wasn't Guardian.

It was something older.

Primal.

And deep inside that thing's head, something else was laughing.

"You finally let go," the voice whispered in Peter's skull. It wasn't a sound. It was the absence of sound. It clawed against every thought he tried to form.

AM.

"You know this is better," it purred. "Look at what you did. You ended him. You erased a god. You tore him apart like paper."

Peter's thoughts were scattered, buried beneath instinct and rage. But some part of him fought to surface. "This isn't me. This isn't what I do."

"Lies. You wanted this. You always wanted this. They mock you. Use you. Watch your loved ones die. And you still play hero?"

A scream echoed through the broken city.

Peter's claws twitched.

His body crouched low again. Eight limbs twitching with unreadable intent.

Nahobino stood ready. Not mocking. Not arrogant. Just... focused.

Because he understood.

This thing wasn't just angry.

It was broken.

And maybe, if it wasn't Peter anymore...

It could kill everything.

Inside Peter's mind, the war raged.

"You've seen fiction. You know how meaningless life is. They all die. Always. Gwen. May. Ben. Tony... Everyone you know, and will meet always die."

Peter's fangs bared in real-time.

"Shut up."

"They laughed when you failed. Cried when you succeeded. Humanity is a punchline, and you're the jester. Why not embrace what they fear? Why not become the punishment?"

"Because I'm not like you."

"You are now."

Nahobino blurred forward, sword swinging.

Peter met him halfway.

The clash wasn't sound.

It was silence being shattered.

Steel met claw. Lightning met fury. Nahobino slashed again and again, each cut tearing the earth in half. Peter dodged, lunged, bit, bled.

Nahobino launched a blast of Almighty energy—Peter took it head-on, roaring, charging through the detonation with his arm missing and half his chest burned away.

Then he grew it back.

His new arm snapped forward, impaling Nahobino through the stomach.

The god coughed blood—and smiled.

It wasn't over.

"This is what you were meant for," AM hissed again. "To destroy. To suffer. To spread your agony. You think they love you? You think they won't fear this?"

"Maybe they will," Peter thought, "but I still know who I am."

"Then prove it."

Peter roared and threw Nahobino across the battlefield.

Ace blinked back to clarity. His haki spiked.

Peter wasn't in control.

But he wasn't gone.

Not yet.

Nahobino struck the ruined ground in a trail of sparks and blood, skidding through what remained of Demacia's shattered avenue. He flipped mid-fall, landing in a crouch, blade dragging beside him, cracking the earth like glass.

He was hurt.

But not broken.

He rose slowly, golden eyes narrowed. He'd fought monsters before. Gods. Demons. He was one.

But this...

This was something else.

Man-Spider howled into the sky, voice layered with reverb, echoing like a war cry from another dimension. Drool fanged down his jaw. His limbs twitched in unnatural rhythm. He stalked forward on all eights, claws dragging gouges in the stone.

Nahobino charged.

Faster than light. A flash of holy destruction. His blade was an idea, not a weapon. A slash through the concept of defense.

Peter tanked it.

No dodge. No block.

The blade bit deep into his chest, halfway through his ribs—but the monster didn't flinch. He grabbed the blade with both hands, pulling Nahobino in.

And smiled.

"Found you."

With an ear-splitting shriek, Peter slammed his forehead into Nahobino's.

Once.

Twice.

A third time.

The divine god reeled back, dazed.

Peter roared, his voice layered with AM's sick laughter twisting in stereo. He lunged.

Claws raked Nahobino's chest. His shoulder. His side. Peter moved like he wanted to erase pieces of him with every hit.

Nahobino flared with almighty light, blasting Peter back a dozen meters. He fell into a crater and crawled out a second later like a beast denied its prey.

Peter's mind was fracturing.

He could hear AM whispering beneath the rage, louder now.

"Yes, yes. That's it. Rip him apart. No more morals. No more guilt. Just violence. Pure. Beautiful. Endless."

No.

Peter blinked.

Ace's face flashed across his vision.

Then May.

Then Adriel.

No.

His claws twitched. His body trembled. The rage wanted out. But something deeper held the core of his identity.

Nahobino pressed his hand to his wound. Lightning surged around him. His blade changed shape, forming pure energy.

"You should have died," Nahobino said. "You should have stayed dead."

Peter didn't answer.

He screamed, leaping forward again.

They clashed mid-air. Sparks turned to explosions. Reality rippled. Each strike bent the ground beneath them, echoing across dimensions.

Peter took a sword through the shoulder and retaliated by tearing Nahobino's leg out of socket.

The god screamed.

But not in surrender.

In fury.

He blasted Peter again, point-blank. A wave of power flattened the ruins for miles.

Smoke rose.

Silence.

Then from the crater, Peter crawled out, missing skin, black blood pouring.

Nahobino tried to fly away.

Peter teleported.

One hand gripped his throat.

"You're done."

The claws sank in.

Nahobino activated every defense.

Peter shattered it.

He bit into his shoulder. Tore out energy like meat.

Nahobino screamed.

"This isn't justice!" Nahobino yelled. "You are not a hero!"

Peter paused.

AM laughed.

"He's right. You're just another beast."

Peter squeezed harder.

And said:

"I don't have to be a hero. Just the one who stops you."

He drove his claws through Nahobino's chest.

And pulled.

Golden blood. Screams. The divine energy sparked wild. Nahobino flailed, but Peter didn't let go.

Not this time.

He ripped until there was nothing left to hold.

Nahobino's body collapsed into scattered light, fading like a forgotten prayer.

Peter stood over the ashes.

Breathing.

Shaking.

Blood and darkness coating every inch of him.

Ace was still, watching from the rubble, too stunned to speak.

AM whispered, triumphant.

"You see? You won. Like I said. This is who you are."

Peter didn't answer.

He turned away.

And screamed into the sky.

A scream of pain.

Of rage.

Of a man who knew he'd gone too far.

But didn't know how to come back.

Smoke drifted. Concrete hissed as molten heat cooled into cracks. The last remnants of Nahobino were nothing but sparks fading into the void. His divine blood still clung to Peter's claws.

The monster staggered.

And then began to change.

Peter's form shrank. The chitin peeled away. Muscles uncoiled. Screams turned into groans.

"This... isn't me..."

His voice warped. Broken. Monstrous at first. But each repetition grew softer. More human.

"This isn't me..."

He collapsed to his knees, clawed hands burying into the earth, panting, shaking, bloodied. The Iron Spider nanotech desperately tried to reassemble around him, but couldn't keep up with the wounds. His arm still twitched from where it had been regrown. His face was pale. Haunted.

"This isn't me... This isn't me..."

Inside his head, AM's laughter echoed.

"No... but it will be."

Ace limped toward him, every breath like glass, ribs cracked, body screaming. His left eye was still blurry from the concussion, but he saw Peter.

He saw his brother breaking.

"Peter..." he rasped.

Peter didn't respond.

His head jerked slightly. A spasm. The whisper of AM still coiling in his mind.

Then came the scream.

Not Peter's.

The air split with manic, venom-laced laughter.

Ace turned.

Too slow.

The Red Goblin.

His silhouette dropped from the sky like a guillotine. Half Carnage. Half Osborn. All malice.

Before Ace could react, the Goblin struck.

A boot to the face cracked Ace's skull against rubble. He hit the ground hard, spitting blood.

"Miss me, fire boy?" Red Goblin purred, slinking around him. "Oh, don't get up. You look better crawling."

Ace tried. Flames flared. But the Goblin was on him again, claws like blades, carving across his chest.

"Y'know," Goblin whispered, crouching low, tongue flicking from the mangled teeth of the Carnage symbiote, "I always wondered if you'd realize it. That dimension. The one with her. The one you never talk about. You thought you were sent there randomly?"

He leaned closer.

"I sent you there."

Ace's eyes widened.

"Everything. That broken Lux. That ruined world. That pointless war with Godzilla? My little joke. My little curse."

Ace screamed and surged up, fire exploding from his back.

But the Goblin was ready.

He dodged, smiled, and drove a claw straight through Ace's side.

Ace gasped.

"You never learn."

With a final slam, Red Goblin smashed Ace into the ground, hard enough to crack stone. Blood pooled under him. His flames flickered, dimmed.

Peter was still shaking. Still murmuring.

"This isn't me..."

The Goblin turned, strolling toward him, carnage blades writhing along his arms.

"And you... oh, Spidey... look at you now. Pathetic."

Peter looked up.

Eyes wide.

Lost.

"You think killing Demi-Fiend made you strong? You think turning into that monster made you scary?"

Red Goblin crouched beside him.

"You're just a boy in a costume, playing hero. And now? Now you're broken."

Peter shook his head, barely able to form words.

"Get... away... from me..."

The Goblin didn't listen.

With a single, brutal strike, he drove a tendril through Peter's chest.

Blood exploded.

Peter went limp.

Ace, barely conscious, reached out, mouth open in a silent scream.

"P...Peter..."

Red Goblin stood tall, lifting Peter's limp body like a trophy.

"Don't worry," he sneered. "He'll live. Just long enough to wish he didn't."

He turned, shadows swallowing him.

And then he was gone.

Gone with Peter.

Gone into the dark.

The ruined battlefield echoed with nothing but the flicker of dying flames.

And the sound of a Guardian's breath.

Shallow.

Broken.

Alone.

Ace stirred.

Not in triumph.

Not in defiance.

Just breath. Just survival. His cheek pressed into the cold stone, blood pooling under his face, seeping between the cracks. Every second dragged. His limbs didn't answer. His mind was fog. But something forced him to crawl.

A flicker.

A memory.

Peter.

He dragged himself across the ground, inch by inch, nails digging into the dust. His vision swam. He tasted iron. The air was thick with smoke, grief, and the fading scent of burning divine flesh.

He reached the blood.

It was still warm.

Peter's blood.

He stared at it. Touched it. His fingers trembled as he brought them close, red smearing across his palm. His heart pounded. Panic swelled. Not the kind that screamed. The kind that shook.

"No... no..."

He whispered it like a prayer.

"Peter... please..."

The tears came before he even noticed. Salty streaks mixing with blood and dust on his face. He forced himself upright, leaning on one elbow, clutching at his side where the Goblin's claws had torn through him.

Memories surged.

Not just of now.

Of then.

The other world.

Fifty years.

Fifty goddamn years fighting monsters. Kaiju. Gods in the shape of beasts. Watching nations fall. Watching cities burn. Watching time pass as he stayed the same.

He saw her again.

Lux.

Smiling. Beautiful. Radiant.

Killed.

He saw Miss Fortune's gray hair. Her cane. The way her hand trembled when she smiled.

The funerals.

The goodbyes.

The loneliness.

He had come back from that hell.

And now this.

He had failed again.

Failed Peter.

He screamed, finally, throat raw and cracked. A wail that echoed against the ruins, broken and lost. His fist pounded the earth. Once. Twice. Until skin split.

"WHY?!"

There was no answer.

Only the wind.

Only the soft footfalls.

Two shadows loomed closer, leaving their hiding spot. From the chaos that unfolded an didn't dare leave until it was over.

Lux stood there.

Kayle beside her.

They had returned. But what they saw wasn't what they hoped.

They saw the blood. The absence. The pain.

Lux stepped forward. "Ace... what happened... where is he?"

He didn't look at her.

He couldn't.

She fell to her knees beside him, staring at the crimson trail, the broken earth, the scorched footprints. Her lips trembled.

Kayle stood frozen. Wings heavy. Her sword slack in one hand.

Lux reached out, but Ace pulled away. Not out of anger.

Out of hollowness.

"He's gone," Ace croaked. "I... I let him... I couldn't stop it."

Lux shook her head. "No. No, you fought. You did everything you could."

"Everything wasn't enough."

Silence.

A silence that weighed more than any scream.

Kayle looked down at them. For all her angelic strength, she didn't speak. Because what words could she say?

What words could reach someone who had watched everything die before?

The truth settled like ash:

They thought they understood pain.

They thought they knew sacrifice.

But they didn't understand what it meant to be a Guardian.

To live when others don't.

To lose when others praise you.

To survive every battle but lose every war.

Ace curled over himself, clutching his side, and wept.

Lux leaned in, tears falling beside his.

Kayle turned her eyes to the horizon. The sun burning over Demacia's corpse.

There was no peace.

Only the sound of what was lost.

And the bitter truth that no matter how many monsters you kill...

You can't save everyone.

You can't always bring them back.

And sometimes?

Sometimes the heroes fall.

And no one is left to rise.

Only the broken.

Only the haunted.

Only the Guardians.

To Be Continued...