"Maybe… we can talk…"
Agent Leo Fitz tried to salvage the situation, his voice tight as he searched for something—anything—that might calm the man in front of him. But the words barely left his mouth before a fist slammed into his face.
"Bang."
The impact was brutal. His vision exploded into white, his ears ringing as his body went slack, teetering on the edge of consciousness. For a brief second, everything blurred, his thoughts scattering into nothing.
But Peter Parker wasn't done.
He didn't want a quick end.
With efficient, practiced movements, Peter used strands of symbiote-enhanced webbing to haul Fitz up and suspend him upside down. The world flipped instantly, blood rushing to Fitz's head as he struggled weakly against the restraints. Before he could regain control, the black mass—Venom—shifted and obeyed silently, stripping away his outer layers with unsettling precision.
Fitz's breathing hitched.
Peter stepped back, raising a camera without hesitation, documenting every humiliating angle. There was no rush, no anger in his expression—just cold intent.
"Bastard…" Fitz's face flushed deep red, fury burning through the dizziness as he glared at him. "You won't get away with this."
"Smack."
The response came fast and hard.
Peter stepped forward and slapped him twice, the sharp sound echoing in the confined space. He leaned in close afterward, his voice dropping to a quiet whisper that carried far more weight than any shout.
"This is just the beginning," he said calmly. "I'm going to tear down everything you care about. Let's see how you keep standing after that."
"You won't succeed," Fitz shot back, his voice strained but defiant.
He didn't get to finish.
Another strike landed, and the world went dark.
—
Time passed.
Fitz didn't know how long he'd been out. When consciousness finally returned, it came slowly, like surfacing through thick water. His head throbbed, his body heavy, and for a moment, he couldn't even remember where he was.
Then he saw it.
A familiar bald head.
"Nick… Director Nick," he said hoarsely, forcing himself upright, his tone immediately shifting into respect.
Nick Fury didn't return the courtesy. His expression was stern, his gaze sharp as he waved a hand dismissively.
"That Spider-Man situation," Fury said flatly, "has escalated."
Fitz's stomach tightened.
"He's already pushed out an article," Fury continued, his tone calm but cutting. "Accusing S.H.I.E.L.D. of illegal experimentation. And just to make sure it sticks…"
He paused briefly.
"Your photos are circulating too."
Silence followed.
Fitz felt his face drain of color.
"The internet's tearing it apart right now," Fury added, watching him closely.
"We… we have a public relations team," Fitz said quickly, his voice tense. "We can contain this. Minimize the damage—"
"I've already put people on it," Fury cut in. "But damage control only goes so far."
His gaze hardened slightly.
"You've created more problems than solutions."
The words landed heavier than any blow.
Fitz clenched his hands slightly, trying to steady himself as the implications sank in. This wasn't just about embarrassment or public image.
This was about his position.
"If you can't produce something meaningful," Fury said, his tone turning final, "your role here is going to change."
That was all it took.
Fitz understood immediately.
If he failed now, he wouldn't just lose his standing—he'd be removed. Discarded. Possibly worse, considering how many high-level figures he had already angered.
He forced a tight smile, even as pressure built in his chest.
"I'll have results in three days," he said firmly.
Fury tilted his head slightly, a faint, almost mocking smile appearing. "Three days? That's ambitious. I could give you five."
"That won't be necessary," Fitz replied quickly. "Three is enough."
"Good."
The exchange ended there.
Two men, both smiling—but neither of them meant it.
—
Night settled over Hell's Kitchen.
Inside the abandoned factory, the atmosphere was eerily calm. The chaos from earlier had vanished completely. Not a trace of blood remained, no signs of the violence that had unfolded there just hours ago.
It looked… clean.
Too clean.
At the center of it all, Carnage shifted slightly, its form now stable and full. The earlier frailty was gone, replaced by a dense, pulsing mass of deep crimson. It let out a low, satisfied sound—something close to a burp.
"That was… incredible."
The sensation of being full was new.
And addictive.
Before it could process the feeling further, Locke's system chimed.
[Ding! Mission complete: Feast of Carnage.]
[Ding! Calculating rewards…]
[Ding! Congratulations, host. You have obtained: Xuanwu True Skill (Top Ten Martial Arts).]
[Ding! Target shows high levels of fear and reverence. Reward multiplier activated.]
[Ding! Additional reward acquired: Sage Mode.]
[Ding! Additional reward acquired: Asura Bloodline.]
Locke's eyes sharpened instantly.
"Xuanwu True Skill…"
That alone was enough to shift his current combat profile. He already possessed a wide range of abilities, including the Demon Blade—but that technique came with a cost. It was devastating, yes, but it lacked precision. Once unleashed, it didn't discriminate.
Friend or foe—it would cut through everything.
That kind of power had limits.
Xuanwu True Skill, on the other hand, was different.
It wasn't reckless. It was refined. A culmination of mastery, built from the foundations of the strongest martial disciplines. Its ultimate form—Ten Directions Invincible—was capable of overwhelming even near-immortal opponents.
That was control.
That was scalability.
Then came the next reward.
"Sage Mode…"
Locke's lips curled slightly.
This wasn't just another enhancement—it was a system in itself. The ability to perceive and absorb natural energy meant he could continuously strengthen himself without relying solely on combat or external triggers.
A passive engine.
Always running.
Always growing.
Like a certain solar-powered powerhouse he had in mind.
"And the Asura bloodline…"
Now that was interesting.
He already carried the counterpart—the Indra lineage. With both forces converging, the internal balance shifted instantly, unlocking deeper layers of potential. It wasn't just an upgrade.
It was evolution.
The foundation of something far greater.
"The Sage of Six Paths…" Locke murmured, piecing it together.
A figure born from extremes.
A being that stood above its world.
He exhaled slowly.
This kind of growth didn't come from effort. It came from opportunity. From stacking advantages until the gap between him and everyone else became unbridgeable.
"Honestly…"
He glanced at his own hands, flexing them slightly as if testing the new power flowing beneath the surface.
"I was planning to work my way up the hard way."
Break through limits step by step. Push forward through training, through discipline, through effort.
That had been the idea.
But now?
A faint smile spread across his face.
"When power's handed to you like this…"
He paused, eyes gleaming with interest.
"…it'd be a waste not to use it."
He tilted his head slightly, the decision already made.
"Let's see how far this goes."
.....
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