(Hey everyone, I'm so sorry for making you all wait so long. But I've been busy between starting University and starting my first job, things have been hectic to say the least. Please forgive me for making you all wait 🥹🙏)
---
The impact rang like a funeral bell.
Stone shattered beneath Peter's feet, spiderweb cracks racing across the balcony and down into the city streets below. The shockwave rippled outward, flattening banners, buckling shields, knocking Einherjar from the walls as gold and shadow collided inches from Peter's chest.
For a moment, the world existed only in pressure.
Gold against black.
Web against blade.
Will against hatred.
Peter gritted his teeth, both hands locked on the staff, muscles screaming as the Necrosword pressed closer, hungry, screaming, remembering. Faces flickered along its edge: gods begging, gods raging, gods breaking.
He twisted.
The staff flared, runes igniting in rapid sequence as Peter redirected the force sideways instead of back. The Necrosword skidded off in a screaming arc, carving a canyon through the marble battlements and exploding into the streets below in a plume of shadow and debris.
Thor did not waste the opening.
"NOW!"
Mjolnir struck Gorr square in the chest, lightning detonating outward in a blinding sphere of white-blue fury. The Butcher was hurled backward through the air, slamming into the invisible barrier of Asgard's inner wards with enough force to make the sky bend.
Odin followed immediately, Gungnir flashing as he hurled the spear.
The weapon became a line of sunlight, punching through Gorr's shoulder and pinning him to the warded firmament. Divine energy flared, searing shadow, forcing a scream from Gorr's throat for the first time.
Not pain.
Surprise.
Einherjar surged forward as one, war cries shaking the city. Arrows of light and spears of star-metal rained down, slamming into Gorr's position in a relentless barrage.
Susan pushed her power further, her shields expanding into layered lattices that wrapped the battlefield, stabilizing collapsing structures, reinforcing warriors mid-charge, and catching falling debris to hurl it back as weapons.
Sable moved like death given form, darting through the chaos, firing point-blank into shadow-things clawing free from the rift, her enchanted rounds detonating inside them, turning them inside out in flashes of silver light.
For a heartbeat,
It worked.
Gorr hung pinned, battered, shadow boiling around him as the Necrosword writhed violently, screaming in fury.
Then Gorr laughed.
Low. Quiet. Almost fond.
"You still fight like heroes," he said, lifting his head despite Gungnir through his flesh.
Not outward.
Inward.
The shadows around Gorr collapsed into him, compressing, folding, feeding. The spear of Odin shattered with a sound like breaking suns, fragments dissolving before they hit the ground.
Gorr stepped free.
The wounds vanished.
The laughter stopped.
"And that," he said calmly, rolling his shoulder, eyes lifting to the gathered gods, "is why you always lose."
The rift behind him tore wider.
Something answered.
The shadows pouring from it changed,thickened, gained shape. Not berserkers this time, but towering silhouettes with crowns of bone and eyes burning with stolen divinity.
Dead gods.
Reanimated. Enslaved. Mocked into weapons.
Even Odin's breath caught.
Thor swore under his breath.
Susan's shields flickered as the pressure doubled.
Sable's jaw tightened. "Those are—"
"I know," Peter said quietly.
He stepped forward again, placing himself at the very front, between Asgard and the approaching executioner. The Web surged through him, no longer whispering,
but singing.
Golden light spilled from the cracks in reality above, the same, where the great spider had watched before. Threads thickened. Anchored. Locked.
Gorr met his gaze, eyes blazing.
Peter planted his staff.
Behind him, thunder rolled louder than before.
Runes ignited across Asgard's spires.
Gods tightened their grips on weapons that had ended worlds.
And for the first time since the stars went out,
Asgard struck back.
The war of gods had truly begun
---
The first dead god hit the walls like a meteor.
Its body, once something worshiped, named, and prayed to, crashed through a line of Einherjar, crushing shields and bodies alike. Divine bone shattered marble as shadow stitched it back together mid-impact. It rose screaming, a sound made of stolen thunder and broken hymns, its face a ruined mask of gold and void.
Then the rest came.
Gorr moved with them, not behind them, not commanding from afar, through them. He was the blade cutting its way into Asgard's heart.
The Necrosword lashed outward, splitting into tendrils that speared three Einherjar at once, lifting them screaming into the air before crushing them together in a burst of black fire. He spun, cloak flaring, and cleaved a shield wall in half with a single, contemptuous sweep. Gods fell. Immortals burned. Golden streets ran dark with blood and tar.
"HOLD THE LINE!" Thor roared, launching himself forward.
Mjolnir struck Gorr's jaw hard enough to fracture the sky behind him. Lightning detonated point-blank, a storm compressed into a single, intense flash.
Gorr barely staggered.
He caught Thor by the throat with his free hand and slammed him into the ground so hard the impact crater swallowed both of them. Thor snarled, driving Mjolnir up into Gorr's ribs again and again,
And the Necrosword punched through
Thor's side, black metal erupting from his back in a spray of sparks and blood.
Thor screamed, lightning surging wildly as Gorr hurled him aside like a broken weapon.
Odin struck next.
Gungnir blazed, runes older than realms igniting as the All-Father unleashed everything, binding spells, annihilation beams, the full weight of kingship and sacrifice. The spear pierced Gorr's chest, pinning him momentarily as Odin's voice thundered:
"YOU WILL FALL!"
Gorr looked down at the spear.
Then at Odin.
Then he pushed forward, tearing himself off the weapon with a wet, violent sound. Shadow sealed the wound instantly.
"I already did once," Gorr said.
The Necrosword expanded, becoming a massive hammer of living darkness that slammed into Odin's chest. The All-Father was sent skidding across the battlefield, crashing through three pillars before collapsing to one knee, breathing hard, blood dark against his armor.
"Never again," Snarled Gorr.
Peter hit Gorr from the side like judgment.
Golden webs wrapped Gorr's limbs, sigils detonating on contact as Peter drove him backward with relentless precision, telekinetic blows, bursts of energy from the staff, spatial distortions snapping shut around Gorr's legs.
For a moment, just a moment, Peter
controlled the fight.
Then Gorr grabbed the web.
Not tore through it.
Grabbed it.
The Necrosword flowed up his arm and bit into the golden strands, eating them, crawling along them toward Peter like a living infection.
Gorr yanked.
Peter was hauled forward and met a knee to the ribs that cracked armor and sent him skidding across the stone, breath tearing from his lungs. Before he could recover, Gorr was on him, shadow pinning him to the ground, the Necrosword hovering inches from his throat.
"You still hesitate," Gorr said quietly, leaning close. "That is why you lose."
Peter strained, eyes blazing, the Web screaming as he barely held the blade back with raw force of will.
Across the battlefield,
Susan slammed her hands together, force fields collapsing inward around Gorr in layered compression waves, trying to crush him where he stood.
The fields buckled.
Cracked.
Gorr stepped through them like glass, shards of invisible energy shattering around him.
Sable fired, round after round, each shot enchanted, each hit precise. Explosions rippled across Gorr's body, tearing chunks of shadow free, blasting him back a step,
And the darkness simply reformed.
Gorr didn't even look at her.
A casual backhand of shadow flung Sable across the plaza, smashing her into a wall hard enough to crater it. She slid down, coughing, armor smoking, very much alive,
But out of the fight for now.
Susan screamed and pushed harder, blood trickling from her nose as she poured everything into one last shield strike.
Gorr turned.
The Necrosword snapped outward like a spear and pierced straight through the construct, through the air, stopping an inch from Susan's face.
"Run," Gorr told her calmly.
She couldn't move.
Peter roared.
The Web exploded outward.
Golden light detonated from Peter's body, shattering the shadow pinning him as he surged to his feet, staff cracking against Gorr's blade in a clash that shook the realm again. Thor dragged himself back up, lightning crawling over his broken armor. Odin forced himself upright, leaning on his spear, eye burning with refusal.
The three of them stood together.
Bruised. Bleeding. Furious.
And Gorr faced them alone.
Around them, Asgard burned.
Einherjar still fought and died in the streets. Dead gods clawed their way free of the rift. Towers collapsed. The sky remained black and starless.
Gorr spread his arms slightly, shadows curling around him like a crown.
"This," he said, voice carrying over the screams and thunder, "is what truth looks like."
Then he looked straight at Peter.
"You still carry their guilt," Gorr said, voice cutting through the chaos like a blade through cloth. "You sealed me because you were afraid of what I'd become. But you're the same as them. You play at being different. You wear the mask of the weaver, the trickster, the god who cares. But in the end, you're just another deity who abandoned the ones who needed you most."
Peter's grip on the staff tightened, the golden runes flaring brighter.
"I didn't abandon you," he said, voice low but carrying. "I tried to save you from yourself."
Gorr's laugh was dry and hollow.
"You saved yourself," he said. "From the truth. From the fact that gods are nothing but echoes of mortal pain pretending to be eternal. You locked me away so you wouldn't have to face what happens when faith dies."
He stepped closer, the Necrosword trailing shadows like smoke.
"Look at you now," Gorr continued, voice almost gentle. "Standing with them. Defending their city. Their glory. Their lies. You're still one of them, Anansi. Still pretending the universe can be fixed with a web and a smile."
Peter's eyes burned gold, steady and unblinking.
"I'm not pretending," he said. "I'm choosing."
Gorr tilted his head, almost curious.
"Then choose to die with them."
The Necrosword rose.
And the battle turned brutal.
Gorr moved like a storm of blades and shadow, the Necrosword shifting forms faster than the eye could track, spear, scythe, claw, whip, each strike aimed to kill, not wound. Peter met him blow for blow, the staff weaving golden arcs, threads snapping out to bind, burn, redirect. Every clash lit the battlefield in flashes of gold and black, the air screaming with the sound of divinity and oblivion colliding.
Thor charged in, lightning exploding around him, Mjolnir hammering at Gorr's flank. Gorr caught the blow on the flat of the Necrosword, the impact sending shockwaves that shattered nearby pillars. He twisted, the blade slicing across Thor's chest, drawing blood that smoked on contact.
Odin struck from the other side, Gungnir blazing with solar fury, runes older than stars igniting. The spear pierced Gorr's shoulder, pinning him for a second, then Gorr tore free, black blood dripping, the wound sealing as the Necrosword drank deeper.
Susan's shields snapped into place around Peter, layered and unbreakable, but Gorr's blade cut through them like paper, forcing her to retreat step by step, blood trickling from her nose as she poured everything into holding the line.
Sable, back on her feet, fired enchanted rounds that exploded against Gorr's side, tearing holes that sealed almost instantly. She rolled, dodged, reloaded, never stopping, never hesitating.
Gorr's voice cut through the chaos again, aimed at Peter.
"You think you're different because you suffer?" he said, parrying a staff strike and countering with a whip of shadow that Peter barely blocked. "You think your pain makes you clean? You're still a god. Still deaf to the ones who scream below you."
Peter's jaw clenched.
"I'm listening now," he said, staff spinning, golden webs lashing out to bind Gorr's arms.
Gorr burned through them.
"You're too late."
He lunged.
The Necrosword became a massive cleaver again, sweeping down toward Peter's head.
Peter caught it, staff trembling under the force, golden light flaring.
They locked, faces inches apart.
"You want to know the real truth?" Peter said, voice low, raw. "I'm not a god. I'm just a guy who's trying to do the right thing. And I'm not stopping for you."
Gorr's eyes narrowed.
"Then fall."
He wrenched the blade upward, forcing Peter back, then struck again, faster, harder, relentless.
Peter blocked, parried, countered, each movement precise, each strike fueled by something deeper than rage.
The battlefield blurred around them.
Thor, bleeding but unbowed, charged again.
Odin's spear flashed.
Susan's shields held.
Sable's guns roared.
But Gorr kept coming.
And the rift behind him kept widening.
Something immense stirred inside it, something that made the air taste of ash and old grief.
Gorr lifted the sword one last time.
And the shadows behind him began to take shape.
A colossal silhouette, larger than the towers of Asgard, began to rise, arms, wings, eyes too many to count.
Peter's eyes narrowed.
The Web howled louder.
Susan's shields flickered.
Thor's lightning dimmed for a heartbeat.
Odin's face went grim.
And Gorr spoke one last time, voice carrying across the battlefield like a sentence.
"Now," he said.
"Watch me finish what the gods started."
The silhouette stepped forward.
And the sky tore open completely
---
The battle raged like a wound that refused to close.
Gorr stood in the center of the shattered bridge, a dark pillar against the golden ruin, the Necrosword twisting in his grip like a living thing. Every swing carved through Einherjar, through stone, through hope. Thor hammered at him again and again, lightning exploding on impact, only for Gorr to absorb it, redirect it, and turn the storm back on the god of thunder. Odin's spear flashed in beams of solar fire, each strike vaporizing shadows, but the darkness simply flowed around him, re-forming, pressing closer.
Susan's force fields flickered under the strain, layered domes cracking as Gorr's blade tested them, forcing her to retreat step by bloody step. Sable kept firing, enchanted rounds bursting against Gorr's form, tearing holes that sealed almost instantly. She rolled, dodged, reloaded without pause, but the shadows kept coming.
Peter fought at the heart of it.
Staff spinning, golden webs lashing out, sigils detonating on contact, he matched Gorr blow for blow. Every clash lit the battlefield in flashes of gold and black. He redirected strikes, bound limbs, burned away tendrils. For long, desperate moments, he held the line.
But his eyes kept flicking upward.
The rift behind Gorr had grown monstrous.
The colossal silhouette inside it was no longer vague. It had shoulders now. Arms. A head crowned with too many eyes. It pressed against the tear in reality, the edges fraying wider with every heartbeat. The thing was trying to step through completely, and when it did, Asgard would not survive the weight of it.
Peter felt it in the Web.
A single, terrible certainty.
If that thing fully emerges, the realm collapses.
He broke away from Gorr mid-clash, staff trailing golden light as he sprinted toward the bridge's edge. The silhouette loomed larger, one massive clawed hand already breaking through, fingers longer than towers curling around the rift's rim.
Peter planted his feet.
Raised the staff high.
And poured everything he had into the Web.
Golden threads erupted from him in a blinding cascade, thousands, tens of thousands, lashing upward like a reverse waterfall. They wrapped the rift's edges, stitching reality back together, burning where they touched the darkness. The silhouette roared, a sound that shook the stars that weren't there anymore, and clawed at the threads.
Peter's knees buckled.
His vision blurred.
The runes under his skin flared white-hot, searing, but he didn't stop. He pulled harder, weaving the Web into a seal, forcing the tear closed inch by agonizing inch.
The silhouette thrashed.
Reality groaned.
Peter screamed through clenched teeth, blood trickling from his nose, every muscle shaking.
But the rift began to shrink.
The colossal hand was forced back.
The edges burned gold and sealed.
With a final, shattering pulse of light, the tear snapped shut.
The silhouette vanished.
Silence, sudden, ringing, fell over the battlefield.
Peter dropped to one knee, staff clattering against the stone, breath ragged. His body trembled, spent. The golden light in his eyes flickered, dimming. He'd done it. The rift was closed. Asgard would not be crushed under that thing's weight.
But he was empty.
Completely, terrifyingly empty.
His spider-sense screamed, sharp, urgent, desperate.
Too late.
He couldn't move fast enough.
Gorr was already there.
The Necrosword drove through Peter's back with surgical precision, black blade erupting from his chest in a spray of blood and gold light.
Peter gasped, eyes wide.
The staff slipped from numb fingers.
He looked down at the dark metal protruding from his sternum.
Then up at Gorr, who stood close enough to whisper.
"You saved the city," Gorr said softly, almost gently. "But you couldn't save yourself."
He twisted the blade.
Peter's knees gave out.
He fell forward, catching himself on shaking arms, blood dripping onto the golden stone.
The battlefield froze.
Susan's and Sable's screams tore the silence.
Thor's roar shook the sky.
Odin's eye widened in horror.
And Gorr pulled the sword free with a wet sound, letting Peter collapse face-first onto the bridge.
The Web went quiet.
For the first time in a long time, Peter
Parker felt nothing at all.
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