The Abyss had been stained.
For an eternity before the first stuttering breath of creation, it had known only one state of being: itself. It was the canvas of non-existence, the absolute black, a conscious and hungry emptiness. Now, for the first time, a color had bled across its formless void. It was a color the Abyss had no concept for, a frequency it could not process. It was a hue deeper and more defiant than the everlasting darkness. It was the color of a will made manifest.
It was the color of Doom.
Doom's steps marched on. Each impact of Doom armored boot did not echo in the conventional sense, for sound was a luxury this realm did not afford. Instead, each step was a metaphysical shockwave, a resonant thud that vibrated through the very fabric of the void. With every footfall, a latticework of emerald green energy spread outwards, a crackling, geometric pattern of arcane power and absolute order. The Abyss, the slithering, liquid night, tried to reclaim its ground. Tendrils of living darkness surged forward, attempting to consume the defiant green, but where they met, the black sizzled, recoiled, and was itself consumed, transmuted into inert, crystalline matter that reflected Doom's light.
Doom did not look back. Doom did not need to. Doom's color was winning.
-------------
Peter Parker watched, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. His newly restored Spider-Sense wasn't a warning tingle; it was a constant, psychic scream of pure, existential dread. Yet, layered over that terror was a feeling so alien, so contradictory, it made his head spin: uselessness. He felt utterly, completely insignificant, not before the Abyss, but before the emerald-wreathed figure of Doctor Doom.
Peter watched Doom walk forward, all alone, against an entire realm of primordial darkness. Against the god who had decapitated a Celestial and forged a sword from its divine head. Against the primordial being whose very existence had terrified the Beyonders into creating the Enigma Force as a cosmic countermeasure.
And Peter watched Doom never falter. Every step Doom took was an act of conviction. A conviction so absolute, so unshakeable, that even the Abyss itself seemed to bend, to give way before him.
"Mr. Ranger… is Dr. Doom… gaining control of the Abyss?" Peter swallowed, the sound loud in the sudden quiet of his helmet. The idea was preposterous, stupid even. But it was what his Spider-Sense, in its terrified screaming, was telling him. It was a truth his mind refused to accept.
"Of course not." Ranger's voice echoed in his suit, calm and infuriatingly detached. "Doom doesn't need to 'gain' control of the Abyss. " Peter let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, a small bubble of relief. And then he almost choked on it at the next sentence. "The Abyss is giving him control."
"But… then wouldn't it… mean… Dr. Doom is going to be the ruler of the Abyss?" Peter's voice shook, the implication of such a thing almost too vast to comprehend. A being as arrogant and powerful as Doom, now master of a primordial, universe-devouring darkness?
"Gaining control of a domain inherently implies becoming its ruler. I believe this is a simple deductive conclusion any teenager with a baseline understanding of political and philosophical concepts would be able to answer." WEB-ster's synthesized, and distinctly sassy, voice cut in. "Correction: any normal teenager can answer. Since the host Peter Parker appears to be confused on these terms, this gives rise to several hypotheses. One: The host is a nerd, but one whose intellectual pursuits are exclusively focused on 2D waifus, the acquisition of body pillows, and perhaps, pornographic materials. Considering his friend Ned Leeds has a documented record of watching pornographic films during a school event designated 'homecoming,' the probability of this being the actual case is statistically high. Two: The host's cognitive functions have been temporarily impaired by the extreme existential terror of our current environment, reducing his processing speed to that of a particularly slow mollusk. Three: The host..."
"I understand what gaining control means!" Peter whisper-shouted, his face flushing under the mask. "I was just in shock, okay?! And please stop sabotaging me in front of the cool mentor figure! You're making me look like an idiot!"
"Sabotage is not my primary function, Peter." WEB-ster retorted coolly. "My primary function is to assist you. And accurately assessing your intellectual and emotional state is a key component of providing optimal assistance. Current assessment: emotionally compromised, intellectually… questionable."
"I'm going to reprogram you into a rubber chicken when we get back!" Peter muttered, turning his attention back to the grand, terrifying spectacle before them.
Ranger, from his position slightly ahead, turned his head, the blue line of his visor glinting. He said nothing, but Peter could practically feel the amusement radiating from him. The silent judgment was somehow worse. All around them, sleek Ultralink constructs, their forms shifting and adapting to the non-Euclidean environment, moved in a silent, deadly ballet. They were a perimeter of blue and white, intercepting the grasping tendrils of the Abyss, blasting them with focused Turbo energy, ensuring the ever-reaching black was kept at bay.
The kid deserved a moment to bicker with his suit. For almost dying. Beside he had some other thing to do.
Ranger played with the Megalink in his hand, a sleek, multifaceted construct of shifting silver and cobalt. On a silent, internal command, the dozen smaller Ultralinks that formed his perimeter defense flowed towards him like liquid metal, merging with the central unit. The Megalink pulsed, grew, its form becoming more complex, more potent, a nexus of his networked consciousness.
Then, Ranger's fingers began to glow with a brilliant, incandescent blue as Turbo Energy poured into the device. He didn't just feed it power; he inundated it, a torrent of raw, refined energy so vast it began to leak from the Megalink's containment field. The blue light blazed outwards, a defiant, artificial star that pushed back the primordial darkness, illuminating a small, inconsequential pocket of the Abyss with the defiant shade of a newborn sun.
He watched as the Megalink, now overflowing, levitated from his palm. The Turbo Energy it radiated was not merely light; it was an active, aggressive force, a shield of pure order that combated the ever-reaching black of the Abyss, keeping the grasping tendrils of the void at bay. The Megalink connected with Ranger's hive database, a flood of information passing between them. Then, its multifaceted surface pulsed with a soft, azure light as it scanned everything within its illuminated sphere—the very fabric of the non-reality, the latent psychic echoes, and the young man trembling beside him.
The data displayed on Ranger's internal feed, a cold, clinical assessment of the boy who stood at the heart of this cosmic drama.
**Subject: Spider-Man (Peter Parker)**
- **Species:** Human (Mutated via retroviral exposure to arachnid DNA)
- **Powers:** Proportional strength/speed of a spider, adhesive extremities, precognitive danger sense ("Spider-Sense"), genius-level intellect.
- **Scan Results:**
- **Strength:** Class 17.92 (Note: Reading is fluctuating. Scan results: unstable cellular flux. Host approaching a threshold event. Designation: Metamorphosis)
- **Speed/Agility:** Peak Superhuman++ (Reaction time registers as nearly precognitive, suggesting a subconscious temporal-sensory feedback loop.)
- **Durability:** Enhanced Superhuman. Ultralink suit integration grants near-invulnerability to most conventional physical attacks.
- **Energy Output:** None (Relies on pure physiology & technological augmentation.)
- **Intelligence:** High+ (Exceptional aptitude for scientific and engineering disciplines; remarkable strategic adaptability in high-stress combat scenarios.)
- **Threat Projection:**
- Dangerous against single or multiple Ultralink units due to reflexes & unpredictability.
- Emotion-prone tendencies can be exploited but also act as a catalyst for unpredictable surges in performance.
- **Combat Potential:** ★★★★☆++ (High, with a projected ceiling that is currently… incalculable.)
**Course of Action Recommended:** Full bonding with the target requires a Megalink-class Ultralink at a bare minimum to unlock and stabilize the target's true potential. The target is a prime candidate to be cultivated into a 'Leader' level figure, capable of independent, high-level strategic command.
Ranger read the displayed info. His eyes, even shadowed, showed no surprise. The data was what he had suspected. Yet, his gaze stopped on one word, a single, ominous term that recontextualized everything.
Metamorphosis.
Ranger sighed, a quiet, almost imperceptible exhalation. It seemed trouble didn't just find its way into the spider's life; it was woven into his very DNA.
"Mr. Ranger? What was that?" Peter's voice was a nervous whisper, snapping Ranger from his thoughts. "It scanned me. Should I… should I be concerned?"
Ranger just looked at him, then slowly raised a finger to where his lips would be, a universal shushing gesture, before pointing towards the grand, terrifying drama unfolding at the heart of the citadel.
Peter understood. He swallowed his questions and fell silent. His gaze shifted back to where Doctor Doom now stood before the throne of Knull.
---------
The Abyss betrayed its master.
The living void did not resist Doom's will—it obeyed. It rose and hardened, sculpting itself into a throne of shadow and emerald fire, facing Knull's own seat of dominion. Higher. Not much, but enough. A declaration in architecture: Doom above all.
Doom sat with regal, unhurried grace, as if it were inevitable. His gaze did not rise to Knull. Knull had been lowered.
It was a mockery of Knull's own seat of power, a monument to Doom's arrogance built from the very substance of his enemy's being.
For the first time in eternity, the King in Black's throne room bore two rulers.
Knull's eyes, those twin pits of absolute nothingness, gave nothing away. He looked at the man before him, this mortal of iron and magic who had imposed his will upon a force older than stars. The Abyss, the darkness he had commanded for uncounted aeons, now stood against him, trying to crown this intruder as its new ruler.
Yet, within those voids that served as Knull's eyes, a flicker of something ancient and terrible stirred. It was mockery. A mockery of the highest, most cosmic kind. For what he saw before him was nothing more than a jester. A clever, powerful, and undeniably entertaining jester who had made his court, his very kingdom, laugh for a moment. So what if the jester commanded a throne of shadow? When the true King was unbound from the chains of light that held him, the jester would be but a jester, and his fleeting performance would be forgotten.
"Child." Knull's voice crawled into the mind, sweet and venomous. "I feel the hunger in you. The Abyss yearns for you. Take it. Shape creation in your own image. Be more than a king. Be eternal."
The offer was a serpent, coiling around the deepest, most secret ambitions of the soul.
Yet, the one he addressed was none other than Doom.
"Doom shapes the world already. Without your scraps. Without your Abyss." Doom's gauntlet brushed the armrest of the new throne, emerald light burning through the void. "This kingdom you call power? It bends. It breaks. It kneels."
Doom's eyes, twin emerald suns, cut into Knull. Doom's words were iron, each one hammered into law.
"For this Abyss is beneath Doom."
Doom's voice was final, absolute.
"As all things are."