The primordial demon had just slipped free from its bindings, its mind racing with one thought—escape. It had been imprisoned for too long, and the taste of freedom was intoxicating. Every instinct screamed for it to flee far from this cursed place before something even worse happened.
But before it could take another step, Nathan's voice rang out. His lips moved quickly, murmuring an incantation that did not belong to any ordinary human tongue. The syllables cut through the air, sharp and unnatural, filling the atmosphere with a vibration that felt alive.
Dark power seeped out of Nathan's body. Shadows twisted like liquid smoke, gathering in front of him. They coiled and wove themselves into a bizarre formation, black lines crossing and curling into something that resembled a demonic sigil.
The primordial demon froze. For a creature that had roamed countless ages, there were very few things that could make it afraid. But this—this was impossible.
Its skin prickled, its very essence recoiled.
"This… this is a secret technique! A forbidden rite that only demons can wield!"
The demon's thoughts spiraled. He's just a mortal. How can a human perform the joy of demons? Who gave him permission?
Even stranger, the incantation Nathan recited felt eerily familiar, like words the demon had spoken itself in some distant age.
"No," the beast muttered, panic swelling in its chest. "No! How could you possibly know this?"
Meanwhile, the rift in the air widened. Blackness dominated its depths, but it was not pure emptiness. Colors shimmered faintly—dim, shifting hues of red, blue, green, violet, as though a prism had been drowned in tar. From within that abyss, a power surged outward, oppressive and suffocating.
It was the breath of something ancient. Something that ruled dimensions beyond comprehension.
The force expanded at terrifying speed, spilling across several blocks of the city.
Civilians in the area felt it first. An invisible weight pressed on their chests, heavier than gravity, colder than death. Panic spread like wildfire.
"What is this?!" one screamed, clutching his head.
"Why does it feel like… like something monstrous is coming?!"
"I can't breathe… the world's ending, isn't it? The end is here!"
They trembled, powerless against the sheer aura of despair.
Even superheroes were not spared.
Spider-Man, who had just webbed up a gang of robbers, felt his heart seize. His spider-sense screamed wildly, more violently than it ever had. He staggered, his legs locking in fear.
"This feeling… this isn't danger. This is doom itself. Something far beyond me is coming…"
He looked around frantically, but there was no source he could pinpoint. The fear came from everywhere.
Across the city, Iron Fist lay in bed, drifting toward sleep when the wave hit. His eyes shot open, his body trembling.
"This… what is this power?" he whispered, fists tightening instinctively.
Superheroes, villains, mystics, even hardened mercenaries—all of them felt it. The mark of a dimension lord.
Back inside the secret laboratory, the primordial demon's survival instinct flared like a beacon. The air around Nathan quaked with each line of the sigil he completed. The oppressive aura from the widening rift grew unbearable.
The demon realized with chilling clarity: If I stay, I'll be dragged into this nightmare.
"I must escape now!" it growled.
But when it tried to retreat, its body refused to move. An invisible force clamped around it like chains forged from nothingness.
"What?!" It thrashed, but every movement was crushed into stillness. "Why… why can't I move?!"
In front of Nathan, the sigil blazed to completion. Its black lines shimmered, pulsing with unnatural rhythm. Then, with a low rumble, it shifted—twisting into the form of a colossal black hand.
The hand lunged forward with frightening speed, seizing the demon in its grasp.
Recognition struck the beast like lightning.
"This… this is the Special Contract Art!" it screamed.
Its body shook violently, not from resistance but from terror. "How—how do you know this?! This is forbidden even among us!"
It clawed and strained, desperate to break free, but the hand's grip was absolute. Inch by inch, it dragged the demon closer to Nathan.
Closer—toward his shoulder.
And there, perched nervously, was a small spider. Not an ordinary arachnid, but little Spider-Man—a strange creature that Nathan had nurtured. Its eight legs shifted anxiously, the tips scraping against Nathan's jacket, as if sensing what was about to happen.
"You mean to… seal me inside that?!" the demon shrieked, its voice breaking into hysteria.
"A spider?! An insect?! This is the vessel you've chosen for me?!"
It howled, the thought unbearable. After centuries of power, I am to become… an animal?!
"No! I refuse! I will not accept this fate!"
But refusal meant nothing. The black hand shoved the demon's essence into the spider's small body.
The air shifted instantly.
The little Spider-Man convulsed, rising off Nathan's shoulder as if lifted by unseen threads. Dark aura spilled from its tiny form, whirling into a vortex. Its eyes glowed an eerie black before flickers of white began to pierce through.
The transformation had begun.
Black drained from its body, replaced by patches of pale, almost luminous white. Its abdomen rounded out, the sharp edges of its form softening into something new.
Then, from the top of its head, two ear-like appendages sprouted—soft, tipped with faint blush-colored hues. Its pupils shifted too, black melting away into bright pink gems that gleamed with unnatural clarity.
Silken strands of black aura wrapped tightly around it, weaving into a cocoon.
The cocoon pulsed in the air like a beating heart, suspended mid-space. Power radiated outward, ancient and demonic, but also… something new.
Nathan watched intently, his eyes narrowing. He knew exactly what this was: metamorphosis. The little Spider-Man was fusing with the primordial demon, its body reshaped by powers not meant for the mortal plane.
But even as the spider's body changed, the rift widened further.
Inside the abyss, a landscape unfolded—an endless realm of darkness punctuated by twisted, luminous shapes. Nathan's breath caught as recognition dawned.
The Dark Dimension.
Dormammu's domain.
"So that's it," Nathan whispered. "The beast borrowed Dormammu's power. This isn't its own strength at all."
The implications slammed into him.
Dormammu devours everything. If his power was fully drawn through, the world wouldn't stand a chance. Cities, people, entire realities could be consumed.
But Nathan also understood something crucial: this was not a direct summoning. It was a programmed transaction, a borrowing of power. That meant rules—rules that created a gap, a delay before the full connection completed.
"If I can act before the duplication finalizes," Nathan thought, "I can sever the link. Cover it up with the secret technique of stealing the sky and changing the sun."
His gaze snapped to the cocoon.
It pulsed faster now. Threads of shadow twisted violently around it, preparing to shatter. Nathan clenched his fists.
"You must finish your metamorphosis quickly… or Dormammu's gaze will fall directly upon us."
The instruments around the lab cracked one after another, sparks flying as screens shattered. The pressure of the Dark Dimension warped the physical world.
At the center of it all, the shadows condensed.
They began to take shape—an enormous, lidless eye forming in the rift. Its gaze was not yet here, but if it opened fully, it would link directly to Dormammu himself.
Nathan's heart pounded.
"If that eye opens, we are done."
He shouted at the cocoon, his voice like a command: "Hurry, Spider-Man! Now!"
The cocoon responded. It erupted in blinding black light, a burst that shattered the lingering darkness.
The shell split open.
From within, a brand-new figure emerged, radiating with both innocence and terrifying power.
Nathan's lips curved into a rare smile, relief flooding his features.
"It's done," he whispered, his voice trembling with triumph.
"Quickly now, little Spider-Man—show me the result of your metamorphosis!"
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