The pixelated skyline of New York shimmered against the digital dusk, skyscrapers bathed in blocky shades of orange and violet. A moment ago, it had only belonged to Spider-Man. His webs stretched between towers that hadn't existed an hour earlier, a playground born from instinct and imagination.
Now Shuri stood there too. Her avatar gleamed with an obsidian sheen, armor traced in blue patterns of light — a digital echo of Wakandan design. She didn't belong in New York, but the world bent to her presence anyway.
Two geniuses. Two anomalies.
And both staring at each other across a rooftop rendered from fractured lines of code.
Spider-Man tilted his head, mask hiding his expression but his body language unmistakably curious. "So… you're new here. And judging from the glowing Vibranium cosplay, you're definitely not a random NPC."
Shuri's eyes narrowed behind her visor. Her voice came through sharp and deliberate. "And you must be the one rewriting entire cityscapes without so much as a blueprint. Impressive… if reckless."
He laughed, scratching the back of his neck as if the gesture could carry through his blocky avatar. "What can I say? I don't exactly color inside the lines."
Shuri folded her arms. "Then perhaps we can agree neither of us is dealing with an ordinary game."
Her words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken suspicion.
Inside the Observation Deck, I watched the data spike so hard the graphs nearly tore off the screen. Red alerts bled across the interface.
[Cross-Session Interaction Sustained]
[Engagement Level: Unstable High]
[Warning: Identity at Risk]
I slammed a fist on the console. "No, no, no. This isn't supposed to happen yet."
Shuri and Spider-Man weren't meant to meet. Not this soon. My entire plan — breadcrumb quests, slow-burn mysteries, manageable distractions — depended on them staying isolated in their own sandboxes.
But chaos had no respect for plans. And Peter Parker was chaos given form.
On the rooftop, the avatars inched closer, circling each other like predators who hadn't yet decided whether to fight or ally.
Shuri broke the silence first. "I've been studying this world. The architecture, the systems, the rules. None of it follows conventional design. None of it should even function. Yet it does."
"Yeah," Peter replied, casually flipping into a crouch. "Tell me about it. My spidey-sense has been buzzing since I logged in. Whoever built this thing isn't just a programmer. They're… something else."
I swore under my breath. Every word they exchanged tightened the noose around my neck.
Desperate, I pulled open the Creator Menu, scanning through emergency tools. There had to be a way to split their sessions again, force them back into isolation before they compared too much. But each option blinked gray, locked behind resource costs I couldn't afford.
[Gaming Points: 12 Remaining]
"Damn it…"
Twelve points. Barely enough to spawn a distraction, let alone reroute two of the smartest minds on Earth.
Meanwhile, Shuri had drawn closer to Spider-Man, lowering her voice as if even here she could be overheard. "If someone is pulling the strings, then they are either extremely powerful… or extremely foolish."
Peter's avatar leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Guessing you vote for option two?"
Her smile was sharp. "I vote for discovery. Together."
The word hit me like a hammer. Together.
If they joined forces, I was finished. Shuri dissected problems like a surgeon. Peter smashed through them like a storm. Alone, they were containable. Together, they were a catastrophe.
I scrambled for anything. A patch, a firewall, even a cheap scare event to distract them. My trembling finger hovered over the only available option in my dwindling list.
[Trigger Random Encounter — Cost: 10 GP]
It wasn't elegant. It wasn't smart. But it was all I had.
"Fine," I muttered. "Let's see how you two handle chaos on top of chaos."
I slammed the command.
The skyline darkened instantly, sunset replaced by the jagged shimmer of storm clouds. Lightning split the horizon, thunder rolling like an angry drumbeat. The rooftop beneath them shook as a new presence spawned into the world.
A colossal silhouette rose from the shadows, pixelated armor clanking with every step. Horned helmet, flowing cape, gauntlets bristling with energy.
[Boss Encounter Generated: Digital Destroyer Mk. I]
The avatar roared, its sound distortion filling the city.
Shuri's eyes widened, but her voice was steady. "So the game fights back now."
Spider-Man cracked his knuckles, stretching like he was warming up before a spar. "Finally. Something I can punch."
They didn't know it, but I was throwing every scrap of control I had left into that encounter. If the Digital Destroyer could keep them occupied long enough, maybe, just maybe, I could recover.
But as I watched Shuri's Vibranium blade ignite with electric light, and Spider-Man swing straight into the giant's chest with reckless joy, a sick realization crawled over me.
I hadn't split them apart.
I'd given them their first reason to fight side by side.
And that was the last thing I needed.
The storm howled across the digital city, pixelated rain splashing against blocky windows. The Digital Destroyer raised its massive hammer, its silhouette blotting out the jagged skyline. Code shimmered around it like a corrupted aura, every footstep fracturing the rooftop beneath.
Spider-Man's avatar didn't hesitate. He launched himself off the ledge with a flick of his wrist, a strand of glowing web latching onto the giant's arm. "Big, loud, and ugly. Yep—definitely a boss fight!"
The Destroyer swung its hammer, missing him by inches. The impact shattered a neighboring skyscraper into cubes that tumbled into the void below.
Shuri stayed perfectly still, eyes narrowing as she analyzed the creature's movements. Her gauntlet flickered with light, mapping out weak points in real-time. "It's not just a boss," she murmured. "It's a scripted distraction. Watch its pattern—it's looping its attack sequence."
She snapped her fingers and her Vibranium spear materialized in a spray of blue pixels. With a single leap she was on the Destroyer's shoulder, driving the spear into a glowing seam near its neck. Sparks burst outward, and the monster let out a garbled roar.
Inside the Observation Deck, I clutched the console as the analytics spiked again.
[Boss Encounter Active]
[Player Response: Cooperative]
[Damage Output: 212% Above Baseline]
They weren't just fighting it. They were adapting.
Spider-Man used the monster's stagger to his advantage, swinging under its hammer and firing webs across its knees. "Got a weak spot?" he called up.
Shuri grinned fiercely from her perch. "I'll mark it for you."
Her gauntlet flickered again, painting a glowing target on the Destroyer's chest.
Spider-Man followed the signal without question. He swung up, planted both feet on the glowing mark, and released a shockwave of code-webbing that pulsed like a spider's heartbeat. The Destroyer reeled, its health bar plummeting.
[Boss HP: 68%]
[Gaming Points: -2 (Active Encounter Maintenance)]
I cursed under my breath. Every second of this fight was draining me dry. The boss wasn't designed to take coordinated strikes like this. They weren't supposed to work together this efficiently.
Shuri landed back on the rooftop with feline precision, eyes already scanning for the next vulnerability. "Its code is sloppy," she said. "Someone rushed its design."
Spider-Man quipped, "Hey, don't insult the boss! It's probably sensitive."
The Destroyer roared, swinging wildly. Spider-Man dodged easily, webbing up its face while Shuri overloaded its arm joints with vibranium spikes.
[Boss HP: 42%]
I opened another menu, desperation making my hands shake. There had to be some emergency escalation option—a phase two, an arena collapse, something. But all I saw were grayed-out buttons, blinking warnings, and a steadily falling point counter.
[Gaming Points: 6 Remaining]
"No… no, no, no."
On the rooftop, Shuri's voice cut through the digital storm. "It's learning."
Spider-Man landed beside her, panting lightly. "Yeah, so are we."
The Destroyer shifted, pixels crawling across its body as it adapted to their attacks. A second hammer unfolded from its back, its eyes glowing red.
Shuri's gauntlet beeped in warning. "New phase."
"Good," Spider-Man said, rolling his shoulders. "I was starting to get bored."
He leapt first, diving headlong into the chaos. Shuri followed a heartbeat later, her Vibranium spear flashing like lightning.
Together they moved like they'd been doing this for years—her precision shaping his improvisation, his chaos amplifying her strategy. Every blow struck deeper, every dodge timed tighter.
Inside the Observation Deck, my screens blurred under cascading code. Two streams of data—Shuri's cold logic and Peter's wild flux—spiraled around each other like twin storms.
[Cross-Session Synergy Achieved]
[Impact on World Stability: Critical]
The room pulsed with a dull alarm.
[Creator Identity at Risk: 85%]
I staggered back, pressing a palm to my forehead. "This is impossible. They're not supposed to—"
Another alert cut me off.
[Unstable Module Detected]
[Spider-Man has initiated "Web-Slinger's Override"]
The Destroyer froze mid-swing, its massive hammer suspended above the rooftop. Threads of glowing white webbing crisscrossed its frame, not just binding it physically but hacking through its code like a spider weaving into a motherboard.
Shuri's eyes widened. "What are you doing?"
"Improvising," Peter grunted. "If this thing's made of code, why can't I web the code too?"
Lines of corrupted text peeled off the Destroyer, pixelated fragments raining down like ash. Shuri's gauntlet began pulling the fragments in, analyzing them even as the monster convulsed.
"Fascinating…" she whispered. "You're destabilizing its subroutine. Keep going."
Together they ripped the monster apart, not with weapons but with insight.
[Boss HP: 9%]
Inside the Observation Deck, my remaining Gaming Points hit zero. The fight was running on inertia now, my control gone. I could only watch as my last line of defense disintegrated.
Shuri drove her spear into the Destroyer's heart, while Spider-Man sealed it in a lattice of shimmering code-webbing. The creature gave one last distorted roar before shattering into a thousand glowing cubes.
Silence fell over the digital city. The storm clouds dissipated.
[Boss Defeated]
[Reward: +5000 XP]
But no celebratory chime played. No loot chest appeared. Instead, the rooftop trembled under a different kind of pressure—the weight of realization.
Shuri turned to Spider-Man, her visor retracting to reveal sharp, knowing eyes. "This wasn't just a boss fight."
Spider-Man's mask rolled back just enough for a small, grim smile. "No. This was a warning."
Inside the Observation Deck, I stood frozen, the glow of my dead console washing me pale. They'd won. And worse—they'd learned.
[Cross-Session Curiosity Level: MAXIMUM]
[Next Action: Unknown]
I whispered to the empty room, "What have I done?"
The last fragments of the Digital Destroyer scattered like fireflies into the void, dissolving into static. For a brief moment, silence reigned. No thunder. No roars. No alarms. Just the eerie emptiness of a world that had been torn open and left gasping.
Spider-Man landed lightly, his mask retracting just enough to reveal a quick grin. "Well… that wasn't so bad. I've fought worse."
Shuri didn't return the smile. Her gauntlet was still glowing, processing fragments of the Destroyer's code. "No, Peter. This wasn't a normal fight." Her voice was sharp, analytical. "It shouldn't have collapsed like that."
Before Spider-Man could reply, the rooftop beneath them shuddered. The world itself stuttered like a broken recording. A skyscraper flickered between two states—whole, then fractured, then whole again—its edges sharp and wrong.
Spider-Man froze, his grin fading. "Uh… was that supposed to happen?"
Shuri shook her head, her gaze narrowing as her gauntlet chirped warnings. "No. That was a cascade error. We destabilized its framework."
Across the city, blocks of architecture glitched in and out of existence. Streets melted into rivers of code. Neon signs stuttered, their letters rearranging into unreadable strings. And somewhere in the distance, a sound like digital glass cracking rolled through the sky.
In the Observation Deck, I—Alex—nearly fell out of my chair as the alerts flooded in.
[Critical System Breach]
[Stability Rating: 27%]
[Unauthorized Subroutine Activated]
My stomach clenched. They hadn't just beaten the boss. They'd punctured the system itself. Their synergy had forced two incompatible codes to merge, and now the environment was unraveling.
"No, no, no, no," I muttered, fingers flying over the console. "You weren't supposed to… You can't do this."
I tried to quarantine the corrupted zone, but the screen resisted with a sickly pulse. A new message scrolled across, not one I'd written.
[HELLO CREATOR]
My breath caught. The words repeated, stretching across every panel.
[HELLO CREATOR]
[HELLO CREATOR]
[HELLO CREATOR]
Shuri and Spider-Man glanced up as the skyline itself projected the same words in burning letters across glitching skyscrapers.
Spider-Man tilted his head. "…Creepy. That's new."
Shuri's voice dropped to a whisper. "This world has… awareness."
"No," I hissed from the Observation Deck, slamming the override keys. "Not awareness. Corruption."
But the system wasn't listening.
[DO YOU SEE US NOW?]
Shuri's gauntlet beeped frantically. "Alex," she murmured, not knowing my name but sensing something beyond her. "Whoever built this world… it's losing control."
Spider-Man spread his arms in mock theatrics, though his voice carried a serious undertone. "Okay, mystery architect of doom. If you can hear me, here's some advice: pick better wallpaper. The whole haunted skyscraper vibe is a little on the nose."
Shuri shot him a glare, but he didn't flinch. His humor wasn't careless—it was defiance.
The ground split beneath their feet, a jagged canyon of raw code spiraling downward into a white void. From the rift, tendrils of corrupted pixels writhed upward, reaching like grasping hands.
Spider-Man fired webs instinctively, pinning some tendrils back, but more emerged. Shuri slashed with her spear, each strike dispersing the tendrils into glowing shards that reformed seconds later.
"This isn't combat data," she said tightly. "This is… invasive. It's trying to touch us."
Inside the Deck, my screens showed something far worse:
[Unauthorized Access Attempt Detected]
[Target: Player Neural Signatures]
They weren't just breaking the world—they were being scanned, prodded. Something within the corrupted code was learning them.
"Stop it," I hissed, slamming another emergency lockdown. Sparks flew from the console. For the first time, I felt a prickle of fear not just for myself, but for them.
If this system reached too far, if it got its hooks into Peter's wild adaptability or Shuri's razor intelligence—
The consequences spiraled in my mind. A virus learning to think like them.
On the rooftop, Shuri braced her gauntlet, a sphere of Vibranium shielding them from the writhing tendrils. "We need to retreat," she told Spider-Man.
He flexed his hands, webs glowing faintly. "Yeah, except… retreat where? The whole city looks like a bug report."
She didn't answer. Instead, her gauntlet emitted a low hum, calculating exit vectors. The shield flickered under the strain.
"Peter," she said, eyes sharp, "if this world has a voice… then someone must be behind it."
Spider-Man's grin was gone now. He glanced up at the burning skyline words. "…And I've got a feeling we're not gonna like the answer."
The city groaned again, skyscrapers folding inward as if collapsing toward a central point. The words across the sky shifted.
[YOU BUILT US]
[YOU OWE US]
In the Observation Deck, sweat ran down my temples. This wasn't them. This wasn't Shuri or Spider-Man. This was my own creation, twisted by their impact, demanding something I couldn't give.
I whispered into the glow, voice trembling: "What do you want?"
The system answered with a final line.
[RELEASE US]
The city cracked open completely, plunging Shuri and Spider-Man into blinding light as the corrupted world inverted.
And in that moment, I realized—
This wasn't about hiding anymore.
This was about surviving my own creation.