Peter's fingers twitched.
It was small at first, just the faintest curl of his index finger against the cold stone. Then his hand flexed, knuckles whitening as black tendrils tightened gently around it, supporting, anchoring.
The symbiote didn't speak. It didn't need to. It simply was, a quiet, steady presence wrapping tighter around his broken body, sealing wounds, slowing the bleeding, keeping what little life remained from slipping away. The white spider emblem on his chest pulsed once, soft and protective, like a heartbeat syncing with his own fading one.
In the black void where Peter floated, the warmth around his hand grew stronger.
We've got you, Venom rumbled again, the voice low and rough, almost gentle. Not letting go this time.
Peter squeezed the tendril back, weak but deliberate.
"...Good," he whispered into the nothing.
"Because I don't think I can do this alone."
The golden thread above him pulled harder, glowing brighter, tugging him upward through the endless dark like a lifeline thrown into deep water.
---
Back on the broken bridge, the battlefield was still a storm of chaos and crimson fury.
Malice tore through the air like a silver-and-red comet, her force fields no longer shields but weapons, crushing, tearing, slamming into Gorr with vicious precision. Every strike carried the weight of grief and love twisted into something sharp and unforgiving. Gorr met her blow for blow, the Necrosword screaming as it clashed against her constructs, black tendrils lashing out to counter her rage.
Thor charged again, roaring, lightning exploding around him. Odin stood like an unyielding pillar, Gungnir flashing beams of solar fire. Sable had dragged herself back into the fight, pistols barking, her face set in grim determination despite the blood on her lips.
No one had noticed Peter yet.
No one had seen the black tendrils slowly covering his body.
No one had seen his fingers twitch again.
Then his hand closed fully around the staff that had fallen beside him.
The Staff of Anansi hummed, soft at first, then louder, golden light flickering along its length as if waking up.
Peter's eyes opened.
Not glowing. Not yet.
Just open.
Brown. Human. Exhausted.
But alive.
A ragged breath tore from his lungs, followed by a wet cough that sprayed blood across the stone. The symbiote tightened around the wound on his chest and back, holding everything together by sheer stubborn will.
Peter pushed himself up on one arm, vision swimming, the world tilting violently. The sounds of battle crashed back in, screams, thunder, the clash of divine weapons, Malice's furious shouts.
His eyes found Gorr in the chaos.
The Butcher was still fighting, still standing, the Necrosword carving through everything in its path. But for the briefest moment, Gorr's gaze flicked toward him.
Their eyes met.
Gorr's expression didn't change.
But something in the air shifted.
Peter gripped the staff tighter, knuckles white, black tendrils still visibly wrapping around his forearm like living
armor.
He forced himself to his feet, swaying, blood dripping from his chin.
The Web stirred weakly inside him.
Not gone.
Not broken.
Just... waiting.
Peter took one shaky step forward.
Then another.
His voice came out hoarse, cracked, but loud enough to cut through the noise:
"Hey... asshole."
The battlefield didn't freeze this time.
But every head that could turned.
Malice's crimson eyes widened.
Thor's hammer paused mid-swing.
Sable's breath caught.
Odin's grip on Gungnir tightened.
And Peter, bleeding, exhausted, half-wrapped in living shadow, lifted the Staff of Anansi with trembling hands.
"I'm not done with you yet."
The golden runes under his skin flared back to life.
And the Weaver stood up once more.
---
It wasn't graceful. It wasn't heroic in the way stories usually paint it. Peter staggered, one hand gripping the Staff of Anansi like a crutch, the other pressed against the hole in his chest where black tendrils worked frantically to keep him from bleeding out. His knees nearly buckled again, but the symbiote held firm, tightening around his torso like a living brace, warm and steady.
The battlefield seemed to freeze for half a second.
Thor's eyes widened, Mjolnir momentarily forgotten in his grip. "Peter...?"
Sable's pistols lowered an inch, her voice cracking. "You stubborn bastard..."
Odin's single eye gleamed with something between shock and fierce pride.
Malice, silver-haired and crimson-eyed, turned sharply, her force fields flickering as raw emotion broke through her rage for a single heartbeat. The cruel smile on her face faltered, replaced by something raw and desperate. "Peter..."
Gorr stood motionless for the first time since his arrival, the Necrosword dripping Peter's blood onto the cracked stone. His sunken eyes narrowed, studying the man who should have been dead.
A low, rasping chuckle escaped the God Butcher's throat.
"Look at you," Gorr murmured, almost pitying. "Still crawling. Still refusing to die. Just like a bug that doesn't understand it's already been stepped on."
He raised the Necrosword, the blade lengthening into a grotesque, serrated greatsword that drank in what little light remained.
"I made a mistake leaving your head attached last time," Gorr said, voice flat and final. "I won't repeat it."
Peter didn't have time to respond.
Gorr moved like death itself, sudden, silent, unstoppable. The Necrosword came down in a brutal overhead arc aimed straight for Peter's skull, meant to split him from crown to groin in one decisive blow.
Peter barely reacted in time.
He twisted, throwing himself sideways with everything he had left. The blade missed his head by inches, but the shockwave of the strike slammed into his side like a freight train. It lifted him clean off his feet and hurled him backward over the edge of the shattered Rainbow Bridge.
The world spun.
Golden spires blurred past as Peter tumbled into open air, the drop beneath him endless, the cold void yawning wide.
For a terrifying second, he thought this was it.
Then a strong arm wrapped around his waist mid-fall, jerking him out of his descent with bone-rattling force.
@I've got you!" Thor bellowed, Mjolnir spinning wildly in his other hand as he flew them both back toward the bridge.
Peter gasped, blood bubbling from his lips, the symbiote still desperately trying to hold his chest wound together.
"Thanks..." he wheezed, gripping Thor's arm.
Thor's face was grim, streaked with blood and soot, but his eyes burned with determination. "Save your strength. We're not losing you today."
Below them, Gorr stood at the broken edge of the bridge, watching them rise with cold, patient hatred.
The Necrosword twitched in his grip, eager for another chance.
And the battle was far from over.
---
Gorr didn't waste a second.
The moment Thor lifted Peter back toward the bridge, the God Butcher moved. The Necrosword lengthened into a jagged spear of pure darkness, and he hurled it with terrifying speed, not at Peter, but straight through the air toward Thor's back, aiming to impale both the thunder god and the man he carried in one vicious strike.
"Thor—!" Sable shouted in warning.
Thor twisted mid-flight, trying to shield Peter with his body, but the spear was too fast.
A flash of gold cut through the air.
Odin appeared in a burst of light, Gungnir spinning in his grip as he intercepted the black spear. The two weapons collided with a deafening crack that split the sky. Sparks of divine fire and void-black energy exploded outward, forcing Thor to veer sharply to the side to avoid the blast.
Odin planted his feet on the broken edge of the bridge, single eye blazing with cold fury as he stared Gorr down.
"You will not touch him again," the All-Father growled, voice carrying the weight of every realm he had ever ruled. "Not while I still draw breath."
Gorr slowly straightened, the Necrosword reforming in his hand as the broken spear dissolved into shadows and returned to him.
"You defend the spider," Gorr said, almost amused. "How very predictable. Even now, you gods protect your own."
Odin leveled Gungnir, runes along the spear blazing brighter than the sun.
"I protect what is worth protecting," he replied. "Something you have never understood."
Gorr's lips curled into a tired, hateful smile.
"Then I will teach you the same lesson I taught the others."
He lunged.
The Necrosword became a whirlwind of blades as Gorr closed the distance in a blur. Odin met him head-on, Gungnir flashing in precise, devastating arcs. Each clash sent shockwaves rolling across the bridge. Where their weapons met, reality itself seemed to fracture, golden light battling devouring darkness in a violent, beautiful storm.
Thor landed heavily nearby, gently setting Peter down behind a partially collapsed wall. The symbiote was still working frantically, black tendrils visibly sealing wounds, but Peter's face was pale, breathing shallow.
"Stay with him!" Thor ordered Susan, or rather, Malice, who was already moving to cover them, her crimson force fields snapping back into place.
Peter tried to push himself up, but his arms gave out. He coughed, blood flecking his lips again.
"Gorr... he's too strong," he rasped. "You all need to—"
"Shut up and breathe," Malice snapped, though her voice cracked with something painfully close to Susan's fear. "We're not losing you. Not like this."
On the bridge, Odin and Gorr continued their brutal exchange. The All-Father was slower than his opponent, but every strike carried centuries of experience and raw power. Gungnir pierced Gorr's shoulder, drawing a hiss of pain. The Necrosword answered by slicing across Odin's chest, drawing blood that smoked on contact.
"You bleed," Gorr snarled. "Good."
Odin didn't flinch.
"I have bled for far less worthy causes," he replied, driving the spear forward again.
The battle between the two ancient beings shook the entire realm.
But in the distance, the rift Gorr had torn open was beginning to stir once more.
Thanks for reading everyone.
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