Time is unyielding. It gives not a single damn about our hardships, our desperate attempts to distract ourselves from a crushing reality, or the obstacles that rise in our path. It simply flows, again and again, flattening us with its weight, steering its course directly over us.
You know, once, I had a childish dream of reincarnation. I fantasized about becoming a grand hero with a powerful System—conquering beauties, suppressing enemies with a single glance, and bending this world to my will. But now, suspended hundreds of meters above the ground, I only listlessly chew on a piece of tough, dried meat. Моy back aches with endless fatigue, my hands tremble faintly, and another panic attack claws at my throat. In this moment, a sharp realization hit me: no one deserves such a fate. How magnificent and safe our old world truly was... and how vile it feels to realize where one's own selfish desires actually lead.
"We're close! Only a couple of hours of flight left!" Bao Jian's cheerful voice wrenched me from my viscous trance.
Flying for three days without stop on the back of a giant bird is true torture for a mortal.
"How do you all even manage to sleep in such uncomfortable positions?" The question had been brewing in my mind for a long time.
Perhaps, once we reached the City of Gray Knights, our paths with Bao Jian would diverge, and I wanted to enjoy his company while I still could. The thought made me feel a twinge of sadness.
"Cultivators grow accustomed to any hardship. Such is our fate—the fate of the masters of this world," he replied.
At times, his excessive pathos was genuinely infuriating.
Spider-Man was still sitting in the lotus position. It seemed he was still digesting the ideas about demonic cultivators I'd tossed him earlier. His mind had grown firmer, his gaze more focused. I felt a fleeting sense of pride: even I, in this weak body, had managed to help a true hero in a moment of need.
Suddenly, his eyes snapped open. Before I could even blink, he vanished.
A monstrous force yanked me downward. I felt the sticky, steel-like thread of a web on my back. The wind slammed into my face with a roar, whipping my suit. Mad disorientation and fear twisted my stomach into a knot, but a moment later, I felt something catch me, and we lowered gently onto a massive branch of an ancient tree.
In that same instant, the spot where we had just been erupted in black flames. The carrier birds were incinerated instantly, turning into ash. It was that same ominous flame that had once scorched away the remnants of this body's past life. Now, it was burning our only chance to reach our destination quickly.
"What was that?!" one of Bao Jian's disciples, whom I barely knew, stared at the site of the explosion in horror.
Spider-Man was already in a combat stance. The lenses of his mask narrowed into thin slits; his gaze was fixed somewhere deep in the thicket.
Bao Jian drew his sword with a metallic ring; I could hear his ragged, heavy breathing. The disciples, realizing we were under attack, also bared their weapons, forming a tight ring around me.
"Come out! We've sensed you," Spider-Man's voice cut through the absolute, ringing silence of the forest.
Clap... clap... clap...
Icy goosebumps skittered down my spine. Step by step, a figure emerged from behind a gargantuan tree. The stranger wore a lavish scarlet daopan, embroidered with patterns of black roses, and a heavy gold chain glinted dully around his neck. A repulsive, predatory smile on his face immediately betrayed his affiliation with the demonic sects.
I think even if I had reincarnated into the world of Dark Souls, I would have faced fewer trials than here. And we hadn't even reached the "starting location" yet.
"Greetings, friends. Well then, will you surrender, or should I just kill you now?" he said silkily.
The cultivator looked to be a man in his mid-thirties. His head was perfectly smooth—not a single hair, even his eyebrows had been meticulously shaved off. His bright green eyes seemed to perform a radiographic analysis of every fiber of our being, piercing through flesh straight into the soul.
"Four first-level practitioners, one second-level... and two mortals. Curious. How did such a group even manage to make it this far? It seems Luck herself shielded you... until you met me."
His voice was strangely pleasant, almost hypnotic. That was the most terrifying part. In my memories and books, demonic cultivators were described as savages who knew no control, but this one... this one charmed with his speech.
"Mr. Spider, that's a third-level cultivator! Be careful, I'll only be a hindrance to you in a fight!" I shouted, feeling my own helplessness.
In the next moment, something tossed me into the air again. I found myself on the surviving bird, and Bao Jian and I instantly bolted to the side, away from the epicenter of the coming battle.
Well, all that's left is to believe. Spidey has to handle this practitioner who has passed the "Third Revolution of the Dao." After all, in his veins flows not just the strength of a spider, but the power of regeneration, amplified by synchronization with the energy of this world.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
Calm down. Just calm down and trust the hero.
***********
"Strange... They left you all alone? Did they really decide to appease me with a pathetic sacrifice?" The cultivator sneered, his voice oozing venom.
"We are only glad for it," came the reply, carrying a strange, hollow echo.
Two sharp snaps of webbing whistled past the demonic practitioner's left and right. He barely had time to look surprised before the air exploded with a deafening crack.
Breaking the sound barrier, Spider-Man instantly closed the distance, reeling himself in with the tension of the threads. The impact to the torso was like colliding with a battering ram. The cultivator's armor creaked, and he was sent hurtling back dozens of meters, only managing to stop in mid-air through a frantic surge of Qi.
A mask of shock froze on the demon-worshipper's face. Horror mixed with confusion distorted his features.
"What are you?.. A high-level golem? A spirit? Or do you carry an artifact that cloaks your Qi?"
As he spoke, a thin sword of ghostly white steel slowly drifted out from behind his back. The blade didn't seem to belong to this world—it didn't reflect light but swallowed it, negating all life around it. In the next second, black flames erupted along the edge. Fire without smoke, darker than the most starless night, darker than a raven's wing. Reality around the sword began to melt and warp in agony.
The sword settled softly into the cultivator's hand. His smile bloomed anew. He leveled the point at his enemy—it was a challenge, a duel, and the ultimate mockery all at once. The lenses on Spider's mask narrowed. With a sharp motion, he fired a web into the crown of a giant tree on the opposite side of the clearing and lunged away at incredible speed.
"Listen, pal, we're not interested in your knightly etiquette. You want to fight—catch us!" a mocking voice drifted back.
Spider blurred between the trees like a smudged shadow. The smugness on the cultivator's face was replaced by animalistic rage. The true barbarian nature, hidden behind a mask of politeness, clawed its way out.
"I will turn you inside out alive! And then I'll strangle you with your own intestines!" he roared. His voice became high and shrill, filling the entire forest.
Launching off the air, the cultivator tore after him. A sweep of the sword—and a crescent-shaped arc of black flame sheared through ancient trees like dry straw. Giants that had stood there for hundreds of years crashed down, shaking the earth.
"Hey, take it easy! The environmentalists won't forgive you for that," Spider spun nimbly in the air, dodging the fiery sickle. "I'm sure the fine for that kind of logging won't be covered even by your treasure. You'll have to find a second job... something like 'Demonic Pizza Delivery.'"
"You talk too much, clown!" shrieked the traitor to the human race.
Swing after swing, a series of furious strikes rained down on Spider. Each lunge was accompanied by a sonic boom. The black flame seemed to hate the hero itself, striving to sink its teeth into him. But monstrous reflexes and spider-sense allowed Parker to stay one step ahead. Seizing his moment, Spider performed a full mid-air rotation and put all his inertia into a kick.
A heavy boot slammed directly into the bridge of the cultivator's nose. He spun around his axis, losing altitude, and crashed into the ground with a thud. Spider landed a few meters away, fingers digging into the soil. The demonling's disorientation didn't last long. Using Qi, he sprang to his feet, licking a trickle of blood running from his broken nose. His gaze became sharp and cold.
"Bro, we heard you guys eat human flesh. Probably not the first time you've tasted your own blood, huh?"
"I will gladly squeeze the juice from your meat while you're still conscious," the cultivator hissed. "And those mortals you're protecting... Believe me, you won't succeed. You think you're a hero?"
Spider slowly turned his head. The lenses of his mask became incredibly thin, his posture tense and unnatural. Beneath the fabric of the suit, a strange motion suddenly began: thousands of tiny bumps pulsated. A multi-voiced scuttling drifted from beneath the mask.
"You know... I'm afraid I'll tear the suit in the heat of battle. I think it's better to lay it aside."
With a light, almost casual gesture, Spider gripped his own back. A sharp sound of tearing fabric rang out. The high-tech Stark suit, yielding to monstrous strength, split open and curled in the air, transforming into a compact module.
The cultivator's eyes widened with primal horror. There was no human before him anymore. Instead of flesh and bone, the humanoid figure was formed by thousands upon thousands of tiny spiders, packed tightly into a single living hive. Once the shell of the suit vanished, the mass began to expand rapidly, swelling in size.
"What's wrong?"
Spider's voice now consisted of radio static, the clatter of dry legs, and the hum of the swarm. It became thin, vibrating, stripped of everything human.
"Have the followers of demons never seen a real monster before?"
The mass of spiders undulated, taking on the bulk of a super-massive entity.
"If you lose... We will eat you alive, too. So you... try your best."
"How vile!" the cultivator spat, overcoming his nausea. "I don't know what kind of creature you are, but I will study your remains!"
He lunged into the attack. A swing of the sword, this time without flame—and the creature's body was sliced in half. For a moment, a look of victory flashed on the demon-follower's face. But the joy was short-lived. The severed half didn't fall; it dissolved into a living stream, rushing directly at him.
Thousands of venomous mandibles sank into his skin. The formless swarm instantly restored its humanoid shape, enveloping the cultivator from all sides. Two spider-arms locked around his neck, a third twisted the wrist holding the sword until it snapped. The practitioner's face turned purple. He opened his mouth to scream, but thousands of spiders instantly filled his throat, stifling any sound.
Two limbs from the swarm gripped his jaw and the top of his head. A sharp, businesslike motion—and the dry snap of vertebrae heralded the end of the great practitioner's path. The body still jerked in convulsions as the swarm began to sink inward, devouring the powerful cultivator from the inside, layer by layer. In the ordinary world, he would have been a grand master; here, he became nothing but a nutrient medium for the Legion.
"Bon... Appe... tit..."
A multi-voiced whisper rustled. It was the last thing the demonic cultivator heard before his consciousness flickered out forever.