Only the residual embers in the fireplace emitted a faint red glow, stretching the shadows in the room into distorted and hideous shapes, casting menacing illusions upon the walls.
Norman Osborn stood shirtless in front of the mirror.
"Ugh-aaaaah—"
He let out a suppressed low growl, like that of a wounded Beast.
The man in the mirror was once the darling of Wall Street and a titan of the scientific community, but now, he was merely a shell tormented by pain.
His neck, shoulders, and chest were covered in large, sickening green lumps.
The skin had become completely keratinized, taking on a reptilian, scale-like appearance.
At the edges of the scales, bright red muscle tissue was torn due to the rapid growth rate, oozing yellowish-green pus.
Pain.
A pain that went deep into the bone marrow.
Itch.
An itch as if ten thousand ants were gnawing in the crevices of his bones.
"Tear it off. Shred this skin."
Deep in his mind, that evil, shrill voice was laughing maniacally, echoing inside his skull and making his eardrums ache.
"You are a god, Norman. A mortal shell cannot contain the power of a god. Evolve. Rip off this weak skin."
"Shut up! Shut up!"
Norman's eyes were bloodshot, his pupils dilated like black holes.
He trembled, his fingernails snapping from the force, yet he felt no pain.
He just clawed frantically at the festering sores on his neck, blood flowing and flesh mangled, but he couldn't stop.
The itching made him want to claw through his own throat.
"Father?"
Just then, the heavy oak door was pushed open slightly.
Harry walked in cautiously, carrying a tray.
Light filtered in, illuminating a corner of the room's disarray.
Broken antique vases, papers scattered all over the floor, and a sickening smell of blood and medicine permeated the air.
Harry frowned at the stench, but he suppressed his fear and said softly, "I brought you some water."
"Get out!"
Norman spun around, his usually majestic face now twisted like a demon's.
He gasped for air, his chest heaving violently.
"I don't need a Doctor. Those quacks only give me sedatives. They want to harm me; they want to see my Osborn Group fall."
Harry was startled and took a step back, nearly knocking over the water glass in his hand.
But seeing his father in this state, his heart twisted with pain.
"This isn't a Doctor's medicine, Dad," Harry found the courage to say. "My classmate, Alice Mason, gave it to me. She said it's a special laboratory concentrate that can calm the nerves. Just try it, please, Dad."
AI Model: gemini-3.1-flash-lite
He dared not approach the man on the verge of a rampage, so he could only place the small silver bottle on the shelf by the door, then retreated as if fleeing, and closed the door.
Norman leaned against the edge of the table, sweat mixed with blood flowing down his chest. His gaze, as if drawn by a magnet, fell upon that inconspicuous little silver bottle.
"Classmate? Alice?"
Reason told him this was nothing more than a child's trick, but the pain in his body had rendered him unable to think.
After a long while, that heart-piercing itch struck again, making him almost want to tear off his own skin.
"Damn it!"
Another wave of agonizing pain struck, and Norman let out a painful groan, stumbling over to grab the bottle with trembling hands and roughly twisting off the cap.
A strange fragrance wafted out.
It carried a slightly bitter herbal scent, mixed with a certain cold, crisp aura, like a flower blooming in the extreme cold.
Inside the bottle, the ointment was a translucent pale, ghostly blue, viscous in texture, like liquefied crystal, shimmering with a mysterious luster under the dim firelight.
Norman hesitated for a second, then reached out with his blood-stained fingers, scooped out a large amount, and smeared it fiercely onto the most severely ulcerated patch of green scales on his neck that was causing him such unbearable agony.
"Sizzle..."
A sensation like ice being applied to a hot iron exploded instantly.
Immediately after, that maddening burning sensation miraculously receded the moment it came into contact with the ointment.
Norman widened his eyes, touching his neck in disbelief.
That feeling was too good.
It was like a pair of gentle yet powerful hands smoothing out the agitated cells.
The mutated genes that had been crazily dividing, hardening, and devouring each other seemed to have encountered a natural predator, or perhaps a stern monarch, instantly stopping their agitation and becoming docile and obedient.
The skin, taut to the point of bursting, began to soften, and the shrill sound constantly stimulating his nerve endings rapidly faded until it vanished.
"Ah..."
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