1941, New York.
At the comic studio, a worried Goodman found writer Simon and artist Jack.
The setting sun's glow spilled through the window, casting Goodman's hunched shadow.
"Simon, Jack, the Batman and Superman next door are unbeatable."
"We know," Simon lit a cigarette, sighing. "Namor, the Sub-Mariner, doesn't even feel like a superhero."
Jack gazed out the window. "So we need to create a real hero," he said firmly.
Goodman shook his head. "It's not that simple. But I've got a new idea. It's a long shot, but it's our last try."
"What idea?" Simon and Jack asked eagerly.
Goodman walked to the window, staring at the dense industrial smokestacks billowing smoke.
"No era is better suited for birthing heroes than now."
Simon frowned, then his eyes lit up. "This era… you mean?"
"Yes," Goodman turned back. "The world needs heroes. We need heroes. Heroes are a must."
"I get it," Jack said excitedly. "Create a superhero based on today's backdrop—there's no better fit."
"Exactly," Goodman smiled, seeing their interest. "A pure symbol of spirit—absolute justice, strength, courage, wit. He'll lead us out of this rut and give readers hope."
"How do we create such a character?" Jack asked, troubled.
Goodman pulled a file from his bag. "My wife's cousin once submitted a draft. I hesitated then, but take a look now."
He handed the file to them.
They glanced at the comic sketch and hesitated.
"A spider?"
"Silver Spider-Man?"
They exchanged looks.
"This doesn't meet our needs at all," Jack set the draft down, disappointed. "This rough character won't move readers. I think—"
He froze.
A group of strange figures appeared outside the window.
"Look at that!" Jack pointed excitedly at the opposite rooftop. "Star-spangled suit, pentagon shield!!"
"What?"
Goodman and Simon rushed to look. A group of oddly dressed people stood on the rooftop, resembling the Batman and Superman next door.
Same style.
But the shining pentagon shield stood out most.
It was their hope.
Their symbol of spirit.
In that moment, the trio didn't question why these people appeared. They exchanged glances, inspiration striking.
On the rooftop, Old Man Steve and the others surveyed the mid-century city, exchanging puzzled looks.
"We came too early," Future Jade frowned, tapping her dark elf.
"Once more."
HUM~
They vanished. When Goodman's trio snapped back, the figures were gone.
An illusion?
"That just…" Simon rubbed his brow.
"Stress-induced hallucination?"
Goodman shook his head. "No way. How could we all see the same illusion?"
Jack slapped his drawing paper. "Whatever it was, we've got inspiration. It's settled!"
"And those other guys gave me ideas too, but I can't do it alone. I need help," he looked at Goodman.
Goodman hesitated. "We don't have the budget for more artists…"
"Get your wife's cousin," Simon suggested. "I can tell he's got ideas. He could help."
Goodman nodded. "I'll try."
"What's his name?" Jack asked.
"Stanley Lieber."
"You might want to give him a pen name."
...
1962, New York.
The war was over, years had passed, and the Captain America-led superhero craze had faded.
Stan Lee sat in his office, deep in thought.
Stan Lee—his pen name.
The company was in trouble again. He needed a new superhero to break through.
He had plenty of superhero ideas.
But his gaze fell on a discarded draft in the corner.
Silver Spider-Man, his first superhero concept.
It was rough, unlike the popular superheroes of the time.
But he couldn't let it go.
Finally, he decided.
He'd revise it one last time, as he wanted, and test it in a comic magazine.
This was what he'd always wanted to do.
All these years.
So, he began writing.
Late at night, the office lamp flickered, matching a heartbeat's rhythm.
Heart moves, action follows!
That same night, a group of strange figures lingered near the office.
"The gears of fate are turning," Gwen whispered in the darkness, her chest's spider totem glowing with color.
Her face was shocked. "This is why Spider-Man was born?"
"Just because of a comic?"
Old Man Steve clutched a Captain America comic, overcome with unprecedented despair. "I was born here too. Just a character they needed, forgotten after the war."
Harry and the others were equally uneasy.
"We might be born soon too."
"We're just fictional characters."
"How can this be? What's the point of our existence?"
"What's the point of Spidey saving the world?"
"There's no point at all…"
Learning the truth, the group sank into unparalleled despondency, losing all reason to persist.
Future Jade scoffed. "You can stay here, or take this bad news back to Charlie and face destruction together."
"We…"
Old Man Steve and the others exchanged glances.
In the office, Spider-Man's fate grew clearer. Gwen snapped back, looking at the group.
"It doesn't matter if we're fictional. What matters is our experiences are ours—our stories, our family, love, friendship. Those are real, as long as we believe they are."
Her eyes were resolute. "No matter what, I'll take Spider-Man's fate back to save those I care about. What about you?"
The question made them think long and hard.
Old Man Steve decided first.
"I'm saving Spidey!"
His old face trembled, fists clenched, cursing. "Motherfucker, who says the Captain can't swear? I'll make Lizard Parker draw me a damn Marvel comic when I get back! My fate's mine, not some pen's!!" he shouted.
Everyone: "…"
Harry spoke up. "We don't have to be so pessimistic."
He looked at the group. "Think about it this way: we believe our world is three-dimensional, but maybe it's two-dimensional, created by this world's comic artists.
But this world, which we see as a higher dimension, might be a comic, movie, or novel in a four-dimensional or higher world. This world created us, and a higher world created this one.
So obsessing over this is pointless. We just need to do what we want, focus on what matters most."
His words noticeably lifted the group's spirits.
Two-dimensional or three-dimensional—these were human-defined concepts.
No one, not even gods, could define the true nature of reality!
As Harry spoke, Future Jade looked skyward.
Through a barrier both distant and near, she seemed to see something.
Wade, beside her, gasped, covering his mouth.
"Whoa, they're watching us."
He pointed at the void, but the others saw nothing.
They stared at the same spot.
For a long, long time.
Until dawn.
In the office, Stan Lee fell asleep.
On his desk, the story of Spider-Man.
Revised over and over.
Spider-Man's life had "restarted" time and again.
Gwen realized why Spider-Man kept restarting.
It was the embodiment of his tragic fate.
She took all of Spider-Man's discarded drafts.
Fate shifted in that moment.
Marvel Universe.
Charlie, pretending to hunt the Beyonder, felt something.
He looked toward Earth, frowning.
"This feeling… like being seen through."
HUM~
A dark throne breached the dimensional barrier, and Gwen's comic drafts fell into Charlie's hands.
"What's this?"
He glanced at the drafts and froze.
He saw the signature.
Stan Lee!
The next second, in an unknown multiversal city, an old man painting in the suburbs paused, a kind smile spreading across his face.
"My child, the moment has come."
His body slowly dissolved into light particles.
In this universe, his existence was both fictional and real.
Once Spider-Man learned the truth, he had to leave.
But he should've left long ago.
Because Spider-Man had known the truth for a while!
HUM~
In the cosmic depths, the drafts in Charlie's hands turned to light, merging into his body.
The secret of the "retry" was revealed as the drafts materialized.
The Resurrection Match came from the constant restarting of Spider-Man's story, from the reluctance and helplessness of Spider-Man's creator.
Was tragedy the only thing remembered?
Perhaps, but not forever.
In that moment, Charlie gained the key to freely open and close fate's door.
His identity as a traverser was the core to mastering fate!
He knew this world might not be real but lacked proof.
The signed original drafts became the sole evidence of everything.
Charlie glowed with the light of destiny.
The Web of Life and Destiny enveloped all multiverses.
Fiction or reality no longer mattered.
His task was to evolve fiction into reality.
The world might be fictional, but he was real.
Where reality and fiction intertwined, he was invincible!
BOOM!!
As Charlie opened his eyes, the hidden Beyonder was forced to appear.
"What?"
The Beyonder, his game interrupted, stared in disbelief as his hands grew illusory.
"What's happening?"
"It's over!"
BOOM!!
Charlie raised his hand, the Web of Life and Destiny enveloping the Beyonder.
With a thought, the Beyonder vanished, as if he never existed.
CRACK CRACK CRACK~~
As the Beyonder disappeared, a black hole blasted through the cosmic barrier.
Massive figures emerged, bursting the universe apart.
Infinite Ivory Kings, the Beyond Clan's elite.
Three Ivory Kings could destroy the Living Tribunal, suppress the five gods, and annihilate all universes.
Now, their numbers were countless, bringing only despair to this universe.
But in this fictional despair, a real existence could shatter everything.
BOOM!!
The cosmic bell tolled, fate's gears turning.
Golden webbing spread, restoring the shattered universe with Charlie's will.
He raised his hand, the Marvel Universe shrinking into a comic book.
As the Marvel cosmos became a book, Charlie used an ordinary pen to write the Beyond Clan's fate on the final page.
BOOM~~
Endless Ivory Kings dissolved into bubbles, and the Beyond Realm was reset under fate's castration.
After this, Charlie vanished from everyone's sight.
"Where'd he go?" Old Man Steve asked.
Gwen thought for a moment. "Maybe… back to his real home."
"Real home?"
The others were confused.
Gwen closed her eyes, tears sliding down her cheeks.
"Yes, I saw it. I saw everything."
"Not just me," she said. "Every Spider-Man across the multiverse saw Charlie's fate."
"He's not from this world. He doesn't belong here, or with me," Gwen collapsed, sobbing silently.
The moment she took the drafts, she understood everything.
A traverser from another world, knowing everyone's fates.
He knew Spider-Man's story, had mourned Gwen's tragic fate.
He'd cursed the writers' idiocy, dreamed as a kid of a future with superpowers.
He treated it all as a game but came to care for everyone in it.
He couldn't tell if it was real or fake but feared losing it all.
He'd done his best.
But it was time to go home.
Perhaps it was just a dream.
For Charlie, maybe.
But for Gwen and the others left behind, this was Spider-Man's story.
The invincible Spider-Man!
"Restart, Spider-Man!!"
Eisen Apartment. Charlie shouted excitedly, sketching the final stroke on his tablet.
Leaning back, he sighed in relief.
"Done! The invincible Spider-Man's story. This one's gonna blow up!"
Charlie stretched, taking a juice from Gwen.
Gwen glanced at the ending, puzzled.
"What kind of ending is this? I don't get it," she shook her head.
Charlie grinned. "It's a trendy open ending. You wouldn't understand."
Gwen rolled her eyes. "Mr. Spider-Man, your ending's too weird. And your setup's off. What's the point of a traverser in the story?"
She turned Charlie's head to face her.
"Why aren't we together in this? Why? Answer me!"
Charlie: "…"
"Listen, it's for the plot…"
"I don't care! Fix it now!"
"No way."
"Then you're not going out tonight."
"No, the old man invited me to a bar. Tony's got a ton of ladies waiting for Spider-Man's grand entrance!"
"Go to hell…"