By the time Spider-Man managed to bring his emotions under control, the scene before him temporarily robbed him of the ability to speak.
Wilson Fisk—Kingpin—stood before him, his body awash in glowing golden patterns. Within that flickering golden light, faint traces of blood-red and black energy flashed ominously.
In Kingpin's hand was a massive, dim hammer. The head of the weapon looked like a cylinder, but the terrifying, ominous energy radiating from it caused Spider-Man's body to tremble uncontrollably.
The ground was spiderwebbed with cracks, and surging magma served as a reminder of the threat posed by the meteor's impact moments ago.
The crowd had tried their best to flee, but the moment the meteor struck Kingpin, they had all fallen into a deep coma.
Only the wail of police sirens remained.
"Spider-Man? You see it, do you not?"
Kingpin's voice rang out, sounding like a hopeless victim falling into an abyss of endless fear. Yet, within that trembling tone lay a corrupting magic.
As Kingpin spoke, the intense energy around him erupted violently.
Waves of hurricane-force winds blasted outward with Kingpin at the center.
I'm going to die. That's not Kingpin!
That's a monster. I can't beat it!
I have to run! Get away from that monster!
Voices like these screamed incessantly in Spider-Man's mind, but his body refused to obey.
In a split second, the barrier of his reason was punctured by intense terror. All that remained was a primal, biological instinct for survival, expanding madly within him.
"I didn't expect you to witness this, but it matters not. You have already failed!"
Kingpin's mouth did not open, yet the sentence was transmitted clearly into Spider-Man's ears.
In the next instant, the glowing patterns on Kingpin's body vanished. The surroundings returned to their original state, as if nothing had happened.
The massive hammer shrank right before Spider-Man's eyes until it became a trinket-sized object, which Kingpin stuffed into his pocket.
"I will stop you! No matter what power you've gained!"
Spider-Man forced these words through his teeth in the humblest, most trembling voice he could muster, stretching out his arm toward Kingpin.
But even though he assumed the pose to fire a web shooter, nothing happened.
"Enough, little spider. I have no desire to deal with you right now, even if I am mildly curious about your identity."
As Kingpin spoke, he walked out from the center of the cracked earth. He adjusted his suit without a hint of panic, then silently walked toward the building he had originally intended to enter.
"Once fear is born, it becomes my strength. The thought of 'fearing me' has already been stamped into your mind like a brand. Go home, child. The hero game ends here. Spend the rest of your life in the fear I have brought you."
Kingpin swayed slightly as he walked past Spider-Man.
The identity of "The Worthy" was not a plot point originally arranged by Cul, the God of Fear. By this point, Cul had already become Diablo. And the power within these hammers was not something the unfortunate God of Fear could comprehend.
Those who touched the hammers were no longer brainwashed into becoming someone else. Instead, under Diablo's power, they became villains who retained their original consciousness.
Their goal was simply to manufacture fear, turning humanity into Diablo's potential subordinates through constant terror.
Fear is an emotion that drives people mad; it becomes the only straw clutching at the drowning souls in despair.
When Diablo eventually reveals his true form to the public, all those filled with fear will instantly transform into demons.
And the moment Kingpin touched the heavenly hammer, he became Diablo's most loyal subordinate.
As the ruler of New York's underworld, Kingpin was the most suitable candidate to bring fear.
People do not fear what they cannot understand; the birth of fear always has a cause. And Kingpin represented the fear of survival itself for those at the bottom of society.
"I'm going to..."
Spider-Man's body trembled violently, but he couldn't force the words "stop you" out of his mouth.
This dread persisted until Kingpin had left the scene. Only then did he barely regain control over his body.
Wordlessly, Spider-Man turned around. Pretending to see nothing of what had just occurred, he returned home, feeling the lingering effects of that terror.
"What was that?"
Luke Cage and Jessica Jones were sitting at the entrance of the blacksmith shop, practically radiating couple energy.
They were now off-the-books personnel for S.H.I.E.L.D., so they no longer had to hustle just to survive. However, since becoming Barbarians, both had developed a keen interest in sudden events.
At Luke's somewhat dazed question, Jessica, who was leaning on his shoulder, grinned.
"You still have to watch the shop. Business hours aren't over yet."
Jessica reached out and rubbed Luke's shoulder, laughing as she spoke.
"So you plan to go over there now?"
Luke felt helpless.
As Bul-Kathos's employee, he couldn't just skip work without cause, but Jessica was just here to keep him company and wasn't bound by such restrictions.
"I plan to go take a look. I don't know why, but I feel like something worth noting is happening over there."
Jessica stood up, looking in the direction where the meteor fell—near Rorschach's area—with a meaningful expression.
"Why don't you wait a bit? We can go together after I get off work."
Luke's face twitched as he responded with resignation.
"Nope."
Jessica gave a charming smile and threw Luke a captivating look. Then, she headed in that direction.
With so many eyes around, she couldn't just fly off directly—that would cause too much trouble. So, she simply waved at Luke and walked away.
Luke sat alone on the bench, bored out of his mind. He pulled a small bottle of vodka from his backpack and took small sips.
Exactly how much alcohol he had left was completely under Jessica's control. Although Jessica wouldn't forbid Luke from drinking, she felt he should drink a little less. After all, lovers in TV shows always nagged each other like that.
Luke felt he should get used to this life in advance. He didn't want to be the one doing the persuading. Only the person being persuaded gets to enjoy that tenderness.
"Luke, Jill is in your and Jessica's care tonight. I have things to do."
Just as Luke's mind was wandering, Frank Castle walked up to him.
He had zero interest in the meteor from earlier. Tonight was simply the time for him to officially collect souls.
Frank wouldn't lay a hand on those without evil deeds, even if Death might classify them as interesting souls. But there were so many villains in this world; every death was a contribution to society.
Frank was willing to spend a little extra time searching, all to sustain the existence of his wife and daughter.
Slaughtering the wicked was the Punisher's job. Even though he was now an agent of Death, the identity of the Punisher had not been stripped from him.
"Looks like I'm stuck at the blacksmith shop until dawn again."
Luke said with a sigh.
Currently, he didn't even know how to swing a hammer to forge anything. His days were spent like a simple security guard.
"I'll be back to prepare breakfast tomorrow. If it goes smoothly, it won't take much time," Frank said to Luke, then silently turned and returned to his new home.
It wasn't time for him to act yet; that would wait until dark.
He needed to sleep a bit more during this time so he would have energy tonight.
"I have to find a way to get someone to swap shifts with me."
Luke took a giant swig of alcohol.
Meanwhile, S.H.I.E.L.D. had already arranged personnel to investigate the meteor crash.
A large group of wealthy individuals had gathered at the impact site. Although none of them had clean records, they couldn't just be abandoned.
The mass coma of the crowd was clearly a supernatural event. To prevent supernatural crime, S.H.I.E.L.D. dispatched Hawkeye, who had been on a long leave.
As for Coulson, his situation wasn't much different from Melinda "The Cavalry" May; he was always busy with matters that weren't critically urgent.
It wasn't that Coulson had lost Nick Fury's trust, but rather that he was still in a recovery period following previous events. Thus, the heavy lifting was handed to other agents, while Coulson remained on standby.
This was essentially the vacation Nick Fury had given him.
"Coulson, let's go for a drink when I get back," Hawkeye said to Coulson inside the S.H.I.E.L.D. building before hopping into the agency car.
"Agent Barton, wait a moment. I'm going on this mission too."
Coulson shouted anxiously at Hawkeye. His job didn't require him to clock in and out on time. If agents had to punch a time card, the world would be doomed. Did undercover operatives have to smile at some biometric scanner every day to be considered "at work"? That would be absurd.
"I think you should rest a bit. Your state of mind is a little off."
Hawkeye looked at Coulson, who had already seated himself in the passenger seat.
Ever since his suggestion to go to London was rejected, Coulson had been tense. He looked haggard.
"Only by staying busy can I remain elite."
A smile flashed across Coulson's face as he spoke to Hawkeye.
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