Before Peter could say another word, a sharp sound cracked through the air — like glass breaking mixed with static.
A pulse of dark light rippled across the rooftop.
Max turned instantly, his eyes narrowing. "Get down."
Peter and Lumia reacted fast, diving aside as a wave of black-and-white energy slammed into the spot where they had been standing. The concrete hissed, leaving a spiderweb of corruption spreading across the roof.
Out of the distortion stepped a man in a black coat, white veins glowing faintly under his skin. His eyes burned with inverted light — dark where they should be white, white where they should be dark.
"Martin Li," Peter said, his voice tense. "Or should I say… Mr. Negative."
Li smiled faintly, his voice calm but full of venom. "Spider-Man. You've been very busy. FEAST rebuilt, Oscorp saved… all that effort, and still, you walk blind into my shadow."
Peter's stance tightened. "You attacked a charity center once. You don't get to lecture me about light and shadow."
Mr. Negative's expression didn't change. "You think you're protecting this city, but you're only delaying the inevitable. Oscorp's sins will consume everything — and you just saved the first spark meant to burn it down."
Lumia stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. "You planned this theft?"
"I guided it," he said smoothly. "Those mercenaries were a test. To see who would interfere. And now I have my answer."
Max's voice was quiet but cold. "You're a fool if you think this is still your city."
Mr. Negative's gaze shifted toward Max, lingering for a second longer than usual. "Ah. The observer. You didn't act… interesting. You're not one of his little spiders, are you?"
Max didn't answer — only stared back, electricity flickering faintly around his hands.
Mr. Negative smiled faintly. "No matter. I have what I came for."
He snapped his fingers, and the corrupted energy around him began to condense. From the shadows at his feet, several dark figures rose — Negative constructs, glowing white eyes and all.
Peter instantly slipped his mask back on. "Lumia, you take the left."
She nodded. "Got it."
Max stayed where he was, watching silently. He could erase the threat in a blink — every trace of that dark energy gone. But again, he didn't move. He wanted to see what Peter would do when faced with something real.
Mr. Negative raised a hand. "Let's see if your light can stand against mine."
The constructs lunged forward, and the rooftop erupted into chaos — webs snapping, blasts of energy colliding, Lumia's strikes cutting through shadow.
Peter dodged, spun, and countered, his webs dissolving the corrupted energy wherever they hit. "You really don't know when to quit!" he shouted.
Mr. Negative smirked. "Neither do you."
For a few minutes, the fight raged — but Peter and Lumia held their ground. When the last construct fell, Mr. Negative was already retreating into a swirl of dark light, his voice echoing in the night.
"This city will break, Spider-Man. You can't save what's already rotting."
Peter clenched his fists, his breath steady and focused. The rooftop buzzed with raw energy — black streams of corruption twisting around him, crawling up the walls like living shadows. The remnants of Mr. Negative's power stained the night air, thick and pulsing with malice.
Lumia started to move forward, but Peter stopped her with a calm gesture. "Stay back," he said evenly. "They're still human."
The corrupted men advanced — their bodies warped by the Negative energy, veins glowing white, eyes hollow. They looked like lost souls rather than enemies. But Peter didn't flinch.
He'd seen this before. Years ago, when Martin Li's power first tore through FEAST, twisting kindness into chaos. Back then, Peter could only fight to contain it. But now… things were different.
He'd trained for this. He'd mastered this.
When Max was still around — before he vanished to chase something beyond this world — Peter had learned the essence of control from him. The balance between chaos and order. Between will and energy. Max called it Domination — not of others, but of one's own power, one's own reality.
Later, when Peter spent time with Jinbei and the others from another world — the One Piece world Max had connected him to for training — he refined it further. Learned to layer that Domination over his Haki, to merge intent with strength. It wasn't just Spider-sense anymore — it was something far deeper.
Now, that mastery came alive.
The first corrupted soldier lunged. Peter didn't dodge. He simply raised his hand, letting gold-white energy burst from his palm. The man froze mid-swing as the Domination flared through him, washing away the darkness like sunlight through smoke.
The corruption shattered instantly, fading from his body as he collapsed, breathing — human again.
Peter didn't even blink. He was already moving to the next. A flicker of his will, a precise motion of his hand, and the next two fell, their dark energy dissolving into harmless sparks.
Lumia watched in stunned silence. "He's not fighting them," she whispered. "He's purging them."
From the edge of the rooftop, Max stood quietly — unseen by them but watching. His eyes reflected faint light, the faintest hint of pride in his expression. He learned well, Max thought. Better than I expected.
Mr. Negative snarled from across the roof. "You think you can erase my power, Parker? You're tampering with something beyond your comprehension!"
Peter turned toward him, his mask torn, eyes glowing faint gold beneath it. "Comprehension has nothing to do with it," he said. "You corrupt. I restore."
Mr. Negative's fury erupted. A massive wave of inverted energy roared toward Peter, swallowing half the roof in black-and-white distortion. But Peter didn't retreat — he advanced.
He let his Haki flare, coating his arms in shimmering black-red energy laced with golden threads of Domination. The air cracked as he stepped forward, splitting the darkness apart with raw force.
Every inch of the wave that touched him purified — turned to light and scattered.
Mr. Negative's eyes widened. "Impossible—"
Peter closed the distance in a blink. His movements were effortless — no wasted motion, no hesitation. A spin, a palm strike, and he pressed his hand against Martin Li's chest.
***
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