[Third person POV]
Peter calmly strode forward, unfazed, as Kraven charged him with primal intensity, dual daggers gleaming in hand. The blades swung across the air with practiced precision, aiming directly for Peter's chest.
Kraven slashed once—sparks flew. He slashed again—more sparks. Again and again, his blades collided with Peter's suit, each strike echoing with the sharp hiss of metal on something unbreakable. He stabbed, jabbed, slashed from multiple angles, trying desperately to find a weakness in Peter's armor, a crack, a soft spot—anything he could exploit.
But nothing gave.
Every time his blade struck, a ripple of kinetic force shimmered briefly across Peter's suit. Peter didn't flinch. He just stood there, staring at Kraven with an unreadable expression.
Kraven paused, his instincts screaming. Something primal deep inside him sensed it—danger.
Then came the crack.
Peter headbutted him.
The blow landed with the force of a wrecking ball, connecting squarely with Kraven's face. His nose crunched audibly, blood spurting from both nostrils as he stumbled back, dazed and off balance.
Peter didn't give him room to breathe. He spun into motion, his limbs becoming a blur—a dance of speed, grace, and devastating force. His arms moved so fast they became nearly invisible, leaving streaks in the air.
Kraven grunted and dove to the side, only narrowly avoiding a bone-shattering punch. Even still, bruises had begun forming across his chest and face, the earlier hits taking their toll. He rolled away, panting, and grasped his ruined nose with both hands.
With a loud, wet crack, he snapped it back into place.
Kraven exhaled sharply—then spat out a blood clot that hit the ground with a sickening splatter.
Suddenly, a searing laser beam flew past Peter's head, narrowly missing him before detonating against the wall behind him in a burst of flame and debris.
He turned his head.
More of Kraven's men had arrived, rifles and cannons at the ready. They opened fire instantly, crimson bolts of energy and plasma streaking through the air toward him.
Peter exhaled, then moved—weaving through the barrage, flipping and twisting midair like a dancer on fast forward. The air shimmered with motion blur as he evaded their every shot. Meanwhile, Kraven pulled out a sleek spear from his back, pressing a button on its side. With a hiss and a mechanical click, the spearhead opened up, revealing a hidden core packed with high-tech components.
Peter's senses activated in warning.
He immediately leapt onto the ceiling just as the spear unleashed a massive shockwave. A deafening BOOM followed, and a cone of sound blasted forward with cannon-like force. The floor was shredded apart, the wall obliterated, and Kraven's desk reduced to flying splinters.
Kraven laughed darkly, glancing up at the ceiling where Peter clung. "What's the matter, Spider-Man~? Why dodge?"
Peter hung upside down with a deadpan stare. "Okay… Where the hell did you even get that?"
"Sorry," Kraven grinned. "But I don't buy and tell."
Another pulse fired toward the ceiling—but Peter was already gone. Debris and shattered tiles rained down.
Kraven narrowed his eyes, searching.
A voice came from behind.
"Fine. I guess I'll just beat it out of you."
Kraven turned too late.
Peter struck.
The punch landed with titanic force, sending Kraven flying across the room. He smashed through a thick wall, leaving behind a gaping hole and a trail of dust and rubble, his body vanishing into the next chamber.
But there was no rest.
Dozens of red lasers suddenly rained down on Peter—Kraven's private training drones had activated, each set to full firepower. They blasted at him from every angle, trying desperately to weaken his armor or, at the very least, slow him down.
Peter ducked behind a pillar, grumbling. "This is getting annoying…"
He stepped forward, grinding his palms together. Ancient symbols and circuits of light began forming between his hands—a spell matrix, royal blue and humming with immense power. His hands moved faster than the eye could follow, bending energy and reality with every twist.
Once complete, Peter slammed the glowing sigil onto the ground.
A brilliant wave of blue magic pulsed outward like a tidal shockwave.
BOOM.
The entire building flickered.
Lights blew out with a flash. Weapons short-circuited midfire, bursting into sparks and smoke. One by one, every gun, drone, and energy source overloaded and exploded in the hands of Kraven's soldiers. Electronics died instantly.
Outside the walls, the ripple extended—streetlights shattered, transformers sparked, and circuits across several blocks of the city fried under the pressure of Peter's electromagnetic magic burst.
It was a spell he had developed during his training with the Ancient One—a personalized EMP rune tuned to disable technology within a broad radius while leaving biological life untouched.
It worked perfectly.
Kraven's men, realizing their high-tech weapons were worthless, reached for anything they could—machetes, pistols, brass knuckles. They screamed and charged toward Peter in desperation.
Peter's eyes narrowed.
He began vibrating in place.
The ground beneath him sizzled with friction. Smoke curled from his boots as his body blurred left and right, faster and faster—until the air split with snapshots of his form.
Dozens of afterimages stood where he had been, all sparking with electric static. Each one charged with raw chi energy, they suddenly broke formation and rushed toward Kraven's soldiers.
The mercenaries hesitated.
Too late.
"Fellas, fellas," Peter said with a playful grin, "there's enough of me to go around."
The afterimages struck all at once, moving independently like clones—punching, flipping, kicking with dazzling speed and precision. Static electricity surged on contact, making each blow feel like a taser to the gut.
Some of Kraven's men paused mid-charge, confusion flashing across their faces. The real Peter Parker was still standing at the center of the room—motionless, arms crossed, calm amidst chaos—while multiple afterimages of him darted across the battlefield. Each 'copy' weaved seamlessly between their attacks, retaliating with an unrelenting flurry of jabs, uppercuts, roundhouse kicks, and spinning blows that seemed to come from every direction at once.
In truth, they weren't ordinary afterimages at all.
They were chi-constructs, physical manifestations of Peter's energy, projected outward and controlled through deep mental focus and power. It was a high-level technique he'd spent time perfecting—drawing from both ancient martial arts principles and his time studying energy manipulation with mystics. It required immense concentration, which left his real body vulnerable while the constructs acted in perfect synchronization.
But Peter didn't falter.
He mentally directed every strike, every move, with mathematical precision. One by one, Kraven's soldiers fell to the ground, unconscious or groaning in pain. Not a single blow was wasted.
Then—his spidey-sense flared but he didn't bother dodging.
Kraven launched from above like a wild beast, landing behind Peter and wrapping a thick arm around his throat in a crushing headlock.
But Peter didn't panic. With swift, practiced motion, he grabbed Kraven's head, twisted his body, and flipped the hunter clean over his shoulder—slamming him to the ground like a sack of bricks. Dust and debris kicked up around them.
Without hesitation, Peter stepped forward and planted his foot firmly on Kraven's chest, holding him in place.
Then he snapped his fingers.
All of the chi-constructs around the room glowed briefly—then exploded in a synchronized wave of pure kinetic energy.
The resulting blast sent Kraven's remaining men hurtling through the air like rag dolls, smashing into walls, statues, pillars, and one another. Many were knocked unconscious instantly; the rest lay groaning, stunned and broken in the wreckage.
Peter tilted his head slightly and looked down at Kraven with cold eyes.
"Look at that, Kraven... just you and me now. Isn't that exciting?"
Kraven coughed violently beneath his foot, blood speckling his lips. And yet—he laughed.
"Kekehahaha… Truly, you are a fun adversary to hunt, Spider-Man~. It might seem difficult now, but I'll find a way... I'll find a way to pierce that indestructible skin of yours."
Peter raised an eyebrow and crouched beside him, his voice shifting to something almost... pitying.
"Oh, Kraven… you poor delusional fool. You really think you're going to get another opportunity?"
Kraven sneered through his bloody teeth. "Heh. What's with the act? Spider-Man doesn't kill~"
Peter's eyes darkened.
"You sound awfully sure of that," he said, his voice low and menacing. "Shall we test your little theory?"
Before Kraven could react, Peter's fist slammed into his jaw with the force of a truck. Blood sprayed from his mouth, painting the ground beneath them.
"After all," Peter said coldly, slamming another punch into Kraven's ribs, "I'm a scientist."
Another punch.
"Testing theories is what I do best."
Again. And again. Each punch was heavier, more ferocious than the last. His knuckles were now slick with blood—not his own. His teeth clenched tighter with each strike.
"You poison my friends…" WHAM
"You turned them against me…" CRACK
"You actually thought…" BAM "…you stood a chance against me?!"
Peter's voice rose with fury, his tone almost unhinged. Kraven could barely breathe, barely see. His face was a bloody, broken mess—his vision flashing white with pain after every blow.
'He's… he's going to kill me…' Kraven thought in a rare moment of true fear. He gasped, whimpered, and tried to raise his arms in defense. But it was like trying to hold back a storm with his bare hands. Peter was on top of him like a wild animal, consumed by a relentless fury that could not be reasoned with.
"STOP!! PLEASE—STOP!!" Kraven screamed, his voice cracking.
Blood dripped from his lips, his nose, his broken gums. Teeth were missing. One eye was completely swollen shut. His entire body wrecked "I'm sorry! I'm—I'm sorry!!"
Peter's bloody fist froze mid-air.
Then, in an eerily calm voice, he said, "No."
Kraven blinked through swollen eyelids as he was punched again and again.
Peter stood and backed away slightly, still glaring down at him.
"You're right about one thing, Kraven," Peter muttered. "I can't kill you. It is simply not in my nature, it's not who I am"
A flicker of hope sparked in Kraven's bruised chest. His breaths were shallow, ragged. "So… does that mean… you're going to let me go?" he wheezed, coughing up more blood.
Peter laughed. It wasn't a warm laugh.
It was low, dry, manic—the kind of laugh that sent chills down spines.
"Seriously? Come on, Kraven," Peter said, wiping a streak of blood from his cheek. "Didn't anyone ever teach you how to read between the lines?"
"I said I can't kill you. Me. I never said anything about others or that I wouldn't."
Kraven's eyes widened.
"No… You wouldn't…"
"Oh, but yes," Peter whispered. "See, I've done a bit of research too. You're not the only one who studies their prey. And guess what, Kraven?"
Peter leaned in close, whispering directly into his ear.
"Due to your little hunters over the years you made alot of enemies. I've broadcast your location. Every person you've ever wronged, every life you've tried to ruin, every enemy you've made—well, they're all going to find you. In this condition."
He stepped back and gestured grandly to the blood-stained ruins of the room.
"To end this with an appropriate metaphor, let's just say… I'm feeding you to the wolves~"
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