What is this Dimensional Chat???

The grand meeting room was an opulent display of wealth and power, its atmosphere thick with unspoken tension. William, the ambitious Patron of Satria, entered the room flanked by two imposing bodyguards. Waiting for him at the head of the room was Norman Osborn, the enigmatic founder of Oscorp, whose reputation preceded him.

Norman greeted him with a wide, calculated smile.

"Mr. William! A pleasure to meet you in person." His eyes flickered toward the bodyguards. "You've brought company, I see. But where's the man who defeated my fighter?"

William nodded politely, masking his unease. "Thank you, Sir Norman. The pleasure is mine. As for him, he's... preoccupied with other matters." William then turned to his guards, signaling for them to leave. "You two, wait outside. I need privacy for this meeting."

The guards hesitated for a moment before complying, leaving William alone with Norman.

Norman chuckled, pouring himself a glass of fine wine from a lavish decanter. "How thoughtful of you. Care for a drink? We have some of the finest wines and top-grade liquors here. Just name your poison."

William declined with a polite smile, his instincts on high alert. "Thank you for the kind offer, Sir Norman, but I'll pass for now."

Norman shrugged, sipping his wine. "Suit yourself. But let's cut to the chase. It's not every day someone from Indonesia decides to join an event of this caliber. Why risk your life and reputation in this ruthless game? Surely, you understand what's at stake."

William adjusted his tie, meeting Norman's gaze evenly. "At first, I was pushed into this by someone persistent, but I've come to see the opportunity it presents. In business, as you know, taking a leap of faith is often necessary to achieve something greater."

Norman raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Well said, young man. But as a seasoned player in this game, allow me to offer you some... guidance."

"And what might that be?" William asked, his tone cautious.

Norman leaned forward, a predatory glint in his eye. "Tell me the identity of your fighter. Share his secrets, and I guarantee you wealth beyond your wildest dreams. Not only that, but I'll ensure you ascend to the pinnacle of power in your country. Think about it—unlimited resources, prestige, and protection."

William's expression hardened. "And why would you want to know about him?"

Norman smirked, swirling the wine in his glass. "He seems like someone who does not serve anyone... yet. My associates and I are interested in recruiting him for something far bigger than this tournament."

Before William could respond, Norman clapped his hands. Suddenly, the room was flooded with masked ninjas, their blades gleaming in the dim light. Two of William's own guards reappeared, guns drawn.

"Since... when?" William stammered, his heart sinking.

One of the guards grinned smugly. "Sorry, boss. What he's offering is just too good to pass up. Do what he says, or it won't just be you who suffers—your family's lives are on the line too."

Norman's voice was calm, almost mocking. "Seize him."

The ninjas closed in, and before William could react, a tranquilizer dart struck him in the neck. His vision blurred, and the world around him faded into darkness.

One of Norman's subordinates burst into the room with urgency, holding up a tablet. "Sir! You need to see this!"

Norman's eyes narrowed as he took the device, watching the footage from Hydra's lab. His expression shifted from surprise to sinister amusement.

"So... you've come as well, Spiderman," Norman murmured, his grin widening.

He leaned back in his chair, already scheming. "Things just got a lot more interesting."

•

Hydra Base

Madripoor

Three figures moved stealthily through the shadows, avoiding the patrolling guards and surveillance cameras with practiced precision.

"Master, should I take care of them?" Baobhan whispered, her crimson eyes gleaming with mischief.

Peter shook his head, holding up a hand to halt her. "No need for unnecessary bloodshed. Let me handle it."

Effortlessly, Peter shot webs from his wrists, snaring the guards and stringing them up on the ceiling like marionettes. With practiced ease, he cracked the code on the access panel and disabled the cameras monitoring the area.

"Impressive as always, Master~" Baobhan cooed, glancing around. "By the way, Kurumi, where's your consort? I just noticed he's not with us anymore."

Kurumi adjusted her hat, her golden eye glinting faintly in the dim light. "He said he wanted to check something interesting. Typical of him. Don't worry, he can handle himself."

•

Satria POV

For a speedster like Satria, walls were merely suggestions. The labyrinthine halls of the Hydra base were no obstacle as he zipped from room to room, exploring every corner with gleeful curiosity.

The wealth of knowledge and technology stored within the base was staggering. Everything—from cutting-edge medical advancements to the blueprints of apocalyptic weapons—lay waiting to be discovered.

"These idiots really don't know the meaning of 'too much power,'" Satria muttered, scooping up everything that seemed remotely valuable into his dimensional storage. His fingers itched as he spotted glowing magical artifacts, encrypted maps of uncharted regions, and files on forbidden experiments.

And then he saw it—a tome sitting on a pedestal in an isolated chamber, its cover a patchwork of pale, leathery material.

"What the... is this made of human skin?" Satria muttered, stepping closer. The book radiated a dark, ominous energy that made his skin crawl.

Curiosity overrode caution as he picked up the book, its heavy weight feeling almost alive in his hands. He opened it, revealing pages inscribed with strange symbols and phrases in an unknown language.

As he read, a low, guttural voice echoed in his mind:

"Read. Kill. Conquer. Destroy. Let us be one. Together, we are unstoppable."

"Ugh, weird voices in my head again," Satria muttered, rolling his eyes. He ignored the unsettling whispers, his curiosity urging him to delve deeper.

His gaze focused on a diagram detailing a summoning ritual—something about accessing the "Dark Dimension." Despite the malevolent aura of the book, his instincts told him it held invaluable knowledge, or at the very least, a clue to Hydra's deeper secrets.

Closing his eyes, Satria allowed his mind to connect to the essence embedded within the tome.

Suddenly, his consciousness was pulled into a nightmarish vision. 

In his mind's eye, Satria found himself standing in a fiery wasteland. Rivers of molten lava crisscrossed a landscape of jagged rocks, with a towering, brooding castle looming in the distance.

A presence stirred. Something ancient, vast, and filled with malice.

Before Satria could react, the ground beneath him opened, and dark tendrils shot out, wrapping around him like chains. The world spun as he was dragged, screaming, into the core of the realm.

A suffocating aura filled the air as Satria stood before the towering, shadowy figure. The being radiated raw power, and its fiery, otherworldly eyes bore into him with disdain.

"To think a mortal like you dares to peek into my domain without my permission," the dark figure rumbled, its voice echoing like distant thunder. "Amuse me, or prepare to be erased from existence."

Satria's mind raced, but he forced a grin. 'Where did those idiots even find this book? Calm down, Satria. Don't screw this up, or this guy might target you and the people you care about.' 

Clearing his throat, he straightened up and put on his usual charming demeanor. "Greetings, mighty Dark Lord! My name is Satria, the most reliable guy anyone could trust. I didn't mean to intrude; it's just… a coincidence. Honestly. But wow, you have an amazing castle, and your power—overwhelming, to say the least!"

The shadow paused for a moment, seemingly intrigued by Satria's lack of fear. "Hmph. Most tremble before me, yet you act… peculiar. I sense an irritating light within you—disgusting, yet strangely balanced by the darkness you carry. What are you, mortal?"

Satria shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Born human, raised normal—well, mostly. I don't know what you're seeing, but I'll take it as a compliment. Now, how about you? Mind introducing yourself? Maybe we can even be pals. It's not every day I meet someone as extraordinary as you, Lord of Darkness."

The shadow's eyes flared with a mixture of amusement and skepticism. Then, it let out a booming laugh. "Hahaha! You're either incredibly foolish or cunning. Very well, I'll humor you. I am Dormammu, the sole ruler of the Dark Dimension. But tell me, what is this 'pal' you speak of? Do you wish to join my cult? Or perhaps you seek my immense power?"

Satria grinned and shook his head. "Nope, I mean 'pal' as in a friend. You know, a buddy? Someone who's got your back."

Dormammu tilted his head, genuinely puzzled. "Friend? What is a… friend?"

Satria's smile softened. "A friend is someone who respects you, supports you, and builds trust with you. Someone you can share your thoughts and struggles with. You know, a connection beyond just power and dominance. Sound appealing?"

Dormammu scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. "Foolishness! Do you truly believe such nonsense matters in the grand scheme? Listen well, mortal. Soon, I will conquer your world. All will bow to me, including you! And even after hearing this, you still wish to call me a… friend?"

Before Dormammu could continue his monologue, Satria transformed into his God of Ultra form and punched the dark lord square in the face. The blow echoed through the throne room.

"You dare?!" Dormammu roared, his form rippling with fury. "Do you have a death wish?!"

Another uppercut silenced him, sending the dark lord staggering back. "Shut up for a second, will you?" Satria snapped. "No one can reject a punch filled with love!"

Dormammu, surprisingly, didn't retaliate. He stared at Satria, confused and… intrigued. "Your punches… they hurt. But why? And why do you show no fear of me?"

Satria leaned in, his tone suddenly serious. "Because I see through you. You crave something more than conquest and power—you crave defeat, Dormammu. Winning all the time gets boring, doesn't it? It's like eating the same food every day. You're not fighting for fun or freedom; you're trying to prove something. So let me ask you this: when you've conquered everything, then what? Ruling lifeless puppets like your cult? Sounds miserable."

Dormammu was silent, his fiery eyes narrowing.

"You know I'm right," Satria continued. "And judging by your tone and that brief flicker in your face, you're looking for recognition—family approval, perhaps? A sibling? A parent? Someone who made you feel… insignificant?"

The dark lord froze, his massive form stiffening.

"Hit the nail on the head, didn't I?" Satria pressed. "Don't worry; you're not alone. I do dumb stuff to impress my family too. They love me for it, though they also get mad when I screw up. It's normal. So, Dormammu, why not share what's really eating at you? I can see we've got more in common than you think."

Dormammu turned away, but his voice softened, almost reluctant. "I don't trust you… yet. But…" He hesitated before continuing. "My mother. She always favored my sister—praised her endlessly while belittling me. My sister calls my ambitions foolish, my visions grandiose. But everything I've done, every world I've conquered, was to show them my worth. Yet, it's never enough."

Satria nodded, walking over and placing a hand on Dormammu's towering form. "Sounds like tough love to me. Look, you're great just the way you are. And hey, your family still talks to you, right? That means they care, even if they're not showing it the way you want. Now, let's take a break from all this heavy stuff. Have you ever tried Indonesian cuisine? I've got a dish you'll love."

Dormammu snorted. "I tolerate no disappointment, mortal. But… I'll indulge you this once. Show me your so-called delicacy, and don't waste my time."

•

The minions of Dormammu, towering shadow-like beings, entered the grand chamber carrying an extravagant feast. The centerpiece was a massive, golden-crusted crab, its crispy body serving as a platter. Atop it lay perfectly cooked fried rice and an extraordinary curry, its fiery aroma filling the room. The curry, a secret recipe originally crafted by Satria for Fran, was spiced to an intensity that could awaken even a dormant volcano. Beside the dish was an otherworldly cocktail, Shined in the Darkness, its luminescent liquid glowing eerily in the dim light of Dormammu's throne room.

"Have a seat, great Dormammu," Satria said with a bright grin, gesturing to a conjured table and chair. "This is one of my finest creation. Please, give me your honest opinion after tasting it."

Dormammu hesitated. As a cosmic entity, he had no need for sustenance, but the intoxicating fragrance of the meal was irresistible. He took his seat, the ground quaking slightly under his enormous form. Tentatively, he picked up a spoon, scooping a portion of the fried rice and curry. The moment the food touched his palate, his fiery eyes widened in astonishment.

The flavors were an explosion of spice and depth, harmonized perfectly with the crab's delicate crunch. The curry's heat was intense yet balanced, creating a delightful burn that only enhanced the experience. Dormammu's flames dimmed momentarily, a rare sign of satisfaction. He reached for the cocktail, and its refreshing, glowing liquid washed over his senses, cooling him to the core.

"This… this is incredible!" Dormammu exclaimed, his booming voice echoing through the chamber. "Never in my existence have I tasted anything like this. The food in my realm is bland and lifeless, but this? This is divine! You… you are not bad for a mere mortal."

Dormammu devoured the meal with vigor, his immense pride momentarily overshadowed by sheer enjoyment. Between bites, he looked up at Satria, his fiery gaze tinged with curiosity. "Why do you do this? Why go to such lengths to please me? I am Dormammu, the embodiment of darkness and destruction. Do you not fear death—or me?"

Satria chuckled, leaning casually against the table. "Nah. Like I said, life's all about the thrill. Besides, having the Dark Lord as a friend? That's something I can brag about! Imagine me telling people, 'Yeah, my pal Dormammu tried my cooking, loved it, and even let me crash at his place.' Sounds pretty cool, doesn't it?"

Dormammu stared at him, stunned by the audacity of the human before him. Then, for the first time in centuries, the dark lord burst into genuine laughter. "You are a strange one, Satria. Very well, you have amused me. As a reward for your courage and skill, I shall grant you a fragment of my power!"

With a wave of his hand, Dormammu unleashed a fiery black flame that enveloped Satria. The energy surged through him, a potent mix of dark magic and raw power.

Satria flexed his fingers, feeling the newfound energy course through him. "Yeah, yeah, I'm honored. Thanks, flame head. By the way, mind if I look around your fancy castle? Got some interesting vibes here."

Dormammu smirked, his ego stroked by Satria's casual yet admiring tone. "Go ahead, mortal. Feel free to explore my domain. But do not touch anything that might summon doom upon yourself… unless you find it entertaining."

•

Satria wandered through the vast halls of Dormammu's castle, marveling at its surreal beauty. Towering walls shimmered with dark energy, and glowing runes etched themselves into the air as he passed. He eventually found himself in a grand library, shelves stretching endlessly into the void.

"Whoa… Now this is a goldmine," Satria whispered, his eyes scanning tomes radiating an ominous aura.

Pulling a random book from the shelf, he began flipping through its pages. Dark magic symbols danced across the parchment, whispering secrets of forbidden knowledge. His curiosity piqued, he settled into a corner, pouring over spells and rituals that could shape worlds. Occasionally, Dormammu himself appeared, drawn by Satria's questions or curiosity.

"Flame head!" Satria called one day, waving an ancient tome. "This thing here—what's the deal with summoning creatures from the Abyss? Is there, like, a cooldown or something?"

Dormammu raised a flaming brow but approached, peering over Satria's shoulder. "That is a summoning ritual for shadow beasts. They are loyal but require constant sustenance from the summoner. Too much trouble, even for me. But… why do you ask?"

"Just curious," Satria replied with a grin. "And hey, thanks for letting me hang out here. By the way, I was thinking, have you ever tried a cooking competition? You'd probably crush it with your dramatic flair and all."

Dormammu paused, contemplating the absurdity of the suggestion. But instead of dismissing it, he chuckled. "You are peculiar, mortal. Very well. Teach me this 'competition' of yours, and I may consider it… amusing."

From that day, Satria's presence became a strange but welcome disruption in Dormammu's dark domain. The dark lord found himself laughing more often, enjoying not just the human's cooking but also his audacious personality. Satria, in turn, gained a powerful—if unconventional—ally and access to the secrets of the Dark Dimension.

Their unlikely friendship became the stuff of legend, proof that even in the darkest places, a little light (and good food) could spark something extraordinary. 

•

Satria stood at the edge of Dormammu's fiery throne room, the portal back to his world swirling behind him. He turned to face the Dark Lord, a mixture of gratitude and amusement on his face.

"Thanks for everything, flame head. Your hospitality was... unforgettable. But now it's time for me to head back. Do you know? There's a handful of people waiting for me in my world."

Dormammu's flaming visage flickered, his usual arrogance giving way to a rare glimmer of vulnerability. "You're leaving? Just like that?" he said, his voice echoing with a tinge of reluctance. "At least stay for… one hundred years! Who's going to cook me these feasts if you're gone?"

Satria sighed, a warm smile playing on his lips. "Listen, bro. I've got responsibilities back home, people who rely on me. But don't worry, alright? This isn't goodbye forever. I'll definitely visit your place again."

Dormammu crossed his arms, his towering figure looming over Satria. For a moment, his usual intimidating aura softened. "You'd better hold that promise, mortal. And when you do return…" Dormammu's fiery eyes burned brighter, his booming voice regaining its commanding tone, "be stronger than you are now. Because I haven't given up on conquering your world—or taking you under my dominion. Hahaha!"

Satria smirked, stepping into the glowing portal. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be ready. Just make sure you practice your cooking skills while I'm gone. See you around, flame head."

As the portal closed behind him, Dormammu stood in silence, staring at the space where Satria had been. A rare smile crept across his face, a mixture of amusement and admiration. "That insolent mortal... What a strange creature. I'll look forward to our next meeting."

In the quiet of his dark domain, Dormammu turned back to his throne, his mind replaying the taste of Satria's cooking and the warmth of their unexpected friendship. For the first time in eons, the Dark Lord felt something new—a flicker of anticipation for the future. 

•

Satria opened his eyes, his senses reeling as he adjusted to his surroundings. The familiar hum of his watch caught his attention.

"Wait... only one minute passed here?" he muttered, staring at the device in disbelief. "But I spent a long time in that dark dimension... What kind of temporal madness was that?"

"Damn," he muttered, sitting up. "That was one hell of a trip. And now I've got this weird chill running down my spine. Who'd have thought that book would be a gateway to the final boss himself? I can't let this fall into the wrong hands."

He grabbed the ominous book and, with a flick of his wrist, tossed it into his dimensional storage.

As he exhaled in relief, his attention was drawn to a sudden glow on his hand. A golden ring with dragon symbol materialized, shimmering with an ethereal light before settling snugly onto his finger. Satria stared at it, confused yet strangely comforted.

"What the...?" Satria whispered, examining the ring. It felt familiar, like a fragment of a forgotten memory stirring deep within him. Try as he might, the details eluded him, locked away behind an unyielding mental barrier. 'This ring... it's from someone important to me. But who? Why can't I remember?'

Suddenly, a system notification blared in his mind, breaking his thoughts:

__

[Ultimate Skill: The Golden Order Activated]

[You have received the blessing of the Dark Lord]

[Hosts can choose one job to evolve and acquire a new skill]

[Processing...]

[3...]

[2...]

[1...]

[New Skills Unlocked]

The Darkest Ultra

Dormammu's Herald

Overlord

__

Satria stared at the glowing text in disbelief. His mind raced, piecing together fragments of memory and reality.

"Hold up. How the hell is this happening?!" he muttered. "I thought I got rid of that gamer system ages ago. Where is this coming from?"

The golden ring on his finger pulsed faintly, as if answering him. The faintest echo of Dormammu's voice lingered in his mind: "Be stronger than you are now..."

Satria sighed, rubbing his temple. "This is getting ridiculous. First a god-level chef contest with the Dark Lord, now this? What's next, an interdimensional PTA meeting?"

Yet, despite his protests, he couldn't deny the thrill coursing through his veins. His instincts told him that this was just the beginning of something even greater.

"Alright," he said, cracking his knuckles and grinning. "Let's see what kind of crazy ride you're throwing at me this time."

He reached out to select his path.

•

Uzumaki Kyomachiya, Kyoto

"Satria Onii-chan! Play another song! We want to hear more!" Naruto's twin children pleaded, their eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Right? Satria's musical talent is no joke," Fatalis chimed in, leaning back comfortably. "Your voice is hypnotic. It's like the world pauses when you start singing."

Kiyohime patted Satria's head gently, a rare but affectionate gesture. "Danna-sama, you have so many talents. If only you didn't act so strangely at times, you'd be the perfect husband."

"I agree," Koneko added with a mischievous smile, snuggling closer to Satria and sniffing him lightly. It had become her new routine. "But Senpai's quirks make him more fun. He wouldn't be the same otherwise."

Satria sweatdropped as his personal space rapidly diminished. "Alright, can you boys and girls at least give me some breathing room?"

A resounding "Nope!" echoed in unison from everyone around him, leaving him with no choice but to sigh in defeat.

As he strummed his guitar absentmindedly, a sharp pang resonated through his mind. He froze, his expression shifting from relaxed to serious as a voice echoed in his thoughts. A screen materialized in front of him—not the familiar dimensional chat screen, but something new.

"Well... that's unexpected," Satria murmured, drawing the attention of those around him.

"What's wrong, Danna-sama?" Kiyohime asked, her sharp senses picking up on the shift in his demeanor.

Satria set the guitar down, his gaze focused. "One of my clones just encountered something... strange. He found a cursed book that connected him to a being called Dormammu. And now, I suddenly have a system—yes, that kind of system—that's offering me new skills."

"D-Dormammu?" Kuroka's voice faltered, her usually confident demeanor replaced with unease. "You can't be serious..."

"You know him, Kuroka?" Rhea asked, noticing her sister-wife's anxious expression.

Kuroka nodded grimly. "Yes. Dormammu is the ruler of the Dark Dimension. He's a cosmic-level threat who's been trying to breach this universe for centuries. My teacher—the Ancient One—dedicated her life to keeping him at bay. If he's managed to establish even a minor foothold here, it's bad news for everyone."

"Another problem?" Saeko muttered, exasperation evident in her tone. "Can't we get a break? Just once?" She glanced at their children playing nearby. "I just want them to have a normal life..."

Koneko tilted her head, her curiosity outweighing her concern. "Senpai... Is this Dormammu guy stronger than Buchou's brother?"

That made Fatalis laugh, almost spilling her tea. "You're comparing a Siscon Maou to the literal embodiment of darkness? Even if your entire world united, it wouldn't scratch Dormammu's power."

Satria sighed and nodded. "Unfortunately, Fatalis is right. Dormammu is on another level. But outside his realm, his power is significantly weakened. He won't launch an invasion anytime soon. For now, we're safe."

The room exhaled collectively, though the tension lingered.

"But we can't let our guard down," Satria continued, his tone firm. "We need to prepare for whatever's coming. I'll train harder and figure out what's going on with this system and the connection to Dormammu."

Still, he couldn't help but grumble inwardly. "I just wanted to laze around for once... Why does it always have to be like this?"

•

The newcomers stood imposingly, their presence making the air heavier. Leading them was Viper, her green suit accentuating her serpent-like allure. Beside her stood The Kraken, a towering figure known for his unmatched strength, Daken, Logan's estranged and vengeful son, and others: Bloodscream, Cyber, and the ever-manic Green Goblin.

"Logan," Viper purred, stepping forward. "Have you finally come to your senses? Join us, and together, we can conquer everything."

"You don't know when to quit, do you?" Logan growled, his claws extending. "Let our people go, or I'll tear this whole base down."

"How terrifying~" Viper chuckled, unsheathing her blade.

"Spare me your threats, old man," Daken sneered, a wicked smile on his lips. "Today's the day you'll finally realize how pathetic you really are."

Kraken cracked his knuckles. "Enough talk. Let's end this. I've got bigger fish to fry."

"Still salty about that owl guy who beat you?" Daken mocked, earning a glare from Kraken that could shatter steel.

Laura, undeterred by the tension, charged straight at Kraken. "I've got this! I'll take him down myself!"

"Wait, you idiot! He's out of your league!" Logan shouted, but it was too late. Kraken's massive fist collided with Laura's midsection, sending her flying into a wall.

"Vampire," Kraken commanded, pointing at Laura. "She's yours. Handle her carefully—she's got Logan's healing factor."

Bloodscream smirked, licking his blade. "With pleasure. Let's see how much of her I can bleed before she stops regenerating."

Hydra reinforcements poured into the room, surrounding the X-Men.

"Any plans, Logan?" Spider-Woman asked, her voice tinged with frustration.

"Yeah," Logan grumbled, his claws glinting under the harsh lights. "Brace for the worst."

Meanwhile, Laura struggled to her feet, her injuries still knitting themselves back together. "Damn... He's strong. How can that clown in the owl costume beat him like ordinary hoodlums?"

Bloodscream closed in, his crimson eyes glinting with malice. "What's wrong, little cub? Regeneration not fast enough? Don't worry—I'll peel your skin nice and slow."

Laura tensed, her claws ready despite her injuries. Just as Bloodscream raised his blade, a gunshot echoed through the room. The vampire hissed in pain, clutching his wounded arm.

"WHO DARES?!" Bloodscream bellowed, bellowed, scanning the room.

From the shadows emerged a dashing figure in Victorian attire. He walked with an air of confidence, blood pooling at his feet from the Hydra soldiers he had dispatched.

"Are you alright?" he asked Laura with a charming smile.

"Y-Yeah... I'm fine," Laura stammered, blushing slightly. "T-Thank you."

Spider-Woman, watching from the side, couldn't believe her ears. "Laura? Thanking someone? Logan, did you hear that?"

Logan scowled. "That brat doesn't even thank me when I save her ass everyday!"

"Focus, you two," Yukio snapped. "We've still got enemies to deal with!"

Suddenly, a chilling voice echoed through the room, reciting an incantation:

"I am the bone of my sword..."

The air grew heavy, an otherworldly energy pulsing through the space.

"Caladbolg!"

A spiraling projectile tore through the Hydra defenses, ripping apart the reinforcements in an explosive display of power. The Hydra soldiers screamed in terror as chaos erupted.

"What... is happening?!" Viper demanded, her confident demeanor faltering.

Emerging from the smoke was a man in a samurai-inspired Spider-Man costume, accompanied by a red-haired girl.

"Sorry we're late," he said casually, spinning a blade in his hand.

The Green Goblin's eyes narrowed. "You... So it's you!"

"Hey, Green Goblin," the samurai-clad Spider-Man said with a smirk. "Your not-so-friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is here!"

To be continued...