Norman Osborn knelt on the ground, his fingernails digging deep into the cracks of the metal floor.
He trembled violently, veins bulging on his forehead like writhing serpents, and a wild, hissing sound escaped his throat.
Xingqiu stood before him, holding a long spear. His indigo robes fluttered though no wind stirred the air, and a warm, gentle smile remained on his lips.
"It seems the medicine has finally taken effect."
Xingqiu spoke softly, as if commenting on a tea ceremony.
"What… what did you do?!"
Norman Osborn looked up abruptly, his bloodshot eyes glistening with moisture, nearly fever-bright.
He tried to lunge forward, but his legs buckled beneath him after only two unsteady steps, sending him crashing back to the floor.
Xingqiu casually tossed the Demonic Spear into the air. The moment it left his hand, it dissolved into thousands of shimmering points of light.
He walked to the lab bench, hands clasped behind his back, his fingertips grazing rows of glowing green serum vials.
"Don't look at me like that," he said mildly. "I merely added a little 'pure water' to the formula currently ravaging your mind."
He lifted a test tube, tilting it toward the light, and continued in a slow, deliberate tone:
"It is said… this is a magical elixir that draws forth a person's most authentic self. It appears the rumors hold truth."
At these words, Norman's pupils contracted sharply.
He let out a piercing scream, clawing at his own scalp, voice fracturing into two distinct tones—rage and terror tangled together:
"Get out! Get out of my head! This body is mine! You cowardly piece of trash—!"
His nails raked bloody furrows down his cheeks, his voice growing shriller with each word.
Then, just as suddenly, it softened into a broken plea, raw with grief:
"No… stop controlling me! I… I don't want to hurt anyone anymore! I shouldn't have done this…"
The duality was chilling—two souls warring within one skull.
Xingqiu watched in silence, offering no aid.
After a long while, the laboratory fell into an eerie quiet.
Norman remained curled on the floor. The violent twitching beneath his skin subsided. The crimson haze in his eyes faded, replaced by something clearer—and infinitely heavier.
Memories, long buried beneath the Green Goblin's dominance, surged like a tidal wave:
General Slocomb's horrified face in his final breath, board members slumped in pools of blood, innocent bystanders reduced to charred husks in the wake of his explosions…
"I… I…"
He touched the scars on his face with trembling fingers, voice rasping like dry leaves:
"My God… what have I done?"
Xingqiu smiled faintly and stepped closer.
"Don't worry," he said gently. "It's only a few minor incidents—indiscriminate killing, disregard for human life, catastrophic collateral damage, and a trail of blood debts. Nothing to lose sleep over."
Norman's sobs grew louder at this hollow reassurance.
A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched Xingqiu's lips.
After another long silence, he spoke again, voice soft as silk:
"If you mourn the departure of 'that friend'… there's no need."
"The dosage I used will last at most three days. After that… you'll be reunited."
Norman's face went deathly pale. He jerked his head up, eyes wide with panic.
"No—no, no! We can't let him come back!"
He stumbled forward, seized Xingqiu's robes, and begged through tears:
"Please… give me more medicine! I can't… I won't hurt anyone else!"
Xingqiu didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned down slightly, meeting Norman's gaze with serene intensity.
"Your Excellency…" he murmured, voice like wind over zither strings, "do you truly believe that?"
He paused, then added:
"Yes, the Green Goblin slaughtered innocents. But those obstacles he crushed—those enemies you hated but couldn't touch… didn't you feel a flicker of satisfaction when they fell?"
Norman's lips trembled. He couldn't deny it.
Though he loathed the Goblin's cruelty, in the darkest corners of his mind, a whisper echoed:
General Slocomb wanted to dismantle Osborn Industries. The board was voting you out. The Goblin saved everything you built.
Xingqiu's voice deepened, smooth as poisoned honey:
"The Green Goblin is cruel… but he protected your legacy. He did what you lacked the will—or the nerve—to do. Tell me… have you never, once, secretly welcomed his existence?"
Silence. Only Norman's ragged breaths filled the room. His eyes darted toward a framed photograph of General Slocomb on the wall—then snapped away.
Xingqiu withdrew a small vial of azure-blue liquid from his sleeve. He placed it gently on the lab table, stepped back three paces, and said:
"This is all the 'pure water' I possess. Whether you choose liberation… or reconciliation with the darkness… is yours to decide."
Norman stared at the vial, then at his warped reflection in the polished steel wall.
He despised the monster—but he remembered, too clearly, the intoxicating rush of power, the look of terror on his enemies' faces as they realized he held their fate.
"No… no—!!"
He shook his head violently, fighting the seduction of that memory.
With desperate effort, he crawled to the bench and seized the blue vial.
The liquid inside shimmered, reflecting his tear-streaked face.
Knuckles white around the glass, he whispered:
"Osborn Industries should not be built on corpses… nor should I protect it by slaughtering innocents."
As he uncorked the bottle, the Green Goblin mask displayed in a nearby case seemed to whisper through the glass:
"Without me, how will you defend your empire? How will you crush the jackals circling your throne?"
But Norman's hesitation lasted less than a heartbeat.
He tilted his head back and drank.
"I will find another way."
He made the vow before the
silent mask—not just to himself, but to the fading echo of the Goblin—and added, with quiet venom:
"In the Norman Osborn way."
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