---
**In Hell**, we can imagine Armitage swinging between towering buildings, web to web, quietly humming a cheesy Spider-Man tune to himself. At the moment, he was wearing a disguise—his appearance deliberately toned down, less eye-catching than usual. A black tank top clung to his torso, a dark military beret sat low on his head, and white pants contrasted sharply against the infenal skyline.
This was a **pre-adult version of the original Armitage**. The most obvious difference? He had only two arms.
"Where is that body… I know the V's have the head, but the body's a pain to track down…" Armitage muttered, his gaze lifting toward a massive skyscraper. That place—home of the Sovereigns—was both despised and strangely admired by him.
"Think I could pull off something like Sage Mode?"
He scaled the building at unnatural speed, reaching the top before slamming his boots together and pressing his palms flat against one another.
"Well, if this works, it might become a trump card for future allies…" He grinned.
"Alright then—this will be **Sage Art**. Got it! *White Spider Sage Art!*"
There was genuine excitement in his voice. In a past life, after all, he had been an otaku.
Mana flooded into his disguised body, subtle at first—then unmistakable. Strange markings crept across his face. His spider pincers sharpened, becoming more feral, yet disturbingly metallic. From his back, **four massive spider legs**, each nearly two meters long, burst forth.
"…Well. This is definitely weird."
He phased partially into the tower, his vision slipping through walls and steel alike. What he saw wasn't structure—it was **mana**. Threads, currents, signatures everywhere. One stood out: a pinkish-red glow. He searched further… until a yellow signature caught his attention.
"Found you~"
Without even forming hand signs, spider webs exploded around him, wrapping his body tight. He tore through them—and emerged as a **perfect replica of Angel Dust**.
---
Later
Armitage stood inside the elevator, rising calmly. Leaning against the wall, his arachnid instincts flared as he inspected his claws—only to realize just how painfully impractical Angel's clothes were.
*Ding.*
The doors opened.
Someone else stepped inside.
Armitage glanced up—and froze.
*Shit.*
He tensed, forcing himself deeper into the role. Several seconds passed in silence before Vox finally broke it.
"Isn't your recording tomorrow?" Vox asked, eyes glued to the phone in his hand.
"Ehhh—yeah, I, uh… forgot my… uhm…" Armitage swallowed.
"…vibrator. Yeah. Vibrator. I need to be mentally prepared for the recording and all that. That hotel doesn't really help you relax, y'know? Nothing beats the good old vibrating rubber—"
Inside, he was praying desperately that **Kokoro, Hada, or any devoted being tied to him** would never witness this moment.
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," Vox replied dismissively.
The doors opened. They exited in opposite directions.
"Holy Spider-Man, that was close…" Armitage whispered.
He slipped into an empty room, reverting to his true form. Webbing flowed from his hands, weaving itself into a sharp Vox-Tech-style suit. Once finished, he stepped out of the closet and headed toward the area where he had sensed the angelic energy.
---
Inside a velvet-lined chamber, Armitage stood silently. His many eyes scanned the room in seconds. There—inside a box.
A head.
He approached slowly, lifting it with one hand, pity flickering across his expression.
"Poor child… just another casualty of war," he said softly.
With surprising care, he removed the helmet, gently closing the girl's eyes, molding her face into an expression of peace.
Then—
*Clang.*
He caught a witch's broom forged from pure mana with one hand.
Slowly, he turned his head, disgust burning in his gaze.
"You were going to use her head as a trophy…"
Velvette.
"fall"
His voice dropped—deep, absolute.
The world went black. Only the floor remained visible. Velvette's body began to tremble as her clothes burned away, revealing a hollow **mannequin body**, which soon collapsed into a near-unconscious heap.
"Velvette… my name isn't known enough yet for you to fear it," Armitage said calmly.
"But hear this clearly: the Exterminator Angels and Adam are beneath my web—not as prey, nor as lesser beings, but as allies. As people I will protect."
His hand ignited in a pinkish-red flame.
"Long before all of this existed, I witnessed the beginning. I saw how *that* woman shaped her universe. You could say… I was there at the dawn of creation."
He stepped closer.
"I have seen every moment—past and future. I saw Heaven attacked. I saw how all of this began."
His eyes inverted—black to red, red to black.
"I know everyone in this Hell in meticulous detail. Every secret. Every belief. Every lie."
He stood before the mannequin's head.
"And a soul—doing nothing more than her job—fell. By the hand of an Overlord who claimed to 'protect her daughters.'"
He scoffed.
"One life for two? Pffft…"
He lifted the head so both could stare into the void reflected within its eyes.
"It was supposed to be beautiful. Perfect. Then—*boom.* Restart. But this time… with sin and cruelty."
The void ignited, warping into a realm filled with monstrous beings—distorted reflections of **primordial monsters**, ancient and grotesque.
"One of these creatures is sin in its purest, rawest form. The 'Seven Deadly Sins' were merely an imitation—an attempt to replicate the glory of the primordial ones."
Darkness swallowed the space once more.
"Remember this," he said quietly.
"Do not speak of my existence. Not yet."
He placed Velvette's head on the floor.
"One day, hunger will fall upon your lands. On the third day, your friends and family will become food… and Hell will finally become what it was always meant to be."
He walked int
o the void.
"Good night."
And without another word, Armitage vanished into the darkness.
…
Well—there it is.
Hope you enjoyed it.