When that fist—bathed entirely in sunlight—slammed into the beast, the Grandview Theatre, along with the very space it occupied, was swallowed by pure, searing light.
A golden torrent erupted in a fan-shaped blast, radiating from the Star Platinum's fist.
"—!!!"
The beast released a mournful cry—not through sound, but as a psychic shockwave that tore through matter itself. It bypassed ears entirely, detonating deep within the souls of everyone in the theater.
Peter Parker felt as if his brain had been shoved into a super-powered blender set to maximum. Stars exploded behind his eyes, his balance faltered, and he nearly lost his grip on the wall.
Matt Murdock's condition was even worse.
His hyper-senses, usually his greatest weapon, had become instruments of torture. He groaned, dropped to one knee, and blood trickled uncontrollably from his ears and nose.
Even Kingpin—lost in his berserk fury—staggered, stunned by the mental backlash. For precious seconds, his movements froze.
Though his eyes were bound by Spider-Man's silk, he could see through the barrier: blinding, annihilating light burning away everything it touched.
At the storm's epicenter, the beast—its form woven from pure malice—writhed as it boiled and evaporated under the scorching heat of the Yamabuki-iro ripples. Great slabs of darkness peeled away, vaporized, and dissolved into the golden radiance.
On the sidelines, Madam Gao's fervent expression twisted into raw horror. She stumbled back two steps, centuries of composure crumbling in her eyes.
Her god. Her "beast"—the entity she believed consumed all, the embodiment of absolute void—was being… destroyed?
No!
"ROAR—!!!"
From the purifying darkness, the beast's core contracted violently—then exploded outward with desperate, ravenous malice. Its remnants ceased flowing and instead twisted into dozens of pitch-black tentacles. Ignoring the searing ripples, they lashed out and coiled around Star Platinum's arm with frenzied hunger.
Joren's brow furrowed deeper.
He could feel the ripples' energy draining at an alarming rate—like feeding a black hole that could never be filled. Worse, the creature wasn't just resisting; it was trying to corrupt the sun's power itself.
Golden light and inky tentacles clashed in a storm of mutual annihilation. The battle teetered on a knife's edge—stalemate.
"Now!"
Daredevil's voice was hoarse, strained through the agony splitting his skull—but he'd caught Kingpin's momentary paralysis.
Spider-Man didn't hesitate.
Silk shot from his wrist, latching onto the already-tilting crystal chandelier overhead.
"Hey, big guy!" he called out, voice edged with mock concern. "Looks like something dangerous's about to drop on your head!"
Kingpin instinctively looked up.
"BOOM—!!!"
The multi-ton chandelier crashed down in a storm of glass and steel.
Kingpin roared, throwing his arms up just in time—
"BANG—!!!"
The impact shattered the stage floor beneath him, driving half his massive frame into the rubble below. Dust and debris choked the air.
Did that hit?
Spider-Man squinted into the swirling smoke.
His answer came instantly: a dark shadow hurled from the dust—accompanied by a gale-force gust.
A twisted steel beam.
He rolled sideways just in time.
"BOOM!"
The beam sliced past his torso and slammed into the rear wall, punching through it like paper and vanishing into darkness beyond.
The smoke and dust cleared.
Kingpin climbed out of the crater, his breath ragged.
He tore away the spider silk webbing—long since dried and brittle—revealing eyes burning crimson with fury.
His pristine white suit was caked in grime, and blood trickled from a gash on his forehead, streaking down his clenched jaw.
"Little bugs…" he growled, voice low and dangerous. "Your tricks end here."
He ignored the agile figure of Spider-Man and locked eyes on the scarred, dark-red-clad vigilante struggling to his feet.
Always go for the weakest link first.
"Daredevil!" Spider-Man shouted, alarm sharp in his voice.
Kingpin moved with shocking speed for a man of his size. In three thunderous strides, he crossed the distance between them. His fist—massive as a cast-iron skillet—whistled through the air, aimed straight for Daredevil's skull.
Matt Murdock had no time to evade.
He crossed his Billy clubs before his face, bracing for impact, channeling every ounce of strength into the block.
It was a desperate parry—one that risked snapping his arms.
CLANG—!!!!
The reinforced impact bent his Billy club into a sickening arc.
THUD—!
Daredevil shot backward like a snapped kite string, crashing into a pile of rubble. He didn't move.
Behind his mask, Spider-Man's lenses narrowed, the red of his eyes seeming to flare hotter.
He lunged.
Launching himself into a full-force front kick, he drove both heels into Kingpin's back with enough force to buckle steel.
BANG!
The blow landed—but Kingpin barely staggered. His hulking frame swayed, then stilled.
Slowly, he turned, a cruel smirk curling his lips.
"Now," he rumbled, eyes fixed on the young hero, "it's your turn."
The tide of battle had turned.
---
Elsewhere…
The clash between Joren and the "Beast" had reached its fever pitch.
"ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA!"
Star Platinum's fists became a storm of golden light—each strike crackling with purifying energy, hammering the writhing black tentacles that sought to ensnare and corrupt.
Golden flames clashed with thick, clinging darkness, turning the theater's sublevel into a maelstrom of chaos.
"MUDAMUDA MUDAMUDA MUDAMUDA!" Madam Gao shrieked, her voice rising over the din. "It's useless!"
Her initial terror had given way to fanatical ecstasy. She watched as the darkness, though scorched and shredded, never fully dissipated—always regenerating from the shadows.
"The Beast is immortal!" she crowed, arms outstretched like a prophet of doom. "It is despair! As long as fear and death exist in this world, it cannot be destroyed!"
"Your sun," she hissed, "will be swallowed by the night!"
Joren barely glanced her way. Annoyance flickered in his eyes.
She wasn't entirely wrong.
This brute-force assault was absurd—a wasteful war of attrition. Even if he could eventually purge the entity, the cost in time and energy would be colossal.
And honestly?
He still had homework to finish.
And the Blue Planet rerun started in twenty minutes.
There had to be a core—a focal point.
His gaze cut through the storm of clashing energies… and landed on Madam Gao herself, standing at the edge of the stage, arms raised, chanting like a zealot drunk on doom.
Cut the power at the source.
As if sensing his intent, the Beast reacted.
All its writhing tendrils snapped inward, collapsing into a single point—a sphere of absolute blackness so dense it seemed to swallow light itself.
The air around it warped. Gravity itself bent.
"HAHAHA!" Madam Gao's laughter echoed through the chamber. "Behold! The true form of the Beast—'Star of Nothingness'! It will erase you—body, soul, memory—into eternal oblivion!"
Joren stared at the shimmering void-like orb.
Then at the cackling old woman beside it.
He sighed.
"…Really?" he muttered. "'Star of Nothingness'? That's the best you could come up with?"
Honestly. So dramatic. So cringey.