Chapter 5: Hell's Triumph

Peter's eyes fluttered open to the flickering light of hellfire candles. He found himself nestled in black satin sheets, the enormous bed draped in crimson and gold. Beside him lay his new bride, the sorceress Satana, her flame-red hair splayed across the pillows.

"Good morning, my love," she purred, trailing a claw down his bare chest. "Did you sleep well in the palace of the damned?"

Peter shivered at her touch, both thrilled and unnerved. "Like a baby with a pitchfork," he quipped.

Satana laughed, a sound both musical and menacing. "Come," she said, rising from the bed. "Let me give you the tour."

Hand in hand, they walked the twisting corridors of obsidian and bone. Whispers echoed from unseen spirits, reacting to the new master in their midst. Peter stared in awe at the grotesque gargoyles and writhing souls captured in artwork.

Soon they emerged into the palace gardens, where flowers of flame bloomed on vines of bramble. Rivers of molten lava snaked through the ashen grass. The air hummed with dark energy.

"It's beautiful," Peter said, though an uneasy feeling stirred in his gut. He thought of his old life, his loved ones. Were they even now searching for him?

Sensing his doubt, Satana pulled him close. "This is your home now, my love. Our home." She kissed him deeply as fiery petals swirled around them.

Though tempted, Peter gently broke the kiss. "I know, it's just...this is all still new. Give me time."

Satana caressed his face. "Of course. We have eternity."

They continued through the gardens, the beauty and peril of this realm sinking into Peter's mind. He was no longer a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. For better or worse, this was his life now - ruling at Satana's side in the fiery depths of hell.

Peter's unease faded as Satana led him to the grand banquet hall. Long tables were laden with platters of exotic delicacies and bubbling drinks that glowed from within. Demons and dark creatures of all shapes and sizes feasted and reveled.

As Peter and Satana entered, the hall erupted in raucous cheers for the newlyweds. They were guided to the seats of honor at the head table.

Satana smiled, clearly in her element. "Eat, my love. You'll need your strength."

Peter sampled morsels of succulent meats, smoky vegetables, and tart fruits. Each bite seemed to thrum with demonic energy. The drinks left a fiery trail down his throat.

Despite the unsettling nature of the feast, Peter felt himself relaxing. Satana's hand found his under the table. Her touch was electric. He glanced at her and they both laughed, caught up in the surreal joy of their unexpected union.

For a moment, Peter forgot his old life. Here, he was no longer an outsider or an outcast. He was exactly where he belonged.

The grand doors suddenly burst open, interrupting the revelry. Scouts rushed in, armor clanking. "My queen! The western border is under attack. The demon lords approach with their armies!"

Satana shot to her feet, face etched with rage. "Those traitorous dogs!" She turned to Peter. "We will crush them, my love." Her eyes blazed. "No one threatens our realm."

Peter's stomach dropped. The brief respite was over. He was now being called to battle as a warrior of hell.

Peter's mind raced as he followed Satana to the palace battlements. He had always relied on his wits and agility in a fight, not brute demonic strength. Could he summon the savagery needed for this battle?

They reached the parapets and Peter gasped. Spread below was a seething mass of hellish creatures - twisted beings with claws, fangs, and weapons bristling. At the head of the horde were three figures on black steeds.

"The demon lords," Satana hissed. She pointed to a broad creature with curling horns. "Astaroth. The brutish one." Next was a skeletal figure with empty eye sockets. "Paimon. As cunning as he is ruthless." Finally, a bloated beast with yellow eyes. "Bael. He will be the most bloodthirsty."

Satana turned to Peter, her expression softening. "You cannot face them unprotected, my love. You will need more than your mortal gifts in this fight."

She led Peter to the armory. Suits of spiked armor and vicious weapons lined the walls. Satana reverently lifted a suit of glossy black armor engraved with fiery runes. "This is forged from the iron heart of a greater demon. It will shield you." Next she presented an onyx sword pulsing with crimson light. "And this contains the bound essence of a hell prince. It will cut through any defense."

Peter hesitated before the sinister arsenal. Could he truly embrace these damned tools, no matter the reason?

Sensing his doubt, Satana cupped Peter's face in her hands. Her touch was gentle. "I know this is not your way. But you swore to stand by my side. Will you do what is needed to protect our realm and each other?"

Staring into Satana's eyes, Peter felt his reservations fade. He had vowed himself to her in marriage. Now he would fulfill that oath, whatever it took.

Peter took the sword and armor from Satana. As he donned the hellish garb, strength and fury flooded his veins.

Satana selected an intricate set of black and crimson plate armor engraved with arcane sigils that glowed like embers. As she donned each piece, the hellish mail seemed to bond to her flesh, fitting her form perfectly.

Next, she chose a barbed whip, its length writhing with a life of its own. With a flick of her wrist, Satana sent the whip dancing through the air. It cracked sharply, leaving trails of fire in its wake. She nodded in satisfaction.

When she was finished, Peter's breath caught at the vision before him. Satana looked every inch the warrior queen, terrible and beautiful. He could feel the arcane power radiating from her.

"Now we make them pay for their insolence," Satana purred, her voice rich with anticipation.

She mounted a jet-black chariot hitched to a pair of snorting nightmare steeds, their eyes flaming red. With Peter at her side, they rode to the head of the amassed army. Rank upon rank of horned fiends, fanged horrors, and winged terrors awaited their command.

Satana raised her whip, the fiery lash illuminating the horde. "For the throne!" she cried. A deafening roar shook the hellscape as axes, spears and talons thrust skyward. Peter felt an unfamiliar bloodlust rising within him, his knuckles white upon the hilt of his sword.

At Satana's crack of the whip, the army surged forward like a tide of living nightmares. The battle was joined.

The two armies collided with a thunderous crash, the sounds of rending flesh and agonized screams echoing across the hellish battlefield. Peter was in the thick of the fighting, his enhanced abilities allowing him to cut a swathe through the enemy ranks. He moved with preternatural speed, his sword a blur as it sliced through armor and bone. The power thrumming through his veins made him feel invincible.

A hulking demon lord came lumbering towards Peter, great axe poised to cleave him in two. But Peter's enhanced spider sense warned him of the blow before it fell. He nimbly leapt over the axe as it cleaved the ground where he had stood mere moments before. From above, he delivered a punishing kick to the demon's head, caving in its skull.

"Whoa, that spider sense is really something else here," Peter thought, briefly amazed at his new capabilities. But there was no time for introspection amidst the chaos. More enemies converged on his position, and Peter was once again a whirlwind of precise, lethal strikes. He felled them one after the other, their dark blood spattering his armor.

Through the din of battle, Peter caught glimpses of Satana laying waste to swaths of the enemy with sweeps of her flaming whip and blasts of eldritch energy. She was glorious in her wrath, her eyes blazing like twin infernos. Back to back, Peter and Satana were unstoppable, their combined might routing the invading demon lords' armies.

But Peter also saw the gruesome slaughter surrounding them. The wails of the dying and the mangled corpses turned his stomach. He had never taken a life before, and the morality of their actions gnawed at him. He knew this was a necessary battle, but it didn't quiet the disquiet within. Peter hoped when the fighting was done, he could make sense of this strange new path his life had taken. For now, he steeled himself and fought on.

Peter dispatched another demon with a brutal punch, its neck snapping with a sickening crack. He shook his head, trying to keep focused amidst the carnage.

Just then, his enhanced spider sense flared. Peter's reflexes took over, effortlessly dodging the pike that had been aimed at his back. In a blur, he spun and grabbed the attacking demon by the throat.

"Not so fast, pal," Peter quipped, before slamming the creature to the ground. Its body went limp, the light leaving its eyes.

Peter's moment of triumph was interrupted by a shriek from Satana. Whipping around, he saw her grappling with a hulking demon, its massive hands wrapped around her slender neck.

In an instant, Peter was airborne, propelling himself into the brute and knocking it aside with a powerful kick. The demon released its grip on Satana, who gasped for breath. Before it could recover, Peter unleashed a devastating series of blows, felling the beast.

He rushed to Satana. "Are you alright?" he asked, helping her up.

"I'll manage, love," she said, massaging her neck. "Thank you for the timely rescue."

They came together in a quick embrace, grateful to be fighting side by side. But more enemies approached, and there was no rest for the weary. Back to back once more, Satana and Peter steeled themselves for the next wave.

Peter's muscles burned with exertion as he battled on against the endless hordes. Bodies littered the scorched earth, but more demons poured forth to replace their fallen brethren.

A thunderous roar rang out across the battlefield. The demon lords had arrived. Astaroth, towering and terrible, led the charge astride a flaming steed. At his side were Paimon and Bael, almost as fearsome. Their armies surged behind them.

Peter felt a spike of dread, but shook it off. He had to be brave, for Satana's sake. They had come too far together to fail now.

"Are you ready, my love?" Satana shouted over the din, her eyes blazing with hellfire. Peter nodded, clenching his fists.

Astaroth bore down on them, his massive axe cleaving the air. Peter leapt skyward, evading the blow. He landed atop the demon lord's armor and began pummeling him with savage blows. Astaroth bellowed in rage and tried to grab the agile hero, but Peter was too quick.

With a final, devastating punch, Peter shattered Astaroth's breastplate. The demon lord sank to his knees, critically wounded. Peter stood above his defeated foe, chest heaving from the battle.

"Impressive, my darling," purred Satana, sidling up next to him. "But don't relax just yet. We've still got work to do."

Peter surveyed the battlefield. Paimon and Bael had taken notice and were roaring for vengeance. The war was not over. But with Satana at his side, Peter knew they would prevail. He whipped a web line and swung into the fray once more.

Peter landed atop a jagged rock outcropping, momentarily removed from the chaos of battle raging below. He watched as Satana's forces clashed with the invading demon lords, fire and fury swirling around them.

Though they had gained the upper hand against Astaroth, the tide could easily turn. Peter knew the hellish dimension amplified Satana's powers, but he worried for her safety nonetheless. Since he'd woke into this mystic marriage, he had come to care deeply for his demonic bride.

Peter looked down at his hands, now encased in the spiked gauntlets Satana had gifted him. He flexed his fingers, the metal creaking. The gauntlets increased his strength tenfold, but felt alien...unnatural.

Was this who he was now? A denizen of the dark realms, fighting alongside the damned? He thought back to his life on Earth, using his abilities to protect the innocent. But here in this pit, innocents were few and far between.

A piercing scream drew his attention back to the battle. Satana was pressed by a horde of horned devils. She lashed out with her hellfire whip, keeping them at bay.

"Fight now, ponder later, my love!" she called to Peter. Shaking his doubts away, he dove back into the fray, fighting his way toward his demonic bride. The devils would pay for threatening his bride.

Later, amid the smoldering corpses and ichor-slicked stones, Satana found Peter sitting atop a mound of dead. She could sense the disquiet within him.

"You've never killed before," she said, not a question but a statement.

Peter nodded. "It came so easily, I got so angry so fast." He shook his head. I need to protect you, but this slaughter..." He gestured around them. "It goes against my nature." He sighed. "Or did once."

Satana smiled, a predatory grin but with warmth behind it. She took Peter's head in her clawed hands.

"Worry not, my love. You are still new to the infernal plane. In time, you will embrace its pleasures and forget your old morals." Her tail coiled around his leg possessively.

"But for now, let me soothe your mind." She brought her lips to his in a hungry kiss under the smoldering sky. The sounds of war faded away, replaced by their passion.

Peter returned Satana's kiss, letting her take control. Her lips and forked tongue set his skin aflame, making him forget his doubts, if only for the moment.

As Satana's claws raked down his back, drawing pinpricks of blood, neither noticed the shadowy figure watching from afar. Mephisto's eyes glowed red in the darkness, his fanged grin stretched wide.

"Enjoy your honeymoon while you can, little princess," he rasped, his gravelly voice like stone on stone. "Soon your kingdom will be mine. And your precious spider shall kneel at my feet!"

Mephisto waved a clawed hand, and the scene before him disappeared in a puff of sulfurous smoke. He strode through twisting passages back to his throne room, his laughter echoing off obsidian walls.

There he awaited reports from his generals. The time grew near for the next phase of his plan. He would let Satana and her bridegroom rest after their victory. The coming war would leave them broken, if not dead.

Mephisto steepled his fingers, flames dancing in his eyes. "Let them have their fun. Their world is about to burn."