Spider-Man: The King in Black – Part 7
The End of the Hulk
The room was thick with the stench of battle—smoke, blood, and darkness woven into a suffocating tapestry around the broken remains of what was once a proud, formidable team of heroes. The Hulk, wounded but defiant, stood amidst the ruin. His skin pulsed with a sickly, deep green as he clutched his side, blood trickling from the wounds inflicted by the All-Black. Every breath was a struggle, but he refused to fall.
Across from him, Peter—the King in Black—remained unmoved, his face cold and impassive. He took a deliberate step forward, placing his right leg in front, his stance confident and unyielding. With an almost casual fluidity, the All-Black shifted, slithering from his left hand, curling over his chest and across his arm, alive and eager to return to the monarch's grip.
The dark blade reformed in his right hand, its edges sharper, darker, exuding a raw, deadly hunger that seemed to sap the light from the room. Peter lifted the sword, holding it before him, its presence a declaration of finality. The Hulk's eyes, bloodshot and blazing with fury, fixed on the blade, but even he felt a cold, creeping dread seeping into his heart.
Peter spoke softly, his voice carrying a calm malice. "This is the end, Bruce. There is no rage strong enough, no power deep enough, to save you now."
The Hulk growled, his chest heaving as he tried to summon the rage that had always protected him. But something in Peter's gaze, in the presence of the All-Black, unnerved him. For the first time, he felt truly vulnerable, as if his unbreakable skin was no match for the darkness before him.
In a flash, Peter moved, faster than even the Hulk could react. His body seemed to blur, the black armor shifting and pulsing as he closed the distance in a single, deadly lunge. The All-Black gleamed as Peter raised it high, a glint of raw, insatiable power as it sliced through the air.
And then, with brutal precision, Peter drove the blade forward, piercing directly through the Hulk's chest. The All-Black sank into his flesh, cutting through muscle and bone as if they were paper. A shockwave of darkness erupted from the point of impact, sending cracks spiderwebbing through the floor beneath them.
Bruce's eyes went wide, his mouth opening in a silent scream as he felt a searing, unbearable pain unlike anything he had ever known. The All-Black didn't just pierce his body; it seemed to pierce his very soul, draining his strength, his life, the very essence of the Hulk.
The shadows coiled around the wound, tendrils of darkness wrapping around Bruce, digging deeper, consuming him from within. His massive form began to tremble, his muscles weakening, his skin paling. The unstoppable force that was the Hulk began to falter, his rage slipping away as the All-Black fed on his life force.
Peter watched, his face expressionless as he twisted the blade, ensuring every last drop of Bruce's power was drained. "You thought you could stand against me," he said, his voice cold and unforgiving. "But there are no heroes left. Not for me. Not for this world."
Bruce's hand lifted weakly, trembling as he reached out, his fingers brushing against Peter's chest. The last vestiges of the Hulk's strength surged within him, a final desperate attempt to fight, to resist. But the All-Black's hold was too strong, its darkness too consuming.
"P-Peter…" Bruce choked out, his voice a low, guttural whisper. His eyes, now dimming, looked up into the face of the man he had once called a friend.
Peter's gaze remained cold, unmoved. "Bruce Banner is no more. You've lost."
With one final, powerful pull, Peter yanked the All-Black from Bruce's chest. The blade slid out, leaving behind a deep, empty wound that pulsed with darkness. Bruce's form wavered, his massive body shrinking, his skin fading from green to pale, lifeless gray.
The Hulk—the strongest there was, the last remnant of the Avengers—collapsed to the ground, his body still, his rage silenced.
The King in Black stood over him, the All-Black humming with satisfaction in his grip. He took one final, indifferent glance at Bruce's fallen form before turning away, his dark figure disappearing into the shadows.
All that remained was silence, the last remnants of hope extinguished in the shadow of the Black Monarch.