Marvel: From the Void and Back Again, Part 3

by abcd12344321

Set immediately after Marvel: From the Void and Back Again, Part 2, Peter-Knull has been displaced. Far From home in the realities beyond the void, he has to navigate this new world and new reality, all the while looking for a way back. Given his track record, he's in for a wild ride...

19. Chapter 19

Marvel: From the Void and Back Again, Part 3

Chapter 19: Seasons of Change in the Savage Lands and The Anomaly

…

The Savage Land stretched out before the SHIELD transport as it descended toward the Creed family's encampment. Aunt May Parker adjusted the scarf around her neck, smile across her face. as she took in the breathtakingly primal scenery. Towering trees loomed like guardians, and the air was alive with the sounds of untamed nature—birds calling, creatures stirring, and the faint rustle of leaves in the gentle wind. It was nothing like the urban chaos she was used to, but she had come to appreciate these trips. The Creed family had carved out a life in this wild place, a life she was determined to witness and be a part of.

The transport landed softly on the lush grass, and the hatch opened with a hiss. Waiting at the base of the ramp was Victoria Creed, her unmistakable presence as fierce as the wilderness around her. She stood tall, her pregnancy now visible but doing nothing to diminish her aura of raw strength. A smile broke across her face as she saw Aunt May.

"May," Victoria greeted, stepping forward to embrace her. "Welcome back."

May returned the hug warmly. "Victoria, dear, it's so good to see you. And look at you! You're glowing."

Victoria chuckled, placing a protective hand over her stomach. "Fourteen kids will do that to you. Peter's been hovering like a mother hen ever since we found out."

"That's how you know he loves you," May replied with a wink. "Speaking of which, where is that husband of yours?"

Victoria turned her head toward the nearby treeline, where the sound of hammering could be heard. "Over there. He's patching up the nearby huts in the settlement since we had a bit of a windstorm earlier.

last week."

As if on cue, Peter Parker, or Peter Parker-Creed as he's officially titled emerged from the trees, his shirt damp with sweat and his hands covered in dirt. A few of his older children followed behind him, each carrying tools or supplies. Peter's face lit up when he saw May.

"Aunt May!" he called out, dropping his tools and striding over to her. His rugged appearance was softened by the boyish grin on his face. "It's good to see you."

"You too, Peter," May said, reaching up to pat his cheek affectionately. "Though I see you've been keeping busy."

"Always," he said with a laugh. "You don't keep thirteen kids in line by sitting around."

"Soon to be fourteen," Victoria interjected with a smirk.

Peter placed an arm around his wife's shoulders, his expression softening. "Yeah, soon to be fourteen."

The children crowded around Aunt May, each clamoring for her attention. She instantly got to greeting each one with the warmth and patience she had always shown. This was her family too, even in this strange, savage world.

The campfire crackled softly that evening as the Creed family and their guest gathered around it. The younger children had long since been tucked into bed, leaving the adults to enjoy the quiet night. Logan, this world's Logan, sat apart from the group, his broad frame silhouetted against the firelight. His face was as rugged as the wilderness around them, his eyes haunted by memories he didn't speak of.

Aunt May noticed him sitting alone and approached him, carrying a cup of tea. "Logan," she said gently, "mind if I join you?"

He shrugged, his gruff exterior not softening but not rejecting her either. She took that as an invitation and settled down beside him.

"You've been quiet," she observed.

"I'm always quiet," he muttered, staring into the flames.

May smiled faintly. "Maybe. But you're quieter than usual. What's on your mind?"

Logan didn't answer right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and rough. "Just thinkin'. 'Bout the past. About what I've lost."

She placed a comforting hand on his arm. "You've lost a lot, Logan. But you've also got people who care about you. People who'd be happy to have you back in their lives."

He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "That ship's sailed, May. Jean's got her own life now. Scott… well, Scott's gone a whole different direction. And Gabriella…" His voice broke slightly, and he fell silent.

May didn't press him further. She knew better than to push a man like Logan. Instead, she let the silence hang between them, offering him the quiet companionship he didn't know he needed.

The campfire's glow stretched across the clearing, flickering in tandem with the faint hum of nocturnal life in the Savage Lands. This world's Logan sat cross-legged on the ground, the sharp lines of his face carved deeper by the firelight. His two children, Laura and Daken, sat a few feet away, talking in low tones. Laura's stoicism matched her father's, but Daken's sharp gaze occasionally flicked toward him, a mixture of curiosity and unease in his expression.

Aunt May, ever the peacemaker, had drawn closer to Logan after their earlier exchange, now sitting near the twins, offering warmth and quiet understanding in her gaze. Across from them, Peter Creed's family mingled in their loud, chaotic way, the Parker-Creed children running circles around one another. Among them was a figure that struck Logan as surreal—Grizz, an adult version of the toddler currently playing with Sarah and Ferra Parker-Creed near the edge of the clearing.

Grizz, the older one, sat nearby, his broad, muscular frame reminiscent of a bear yet tempered by the subtle sharpness of a badger's features. Despite his size and rugged appearance, his demeanor was calm, even thoughtful. His gaze shifted between the children and the adults, observing with a quiet understanding. The sight of his toddler self laughing with Sarah and Ferra struck a strange chord in him, but he said nothing of it, letting the moment play out.

"So," Aunt May began softly, addressing the group but clearly focusing on Logan and his children. "You've been through a lot, haven't you?"

Logan sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his neck. "You could say that," he muttered, his voice gruff but not hostile. "Every time I think I've seen the craziest thing the multiverse can throw at me, something else shows up."

Laura, her sharp eyes catching the shift in her father's tone, added, "We've all had to adjust. It's not just him, May."

Daken smirked faintly, leaning back on his hands. "Yeah, but Pops here takes it harder than the rest of us. He's got this whole 'lone wolf' act that makes him think he's gotta carry all the weight."

Logan shot Daken a look but didn't argue. He knew his son had a point, though he'd never admit it outright. Instead, he focused on the sight of Sarah and Ferra playing with young Grizz. The twins' laughter carried over the crackling of the fire, their wild energy a stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere around the adults.

"They're good kids," Logan said finally, nodding toward the Parker-Creeds. "All of 'em. Peter and Victoria did right by them."

May smiled warmly, following his gaze. "They're a handful, but they've got good hearts. Victoria's expecting again, you know. Her fourteenth."

Logan raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. "Fourteen kids. And I thought I'd seen it all."

Grizz chuckled, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. "It's not so crazy when you think about it. In a place like this, surrounded by family, it makes sense. You learn to protect each other, to trust each other. Even with everything we've been through, that's what keeps us grounded."

Logan considered his words, the faintest flicker of doubt crossing his rugged features. "Grounded, huh?" He shook his head. "I've been a lot of things, but grounded ain't one of 'em."

Laura frowned, her gaze steady on her father. "You're selling yourself short. You might not see it, but you've kept us together, Dad. Even when you didn't have to."

Daken nodded, though his smirk didn't fade. "She's right. Not that I'll ever say it again."

Logan huffed a dry laugh, his expression softening ever so slightly. "You two ever get tired of being so damn sentimental?"

"Never," Laura replied flatly, though the corner of her mouth twitched upward.

The group fell into a comfortable silence, the crackling fire filling the gaps in their conversation. Grizz shifted slightly, his gaze lingering on Logan. "You've been hearing about the other Logans, haven't you?"

Logan glanced at him as he seemed to soften a little bit.

"Yeah. Heard about one who never went through Weapon X, never had to deal with all the shit we've been through. His Victor was like a real brother to him, and his old man… actually cared about him."

Grizz nodded slowly. "And his mom had that mutation, the one that resets her age. A different life. A better one, maybe."

"Yeah," Logan muttered, his voice quieter now. "Better."

May reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "You've had it rough, Logan. But that doesn't mean it's too late for you. You've still got people who care about you. People who'd fight for you."

Logan didn't respond right away, his gaze fixed on the fire. After a moment, he looked toward his children, then at the chaos of the Parker-Creed family. His rugged features softened, just slightly, as he let the warmth of the moment sink in.

"Maybe," he said finally, his voice barely audible over the fire. "Maybe."

…

The fire crackled softly as the conversation continued among the group. Logan, seated slightly apart, seemed lost in his thoughts, the shadows from the flames dancing across his rugged features. Aunt May, ever observant, kept a comforting hand on his arm, offering quiet support. Nearby, Grizz played with Sarah and Ferra Parker-Creed, the children's laughter carrying softly through the camp.

It was then that Lycan stepped into the light of the fire. His dark mane of hair and sharp, golden eyes reflected the light as he approached, hands stuffed casually into the pockets of his leather jacket. He moved with a quiet confidence, the kind that came from knowing who he was and the family he belonged to.

"Mind if I join you?" Lycan asked, his tone casual but warm. Logan glanced up, his keen senses already having picked up Lycan's approach. He gave a faint nod, and Lycan took a seat next to him on the ground, the leather of his jacket creaking softly as he settled in.

"You look like you've got something to say, kid," Logan muttered, his gravelly voice low but not unkind.

Lycan smirked faintly, glancing at Aunt May before turning his attention to the fire. "Yeah, actually, I do. I've got news, something I picked up from the multiversal chatter. It's about the other reality… Soul Society."

Aunt May tilted her head curiously. "Soul Society? What's happened?"

Lycan leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees as the firelight danced across his sharp features. "Turns out, that other version of Dad, you know, the Spider-Man who ended up with Wanda Wilson, he's got some big news. He and Wanda just had twins."

Logan raised an eyebrow, his rugged features softening with mild curiosity. "Twins, huh? Didn't figure Deadpool's chaos would make her the settling-down type."

Lycan chuckled, the sound deep and warm. "Yeah, it's wild. But get this, they went through seven months of development in just one day. Something about inheriting their mom's healing factor." He shook his head slightly, as if still wrapping his own mind around the absurdity. "One minute Wanda's a little over two months pregnant, the next minute, bam, she's delivering two healthy kids."

Aunt May's mouth opened slightly in astonishment. "Seven months… in a day?" She blinked, then shook her head in disbelief. "That poor girl. That must have been overwhelming."

Lycan smirked. "Probably. But you know Wanda. She's not exactly your average woman. She took it in stride from what I heard, even cracking jokes during the delivery. And Spider-Man? He was trying to keep it together, but apparently, he looked ready to faint the whole time."

Logan grunted, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Figures. A Parker always finds himself in the deep end, one way or another."

Aunt May smiled fondly at the thought, shaking her head. "Sounds like my Peter, alright. Always in the middle of some incredible situation. What are the babies like?"

"Healthy, from what I heard," Lycan replied. "A boy and a girl. The boy's named Tobias Parker-Wilson, and the girl… Betsy Parker-Wilson. Apparently, Wanda's already calling her Itsy-Bitsy. She's a tiny thing, but from what I hear, they're both pretty special."

Logan let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "Special, huh? Like inheriting healing factors and whatever else their mom's got in her bag of tricks?"

Lycan nodded. "Yeah, it's looking that way. They're already showing signs of accelerated development. It's crazy to think about, really. Two brand-new lives, thrown into the chaos of their world, and already carrying so much weight."

Aunt May's expression softened, her thoughts clearly drifting to the Parker name and its legacy. "That's how it always seems to go with the Parkers. They're born into a world that demands so much of them, and yet… they always seem to rise to the occasion."

The fire crackled between them, and for a moment, silence filled the space. Lycan leaned back, his golden eyes reflecting the flickering flames. "It's funny, though," he said after a moment. "Hearing about that other Peter, he's just a regular Spider-Man, not someone with symbiotes or some grand multiversal role. And yet, even in his reality, he's still at the center of something big."

Logan gave a faint nod, his smirk lingering. "Doesn't matter what version of Parker you're talking about. They've all got a knack for finding themselves in the thick of it."

Lycan laughed quietly. "Yeah, I guess so. But it's kind of nice, too. Knowing that even with all the chaos, they're starting something new. Those kids—they've got a chance to grow up with both their parents there for them. That's not something every version of Peter gets to have."

Aunt May reached over, placing a gentle hand on Lycan's arm. "It's a gift, for sure. And maybe it's a reminder that no matter how hard things get, there's always hope for something good."

The quiet moment stretched, the fire crackling softly as the three sat together. Logan glanced at Lycan, his expression unreadable but not unkind. "So, what's got you so interested in this other reality? Just the twins?"

Lycan hesitated for a beat, then shook his head. "Not just that. I guess… it's everything. The way their world works, the way their Peter manages to make it through all the madness without giving up. It's… inspiring, I guess. Makes me think about what kind of person I want to be."

Logan studied him for a long moment, then gave a faint nod of approval. "Keep thinkin' like that, kid. You've got good instincts. Just don't forget to trust 'em."

Lycan smirked, his golden eyes flicking to Logan. "Thanks, old man. I'll keep that in mind."Bottom of Form

…

That night, Logan lay on his cot in one of the Creed family's cabins. The room was dark, the only light coming from the faint embers of the fire outside. His breaths were steady, his arms crossed over his chest as he rested, but his mind refused to follow suit. Sleep was never kind to him. Tonight was no exception. In his dream, he was back in the ruins of Krakoa, the aftermath of destruction and betrayal all around him. The once-thriving mutant nation was a ghost of its former self, the lush vegetation withered, the vibrant ecosystem twisted into lifeless ash. Logan was sprinting, the desperate pounding of his heart echoing in his ears. He remembered the sharp scent of blood, Gabriella's blood, leading him to her.

He found her at the base of a cracked tree, her small frame crumpled, her breathing shallow. The diamond on her forehead glinted in the dim light of the setting sun, a cruel mockery of the child he'd sworn to protect. Sinister's mark. She'd escaped, fought her way out of his clutches, but the damage had already been done. Sinister had embedded his own genetic material into her, turning her into a pawn, a living weapon with no control over herself.

"Dad…" Gabriella's voice was weak, a broken whisper that tore at Logan's heart. He knelt by her side, cradling her fragile body in his arms. The warmth of her blood seeped into his hands, a grim reminder of how little time was left.

"I'm here, Gabby," Logan murmured, his voice rough but tender. He stroked her matted hair, his claws trembling as they retracted into his knuckles. "I'm here, kid. You're safe now."

She shook her head weakly, tears streaking her face. "No… no, I'm not. I can feel him. He's… in my head. I can't… stop him."

Logan gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching so tightly it hurt. He knew what she meant. He'd seen it before, in others Sinister had corrupted. The diamond wasn't just a symbol; it was a control mechanism. No matter how far Gabriella ran, Sinister would always be there, pulling her strings.

"I won't let him take you," Logan growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I promise, Gabby. You're gonna be free."

Her eyes, so much like Laura's, filled with tears. "I… I know what you have to do, Dad. Please. I don't want to hurt anyone. Not you. Not Laura. Not Daken."

The words hit Logan like a freight train, leaving him breathless. He wanted to deny it, to tell her there was another way. But he wasn't a fool. He knew what had to be done. Gabriella knew it, too. She had always been stronger than she looked.

With a trembling hand, Logan unsheathed one claw, the metal glinting in the fading light. Gabriella closed her eyes, her lips forming a faint smile. "Thank you," she whispered. "I love you, Dad."

"I love you, too, kid," Logan choked out, tears streaming down his face as he brought the claw down.

…

Logan bolted upright in his cot, his body slick with sweat and his breathing ragged. His heart was pounding in his chest, the memory of Gabriella's final moments fresh in his mind as if they'd just happened. He ran a hand down his face, trying to steady himself. The nightmare wasn't new. It had haunted him every night since the day he'd carried Gabriella's lifeless body into the Krakoan council chambers and told them the truth.

He could still hear his own voice, raw and broken, as he laid her on the table before the stunned council members. "She's dead because of you," he'd growled. "Because you let Sinister get his hooks into this place, into us. Krakoa was supposed to be a safe haven, but it's rotten to the core."

He'd pointed to the diamond on Gabriella's forehead, the ultimate betrayal etched into her flesh. "Sinister's been embedding his genes into us, controlling us from the start. This… this was never about mutantkind thriving. It was about him playing god."

The council had been silent, their faces pale. Jean's eyes had filled with tears, but Logan had ignored her. He didn't care about her grief, not when it had taken this long for her to see what he'd been warning them about.

"I'm done," he'd said, his voice cold and final. "I'm done with all of you. You can keep this damn island, keep your 'resurrections.' But don't ever call on me again."

Logan shook his head, trying to push the memory away. It was over. Krakoa was long gone, collapsed shortly after that, and so were the people he'd once called family. But the pain never left. It lingered, a constant reminder of what he'd lost.

He swung his legs over the side of the cot, his claws instinctively unsheathing for a moment before retracting again. The air was cool against his damp skin, and he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. That was when he caught it, a faint scent on the breeze, just strong enough to reach his heightened senses.

Logan froze, his sharp eyes narrowing. The scent was familiar, painfully so. It was a scent he hadn't encountered in nearly two decades, not since the Krakoa incident. Slowly, he rose to his feet, his muscles tense. He didn't know who or what he was about to find, but he wasn't about to take any chances.

Logan's nostrils flared as the scent grew sharper, more defined. His heart rate quickened, and his claws unsheathed reflexively, glinting faintly in the moonlight as he stepped out into the cool night air. The sound of crickets and rustling leaves filled the silence, but beneath it all, Logan's instincts screamed at him that something was wrong.

He followed the trail toward the nursery, his body tense with anticipation. Every step heightened his unease, the faint scent leading him closer and closer to the cabin where Baby Grizz was supposed to be sleeping. Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from the nursery, followed by the high-pitched wail of a baby crying. Logan froze for half a second before bolting toward the sound, his boots pounding against the dirt.

By the time he reached the cabin, another figure was already there. Peter Parker-Creed, the leader of the Savage Lands, stood in the doorway, his chest heaving as if he had just been in a fight. His wild hair was matted with sweat, and his spear, tipped with jagged obsidian, gleamed in his clenched hands. His sharp yellow eyes locked onto Logan, and for a moment, there was no need for words. The look on Peter's face said it all: something was very, very wrong.

Victoria Creed appeared behind Peter, her clawed hands smeared with blood. Her usually composed demeanor was shattered, her wild eyes darting between Logan and her husband as though trying to make sense of what had just happened. Through the open door, Logan could see into the nursery, and what he saw sent a chill down his spine.

A man dressed in an Orchis stealth suit was crouched low, his shimmering camouflage flickering and malfunctioning as the advanced tech struggled to maintain its invisibility. The suit's wearer seemed desperate, holding a jagged dagger in one hand while trying to steady himself with the other. The man turned his masked face toward the door, clearly aware of Logan's and Peter's presence.

Inside the room, chaos reigned. The makeshift crib, a Savage Lands creation adorned with fur skins and carved ornaments, was toppled over, the decorations scattered across the floor. Baby Grizz's cries echoed through the cabin, but the child wasn't in sight. The window on the far side of the room was wide open, a cold breeze wafting in.

"Grizz!" Peter roared, his voice a guttural mixture of panic and fury. He didn't hesitate. With a primal snarl, he lunged toward the intruder, spear raised, but the Orchis operative rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the strike.

"Get out of my way!" Logan growled, rushing past Peter and Victoria as he zeroed in on the scent trail. His enhanced senses took in every detail, the faint chemical tang of the stealth suit's malfunctioning systems, the metallic stench of blood, and, most importantly, the lingering trace of Baby Grizz.

In the chaos, Logan's sharp eyes caught sight of the emblem spray-painted onto the cabin wall, just above the overturned crib. It was a bold red "X" symbol, the very mark that had once represented mutant unity but had since been warped into something far more dangerous. Beneath it were the chilling words, crudely scrawled in jagged letters:

MUTANT FREEDOM, BY ANY MEANS!

Logan's blood turned to ice. He'd seen that symbol before. He'd fought against those words, against those ideals twisted into fanaticism. His claws flexed instinctively, the memory of Krakoa and its fallout flashing before his mind's eye. This wasn't Orchis—not directly. This was something worse. Someone had taken the dream of mutantkind and turned it into a nightmare.

"Logan!" Peter's voice snapped him back to the present. The Orchis operative had been disarmed, his dagger clattering to the floor, but Peter had him pinned against the wall with his spear at the man's throat. "Our baby's gone! He's not here!" Peter's voice cracked with urgency.

Logan ignored him for a moment, his attention fixed on the open window. The scent trail was faint but fresh, leading out into the night. His golden eyes narrowed, and he growled low in his throat. "I'll find him."

Victoria's voice trembled, her claws digging into the wooden frame of the doorway. "Logan, they took him… they took Grizz!"

Logan stepped toward the window, his sharp gaze scanning the darkness outside. "Not for long," he muttered, his voice cold and resolute. He climbed through the window without hesitation, his instincts guiding him as he picked up the faint trail.

Behind him, Peter slammed the Orchis operative against the wall harder, his voice a snarl. "Who sent you? What the hell is this about?!" But the operative, defiant even in his failure, smirked beneath his mask.

"It's too late," the man rasped, his voice strained but mocking. "You'll never find him in time. The future belongs to us."

Logan's sharp ears caught the words, and his claws unsheathed as he stalked into the night. His mind burned with determination, his thoughts a single, unyielding promise.

You don't mess with my family and walk away from it alive.

Logan's muscles burned as he sprinted through the dense jungle, his sharp claws gleaming in the faint moonlight that pierced the canopy. The scent trail grew stronger, mingled with the faint odor of machinery, an aircraft. He was close, but so were they. His heart pounded with urgency, his mind racing with the implications of who or what he might be chasing.

Branches whipped against his face, but he didn't flinch, his heightened senses locked onto the trail. The sound of a baby's cries reached his ears, faint but distinct, cutting through the chaos of the jungle. His growl deepened, spurring him onward.

Then, through the trees, he saw it, a clearing illuminated by a faint glow. In the center stood a cloaked aircraft, its edges shimmering as it struggled to fully conceal itself against the backdrop of the jungle. The hum of its engines grew louder as the cloaking field flickered, revealing the sleek, angular design of an Orchis stealth transport.

A figure emerged from the shadows, a bundle cradled in his arms. Baby Grizz. The operative sprinted toward the waiting aircraft, his heavy boots crunching against the forest floor. Logan's adrenaline spiked as he pushed his body to the limit, closing the distance with animalistic speed.

"Not on my watch," Logan snarled, his voice a low, guttural growl.

The man glanced over his shoulder, his body jerking in surprise as he saw Logan barreling toward him. Desperation set in, and he bolted for the aircraft, which was beginning to lift off the ground. The rear hatch was still open, and the operative lunged toward it, Baby Grizz still wailing in his grasp.

Logan launched himself forward in a blur, his claws slicing through the air. He slammed into the man with a force that sent them both tumbling to the ground. The baby flew from the operative's grasp, landing safely on a patch of soft moss. Logan's claws unsheathed fully as he pinned the man to the ground, his primal instincts surging to the surface.

The aircraft hovered above them, its engines whirring louder as the pilot hesitated, unsure whether to leave without their operative. Logan barely noticed, his entire focus locked onto the man beneath him. His claws hovered inches from the operative's neck as he reached up to rip the malfunctioning mask from the stealth suit.

The hood peeled away, and Logan's breath caught in his throat. His claws froze mid-strike.

"Scott?"

Beneath the mask was the face of Scott Summers, though he looked older, harder, his features shadowed by years of wear. His ruby-quartz visor was cracked, and his blue eyes burned with an intensity Logan hadn't seen in years.

Scott stared up at Logan, his breathing labored, but his expression defiant. "Logan," he said, his voice steady despite the situation. "You need to let me go."

Logan's claws trembled, the edge of one grazing Scott's neck. His mind reeled as he tried to process what he was seeing. "You've got five seconds to explain before I gut you," Logan growled, his voice a dangerous mix of confusion and fury.

Scott's jaw tightened, his eyes glinting with something between regret and resolve. "This isn't what it looks like. I'm doing what needs to be done."

"You're kidnapping a baby!" Logan roared, his claws pressing closer. "You call that 'what needs to be done'?!"

Scott's breathing was ragged beneath Logan's clawed grip, but his voice remained steady as he stared up into the feral rage etched across Logan's face. "Logan, listen to me," he said, his words coming slow and deliberate. "This isn't just about Orchis. This isn't just about the baby."

"Then what the hell is it, Summers?!" Logan roared, his claws pressing just enough to draw a thin line of blood on Scott's neck. "You've got five seconds to stop spinning me around and tell me why you're stealing a kid, or I'll make damn sure you don't get a sixth!"

Scott closed his eyes for a brief moment, his chest rising and falling as though bracing himself for what he was about to say. "Because this isn't just about Grizz," he whispered. "It's about her. About Jean."

Logan froze. The name hit him like a blow to the gut, knocking the air from his lungs. His claws retracted slightly, though his grip didn't loosen. "Jean's gone," he growled, his voice quieter but no less dangerous. "She's been gone since before Krakoa. You know that."

Scott's jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with a mixture of desperation and pain. "I thought I knew that too. For years, I told myself it was over, that I'd lost her forever. But... I found a way, Logan."

Logan's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening again. "What're you talkin' about?"

Scott's voice dropped, almost as though he was ashamed to speak the words. "Mephisto," he said, his tone bitter. "He came to me. Offered me a deal."

Logan's expression twisted into something between disgust and disbelief. "Mephisto? Are you outta your goddamn mind? You're makin' deals with the devil now?"

Scott met Logan's glare, his own gaze burning with the same fire that had driven him for decades. "You think I didn't know what I was doing when I made the deal? You think I didn't wrestle with it every second of every day since then? But he promised me, Logan. He promised he could bring her back. The real Jean. Her soul, the one we lost before Krakoa. Before all of this went to hell."

Logan's mind raced, memories of Jean flashing through his thoughts. Her laughter, her fire, the warmth she brought to their broken team. And the bitter, agonizing moment they had lost her, the hollow space she left behind that no one could fill. He growled, trying to shake off the emotions clawing at him.

"And what'd it cost you?!" Logan spat, his voice low and venomous. "What'd you have to give him, Scott?!"

Scott hesitated, his hands twitching slightly as though he wanted to push Logan away but lacked the strength. "He needed something... a trade. He needed potential." His eyes flicked toward the bundle of moss where Baby Grizz lay wailing. "Grizz is... unique. His potential is something even Orchis can't measure. Mephisto called him an anchor, someone who could keep the worlds from breaking apart something that could get negotiations started. He said if I brought him Grizz, he'd pull the strings to restore Jean's soul. The real Jean. Not a clone, not some hollow resurrection, but her."

Logan stared at Scott, his expression unreadable. Slowly, his claws retracted fully, but his hands remained locked around Scott's collar. "You sold your soul for a maybe, Summers," Logan growled. "You betrayed everything, and everyone, for some promise from a devil."

"You don't think I know that?" Scott snapped, his voice breaking for the first time. "You don't think I hate myself for what I'm doing? But I have to try, Logan. I have to. If there's even a chance to bring her back, to undo the hell that's been our lives since we lost her, then I'll do whatever it takes."

Logan released Scott, shoving him roughly to the ground. He turned away, pacing a few steps as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. "You're a damn fool," Logan muttered, his fists clenched at his sides. "You're so blinded by what you've lost, you can't see what you're throwin' away."

Scott slowly pushed himself up, his breathing labored. "Maybe I am. But if it means seeing her again, if it means holding her, hearing her voice... it's worth it."

Logan spun around, his claws snapping out again. "And what about the kid, huh? What about the life you were ready to destroy for your damn deal? What about the family that's tryin' to protect him?"

Scott's eyes darkened, but there was a flicker of guilt in them. "Mephisto doesn't want to harm him, Logan. He said Grizz would be... important, a cornerstone for the multiverse. He promised me the kid would be safe."

"And you believed him?!" Logan barked, his voice dripping with disdain. "You believed the devil?!"

Scott didn't answer, his silence was more damning than any words. The hum of the Orchis aircraft faded into the distance, leaving the two men standing in the clearing, the jungle alive with the sounds of night. Baby Grizz's cries softened, as though sensing the storm of emotions swirling around him.

Logan shook his head, his claws retracting once more. He bent down and carefully picked up Grizz, cradling the child against his chest. "You're a damn idiot, Summers," he muttered. "And if you come after this kid again, I'll put you down myself."

Scott stood there, his expression hardening as Logan turned to leave. "You don't understand, Logan. You never did."

Logan paused, glancing over his shoulder. "Maybe not," he said. "But I know one thing. Jean wouldn't want this. She wouldn't want you sacrificin' innocent lives, an innocent baby for her."

Logan turned his back to Scott, clutching Baby Grizz securely against his chest. The infant had quieted, small breaths puffing softly against Logan's shoulder as he held him protectively. "You're a damn fool, Summers," Logan muttered, his voice dripping with disdain. "And if you come after this kid again, I'll put you down myself."

Scott's silence lingered behind him, heavy and unyielding. Logan started to walk away, the tension still crackling in the air. He didn't hear the faint hum of energy building behind him until it was too late.

A sudden, searing pain struck Logan square in the back. Scott's optic blast tore into him, forcing him to his knees as he growled in agony. His claws unsheathed instinctively, but he didn't dare turn around, Baby Grizz was in his arms, and one wrong move would put the child in the path of the destructive beam. Logan grit his teeth, enduring the pain as his healing factor worked overtime to keep him conscious.

"Damn it, Summers!" Logan roared, his voice raw with fury. "You cowardly son of a-!"

Before he could finish, the jungle erupted into a cacophony of movement. From the underbrush, Daken and Laura burst onto the scene, their claws gleaming in the dim moonlight. Lycan followed close behind, his sharp golden eyes locked on Scott with predatory intensity. Ferra and Sarah weren't far behind, their lithe forms darting through the shadows like wolves in a hunt.

Daken reached Scott first, his claws slashing toward Scott's visor with precision. "You wanna pick on someone, Summers? Try me!" he snarled, tackling Scott to the ground. Scott twisted mid-fall, releasing another blast that narrowly missed Daken and scorched a nearby tree trunk.

Laura pounced next, her twin claws extended as she aimed for Scott's gauntlet, tearing through the advanced technology. Sparks flew as she snarled, her ferocity forcing Scott to roll away in a desperate bid to regain his footing. "You don't get to hurt him!" Laura growled, her voice shaking with rage.

Lycan darted in, his speed unnerving as he slammed into Scott from the side. The impact sent Scott sprawling, but even as he hit the ground, he fought back. Scott's fists lashed out, catching Lycan in the ribs, but Lycan barely flinched. His claws extended, glowing faintly in the moonlight as he gripped Scott's arm and yanked the gauntlet free. "That's enough!" Lycan snarled, his wolf-like features contorted with fury.

Ferra and Sarah closed in, their movements a seamless blend of agility and raw strength. Ferra suddenly grabbed his leg as she ducked, catching Scott's legs and pulling him off balance, while Sarah leapt onto his chest, her fists pounding against the cracked visor. "Stay down!" Sarah barked, her voice filled with unrelenting determination.

But Scott refused to go quietly. Even pinned beneath the combined weight of Daken, Laura, Lycan, and Sarah, he struggled, his hands clawing for any leverage. His visor sparked dangerously as he attempted to fire another blast, but Ferra's quick reflexes slammed the visor shut, locking it in place. "Not this time, Summers," she hissed.

Scott thrashed beneath them, his gritted teeth bared in defiance. "You don't understand! I'm doing this for all of us, for Jean! You're too blind to see it!"

Logan forced himself to his feet, his body trembling from the lingering pain of the optic blast. Baby Grizz whimpered softly in his arms, but Logan soothed him with a low growl, his protective instincts kicking in. He turned to face the chaos, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of Scott pinned to the ground.

"Enough," Logan commanded, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "Let him go."

Daken, Laura, Lycan, Ferra, and Sarah hesitated, their breathing heavy as they looked to Logan for direction. Slowly, one by one, they backed off, their claws retracting as they left Scott restrained but unharmed.

Logan stepped forward, towering over Scott as he glared down at his former teammate. "This is the last time, Summers. I'm not gonna let you drag anyone else down with you. You want to sell your soul to Mephisto, fine. But leave my family out of it."

Scott didn't respond, his chest heaving as he stared up at Logan, his defiance finally dimming under the weight of his failure. The jungle fell silent once more, save for the distant hum of the Orchis aircraft retreating into the night.

…

The settlement was quiet, the usual buzz of activity subdued by the weight of what had transpired. The Parker-Creed kingdom's people moved carefully, casting glances at the group as they carried Scott Summers, restrained and silent, into one of the guarded buildings in the heart of the settlement. His cracked visor had been removed, his expression unreadable but for the simmering frustration in his narrowed eyes.

Logan stood outside the room where Scott was being held, Baby Grizz still nestled protectively in his arms. The child had finally stopped crying, soothed by the calming strength of Logan's presence. Lycan, Ferra, and Sarah stood nearby, the tension from the jungle chase still lingering in their postures.

Peter Parker-Creed emerged from the shadows, his spear slung over his back and his expression dark. Victoria Creed was with him, a streak of dried blood still visible on her arm. "What do you want to do with him?" Peter asked quietly, his voice sharp as his gaze flicked toward the room.

Logan exhaled heavily, his claws unsheathing for a brief moment before retracting again. "We wait. Jean's en route. She needs to hear this firsthand."

Peter frowned. "She knows?"

Logan nodded grimly. "Yeah. Told her everything. She deserves to know just what kind of man he's become."

Victoria folded her arms, her claws tapping against her skin. "She's not going to take it well."

Logan's gaze hardened. "I don't expect her to."

Inside the holding room, Scott sat on a crude bench, his hands bound in a way that even he couldn't break free. He stared at the ground, his jaw tight and his shoulders stiff. The door opened, and Logan stepped inside, closing it behind him. He set Baby Grizz in a makeshift crib, the little one now sound asleep.

Scott glanced up, his expression dark. "You've made your point, Logan. Let me go."

Logan ignored him, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "Jean's on her way," he said flatly.

Scott's composure wavered for a moment, his lips parting as if to speak, but Logan's glare silenced him. "Yeah," Logan continued, his voice low and sharp. "She knows what you did. Knows how you betrayed all of us and kidnapped baby Grizz. And she's got a few things she wants to say to you."

Scott's fists clenched, his gaze dropping back to the ground. He didn't argue, didn't try to justify himself this time.

…

The next morning, a transport arrived at the settlement. The current Jean Grey of this world stepped out, her fiery red hair pulled back and her expression hard. Behind her, cloaked in an air of otherworldly mystique, was none other than Doctor Stephen Strange. His hands rested on his cloak, his face calm but his presence commanding.

Logan greeted them, his gaze flicking between Jean and Strange. "He's in there," Logan said quietly, motioning toward the building where Scott was being held.

Jean didn't speak at first, her lips pressed into a thin line as she made her way toward the room. Strange followed, his movements smooth and deliberate, his hands already glowing faintly with the energy of the spell he was preparing.

Inside, Scott looked up as Jean entered. Her face was a mixture of disappointment and fury, her green eyes blazing as she stared at the man she had once known so well.

"Jean," Scott started, his voice hoarse.

"Don't," she snapped, cutting him off. "Don't you dare say my name. You don't get to anymore."

Scott flinched but didn't argue, his expression turning grim.

Jean took a step closer, her voice cold and steady. "Do you have any idea what you've done? How many people you've betrayed, hurt? You used to be a leader, Scott. Someone people could trust. Now, look at you. You're nothing but a desperate shell of who you were."

Scott's hands trembled, his gaze locked on hers. "I did it for you," he said, his voice breaking. "For us."

Jean's laugh was sharp and bitter, echoing through the small room. "For us? Don't you dare try to drag me into your delusions. The real Jean Grey, the one we lost, would be just as disgusted with you as I am."

At that, she turned to Doctor Strange, her voice losing none of its edge. "That's why he's here. To fix this. To show you just how far you've fallen."

Strange stepped forward, his hands glowing with ethereal light as he began to weave his spell. The air shimmered around him, reality bending and shifting as he reached into the void between life and death.

A figure began to take form in the center of the room, ethereal and radiant. The real Jean Grey materialized, her presence overwhelming as she stepped forward, her fiery hair framing her glowing green eyes. She looked at Scott, her expression unreadable at first.

"Jean," Scott whispered, his voice breaking.

She raised a hand, silencing him. Her gaze pierced through him, filled with a mixture of sorrow and anger. "Don't," she said coldly. "Don't you dare."

Scott tried to speak again, but she cut him off, her voice rising with emotion. "You think this, what you've done, would make me proud? That I would want this? You've betrayed everything we stood for, Scott. Everything we built."

Tears welled in Scott's eyes, but Jean's expression didn't soften. "I hope you go to hell, Scott," she said, her voice steady and cutting. "You're not the man I loved. You're not even close."

Without another word, she turned and walked out, leaving Scott staring after her, broken and silent. Logan and the others watched her leave, the weight of her words hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

Doctor Strange followed, the spell fading as the real Jean's presence disappeared. Logan glanced at Scott one last time, his expression hard. "She's right, Summers. You ain't the man we knew."

And with that, Logan left, closing the door behind him, leaving Scott alone with his guilt and the echoes of Jean's final of Form

…

One day later…

The expedition into the Savage Lands was set in an area dense with towering cycads and ferns, their prehistoric fronds stretching high into the canopy, casting dappled shadows across the moss-covered ground. It was a world frozen in time, vibrant with life yet unyielding in its primal beauty. Dinosaurs roamed in the distance, their calls echoing through the thick, humid air. A small herd of duck-billed hadrosaurs grazed peacefully near a slow-moving river that cut through the region, its banks teeming with amphibians and primitive arthropods.

Muramasa, walking slightly behind Urahara and Yoruichi, glanced at the alien landscape with intrigue, his crimson eyes scanning the foliage. Since eating the symbiotic berries Peter-Knull had provided, he no longer felt the insatiable hunger for spiritual energy that had once defined him. Still, he was adjusting to his newfound independence, grappling with what it meant to exist without a master to serve. For now, this scientific expedition provided an unexpected form of purpose.

Grizz, the towering humanoid with bear-like features, strode confidently beside Theron Parker-Creed, who wore an intricately designed leather vest adorned with teeth and claws of local predators. Both of them had grown up in the Savage Lands and were invaluable guides to the group. Grizz's sharp, amber eyes scanned the path ahead while Theron's keen, youthful energy had him darting between the scientists, offering tips on how to avoid spooking the more aggressive wildlife.

"This is Trilobite Canyon," Theron announced, pointing to the rocky outcrop ahead where shimmering, shallow pools collected. Each pool was filled with juvenile trilobites scuttling about, their carapaces catching the light like opals. "If you're looking for live specimens, this is the place to be."

Urahara grinned under his hat, producing a containment device. "Fascinating! And you say they molt often?"

"Yeah," Theron said, crouching by the water and lifting a discarded shell. "The molting is the best time to handle them. Less risk of hurting them or stressing them out."

Yoruichi, perched on a nearby boulder, watched the exchange with a smirk. "You two seem like you've done this before."

"Plenty of times," Grizz replied, his deep voice rumbling. "The trilobites are harmless compared to what's out there." He motioned toward the deeper jungle, where the distant roar of a tyrannosaurus echoed ominously. "This area's safe enough as long as we keep an eye out for any undomesticated raptors."

Laura, this world's Laura, trailed behind the group, her sharp eyes scanning the jungle as though waiting for something to leap out at them. She had joined the expedition out of curiosity but was finding herself increasingly disoriented by the revelations about the multiverse. Glancing at Urahara, she asked, "So… if there's a reality beyond the void outside our multiverse… does that mean there are others? More multiverses?"

Urahara stopped, turning toward her with his trademark enigmatic smile. "Ah, an excellent question, Laura-san. If one reality can exist beyond the void, then theoretically, there could be infinite others. The void is not as empty as we once thought, after all."

Laura frowned, her mind grappling with the implications. "Infinite others? How do you even begin to wrap your head around that?"

Yoruichi chuckled. "You don't. You just accept that there's always more to learn."

Muramasa, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, his voice calm yet heavy with contemplation. "It's strange, isn't it? To think there are other realities entirely detached from ours. Entire worlds, entire histories… It makes you wonder just how small we all are."

Grizz nodded, his expression serious. "Doesn't make our world any less important, though."

Theron smiled faintly, adjusting the strap of his pack. "Yeah. No matter how big the multiverse is, this place is still home. And we've gotta protect it."

As the group moved toward the pools, carefully collecting juvenile trilobites and documenting their molting process, the jungle seemed alive with energy. The calls of pterosaurs overhead and the rustle of prehistoric insects created an immersive symphony. Yet, beneath it all, Laura's question lingered, a nagging thought about what might lie beyond the void and whether they were prepared for it.

Unknown to them, as they worked, a shadow passed through the upper canopy, silent and watching. The Savage Lands, for all its ancient wonder, still held secrets. Some had yet to reveal themselves.

…

As the expedition team continued their work in Trilobite Canyon, Theron suddenly tensed, his gaze fixed on the water's surface. A massive shadow loomed beneath the shallow pools, and moments later, a colossal sea scorpion, or eurypterid, emerged. This ancient arthropod, reminiscent of the extinct species that once dominated prehistoric seas, was an imposing sight. Its segmented body glistened with a dark, chitinous exoskeleton, and its pincers, each as long as a man's arm, clacked menacingly. The creature's multiple legs propelled it forward with surprising speed, causing ripples that disturbed the tranquil pools.

Recognizing the potential danger, Theron quickly reached into his pack and retrieved a sizable chunk of preserved meat he had brought for such contingencies. With a swift motion, he tossed the meat toward the eurypterid. The sea scorpion paused, its sensory appendages twitching as it assessed the offering. After a tense moment, it seized the meat with its pincers and began to consume it, the immediate threat seemingly mitigated.

Grizz watched the creature intently, his eyes narrowed. "It's unusual for a sea scorpion of that size to venture this close to the surface. They typically remain in deeper waters."

Theron nodded in agreement, his expression serious. "Something must be disturbing their natural habitat, driving them closer to shore. We should investigate this anomaly once we've completed our current objectives."

As the team absorbed this information, Yoruichi's keen senses detected a swift movement above. A shadow zipped overhead, and instinctively, she employed her flash-step technique, narrowly evading an obsidian blade that sliced through the space she had occupied moments before. Reappearing behind her assailant, Yoruichi found herself confronting a humanoid figure with pterosaur-like features—leathery wings, taloned feet, and a beak-like snout. The creature snarled and cawed, struggling against her hold.

The rest of the team stared in astonishment. Muramasa's eyes narrowed as he observed the winged attacker. "I've never encountered a being like this in the Soul Society," he remarked.

Grizz stepped forward, his expression a mix of recognition and concern. "This is Sauron, a former tyrant of the Savage Lands. Mom and Dad unified the region, he's been ousted from power. It seems he's fallen on hard times."

Grizz stepped closer to Sauron, his sharp gaze fixed on the winged figure. "We're not here to play games, Sauron," he growled, his tone low and menacing. "You're going to tell us why you attacked, and what's going on with the Savage Lands. And you're going to do it now."

Sauron sneered, baring sharp, jagged teeth. "I don't take orders from you, whelp," he hissed, his beak-like mouth curling into a mockery of a smile. "You think you and your so-called 'united kingdom' rule these lands? You're nothing but intruders in a place older than time itself."

Yoruichi crossed her arms, her golden eyes narrowing dangerously. "That's fine," she said coolly. "We can do this the hard way."

Daken stepped forward with a sharp grin, claws extending from his knuckles. "Yeah, I prefer the hard way."

Despite the threat, Sauron remained defiant. He thrashed against his restraints, snapping his sharp talons at the group and growling in frustration. "You think you can intimidate me? I've stood before the gods of these lands! I've tasted power beyond your comprehension!"

Theron let out a sigh, leaning against a nearby tree. "He's not gonna break easily. Maybe we're not asking the right questions."

Grizz's patience wearing thin. "We're not letting him go until he gives us something useful." He crouched down, his looming presence adding to the pressure. "What's going on in the Savage Lands, Sauron? What's got the wildlife acting up? Why did a sea scorpion bigger than you crawl up from the depths today?"

Sauron's eyes flickered with something between rage and fear. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then snapped it shut again, his defiance unwavering.

"Fine," Yoruichi said with a shrug. "Keep wasting our time. But understand this—we've dealt with worse than you, and we're not afraid to get dirty."

As if sensing the futility of his resistance, Sauron finally spat out, "Fine! I'll tell you!" His wings drooped slightly, the fight draining from him as he glared at them with disdain. "There are… forces moving through the Savage Lands. Forces that even the gods of this place fear. You think you've tamed this land? You've only scratched the surface. Something ancient stirs, something—"

Before he could finish, his breathing grew erratic. His chest began to puff out unnaturally, his body expanding in strange, jerking motions.

"Uh… what's happening to him?" Theron asked, stepping back cautiously.

Grizz narrowed his eyes. "Something's not right."

Sauron's body continued to swell, his limbs distorting as if inflating from within. His leathery wings stretched taut, and his talons dug into the ground as his snarling turned into guttural, gurgling sounds. His eyes bulged, glowing with an unnatural red light as his torso expanded to a grotesque size, towering even over Grizz.

"What the hell-?!" Daken started, but before anyone could react further, Sauron let out one last guttural roar before…

POW!

Sauron's bloated form exploded with a deafening sound, sending chunks of flesh, ichor, and viscera flying in every direction. The force of the explosion rattled the nearby trees, and the entire group was instantly drenched in what could only be described as a horrifying mess of remains.

There was a stunned silence, broken only by the slow drip of fluids sliding off Yoruichi's shocked face. Her golden eyes blinked slowly as she wiped some of the gore from her cheek, her expression frozen somewhere between disgust and disbelief.

Theron, who had thrown himself behind a rock but still ended up splattered, peeked out cautiously. "What… what just happened?!"

Grizz stood motionless, his face and chest completely coated in the aftermath. His jaw tightened as he looked at the spot where Sauron had been moments ago, now reduced to nothing but a steaming crater. "He exploded," Grizz muttered flatly, his deep voice rumbling with irritation. "He actually exploded."

Daken wiped a chunk of something unidentifiable off his shoulder, grimacing. "Well, that's one way to end an interrogation."

Yoruichi let out a slow breath, her voice laced with exasperation. "I've seen a lot of things in my time… but this? This is new."

Muramasa, standing off to the side with a scowl, inspected the ichor splattered across his robes. "If I had known I'd need a raincoat, I wouldn't have come."

Grizz growled under his breath, shaking off bits of Sauron's remains like a wet dog. "This isn't over. Whatever caused this wasn't natural."

Theron stepped forward, staring at the steaming crater. "It's like he was triggered… like something made him pop. Maybe whoever's stirring up trouble in the Savage Lands wanted to silence him."

Yoruichi nodded grimly. "If that's the case, then we just got our first clue. Whoever, or whatever, is behind this, they don't want us to know the truth."

…

The expedition team, shaken but alive, wasted no time finishing their work. The jars and containers filled with specimens were loaded carefully onto their makeshift sleds, each wrapped tightly to ensure no spillage during their return. Theron Parker-Creed, with his sharp eyes and a knack for handling the Savage Lands' wild creatures, ensured they collected only what they needed and left the environment largely untouched. Grizz—the adult Grizz from the future, kept a wary eye on their surroundings, his hulking form a reassuring presence for the team as they packed up.

Muramasa stood at the edge of the group, his energy subdued as he surveyed the prehistoric jungle with a mix of reverence and caution.

Urahara Kisuke, ever the scientist, jotted down notes in his trusty notebook, muttering to himself about trilobite molting processes and prehistoric invertebrate ecology. Yoruichi stood nearby, her golden eyes sharp as ever, surveying the horizon for threats.

As they began their trek back to the main settlement, the group remained on high alert. The encounter with the sea scorpion and Sauron's sudden, explosive demise had left them all uneasy. Even Urahara, usually chatty, was unusually quiet as he considered the implications of what they'd seen.

…

The trail wound through dense jungle paths amidst the humidity and the constant chatter of prehistoric life. Raptors, trained and bred by Peter and Victoria Creed's people, darted between the trees, acting as scouts and companions. Theron clicked his tongue and whistled softly, signaling a nearby raptor that trotted up to him, sniffing at the sled he pulled. He reached out and patted the creature's snout, its yellow eyes gleaming with intelligence.

"These guys never cease to amaze me," Theron muttered, half to himself. "Smarter than most people I've met."

"Keep that thought in mind when you talk to their bigger cousins," Grizz rumbled with a wry grin. "Some of those alpha raptors take 'intelligence' to a whole other level."

"Great. Like I needed another reason to respect them," Theron quipped, earning a deep chuckle from Grizz.

As the trees thinned, the path opened to a sprawling clearing where the settlement began. The sight before them was one of unified progress: a series of interconnected villages, now a thriving kingdom under Peter Parker-Creed and Victoria Creed's leadership. The kingdom's structures blended seamlessly into the natural environment, with wooden towers reinforced by vines and stone walls carved from the land itself. Raptors roamed freely, some wearing light leather saddles and others adorned with colorful feathers marking their clans.

At the heart of the settlement stood the main dwelling—a grand structure near the central temple. The dwelling, home to Peter and Victoria, was surrounded by gardens and raptor pens. The raptors here were not just pets or guards; they were partners in this kingdom's survival, trained to act as scouts, protectors, and even messengers. A few juveniles chirped and clicked as the group approached, their heads tilting curiously.

Peter and Victoria were already in the main temple courtyard, listening to grievances and overseeing plans for further expansion. The people gathered around them, a mix of humans and humanoid hybrids native to the Savage Lands, each presenting their concerns or updates. Victoria, visibly pregnant but still commanding, sat beside Peter, her claws tapping lightly against the arm of her chair as she listened attentively.

The temple itself was a masterpiece of ingenuity and reverence. Intricate carvings lined its walls, depicting the history of the Savage Lands and the creatures that had roamed them for eons. The gods of the land were represented here too, though their once-dominant presence seemed diminished. It was clear that the people of this kingdom now turned more to Peter and Victoria for guidance, their faith shifting toward tangible progress rather than unseen divine forces.

As the expedition team entered the courtyard, Peter raised a hand to pause the discussion. His sharp eyes scanned the group, lingering on the tired but determined expressions of Grizz and Theron.

"Welcome back," Peter said, his tone warm but curious. "I take it the expedition was eventful?"

"That's putting it lightly," Yoruichi replied, stepping forward with her usual grace. "Let's just say we found more than we bargained for."

Victoria arched a brow. "More trouble?"

"Something like that," Grizz said, crossing his massive arms. "We'll need to debrief soon, but there's something you should know."

As Grizz and Theron explained the encounter with the sea scorpion and Sauron, Victoria's expression darkened. She exchanged a glance with Peter, who also raised an eyebrow. The idea of Sauron, a former tyrant, wandering the land in such a state was troubling enough. The notion that larger forces, perhaps even the gods themselves, were stirring was even more unsettling.

Unbeknownst to the people, far above the settlement, the gods of the Savage Lands were watching. In their sacred domains, they had grown restless and angry. Garokk, the sun god, glared down at the expanding kingdom, his molten gaze reflecting his rage. Mother Anemona, deep beneath the waters, stirred her tendrils in irritation. Ka'rathos and Teyr-Rantha seethed as the people they once commanded turned their backs on divine will in favor of mortal leaders.

"They dare to build and thrive without us," Garokk hissed, his voice echoing through the ether. "They've forgotten who truly rules this land."

The Feathered Huntress, perched high above, clicked her talons together. "They grow arrogant, emboldened by their progress. It's time they are reminded."

Back at the settlement, the atmosphere was tense. Urahara, ever the observer, couldn't help but notice the shift in the air, as though something ancient and powerful was stirring. He scribbled a quick note in his notebook, muttering to himself.

"Something tells me this kingdom's rise isn't going unnoticed," he said.

Grizz nodded grimly. "No, it's not. And if the gods are watching, they won't stay silent for long."

Theron glanced at his older companion, his orange eyes wide with both excitement and apprehension. "You think they'll do something?"

"They're gods," Grizz replied. "They don't like competition."

Urahara's ears perked up at Grizz's ominous statement, his eyes lighting up with the spark of curiosity that always preceded his most dangerous investigations. Adjusting his hat, he stepped closer, leaning on his cane as if the weight of the conversation wasn't bearing down on the group.

"Gods, you say? That sounds fascinating," Urahara said, his voice light but his expression betraying his keen interest. "I've read about plenty of deities across dimensions, but prehistoric ones tied to a land like this? That's a first. What are they like?"

Grizz hesitated, his large frame shifting uncomfortably as he crossed his arms. His future self rarely faltered, but the question seemed to dredge up memories he wasn't entirely eager to share. He glanced at Theron, who stayed quiet but watched intently, his orange eyes betraying his own curiosity.

"To be honest…" Grizz began, his voice low and rumbling, "they're not the kind of gods you'd hope for. They're powerful, yeah, but benevolence? That's not their thing. They care about keeping their influence, their control. And when they see that slipping away... well, things get ugly."

Yoruichi tilted her head, watching Grizz carefully. "Ugly how?" she asked, her golden eyes narrowing.

Grizz exhaled heavily, running a clawed hand over his face as he gathered his thoughts. "I grew up hearing stories about what happened when the gods thought Mom and Dad were stealing their followers. They thought their mortal subjects were turning to them instead, and they didn't like it one bit."

Theron's eyes widened slightly. "But Peter and Victoria didn't mean to do that, right? They just wanted to help the people."

Grizz nodded, his lips pressed into a tight line. "Of course, they didn't mean to. Mom and Dad unified the Savage Lands because it was the right thing to do, helping people survive, thrive. But the gods? They don't see it that way. They see mortals turning their backs on their temples, their rituals, their sacrifices... and they see competition."

Urahara scratched his chin thoughtfully, his sharp mind working through the implications. "So they're territorial, then. Typical divine behavior. But are they all that way? Surely there must be some balance among them, some gods who are more reasonable?"

Grizz gave a bitter chuckle. "Reasonable? Maybe some, but not many. Take Garokk, the Sun God. He sees himself as the king of this place, and he doesn't share power lightly. Then there's the Feathered Huntress, she's all about keeping mortals subservient through fear. And don't even get me started on Ka'rathos or Teyr-Rantha. They're not in it for the people; they're in it for themselves."

He paused, his gaze distant as he recalled stories from his childhood. "Even the ones who seem to help usually have a price. And if they feel like their worshippers are slipping away... they act. Sometimes it's subtle, sometimes it's violent. But they don't sit back and let it happen."

Theron shifted uncomfortably at Grizz's words, his youthful energy dampened by the gravity of the conversation. "So, what do we do if they decide to 'act' again?"

Grizz looked at him, his expression grim. "We hope we're ready. Because the last time they acted, it nearly tore this place apart."

Grizz hesitated, his usual confident demeanor wavering for a moment. He shifted uncomfortably, his eyes glancing toward the jungle canopy as though searching for unseen watchers. "Look," he began, his deep voice quieter than before, "I'm not gonna sugarcoat this. From what Mom and Dad told me… this isn't going to end peacefully."

The group fell silent, all eyes on Grizz as the weight of his words sank in. He sighed and crossed his arms, his gaze locking on Theron. "They don't start with violence. Not at first. They'll make a demand, an ultimatum for us to leave the Savage Lands. They'll claim this place belongs to them, that we've overstayed our welcome. It'll seem like they're being reasonable. Like they're giving us a choice."

"And what happens when we don't leave?" Yoruichi asked, her voice calm but laced with the sharp edge of pragmatism.

Grizz's jaw tightened, his golden eyes hardening as he answered. "When we don't leave—and we won't—they get violent. It doesn't matter how careful Mom and Dad have been, or how much good they've done for the people here. The gods don't care about any of that. All they see is their power slipping away, and they'll do whatever it takes to hold onto it."

Theron clenched his fists, his youthful defiance flaring again. "So, what? They're just going to try and scare us off? Smash a few villages and call it a day?"

Grizz shook his head gravely. "No, kid. It's not just scare tactics. They'll go for blood. They'll strike where it hurts the most, hitting our people, the settlements, the unity we've built. And they'll keep at it until either we leave, or they feel like they've made their point."

Urahara tilted his head, his intrigue momentarily overshadowed by a flicker of concern. "And how do you know this is how it'll play out?"

Grizz exhaled slowly, his massive shoulders sinking as he leaned on a nearby tree for support. "Because it already did. Mom and Dad lived through it. When they started uniting the Savage Lands, the gods saw it as a challenge to their rule. They demanded that Mom, Dad, and everyone they'd brought together leave the land and abandon their progress."

Yoruichi's sharp gaze narrowed. "But they didn't leave."

"Of course not," Grizz replied. "They stood their ground, and that's when things got ugly. The gods unleashed storms, sent beasts, stirred up chaos among the people. The Savage Lands became a battlefield. And then…" His voice trailed off, his expression darkening. "That's when Peter-Knull and some others got involved."

Theron's eyes widened. "Peter-Knull? You mean the alternate version of dad who's a knull? Grizz nodded grimly. "Yeah. He's family, in a way. And when the gods started pushing things too far, he stepped in. At first, it was to defend the settlements, to protect the people. But when one of the gods attacked directly, Peter-Knull was forced to make a choice."

Urahara adjusted his hat, his voice quiet but intent. "And what choice was that?"

Grizz's gaze dropped to the ground, his voice heavy with the memory. "He killed one of them. It wasn't something he wanted to do, but the gods left him no other option. And when he did… it caused the gods to make certain choices.

Yoruichi crossed her arms, her golden eyes watching Grizz carefully. "What do you mean?"

"The gods stopped," Grizz said simply. "They ceased all hostilities. But it wasn't out of fear or loss. They came together and made a declaration. They said if the people of the Savage Lands wanted new gods, so be it. And then they abandoned their followers. They left."

Theron looked horrified. "They just… left? All of them?"

Grizz nodded. "Every single one. They didn't leave anything behind—no blessings, no protections, nothing. They just disappeared, leaving the people to fend for themselves. And that's when Mom and Dad truly took over. They filled the void the gods left behind."

Urahara stroked his chin thoughtfully, his expression a mix of fascination and concern. "So, the gods would rather abandon their dominion than share it? How... petty."

Grizz shrugged, his eyes narrowing. "They don't see it as petty. To them, it's about power, respect, and control. They'd rather walk away than let mortals defy them and live to tell the tale."

Yoruichi let out a slow breath, glancing at the others. "If this is the path we're heading down, then we'd better be ready for it. These gods don't sound like they're going to let us expand without a fight."

Grizz nodded solemnly. "And if history repeats itself, that fight's going to come sooner than later."Bottom of Form

The hour passed with the settlement bustling, preparing for the impending arrival of these legendary beings. Whispers had spread quickly—Grizz's words carried weight, and the gravity of the situation left few unfazed. Peter Parker-Creed, the King of the united Savage Lands settlements, stood with his queen, Victoria Creed, atop their personal dwelling, which overlooked the central plaza. Raptors lingered nearby, alert but calm, their bond with the royal family evident in their protective stances.

The air grew thick, charged with an ancient energy. Then, from the dense jungle, they emerged. The first was Ka'rathos, the Great Devourer, a massive serpent with emerald-green scales glistening like wet stone. His sinuous body coiled and uncoiled as he slithered into the clearing, his piercing eyes glowing with intelligence and menace.

Beside him strode Ogron, the Guardian of the Deep Roots, a towering figure of wood, stone, and crystal. His steps were slow and deliberate, and with each movement, the ground trembled slightly. Luminous green energy pulsed from his chest, as if the life force of the land itself sustained him.

Finally, Teyr-Rantha, the Feathered Huntress, glided into view. Her sleek form was both majestic and terrifying, her feathers shimmering with fiery hues that shifted in the sunlight. Her movements were fluid and predatory, a reminder of the lethal precision she commanded.

The mystics of the settlement, attuned to the arcane forces of the Savage Lands, gasped collectively as they felt the overwhelming presence of the gods. They dropped to their knees, bowing deeply. One of the eldest, a woman draped in furs and tribal beads, whispered in awe, "The Guardians have come."

Without hesitation, a group of mystics rose and hurried to the main hall where Peter and Victoria waited. The eldest entered first, her voice trembling with reverence. "Your Majesty, my Queen, the gods… they have arrived. Ka'rathos, Ogron, and Teyr-Rantha. They bring a message from Garokk, the Petrified Man."

Peter and Victoria exchanged a glance. Victoria's eyes narrowed, her claws twitching slightly out of reflex, while Peter's eyebrows narrowed slightly in response to this.

"Tell them we will see them," Peter said, his voice steady.

The mystics departed, their hurried footsteps echoing as they returned to the plaza. Moments later, Peter and Victoria entered the grand hall, their steps purposeful. Raptors flanked them, their heads low but their eyes sharp as they followed their masters' cues. The central doors were opened, and the trio of gods entered.

Ka'rathos led the way, his massive form gliding smoothly over the stone floor, his head swaying as he studied the room. Ogron ducked slightly to enter, his towering frame dwarfing everyone else in the hall. Teyr-Rantha moved silently, her talons clicking softly against the ground, her glowing eyes locking onto Peter and Victoria.

Peter stepped forward, his gaze unflinching as he addressed the gods. "You've come a long way for this meeting. What does Garokk wish to impart on us?"

Ka'rathos tilted his head slightly, his forked tongue flicking in the air. "A message," he hissed, his voice resonating like the echoes of a deep cavern. "Garokk wishes to extend his terms… terms for your survival."

Teyr-Rantha cocked her head, her feathers ruffling slightly. "Your reign expands. Your influence spreads. But the gods of this land are watching… and we do not approve," she said, her voice sharp and cutting.

Ogron stepped forward, his booming voice reverberating through the hall. "You have united the clans, the tribes, and the beasts of this land. But unity breeds rebellion, rebellion against us."

Victoria's claws flexed, her stance defensive. "Rebellion? We've done nothing to disrespect the gods of these lands."

Ka'rathos's eyes narrowed. "Your progress… diminishes the worship we once commanded. The people look to you and your queen, not to us. Garokk demands you abandon the Savage Lands… or face the wrath of its guardians."

The room fell silent, the weight of the ultimatum hanging heavy in the air. Peter's jaw clenched, but his voice remained calm. "We're not leaving. These people deserve a future, and we're not turning our backs on them."

Ka'rathos hissed, his coils tightening. "Then you choose war."

Victoria stepped forward, her voice serious as she chose her words with conviction. full of resolve. "If it comes to that, we'll fight. But don't think for a second that we'll abandon these people to fear and superstition."

Teyr-Rantha's gaze burned with intensity. "You underestimate us. But perhaps… that is the strength you will need for what comes next."

Without another word, the gods turned and left, their forms vanishing into the jungle. The hall remained silent, the lingering presence of the gods leaving an unease where they once stood.

As the light began to fade from the ice dome outside of the savage lands. , the settlement settled into an uneasy calm. The tension from the gods' earlier visit still lingered, but the day passed without further incident. People went about their routines, repairing huts, tending to raptors, and preparing for the evening. However, the unease that gripped the air didn't dissipate, a feeling like the land itself was holding its breath.

By nightfall, Logan, Laura, and Daken were on patrol with Elara and Selene Parker-Creed, two of Peter and Victoria's sharp-eyed children, as well as several elder raptors trained for reconnaissance. The jungle was quiet save for the occasional rustling leaves and the soft chirps of nocturnal creatures. The shinigami accompanying them, wary and disciplined, moved through the shadows, their keen senses complementing the raptors' acute awareness.

Logan had just started to relax when one of the elder raptors stopped abruptly, its nostrils flaring and its head cocking to one side. Its sharp, golden eyes darted toward the ground, and a low growl rumbled in its throat.

"What is it?" Logan asked, his claws unsheathing instinctively.

The raptor's talons scratched the dirt nervously. A faint vibration reached Logan's boots, subtle at first but growing stronger with each passing second. The others felt it too—the ground beginning to tremble as if the earth itself was alive. Small pebbles danced and rolled across the jungle floor, accompanied by an ominous rattling sound.

"Something's coming," Laura muttered, her claws gleaming in the moonlight.

The vibrations intensified, and the rattling grew louder, echoing through the jungle like the beat of a war drum. A moment later, a distant roar ripped through the air, followed by another, then another. It wasn't just one roar, it was dozens. Hundreds.

"Stampede!" Daken growled, his sharp eyes scanning the jungle as the others turned to face the approaching cacophony.

Elara and Selene's youthful excitement turned to alarm as they watched the trees in the distance begin to sway violently, the ground trembling under the sheer weight of what was coming.

From the shadows of the jungle emerged a horde of dinosaurs, triceratops, ankylosaurs, ceratosaurs, and even smaller carnivores, all barreling toward the narrow passageway that led directly to the settlement. Dust rose into the air, and the sound of their charging feet was deafening.

Logan's instincts kicked in immediately. "We need to warn the settlement! Move!" he barked.

Elara nodded, quickly scaling one of the raptors, her twin sister not far behind. The elder raptors let out sharp, shrill cries that echoed through the night, signaling the impending threat to anyone who could hear.

Back at the settlement, Peter Parker-Creed was already in motion. The vibrations had reached the outskirts, and the settlement's trained raptors were agitated, letting out warning calls that sent the people scrambling to action. Peter wasted no time, barking out orders to his commanders with the authority of a seasoned leader.

"Divert the herd! Block the western passage! Deploy the mounted riders to the southern trail!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the rising panic. "Get everyone to safety and clear the streets!"

Victoria Creed stood at his side, her claws out and her expression steely. "I'll take the north side. We need to split their momentum."

Peter nodded, already formulating a game plan. "I'll lead a team to the cliffs. If we can divert the herd, we might save the settlement."

From the cliffside, Logan could see the stampede clearly now, a living tide of prehistoric might, their roars blending into a chaotic symphony of destruction. But what caught his eye wasn't just the stampede. His sharp gaze locked onto a figure perched atop the cliffs, her feathered form illuminated by the moonlight.

The Feathered Huntress, Teyr-Rantha, the same goddess who had appeared earlier in the day. She stood tall and proud, her glowing eyes fixed on the chaos below. Her wings flared out dramatically as she raised her arms, letting out a piercing shriek that carried above the roar of the stampede.

Logan growled under his breath, his claws flexing. "She's behind this! She's controlling them!"

From her vantage point, Teyr-Rantha sneered, her cunning gaze flickering with triumph. This wasn't just an attack, it was a test, a message. And she wanted them to know of FormBottom of Form

Logan's sharp gaze never left Teyr-Rantha as she stood perched on the cliff, her feathered form bathed in the silver light of the moon through the ice dome, her wings extended, and her predatory stance oozed authority. Her piercing shriek cut through the night, sending the dinosaurs below into a frenzy, their thunderous roars drowning out any attempts to control the chaos.

But then, as if her presence alone wasn't enough to stoke the fires of anger in Logan's chest, she wasn't alone anymore. Another figure stepped forward, emerging from the shadows beside her. Logan's breath hitched, his claws digging into his palms as he recognized that smug, condescending gait.

"No," Logan growled, his voice low and venomous. "No way."

The man's pale, porcelain-like skin glimmered in the moonlight, his perfectly pressed suit and slicked-back black hair a stark contrast to the savage beauty of the Feathered Huntress. He smirked, his unsettling crimson eyes gleaming with amusement as he placed one hand on Teyr-Rantha's feathered shoulder as if they were equals—or worse, allies.

"Sinister," Logan hissed, his voice dripping with hatred.

The memories came rushing back, Sinister's cruel experiments, his manipulation, his betrayal of everything Logan and others like him had ever tried to protect. The diamond-shaped marking on his forehead glinted mockingly, a symbol of all the suffering he'd caused. And now, here he was, standing beside a literal goddess of the Savage Lands, as if the universe itself had decided to pour salt into Logan's already festering wounds.

Teyr-Rantha tilted her head, her predatory gaze meeting Logan's as if she could feel the seething hatred radiating from him even at this distance. Beside her, Sinister let out a quiet, theatrical laugh, his voice carrying across the chaos with a silkiness that made Logan's blood boil.

"Well, well," Sinister purred, raising his voice so it echoed across the cliffs. "If it isn't my favorite lapdog." His lips twisted into a sinister grin as he casually gestured toward the stampeding dinosaurs. "Enjoying the little show? You always did have a knack for surviving the impossible, Logan. Let's see if your precious kingdom fares as well."

Logan's vision turned red. He couldn't hear the roaring of the dinosaurs anymore, couldn't feel the ground shaking beneath his feet. All he could see was Sinister's smug face and the chaos he'd wrought over the years. The urge to leap up that cliff and tear the man limb from limb surged within him.

Laura's voice snapped him back to reality. "Logan!" she barked, her claws unsheathing as she stepped closer. "Focus. We don't have time for this."

Logan gritted his teeth, his claws trembling with the effort of restraint. He forced himself to look away from Sinister, glancing back toward the stampede hurtling toward the settlement. The people needed him now. They couldn't afford for him to lose his head, no matter how much he wanted to rip Sinister apart.

From above, Sinister chuckled, his laughter grating like nails on a chalkboard. "Oh, don't worry, Logan. We'll catch up soon. But for now… enjoy the chaos."

Teyr-Rantha spread her wings wide, letting out another piercing cry before leaping off the cliff and soaring into the night. Sinister, with one last mocking smile, turned and followed her into the shadows, leaving Logan trembling with barely contained fury.

"We deal with him later," Logan growled, his voice a low, dangerous promise. "Right now, we save the people." The ground trembled beneath their feet as the deafening roar of the stampede drew closer. The air was thick with dust, and the cries of frightened villagers filled the settlement. Peter Parker-Creed stood atop a stone platform near the main thoroughfare, his commanding voice cutting through the chaos like a blade.

"Everyone, listen up!" Peter barked, his sharp gaze sweeping over the crowd. His tone was steady, but the urgency in his words was unmistakable. "We don't have time to turn them back. The herd is too close! We're going to corral them through the settlement and out the other side!"

Victoria Creed was by his side, cradling her belly protectively

"You heard him! Block off every entrance to the homes, secure the windows and doors with whatever you've got, tables, stone slabs, anything! Keep everyone inside and out of harm's way!"

Their children sprang into action, each one moving with purpose. Lycan, his golden eyes glowing with determination, took charge of the younger villagers. "Get to the side streets!" he ordered, pointing to a group of able-bodied teens. "Use the barrels, crates, anything heavy—to block off the alleyways. We can't let them veer off course!"

Sarah and Ferra Parker-Creed dashed into the fray, their sharp senses and quick thinking guiding the villagers as they piled debris and furniture against entrances. "Reinforce this corner!" Sarah shouted, helping an elder drag a heavy stone bench across an open doorway. Ferra leaped up to a rooftop, scanning the layout with precision. "The north side needs more barricades! Get on it, now!"

Elara and Selene, were next were busy with the village children, shepherding them into the safest areas with the help of their elder raptors. The raptors moved with eerie intelligence, snapping and nudging people into buildings with their muscular tails and sharp cries.

Logan, Laura, and Daken worked in tandem, their claws tearing through fallen debris to create clear paths for the herd to move through. Logan's growl cut through the chaos as he hefted a large stone to one side. "Keep movin', keep movin'! We've gotta make sure they don't pile up in the streets."

Meanwhile, Peter kept his eyes on the incoming stampede. The massive wave of dinosaurs thundered closer, their frenzied movements stirring up a cloud of dust and leaves. The ground quaked, and the vibrations grew stronger with each passing second.

Peter turned to Victoria, his face grim. "We'll have to open the main street all the way through. It's the only way they'll move fast enough to not break through the buildings."

Victoria nodded, her claws retracting as she signaled to the villagers closest to her. "Start clearing the center road! Fast!"

"Raptors, to me!" Peter shouted, and his trained pack of elder raptors sprinted to his side, their keen senses picking up on his commands. He pointed to key intersections. "Guard these corners. If anything veers off, redirect it!"

The raptors hissed in unison, scattering to take their positions.

Peter's second oldest son, Theron, sprinted to his side, his face pale but determined. "Dad, are you sure this is going to work? That's a lot of dinosaurs."

"It'll work," Peter said firmly, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "We don't have another choice. If we panic or hesitate, people get hurt. We stay calm, we stay sharp, and we make it happen."

The first wave of the stampede hit the settlement like a tidal wave, the ground shaking violently as massive dinosaurs barreled into the main street. The villagers screamed, but the stone buildings held strong

The narrow path Peter had coordinated forced the herd to move single-file through the settlement, their sheer momentum carrying them forward.

The air was filled with the sounds of thundering footsteps, bellowing roars, and the cracking of wood as stray debris was trampled underfoot. Peter stood at the head of the settlement, barking orders to his raptors and people.

"Hold the line! Keep the barricades strong!" he shouted, his voice steady even as the chaos surged around him.

One of the dinosaurs—a massive triceratops—veered slightly, its horned head crashing into a sidewall. Lycan and Logan were on it in an instant, pushing the beast back into the flow of the stampede with sheer force.

"Stay in line, big guy!" Lycan grunted, his claws gripping the creature's flank as he pushed it forward.

On the rooftops, Ferra and Sarah worked to guide the flow, their keen eyes spotting any signs of stragglers. "There's a gap forming on the west side!" Sarah yelled, and Ferra nodded, signaling to the villagers below to reinforce the area.

Finally, the tail end of the herd began to pass through, the pounding footsteps growing more distant as the dinosaurs disappeared into the jungle on the other side of the settlement. The dust began to settle, leaving the villagers and the Parker-Creed family standing amidst the wreckage of barricades and debris.

Peter exhaled deeply, his body relaxing for the first time in what felt like hours. "We did it," he said, his voice filled with relief.

Victoria stepped up beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder. "Yeah," she said. "But I don't think this is the end of it."

Peter nodded grimly, his sharp eyes scanning the jungle. "No. they're not going to give up that easily."Bottom of Form

…

As night fell over the heart of the Savage Lands settlement. The towering stone and wooden and thatch structures were providing a backdrop to the usual forested area as torches flickered and mystics in ceremonial garb prepared for the meeting. Victoria Creed sat beside her husband, Peter Parker-Creed, who leaned over the table in the central chamber, poring over maps and discussing defenses with trusted advisors and mystics. Her hand rested on her belly, a subtle but protective gesture as she listened intently.

Baby Grizz cooed softly in the corner, oblivious to the gravity of the situation, his tiny hands grasping at colorful toys made from leather and bone. Across the room, his older counterpart stood silently, his massive frame looming near the doorway. The elder Grizz's sharp eyes followed his parents' every move, his expression heavy with unspoken knowledge. He glanced briefly at Logan, Yoruchi, and Uruhara, who exchanged knowing looks. They had heard Grizz's tale before, his ominous warnings of what was to come.

"This won't end well," Logan muttered under his breath, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. "These gods, whatever they think they are, they don't take rejection lightly."

Uruhara adjusted his hat, his voice calm but laden with curiosity. "It's fascinating, really. Gods abandoning their people when their power is questioned. A cycle that repeats across dimensions. But here, it feels... personal."

Victoria's voice broke through the discussion as she turned to Grizz. "You said the gods won't listen, no matter what we do?"

Grizz nodded solemnly. "They'll demand that we leave. And when Dad refuses—when all of you refuse, they'll strike. They'll make an example of us. That's when Peter-Knull gets involved."

Peter-Creed straightened, his sharp gaze locking onto his future son. "And you said he kills one of them?"

"Yes," Grizz replied. "It's the only thing that stops them. The people, they lose their gods. But they gain something more." His gaze shifted to Baby Grizz, who gurgled happily. "Hope. They gain hope because of what you and Mom do."

The chamber fell silent as everyone absorbed the weight of his words. Peter finally nodded, his jaw set with determination. "Then we make sure we're ready for them."

Logan exhaled heavily, muttering, "You're going to need it."

Hours passed, and the settlement remained eerily quiet. Torches flickered outside the temple as the mystics began their rites, chanting ancient prayers to warn the gods and offer final pleas for peace. Inside, Peter and Victoria worked tirelessly, coordinating plans and assigning roles to their children and allies.

"Kael, Jarek, Lycan, you'll help coordinate with the raptor handlers to keep the herds calm," Peter ordered. "Draven, Rhea, and Lyra, support the mystics. Make sure everyone is ready to take shelter if needed."

Elara, stood beside her siblings, her sharp green eyes focused as she added, "And if it comes to a fight, we'll be ready."

Peter's voice softened slightly. "It won't come to that if we can help it. But if it does, we protect the people."

…

Come morning, Peter Parker-Creed stood near the main temple, his family gathered around him as they finished another round of coordination with the mystics. The stillness of the evening was broken when a deep, resonant hum echoed from the forest.

The jungle seemed to part as three figures emerged, their presence imposing and otherworldly. Ka'rathos, the serpent god, slithered forward, his massive emerald body shimmering as his glowing eyes locked onto the gathered family. Teyr-Rantha, the Feathered Huntress, stepped lightly beside him, her raptor-like form elegant with its feathers and wings on her back yet menacing. And finally, towering above them, Korr'mundar, the Woodstone Titan, moved with slow, deliberate strides, his crystalline core pulsating faintly.

The mystics immediately fell to their knees, bowing low in reverence and fear. Whispers of their names rippled through the crowd, and those who were near froze in awe and dread. Peter stepped forward protectively, his sharp gaze fixed on the gods, while Victoria instinctively placed a hand on her rounded belly. The children clustered protectively near their mother, their expressions a mix of defiance and unease.

Ka'rathos's deep, silken voice was the first to break the silence. "We have returned, mortals, to deliver our final demand. Leave this land. Take your kingdom, your people, and your bastard offspring elsewhere."

The insult stung , causing a ripple of anger among Peter's children. Grizz growled low, his hulking form stiff with tension, while Lycan bared his sharp teeth, his golden eyes glowing. Ferra and Sarah exchanged furious glances, while Jarek clenched his fists, the heat of his anger barely restrained. Even Kael, always composed, narrowed his bright eyes in fury.

Victoria gasped softly, her face pale with shock at the venomous insult, but Peter held his ground, his voice calm but icy. "You've made your feelings clear. We've already given you our answer: we're not leaving."

Teyr-Rantha tilted her head, her feathered body glinting in the fading sunlight as she sneered. "Then we will take what you value most. Tomorrow, when we come upon you in full force… we will use your unborn child as a sacrifice in our honor."

The jungle seemed to hold its breath. For a moment, there was only silence, terrible, suffocating silence.

Peter's body moved before his mind did, stepping directly in front of Victoria as she instinctively cradled her stomach, her face frozen in horror. The sheer malice of the words struck everyone like a blow. Victoria's green eyes widened, glistening with tears, as her free hand gripped Peter's arm, trembling.

Grizz roared, his voice shaking the very ground. "You'd better watch your damn tongue!" he snarled, his claws unsheathing. "Touch her, and I'll rip you apart myself!"

Lycan growled low, his hackles raised. "Try it, and we'll see who gets sacrificed," he said, his voice laced with venom.

Jarek and Kael moved closer to their father, their youthful expressions dark with a determination beyond their years. Sarah, Ferra, and the younger siblings closed ranks around their mother, their glares locked on the gods.

Logan, standing nearby with Laura and Daken, was practically vibrating with rage. "You've got a death wish if you think threatening their kid is a good idea," he growled, his claws sliding out as he stepped forward.

Korr'mundar's voice boomed, drowning out the defiant growls. "One day, mortal. One day to reconsider. When the sun sets again, we will come."

Peter's jaw clenched, his eyes burning with an intensity that made even the gods falter for a fraction of a second. "If you think you can take my family, my kingdom, my people… try. But you won't walk away."

Victoria's voice was barely a whisper, trembling yet filled with quiet fury. "You'll have to kill me first."

Ka'rathos smiled darkly, his fangs gleaming. "That can be arranged."

With that, the gods turned and retreated into the jungle, their forms vanishing into the shadows as quickly as they had appeared. The settlement was left in stunned silence, the only sound the faint rustling of the trees.

Peter turned to his family, his expression hard yet softening for his family. His voice carrying strength despite the storm of emotions beneath. "We won't give them the satisfaction."

Victoria leaned into him, her fingers tightening around his body as she whispered, "Peter… they mean it."

Peter quickly kissed her on the cheek calming her down. "If they want a war, we and Peter-Knull will give them one."

…

The sun was barely cresting over the horizon as the rumble of a motorcycle echoed through the jungle trails leading to the settlement. Peter-Knull rode ahead of the group, his leather jacket catching the morning light. Intricate patterns and symbols adorned the black leather, reflecting the symbiotic power thrumming just beneath the surface. His molten red eyes burned with quiet intensity beneath his visor-like helmet, which he casually pulled off, letting his dark hair fall into place.

Behind him, Nick Fury stepped out of an armored vehicle, his trench coat swaying as he surveyed the settlement. Beside him walked Jean Grey, her crimson hair glinting like fire in the dawn. She moved with purpose, her expression calm but intense. Thor followed, his imposing frame making him stand out even among the already powerful company. His hammer rested in his hand, ready for action. Spider-Woman, Mystique, Destiny, Nightcrawler, and a few others completed the group, all wearing expressions that ranged from curiosity to growing concern.

The settlement's gates creaked open as villagers ushered them inside. The sight of Parker-Creed's children and family greeted them in the square, their stances protective yet proud. Peter Parker-Creed stood tall, adorned in leathers and animal bones of his status, though worn and patched from years of use. Beside him, Victoria Creed rested a hand on her belly, her other arm wrapped protectively around her youngest child, Baby Grizz, who cooed softly.

Peter-Knull dismounted from his bike, the sound of his boots crunching against the dirt commanding immediate attention. He scanned the scene with practiced calm, his glowing eyes narrowing as he approached Parker-Creed.

"What's going on?" Peter-Knull asked, his voice low but laced with authority.

Parker-Creed took a deep breath. "The gods of this land came back last night," he began, his voice calm despite the clear anger simmering beneath it. "They demanded we leave. When I refused, they escalated."

Victoria's hand trembled slightly as she stepped forward. "They threatened to return in full force… and they said they'd use our unborn child as a sacrifice in their honor."

Peter-Knull's molten red eyes flared brighter, his symbiotic armor rippling in response. He turned his head sharply, looking at Victoria, then at Parker-Creed, as if ensuring what he'd just heard was real. A low, dangerous growl escaped him, his fists clenching. "They dare?"

Jean Grey gasped softly, her hand moving to her chest. "That's… monstrous," she murmured. Nightcrawler's tail flicked sharply behind him, his normally calm demeanor replaced with a tense frown.

Thor's grip on Mjolnir tightened, the storm-bringer practically humming with power. "These gods have crossed a line. To threaten the life of an innocent child is an affront to all honor."

Spider-Woman folded her arms, her sharp eyes narrowing. "They've got a death wish, threatening people like this."

Nick Fury muttered under his breath, "Gods or not, they're asking to get knocked down a peg."

Mystique's lips twisted into a snarl, while Destiny's gaze turned distant, as if she was seeing something beyond the immediate moment. Her voice was calm but chilling. "Their arrogance will be their undoing."

Peter-Knull turned back toward Parker-Creed, his tone measured but filled with unmistakable venom. "What's the plan?" he asked, his symbiote swirling around his arm, sharp tendrils forming before retracting. "Because I'm not leaving until they learn exactly who they're dealing with."

Parker-Creed nodded, his voice sharpening. "We've fortified the settlement as much as we can, but if they attack, we need to be ready to hit them where it hurts."

Jean stepped closer. "The world's already watching this. If they strike, Earth's heroes will stand with you."

Thor slammed the head of his hammer into the ground, his voice a booming promise. "Let them come. They will know the wrath of Midgard's might."

Peter-Knull cast a glance toward Victoria, noting the quiet strength in her posture despite the fear in her eyes. He stepped closer to her, his presence commanding, and spoke in a softer tone. "No one's taking anything from you. Not your family. Not your home."

Victoria's green eyes shimmered with gratitude, and she managed a small nod. Parker-Creed placed a hand on her shoulder, his grip reassuring as he turned to the group. "If they want a fight, we'll give them one. But we fight for the people, for our family."

Peter-Knull gave a small, grim smile. "Then let's show them exactly what that means."

…

Peter-Knull stood at the edge of the settlement, the black leather of his biker jacket gleaming under the pale moonlight. His Void-Fang sword was strapped to his back, and the ominous presence of his symbiotic power seemed to radiate like a chilling wind, making even the air feel heavier. His sharp gaze scanned the tree line as the gods of the Savage Lands revealed themselves, their majestic yet menacing forms stepping out of the jungle's shadows.

First came Ka'rathos, the Great Devourer, his immense serpentine body slithering silently but with menace. Beside him strode Zaar-Gorrath, the Lizard God, his armored hide reflecting an ancient and primal strength. And leading them was Teyr-Rantha, the Feathered Huntress, her feathers glowing faintly, her talons clicking as she stepped forward. The very ground beneath her seemed to tremble with an otherworldly presence. The people of the settlement, watching from behind Peter-Knull, held their breath, their fear mixing with the realization that there was no negotiations left to be had.

The gods made no move to attack. Instead, they strode forward as if Peter-Knull were no obstacle. But as Teyr-Rantha approached, her piercing gaze locked onto him, Peter-Knull stepped directly into her path, blocking her advance. His hand rested lightly on the hilt of Void-Fang, his body radiating a calm but unrelenting defiance.

The goddess tilted her head, her sharp beak glinting in the moonlight as her voice slithered out, dripping with venom. "Tell me, child of the Void, do you wish to have one of your own children sacrificed? Perhaps little James? Or better yet…" Her eyes gleamed with cruel amusement. "If the reports are to be believed, the other two who are growing in Madelyn's womb?"

The words hit like a hammer. Behind him, murmurs rose from the gathered crowd, and Yoruichi's sharp intake of breath cut through the tense silence. Logan clenched his fists, his claws unsheathing instinctively, while Urahara narrowed his eyes, his fan closing with a snap.

Peter-Knull's jaw tightened, and he leveled a glare at the Feathered Huntress, his expression as cold and deadly as the void itself. Slowly, deliberately, he reached behind him, drawing the Void-Fang sword from its sheath. The blade's jagged, symbiote-like teeth glinted with a malicious hunger as black flames licked its edge. His voice was deathly calm, measured, but it carried the weight of a storm about to break.

"You know," he began, his tone dripping with contempt, "I've never understood gods like you. So eager to feed off the worship and privileges of loyal followers who give you everything. So eager to spew your shit-laced words at those you deem lesser than yourself."

He took a step closer, his symbiotic chains slithering out from his arm and coiling in anticipation, their black fire casting eerie shadows. "Normally, I would show restraint… but you've crossed too many lines."

Before the Feathered Huntress could react, Peter-Knull's chains shot out, wrapping around her feathered body with a sickening hiss. The black flames engulfed her feathers, their brilliant glow dimming as her power was drained. She screeched, a sound that sent shivers through everyone watching, as her struggles became frantic.

Peter-Knull planted Void-Fang into the ground, and black tendrils of symbiote spread out from it like a web, creeping toward the trapped goddess. "So…" His voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "I'm going to do something far, far worse than simply kill you."

The ground beneath her opened up into a swirling pit of shadows, the very essence of his symbiote hell. From its depths emerged demonic symbiotes and jailers, their grotesque forms eager as they reached for her. Teyr-Rantha screamed as they dragged her down, her form vanishing into the abyss. The pit closed, leaving only silence and the faint stench of burning feathers.

Peter-Knull turned, his eyes glowing faintly as he locked gazes with the remaining gods. His voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade. "Anyone else want to join her?"

Ka'rathos and Zaar-Gorrath exchanged glances, their once-imposing forms seeming to falter under his gaze. They remained silent, their resolve shaken.

Behind Peter-Knull, the crowd was frozen in stunned silence. Yoruichi's eyes were wide, her usual confidence replaced with shock as she muttered, "What the hell was that?"

Urahara's fan trembled in his hand before he managed to force a nervous chuckle. "Well… that's… definitely something I didn't account for."

Even Logan, who had seen more horrors than most, stood stiff, his claws flexing as he muttered under his breath, "Damn… I've seen a lot, but nothing like that."

The gathered Shinigami shifted uneasily, their usual stoicism cracked as they exchanged nervous glances. None of them dared speak, but the unspoken thought was clear: they were grateful Peter-Knull was on their side.

Peter Parker-Creed stepped forward, his face pale as the gathered crowd remained locked in stunned silence, their wide eyes darting between Peter-Knull and the spot where Teyr-Rantha had vanished into the abyss. He cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the tension with a quiet authority that drew everyone's attention.

"That," Peter began, gesturing to the smoldering black tendrils still curling around Void-Fang, "was a gateway to Peter-Knull's personal prison."

A ripple of murmurs broke through the crowd, the weight of the revelation settling heavily on those present. Yoruichi, her sharp instincts piqued, narrowed her eyes. "Personal prison?" she echoed, her tone a mix of incredulity and unease.

Peter nodded, his gaze lingering on the ground where the portal had been. "A hell dimension of sorts," he explained, his voice steady but laced with the gravity of the situation. "It's where he sends the worst of the worst. Anyone who deserves to be there… they never get out."

Urahara adjusted his hat, his usual air of levity completely absent as he took in Peter's words. "And this… prison," he said, his voice carefully measured, "it's staffed, I assume?"

Peter-Knull turned to face the group, his dark, piercing eyes gleaming faintly in the moonlight. "Staffed is putting it lightly," he said, his tone as cold and sharp as the edge of Void-Fang. "My jailers… they follow my every command. They exist solely to keep those sent to my hell from escaping and to ensure they suffer for the eternity they've earned. They are relentless, unwavering, and utterly merciless."

Logan crossed his arms, his claws retracting with a soft snikt. "And these jailers of yours," he growled, his gruff voice heavy with suspicion, "they ever step outta line?"

Peter-Knull's lips twitched into a smirk, though there was no humor in it. "They're extensions of my will, Logan," he said simply. "They don't step out of line because they are the line."

The gathered Shinigami exchanged uneasy glances, their unease was apparent. One of them finally stepped forward, his voice trembling slightly. "And… what happens to someone who doesn't deserve to be there? What if someone is sent there by mistake?"

Peter-Knull's expression darkened further, his voice lowering into a dangerous growl. "There are no mistakes. I only send those who have crossed lines that can never be uncrossed. Those who've caused pain, suffering, and destruction without remorse. If they're there, it's because they belong there."

The air seemed to grow heavier with his words, the implications chilling even the most battle-hardened warriors among them. Yoruichi crossed her arms, her usual confidence wavering as she muttered, "Damn… that's one hell of a system."

Peter Parker-Creed placed a hand on his wife Victoria's shoulder, grounding her as her trembling subsided. "This isn't the kind of power to take lightly," he said as Peter-Knull turned his piercing gaze toward the remaining gods, Ka'rathos and Zaar-Gorrath. His black eyes burned with an intensity that made the very air around him feel heavy. The symbiotic chains at his side writhed like restless serpents, waiting for a command. He took a step forward, planting Void-Fang firmly into the ground, the faint hum of its power reverberating through the soil.

"So?" Peter-Knull asked, his voice carrying a newfound edge and cold, dripping with disdain. "Still want to continue this?"

Ka'rathos, the massive serpent-like god, flicked his forked tongue, the emerald glow of his scales dimming slightly under Peter-Knull's unyielding glare. Zaar-Gorrath, the ancient titan of stone and wood, shifted uneasily, his crystalline eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation. The oppressive silence dragged on, broken only by the faint crackle of Peter-Knull's symbiotic energy and the murmurs of those watching.

Finally, Ka'rathos spoke, his voice a deep, resonant hiss that carried both anger and resignation. "We see now… this land is no longer ours to govern. Your kind has chosen its path."

Zaar-Gorrath straightened, his towering form creaking like ancient trees in a storm. His voice boomed, solemn and final. "We, the gods of the Savage Lands, wash our hands clean of this place. If you wish for new gods, if you desire to follow this being of darkness and fire, then so be it."

Ka'rathos coiled his great body, his glowing green eyes narrowing. "You may have him," he spat venomously. "We do not linger where we are not wanted."

As one, the two gods turned, their massive forms retreating into the jungle. Their movements were deliberate, each step marking the end of an era. Their departure seemed to echo through the land, the very earth trembling faintly as they left. The few remaining primal deities, who had lingered on the edges of the confrontation, followed without a word, vanishing into the dense foliage like shadows dissolving at dawn.

The gathered crowd watched in stunned silence, the weight of what had just transpired sinking in. The gods of the Savage Lands, the beings that had ruled over this place for eons, were gone. They had abandoned their people, their temples, their power, and their dominion.

Peter-Knull stood motionless, his sharp eyes never leaving the retreating forms of the gods. His chains slithered back into his arm, and the black glow of Void-Fang dimmed as he pulled the blade free of the ground. Turning to face the onlookers, he spoke with a sharp finality. "They were never gods worth following. This land deserves better."

Behind him, Victoria let out a shaky breath, her hand protectively resting on her belly. Grizz's towering form stood stiffly at the back, his eyes narrowing with a mix of vindication and unease. "Just like I said," he murmured, his voice carrying across the hushed crowd. "When they can't have what they want, they leave."

Logan crossed his arms, his usual gruff demeanor intact, though his voice held a rare edge of respect. "Can't say I'll miss them."

Yoruichi leaned against a nearby post, her golden eyes flicking toward Peter-Knull with an expression that was equal parts awe and wariness. "Well, that's one way to handle things," she muttered.

Urahara fanned himself nervously, his usual grin nowhere to be seen. "Let's hope the vacuum they left behind doesn't cause even more problems," he said, though his tone suggested he already suspected otherwise.

Peter Parker-Creed stepped forward, his voice calm but honest. "We'll take care of it. This land is the peoples now. its people, its future. If they want to call Peter-Knull a god, so be it. At least he stands with us."

The crowd murmured in agreement, their awe of Peter-Knull evident. As the night deepened, residual fear lingered, but so did a growing sense of unity. The Savage Lands had been abandoned by its so-called gods, but its people were far from defeated. Under Peter and Victoria's leadership, they had found their true protectors, the ones who stood by their side throughout all of this.

…

The warm atmosphere of Unohana's clinic in the Soul Society stood in sharp contrast to the events of the Savage Lands. Peter-Knull sat on a low stool near a corner of the room, watching his toddler son, James Pryor-Knull, with a rare softness in his eyes. James, in his little playpen, was deeply engrossed in constructing a working clocktower out of symbiotic building blocks. The clock's hand moved with precision, powered by James' innate control over his symbiote abilities. Nearby, Selene and Lycan Pryor-Knull played quietly with their own toys, each exuding the same uncanny control over their symbiotic creations.

On the examination table, Madelyn Pryor rested comfortably, her red hair glowing faintly in the soft light of the clinic. Unohana gently worked the ultrasound machine, her expression calm and serene, though her experienced hands betrayed a slight hesitation. Beside her stood Isane, Menoly, and Loly, who watched with wide-eyed curiosity and no small amount of unease. In the back of the room, Mayuri Kurotsuchi sat on a high stool, his golden eyes narrowing behind his curved headpiece as he scratched notes onto a small pad with an almost frantic intensity.

When the image on the ultrasound screen finally came into focus, the room collectively froze. Two amorphous shapes appeared, one glowing a warm, golden yellow and the other shimmering in iridescent hues of purple and blue. The masses writhed slightly on the screen, pulsing like living, breathing organisms. It was unlike anything any of them had ever seen.

Isane's hand shot to her mouth, her gray eyes widening. "Are… are those the babies?"

Menoly's eyes suddenly felt like dinnerplates. , her disbelief evident. "That's… that's not normal, right? That can't be normal."

Loly, never one to hide her thoughts, took a step back and muttered, "What the hell? Are they supposed to look like that? They're… they're blobs."

Even Unohana, ever the composed healer, tilted her head slightly as she studied the screen. Her calm tone barely masked her curiosity. "Fascinating… Their forms are entirely symbiotic, yet the energy signatures are unmistakably alive. They're developing symbiote traits at a molecular level before taking on a humanoid form."

Mayuri let out a sharp cackle from the back of the room, his pen scratching furiously. "Marvelous! Simply marvelous! To think, they're bypassing traditional organic growth entirely. A purely symbiotic embryonic state! Oh, the possibilities! The applications! Tell me, Pryor, has this been observed before?"

Madelyn chuckled softly, her expression one of fond amusement rather than concern. "Oh, it's nothing new, Mayuri. The same thing happened with Lycan, Selene, and James when they were developing."

Peter-Knull leaned back slightly, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "It's not just us. Dazzler, Gabriella, Elsa Bloodstone… all the mothers of symbiote hybrids we know of have gone through this. You get used to it after a while."

Isane blinked in surprise, her soft voice tinged with lingering shock. "You're saying this is… normal? For your children?"

Madelyn nodded, her hand instinctively resting on her belly. "It's just how they develop. They'll start taking on physical forms closer to birth."

Menoly crossed her arms, her skepticism clear. "I'm sorry, but I still don't believe it. That's just-?" She broke off as Loly gestured toward the table, where Unohana was preparing to take a blood sample from Madelyn.

With practiced ease, Unohana drew a small vial of blood. But instead of the expected crimson liquid, a red, writhing symbiotic mass flowed into the vial. It shifted and squirmed, as if alive, before slithering out of the vial and back toward Madelyn's arm. Menoly and Loly yelped in unison as the mass reconnected with her skin and disappeared, leaving no trace behind.

"What the hell was that?!" Loly shouted, her voice high-pitched as she stumbled back.

Menoly's eyes darted between Madelyn and the empty vial, her disbelief overwhelming. "That… that can't be real. That's not blood! That's, what even was that?!"

Madelyn couldn't help but laugh softly, shaking her head. "I forgot to mention that part. Our blood's been replaced with symbiotic matter. It's part of the bond."

Loly stared, her face pale. "That's… that's insane. How do you even function like that?"

Peter-Knull smirked, his voice calm but laced with amusement. "It works better than you think. The symbiote enhances the body, heals injuries faster, even makes us immune to most diseases. Once you get used to it, it's second nature."

Mayuri let out another delighted laugh, his pen tapping rapidly against his pad. "Symbiotic blood! Of course! Why didn't I think of that? The regenerative possibilities alone are extraordinary. If only I could study it further…"

Unohana turned her attention back to the screen, her calm voice breaking through the chaotic reactions. "It may be unorthodox, but the energy I'm detecting is remarkably stable. They're developing just as they should be."

Madelyn smiled warmly, her fingers tracing small circles over her belly. "See? Nothing to worry about. They're just… unique."

The room fell silent for a moment, the bizarre yet strangely awe-inspiring nature of the situation sinking in. Even Menoly and Loly, their initial shock fading, exchanged uneasy glances before nodding slightly, accepting that this was far beyond their understanding.

Loly's eyes remained fixed on Madelyn, her mind racing as the implications of what she had just learned began to settle in. The room around her seemed to fade, the faint sound of James' giggles and the steady hum of the clinic becoming distant. Then, as if struck by lightning, it clicked.

Her eyes widened, and she blurted, "Wait a minute… anyone that gets close to one of your symbiotes… this happens to them?"

Madelyn tilted her head, a bemused smile tugging at her lips. "Well, yes. Symbiote bonding is... intimate. It's not just a surface-level connection. There's always a risk of symbiotic traits transferring if there's prolonged exposure."

Loly's cheeks flushed a deep crimson as her gaze darted toward Grym-Axe, the massive Sym-Orc standing guard near the doorway. He had his arms crossed, his hulking, green-skinned form covered in the swirling black patterns of his symbiote armor. His burning orange eyes briefly flicked to her, a smirk playing across his tusked face as if he were blissfully unaware of her growing panic.

Loly's heart pounded. She'd been spending a lot of time with Grym-Axe lately, more time than she cared to admit out loud. He'd been surprisingly gentle for someone so intimidating, and their relationship had blossomed into something more than just casual companionship. But now… the strange cravings she'd been having, the unexplainable desire for dangerous substances like poisons and antidotes, suddenly made a horrifying kind of sense.

Driven by both fear and curiosity, Loly grabbed a scalpel from a nearby tray, ignoring Menoly's alarmed "What are you doing?!" With trembling hands, she nicked her finger.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, as she stared in disbelief, a tiny writhing mass of purple symbiotic matter emerged from the wound, squirming for a split second before sealing the cut entirely. The wound disappeared, leaving her finger pristine as the symbiote retreated back beneath her skin.

Loly froze, her eyes locked on her hand. Her mouth moved, but no words came out.

Menoly leaned in, her own face a mixture of shock and fascination. "Oh… my… God…"

Loly managed to mutter out through shock, Loly blinked at him, her words catching in her throat. "I… I think… it's more than that."

Before anyone could question her further, Loly grabbed an ultrasound wand from the nearby machine. She ignored Menoly's shocked protests as she sat on the edge of the exam bed and lifted her shirt slightly to expose her abdomen. "If… if this is what I think it is, I need to know."

Madelyn stepped forward, her own face a mixture of curiosity and quiet understanding. "Here, let me help," she offered, adjusting the machine and placing a reassuring hand on Loly's shoulder.

Loly nodded nervously, holding her breath as Madelyn applied the gel and guided the wand over her stomach. The monitor flickered to life, and for a few moments, it displayed only static and faint movement. Then, it came into focus.

The room fell silent.

On the screen, a distinct mass began to take shape, a swirling, organic fusion of green and purple energy, pulsing faintly as if alive. The symbiotic mass moved in sync, as if responding to the vibrations around it. Loly's breath caught in her throat, her hand flying to cover her mouth.

"That's…" she whispered, her voice shaking.

Madelyn's lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "It's a symbiote embryo. Yours and Grym-Axe's."

Loly stared at the screen, her emotions a chaotic mix of disbelief, awe, and something she couldn't quite place, hope. "It's… it's our child."

Grym-Axe's eyes widened at her words, his usual confidence faltering. He stepped closer, his hulking frame looming protectively over her. His orange eyes locked on the monitor as the realization hit him. For a moment, the fierce Sym-Orc looked almost vulnerable.

"Our… child?" he rumbled, his voice low and reverent.

Loly turned her head to look at him, her eyes shimmering with emotion. "Yes, Grym. Ours."

The room remained silent as the weight of the revelation sank in. Even Mayuri, who had been furiously scribbling notes, paused for a moment to absorb what he was seeing. Menoly, standing in the corner, looked between the screen and Loly, her jaw practically on the floor.

"You're telling me… you're pregnant? With a symbiote baby?" Menoly finally managed to say, her tone filled with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

Loly's cheeks flushed as she looked back at the screen, unable to tear her eyes away from the swirling green and purple mass. "Apparently, yes."

Grym-Axe's tusks glinted as a slow, proud grin spread across his face. "Strong. It will be strong," he said, his voice filled with a deep, rumbling pride. He rested a large, clawed hand gently on her shoulder. "You… you have made me happier than I ever thought possible, little one."

Loly couldn't help but laugh softly, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. "You big idiot," she muttered, though her tone was laced with affection. "You could've warned me about this."

Grym-Axe chuckled, his laugh booming through the room. "And miss the look on your face? Never."

The warmth of the moment enveloped the group. Even Mayuri, for all his eccentricity, gave a small nod of appreciation before returning to his notes. Madelyn, still holding the wand, glanced at Loly with a knowing smile. "It looks healthy. And if it's anything like its parents, it's going to be one tough kid."

Loly exhaled, her hand moving to rest on her stomach. "Yeah… one tough kid," she repeated softly, her lips curving into a faint smile.

Grym-Axe lowered himself to one knee, his large hand covering hers as it rested over her abdomen. His voice, normally gruff and loud, softened as he said, "I will protect you both. Always."

…

The scene begins in the bustling streets of Karakura Town, where Ichigo and Rukia, in their Shinigami forms, are darting across rooftops in pursuit of a massive, howler monkey-like Hollow. Its hulking form crashes through the spirit realm, invisible to the humans around it, as it chases a terrified spirit of a little girl. Her cries echo through the air, reaching Ichigo and Rukia as they close in.

"Rukia!" Ichigo calls out, his Zanpakutō slung across his shoulder. "You got a shot with that thing yet?"

Rukia grimaces, holding up a sleek, dart-like projectile designed in Soul Society. "Not yet! It's too fast!" she replies, her gaze darting between the Hollow and the frightened spirit. The dart, glowing faintly, contains the liquid derived from the symbiote berries that would purify the Hollow and restore its soul.

Down on the street below, Pesche and Dondochakka, now clad in SHIELD uniforms modified for their unique forms, are doing their best to keep the Hollow from getting closer to the spirit. Dondochakka wraps his massive arms around one of the Hollow's legs while Pesche, wielding a device that looks suspiciously like a net launcher, shoots an electrified web-like trap at it.

"Don't let go, Dondochakka!" Pesche yells, his voice rising in panic as the Hollow thrashes wildly. "We've got to keep it steady for Rukia!"

"I KNOW THAT, PESCHY!" Dondochakka shouts back, his grip slipping as the Hollow lets out a bone-rattling roar and nearly throws him off.

From above, Rukia summons her composure and raises the dart. "Ichigo, keep it distracted!" she shouts, her focus razor-sharp.

"Got it!" Ichigo leaps down in front of the Hollow, slamming his blade into the ground to create a shockwave that slows it momentarily. The Hollow snarls and turns its attention to him, giving Rukia the opening she needs.

"Here goes nothing!" she murmurs, hurling the dart with precision. It strikes the Hollow squarely in the neck, the liquid injecting into its form. The Hollow lets out a deafening screech, its body twitching and thrashing violently. Pesche and Dondochakka back off as its energy begins to shift. Slowly, the monstrous form begins to dissolve, breaking apart into glowing particles.

Standing in the center of the dissipating light is a young man, his body shaking as he looks around, confused and disoriented. The little girl, who had been trembling with fear, locks eyes with him. Her expression shifts, her tears now flowing from something deeper than fear.

"Daddy?" she whispers, her voice breaking.

The young man's gaze softens, recognition dawning. "Hana…" he murmurs, his voice hoarse.

The two run toward each other and embrace tightly. Ichigo and Rukia step back, letting the moment wash over them.

Rukia's Zanpakutō spirit, who had been standing nearby in her spectral form, quietly observes, her frosty demeanor softening ever so slightly. "The bond of family… no matter how shattered, it always finds a way to mend," she murmurs to herself.

Ichigo glances at Rukia, who nods. Together, they open a Senkaimon, ushering the reunited souls toward Soul Society, their journey to peace finally beginning.

As the gate closes and Ichigo sighs in relief, Rukia's body tenses. Among the bystanders, people who cannot see or sense them, her eyes lock onto someone in the crowd. Her breath hitches.

"Rukia?" Ichigo asks, noticing her sudden stillness. "What's wrong?"

She doesn't answer, her heart pounding in her chest. For a split second, she swears she sees someone familiar, a figure resembling Ichigo, but with startling differences. His face is partially obscured by a mask, not unlike the Hollows they've fought before. Its skeletal jaw curves along his neck, and his mismatched eyes, one red, one blue, glint with something she can't place.

The figure turns, almost as if sensing her gaze. His expression flickers with something, fear? Regret? Before either of them can react, he walks through another person like a ghost and disappears into an alley.

"Wait!" Rukia calls, her voice trembling as she and Ichigo rush after him.

They corner the figure in the alley, his back against the wall. He's trembling, his form flickering like static. His mismatched eyes dart between them, and he raises his hands defensively.

"Stay back!" he shouts, his voice strained and panicked. "Don't come near me!"

"Who are you?" Rukia demands, her Zanpakutō ready in her hand. "Why do you look like-?"

Before she can finish, the figure's body starts to shift, breaking apart like a puzzle coming undone. Cubes of light and shadow swirl around him as he begins to reform into a new shape. In an instant, Pesche stands in his place, his antennae twitching as he looks around frantically.

"What the-?!" the entity who looks like Pesche shouted out, clearly confused. He stumbles backward, only to slam into the wall behind him. The force knocks him out cold.

As his unconscious body slumps to the ground, the cloak he'd been wearing falls away. Everyone stares, their jaws dropping as something utterly surreal spills out. From the folds of the cloak, Zanpakutō after Zanpakutō tumble onto the ground, a seemingly endless cascade of blades that pile up into a stack taller than any of them. The flow doesn't stop until it finally settles, leaving a mountain of weapons gleaming in the moonlight.

Ichigo's eyes are wide. "What… the hell is this?" he mutters, his grip tightening on his own blade.

Rukia, frozen in place, can only whisper, "This… this isn't possible…"

The alley falls silent, the pile of Zanpakutō as surreal as it is downright creepy.