Chapter 66: The Spider's Debt

The golden, swirling gateway of the multiversal portal snapped shut behind us with a sharp, static crack, plunging us into the shadows of a narrow, damp alleyway in Queens.

I reached inside my heavy captain’s coat, securing the heavy brass and wood of the Portal Gun into its custom leather holster.

For a moment, nobody spoke.

The transition from the open, salt-heavy ocean air of the Grand Line to the dense, suffocating atmosphere of a modern metropolis was violently abrupt.

Law immediately pulled the collar of his spotted coat up over his nose, his silver eyes narrowing in intense disgust.

“What is wrong with the atmosphere in this dimension?” he coughed, waving a hand in front of his face.

“The air tastes like poison.

It’s thick with carbon and burnt chemicals.”

“It’s called smog, Law,” Jasmine chuckled softly, though she took a deep, grounding breath of it anyway.

Robin stood near the mouth of the alley, peering up at the slivers of the night sky visible between the towering brick and steel structures.

Her blue eyes, usually so calm and calculating, were wide with a mix of profound fascination and deep unease.

She watched the glowing, artificial neon signs bleeding red and blue light onto the wet asphalt.

“It is…

magnificent,” Robin murmured, tracing the edge of a brick wall with her fingertips.

“Structures of glass and steel reaching into the heavens, illuminated by caged lightning.

Yet, the sheer density of it…

it feels incredibly claustrophobic.

Millions of people stacked on top of one another in metal boxes.

How do they breathe?”

Jasmine and I shared a long, knowing look.

To the Surgeon of Death and the Demon Child of Ohara, this world was an alien, suffocating dystopia.

But to us?

It felt like a bizarre, nostalgic homecoming.

Before we were pirates, before the Grand Line, the Devil Fruits, and the Haki, we had been people of a world exactly like this one.

Minus the superheroes and alien invasions, the sensory overload of New York City the distant wail of police sirens, the hum of tires on wet pavement, the smell of stale garbage and hot exhaust was a ghost from a past life.

Walking on poured concrete instead of the wooden decks of the Titan’s Glory sent a strange, phantom shiver down my spine.

“It takes some getting used to,” I said, my voice low.

“But we aren’t here to sightsee.

We are unregistered, multiversal anomalies standing in a city heavily monitored by people who punch gods for a living.

Hoods up.

Suppress your Haki.”

We reached into our coats and pulled out our specialized cloaks.

Woven by my Jade Clone, the Silken Widow-Maker, the fine, near-invisible threads of the jade spider silk didn’t just blend into the shadows—they actively dampened our spiritual presence.

We pulled the dark hoods over our heads, turning into absolute phantoms in the New York night.

“Lead the way, little spider,” I whispered to the six-year-old girl holding tightly to Robin’s hand.

Mayday Parker nodded fiercely, her small face set with determination.

She pointed down the alley.

We moved silently through the backstreets of Queens, sticking to the shadows, guided by the daughter of this city’s greatest protector.

We avoided the main lobby of the modest brick apartment building entirely.

The security cameras wouldn’t have been able to process our cloaked forms properly, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

Instead, we scaled the rusted iron fire escape on the side of the building.

With our physical conditioning, moving up five stories in absolute silence was effortless.

Mayday scrambled up the last few iron steps, her breath catching in her throat as she recognized the wilting potted plants sitting on the window sill.

It was her home.

She pressed her small hands against the cold glass and tapped frantically.

Inside the dimly lit living room, I could see the silhouette of a man sitting on the edge of the couch, his head in his hands.

He was wearing the bottom half of a recognizable red and blue superhero suit, but his torso was covered only by a sweat-stained, gray civilian t-shirt.

He looked completely, utterly broken.

At the sound of the tapping, the man flinched.

He looked toward the window, his exhausted, bloodshot eyes widening in sheer disbelief.

“May?” a woman’s voice gasped from the hallway.

Mary Jane Watson ran into the living room, her face pale.

Peter Parker didn’t even bother unlocking the window latch; he pulled the frame up with enough spider-strength to bend the metal tracking.

“Mom!

Dad!” Mayday cried out, scrambling through the open window.

The reunion was a raw, agonizing explosion of emotion.

Peter and MJ collapsed onto the floor, pulling their daughter into a desperate, crushing embrace.

They wept openly, their sobs echoing in the small apartment.

They had spent weeks believing their little girl had been taken by enemies, lost to the multiverse, or worse.

Now, she was here, burying her face into her father’s shoulder.

We stood silently on the fire escape, the four of us watching the family reform.

Robin offered a gentle, empathetic smile, while Law merely adjusted his hat, looking away to give them privacy.

Then, Peter looked up.

Through the tears, his eyes finally locked onto the fire escape.

He saw the four tall, cloaked figures standing in the shadows of the night, their faces obscured, standing far too still.

The reaction was instantaneous and terrifying.

Peter didn’t just flinch.

His entire body seized.

His Spider-Sense, the precognitive warning system that kept him alive through battles with literal cosmic entities, didn’t just ping.

It screamed.

Even with the jade spider silk cloaks suppressing our spiritual pressure, Peter’s heightened senses were peeling back the layers of reality.

He wasn’t looking at four people; his instincts were telling him he was standing three feet away from apex predators.

He felt the terrifying, surgical malice of Law.

He felt the explosive, volatile electrical potential of Jasmine.

He felt the dark, assassin-honed stillness of Robin.

And from me, he felt the suffocating, crushing density of a Conqueror.

Peter moved with blinding speed.

He shoved MJ and Mayday violently behind him, his body dropping into a low, extremely hostile defensive crouch.

With a thwip, a web-shooter materialized on his wrist, aimed directly at my chest.

His eyes, usually warm and kind, were the hardened, lethal eyes of a man ready to kill to protect his family.

“Step away from the window,” Peter snarled, his voice trembling with sheer adrenaline.

“I don’t know who you are, or what dimension you pulled her from, but if you take one more step, I will put you through the pavement.”

“Whoa, easy there, web-slinger,” Jasmine said, raising her hands peacefully, though sparks of electricity subconsciously danced across her knuckles.

Mayday quickly peeked around her father’s legs, her eyes wide.

“Daddy, no!

Stop!

They’re the good guys!”

Peter didn’t lower his wrist.

“May, stay back…”

“They saved me!” Mayday insisted, pushing past Peter’s arm and pointing at us.

“That’s Robin, she gave me books!

And Trafalgar, he’s a grumpy doctor!

And Jasmine is super fast!

And that’s Victor…

he’s the Captain.

He protected me from a giant dinosaur and bad pirates!”

Peter blinked, the adrenaline slowly receding as his daughter’s words registered.

He looked at Mayday, completely unharmed, wearing a small, perfectly tailored coat made of fine Grand Line fabrics.

He looked back at us.

The blaring alarm of his Spider-Sense was still humming, warning him of our power, but the immediate threat of malice was absent.

Slowly, his arm lowered.

The web-shooter clicked off.

He let out a long, shuddering breath, the exhaustion rushing back to claim him.

“You…

you brought her back,” Peter whispered, his voice cracking.

“We take care of our own, Parker,” I said, reaching up and pulling the hood of my cloak back, stepping carefully through the window and into the apartment.

Ten minutes later, the tension in the room had shifted from hostile to a surreal, heavy calm.

MJ had made a pot of tea with trembling hands, setting mugs down on the small coffee table.

Mayday refused to let go of her father’s hand, sitting securely on Peter’s lap on the couch.

Law stood leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, while Robin and Jasmine took a seat on the armchair.

I sat directly across from Peter.

“So, you’re pirates,” Peter said slowly, rubbing his temples as if trying to stave off a massive migraine.

“Pirates from a flooded planet called the Grand Line, where people eat magical fruits that give them superpowers…

but take away their ability to swim.”

“An ironic curse, but an accurate summary,” Robin smiled gently, taking a sip of the tea.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees.

“The multiversal portal your enemies used tore a hole through the dimensional fabric.

Mayday fell through and ended up in our territory.

My crew intercepted her before the local syndicates could.”

Peter looked at me, his eyes searching my face.

“But May said…

she said you and Jasmine are from here.

From Earth.”

“An Earth,” Jasmine corrected gently.

“Not this one.

A world very similar, without the Avengers or the mutants.

We died there, and we woke up in the Grand Line.

We know about your world, Peter.

We know about the threats you face.

Which is why bringing her back was our top priority before Orchis or anyone else realized the portal was a two-way door.”

“I owe you my life,” Peter said, his voice thick with emotion.

He looked at the four of us, the gratitude radiating from him in waves.

“I don’t know how I can ever repay you.

It’s been three weeks.

Three weeks of absolute hell, turning this city upside down looking for her.”

Law, who had been quietly observing the room, suddenly stiffened.

He pushed his spotted hat up, his silver eyes locking onto Peter.

“Wait,” Law said, his voice sharp and clinical.

“Repeat that.

How long has the girl been missing in your timeline?”

Peter looked confused.

“Three weeks.

Twenty-one days exactly.”

A heavy, chilling silence fell over the pirates in the room.

Jasmine’s eyes widened, and Robin slowly set her teacup down on the saucer with a soft clink.

“Doctor?” I asked, looking at Law.

Law pulled a small, brass chronometer from his coat a device he had synced with the Portal Gun’s dimensional transit logs.

He ran the calculations in his head, his frown deepening into a scowl.

“The dimensional frequencies are completely out of sync,” Law stated, looking directly at me.

“Costa, Mayday was with us on the Titan’s Glory for nearly three months.”

Peter paled.

“Three months?

She was gone for a quarter of a year?”

“Time dilation,” Jasmine whispered, doing the math.

“Oh no.

That’s a massive discrepancy.”

“Every day we spend in this universe,” Law explained grimly, “roughly four days pass back home on the Grand Line.

If we stay in New York for a week, a month goes by in our territory.

Our empire, our fleets, our allies…

they are moving at an accelerated rate without us.”

The realization hit me like a physical blow.

The Grand Line was a volatile, hyper-violent ecosystem.

The Amber Alliance was a massive target.

If the Warlord and his top commanders vanished for months, the Yonko, the Marines, or rival crews would tear our territories apart.

Peter, sensing the sudden urgency in the room, gently set Mayday down next to MJ.

He stood up, the exhaustion in his posture replaced by the resolute discipline of a hero.

“You need to leave,” Peter said firmly, pointing to the window.

“Right now.

You saved my daughter, and I will be in your debt until the day I die.

But you have your own world to protect.

You can’t lose it because you’re standing in my living room.”

I reached into my coat, my fingers wrapping around the grip of the Portal Gun.

He was right.

We had completed the mission.

It was time to go home.

Before I could draw the weapon, the world ended.

It started as a low, subsonic rumble that rattled the tea cups against their saucers.

Then, a massive, deafening explosion physically shook the entire apartment building.

The foundation groaned, plaster cracked along the ceiling, and the glass of the window I had just crawled through shattered inward, raining shards onto the carpet.

Jasmine moved instantly, kicking the coffee table up to shield MJ and Mayday from the glass, while Law projected a blue Room over the living area to stabilize the collapsing ceiling.

“What was that?!” MJ screamed, holding Mayday tight.

I rushed to the shattered window, looking out over the chaotic, neon-lit skyline of New York.

Peter bounded up onto the wall beside me, his spider-grip anchoring him to the brick.

We looked toward the heart of Manhattan.

Above the dark, sprawling expanse of Central Park, the night sky was tearing open.

It wasn’t the small, controlled tear of a multiversal portal.

It was a colossal, swirling blue vortex, violently expanding like a hurricane of cosmic energy.

Lightning arched from the edges of the rift, striking the skyscrapers below.

“No,” Peter whispered, his enhanced vision picking up the details within the rift.

“Not again.”

I could see them.

Dark, metallic shapes pouring out of the blue portal like a swarm of locusts.

Alien gunships, armored leviathans, and thousands of foot soldiers descending upon the sleeping city.

It was a full-scale planetary invasion.

Peter dropped down from the wall.

Without a word of hesitation, he pulled his red and blue mask over his face, the white lenses snapping sharply into place.

He wasn’t Peter Parker anymore.

“The Avengers will rally,” Spider-Man said, his voice muffled but carrying an absolute, unyielding authority.

He turned back to us, pointing directly at the Portal Gun in my hand.

“Get out of here.

This is a war, and it isn’t yours.

Go home before you lose your own timeline.”

Law looked at me, his hand resting on the hilt of his cursed sword.

“Captain.

The time dilation.

If we stay to fight that army, we could lose half a year.”

I looked at the burning skyline of Manhattan.

I looked at the swirling blue vortex vomiting alien death onto the city.

Then, I turned and looked down at Mayday.

The little girl who had braved the Grand Line with a smile was trembling, clutching her mother’s shirt in absolute terror.

I tightened my grip on the heavy daggers secured to my back—The Jade Wings.

The dark metal hummed, sensing my rising Willpower.

“No,” I said, my voice echoing with the Warlord’s absolute decree.

Spider-Man stared at me.

“Are you insane?

You just said your empire is at risk!”

“I am a pirate, Parker,” I said coldly, stepping away from the window.

“And I did not cross dimensions, fight through the Grand Line, and rewrite the laws of the multiverse just to drop a six-year-old off in the middle of a planetary warzone.”

I looked at my crew.

Law sighed, a terrifying, surgical smile touching his lips.

Jasmine cracked her knuckles, the electricity dancing wildly up her forearms.

Robin simply crossed her arms, pink petals already beginning to swirl around her boots.

“We don’t leave a job half-finished,” I told the web-slinger.

“If we’re going to ensure her safety, we’re going to make sure her world is actually safe to live in.”

MJ didn’t waste a second arguing.

She scooped Mayday up into her arms, slinging a heavy canvas bug-out bag over her shoulder.

“Peter built a reinforced bunker beneath the subway lines for Avengers-level threats,” she said quickly.

“We’re going underground.”

“Go,” Peter commanded.

“Don’t stop for anything.”

As MJ rushed out the front door into the hallway, Peter turned back to the window, ready to swing into the apocalyptic sky.

We readied our weapons, preparing to drop into the streets below.

Suddenly, the air in the center of the living room violently sparked.

A shower of orange, fiery sparks spun into a jagged, erratic circle, burning a hole through the reality of the apartment.

From the orange portal, a man stumbled forward and collapsed onto the ruined carpet.

He was dressed in blue mystical robes, though they were scorched and torn.

The red Cloak of Levitation upon his shoulders was shredded, twitching weakly.

He pushed himself up on trembling arms, a sparking, broken Sling Ring clutched in his bleeding fingers.

Doctor Strange looked up, his face bruised and battered, his eyes locking onto Spider-Man.

“Peter,” the Sorcerer Supreme gasped, coughing up a spatter of blood onto the floorboards.

“The sanctums have fallen…

we need your help.”

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