Chu Hang raised a hand. A soft yet irresistible curtain of golden light spread from his palm, gently enveloping Peter Parker and T'Challa like ripples across water.
The moment the light touched the ground, a silent purification began.
Within a hundred meters, the ominous black spores suspended in the air, the rotting mycelium writhing across the ground, and even the bloody stench that seemed to have seeped into their souls were utterly erased. Not a trace remained.
Peter Parker stood frozen. Dazed, he pulled off his mask.
He drew a deep, hungry breath. Clean air, free of any taint, filled his lungs for the first time in so long that it left him almost dizzy with happiness.
He had struggled in this living hell for so long that he had nearly forgotten breathing could be a pleasure rather than a torment.
T'Challa reacted faster. He dropped to one knee, his Black Panther Suit humming softly as nanometal flowed over his fingertips and touched the cleansed earth. The suit's sensors began updating their readings at a frantic pace.
"The viral concentration in this area... it's zero." T'Challa looked up. His Vibranium mask slowly retracted, revealing a face marked by exhaustion and shock. "How did you do that?"
"A little trick." Chu Hang's answer was casual. Rather than dwell on the two survivors, he focused on the ground beneath his feet, where he had rewritten the laws. Within his domain, he alone set the rules. The virus was not permitted to exist, and so it no longer did.
He looked back at them. "Tell me what happened here."
Peter and T'Challa exchanged a glance. Pain flashed in T'Challa's eyes, and he gave a slight nod, signaling that he would explain.
"It all... started with Ant-Man." T'Challa's voice was low and hoarse, as