Chapter 81 81: The Inheritors
"Spider Totem?" Gwen repeated, her brow furrowing in deep confusion. She crossed her arms, the torn fabric of her suit shifting. "What the fuck is a Spider Totem, Ethan? Do I look like a piece of mystical tribal art to you?"
Ethan didn't laugh. He remained sitting on the edge of the coffee table, his golden eyes locking onto hers.
"It means your radioactive spider bite wasn't exactly a random accident, Gwen," Ethan explained, his voice dropping into a serious, clinical tone. "In the grand structure of the multiverse, there is something called the Web of Life and Destiny. It ties realities together. And in almost every single universe out there, the Web selects an avatar. A Spider."
Gwen stared at him, her lips parted slightly. "You mean... there are others?"
"Millions of them," Ethan nodded. "Peter Parkers, Miles Moraleses, Gwen Stacys. You name it. The multiverse is crawling with wall-crawlers. But being chosen by the Web comes with a very specific, very twisted script."
He held up a finger. "Rule number one of being a Spider Totem: Your life is written as a tragedy."
Gwen flinched as if she'd been struck. "What are you talking about?"
"It's a universal constant. A 'canon event,' if you want to be dramatic about it," Ethan said bluntly. "Every Spider has to lose someone close to them. An Uncle Ben. An Aunt May. A Captain Stacy."
Gwen's breath hitched at the mention of her father's title. Her hands balled into tight fists.
"The universe kills someone you love so you can learn the whole 'With great power comes great responsibility' lesson," Ethan continued, showing zero mercy to the cosmic cruelty. "You are engineered to suffer, Gwen. It's what builds your character in the Web's twisted eyes."
"That's... that's insane," she whispered, her voice shaking with a mix of horror and rising anger. "You're telling me my life—my pain—is just a mandatory plot point?"
"Pretty much," Ethan shrugged. "Hell, there's even going to be a Spider-Man in this exact universe. Though right now, he's just a little kid in Queens, probably playing with Legos and getting bullied at recess."
Ethan paused, a sudden, highly inappropriate thought crossing his mind.
Wait a minute, Ethan thought inwardly, his eyes gleaming. If Peter is just a kid right now, that means Aunt May is still around. But which version is she? The frail old lady who bakes cookies... or the absolute Italian MILF? I definitely need to swing by Queens and do a 'welfare check.' If she's the MILF version, my neighborhood watch duties just got a lot more interesting.
He quickly cleared his throat, pulling his focus back to the devastated girl in front of him.
"But the tragic backstory isn't the real problem right now," Ethan said, standing up and pacing across the mahogany floor. "The real problem is that the Web doesn't just connect you to other Spiders. It connects you to predators."
Gwen's head snapped up. "Predators?"
"The Inheritors," Ethan stated, the name hanging heavy in the quiet Sanctum. "Think of them as multiversal vampires. But they don't drink blood. They feed on animal totems. And Spider Totems are their absolute favorite delicacy."
Ethan pointed directly at her. "You being here, in a universe where the local Spider isn't even active yet, is vibrating the Web like a dinner bell. You're a massive, glowing beacon. That's why the villains from your world are bleeding over. The fabric of reality around you is tearing because you don't belong here, and the predators are sniffing out the cracks."
Gwen took a slow, stumbling step backward. Her legs hit the edge of the leather sofa, and she collapsed into it, staring blankly at the floor.
"I'm prey," she whispered, the horrifying reality settling over her. "You're saying my entire existence is just to suffer a tragic fate, and then be hunted down and eaten by cosmic vampires?"
"When you put it like that, it does sound like a shitty hand to be dealt," Ethan admitted.
Gwen looked up, her blue eyes blazing with a sudden, desperate fury. "How do we stop it, Ethan? I am not going to just sit here and wait to be someone's lunch."
Ethan smiled. A slow, arrogant, and deeply predatory smirk spread across his face.
"We don't wait," Ethan said, his hands crackling with a faint, golden Eldritch spark. "We let them come. You're in my territory now, Gwen. And in my Sanctum, the spiders don't get eaten. We squash the bugs."
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