Joren withdrew his hand.
He glanced at the discarded white kimono… then at the torn cuff of his coat.
The puncture was tiny.
But it irritated him.
Ugh.
This coat had been custom-tailored in Italy and mailed by his mother only last month.
Just then—
a figure emerged from the alley behind him.
No killing intent.
No hostility.
The newcomer wore the black garb of the Hand.
Another one.
Joren prepared to end him without effort.
Instead—
the ninja dropped to one knee three meters away.
He raised a black card above his head.
An invitation.
The cardstock was pure matte black, edged with antique gold cloud motifs. At the center, characters Joren did not recognize were embossed in lacquered ink:
[Tea Party]
What nonsense.
Joren did not reach for it immediately.
He knew who had sent it.
The puppeteer behind everything.
Again and again, clumsy probes had dragged innocent lives into the chaos.
Now—
the mastermind had abandoned preludes.
Joren accepted the invitation.
Inside was only an address:
Grandview Abandoned Theater, Hell's Kitchen.
Oh dear…
All the trouble gathered neatly in one place.
An arrogantly calculated stage.
But…
perfect.
There was no time listed.
Because the tea party had already begun.
The kneeling ninja's body collapsed into ash the instant the invitation was accepted.
A corpse from the beginning.
Only a messenger.
Joren folded the card and slipped it into his coat pocket.
He lowered the brim of his hat and walked toward the theater.
It was time to end this endless farce.
Matt Murdock's Apartment
Disinfectant and blood mingled in the air.
Matt stood shirtless before the mirror, forcing a needle through torn flesh with grim precision.
The scythe wound across his back exposed bone.
Sweat streamed down his temples.
He did not cry out.
Pain meant nothing compared to the screams he could still hear.
He had failed.
Hell's Kitchen had burned while its guardian lay broken.
His phone vibrated.
Matt stopped, grabbed it, and answered.
Joren's voice:
"Grandview Theater. The Hand will be there tonight. Interested in seeing a show?"
"Now?"
"No scheduled time. I'm going now."
"…I'll be there."
The call ended.
Matt knew it was a trap.
Blatant.
Unhidden.
But it was also an opportunity.
He pulled on the torn red suit and lifted the cracked demon mask.
Law and justice had failed.
If light could not judge—
darkness would execute.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Trident Headquarters
Dozens of screens displayed chaos across New York.
Maria Hill's expression was rigid.
"Queens and Hell's Kitchen report coordinated appearances of unidentified armed individuals. Likeliest affiliation: the Hand."
"They demonstrate extreme efficiency and target selection. Civilian casualties appear intended to maximize psychological impact."
"The NYPD is engaged. Gunfire is ineffective. The National Guard is mobilizing."
Nick Fury watched the central display in silence.
"Hill."
"Yes, sir."
"Redirect all surveillance to this coordinate."
His finger tapped the map.
Grandview Theater.
An analyst shot to his feet.
"Sir! Massive energy fluctuations beneath the structure! Waveform unknown — spatial distortion present!"
Another agent:
"Target Jostar is moving toward the location!"
"Daredevil is converging!"
All vectors converged on a single point.
Hill spoke:
"A trap."
Fury shook his head slightly.
"A feast."
He turned.
"Prepare our experts for deployment."
"We're going to see a show."
Grandview Abandoned Theater
Peeling Broadway posters fluttered against cracked walls.
The doors hung open.
Inside, darkness pooled like stagnant water.
Joren stepped through the entrance.
His footsteps echoed alone.
Most velvet seats had rotted away, exposing black stuffing and rusted springs like rows of skeletal grins.
At center stage sat an antique low table.
Behind it, a woman in dark purple ancient robes poured tea with serene elegance.
Wilson Fisk stood behind her like an unmoving monolith, his white suit glaring in the darkness.
"You've come," Madam Gao said, placing the teacup down with a delicate click.
"Iron Fist."
"Welcome to my tea party."
"I have not seen the Iron Fist since Kunlun closed its gates centuries ago."
"How nostalgic."
Her voice carried reverence — and obsession.
Joren stopped before the stage.
Iron Fist?
So ten years of Ripple cultivation were now being mistaken for Kunlun's sacred chi.
Ridiculous.
They had been targeting Kingpin.
Yet the Hand had redirected their obsession toward him.
Troublesome.
He made no effort to correct them.
Ripple user. Stand user. Iron Fist.
Call it whatever they wanted.
Neither Fisk nor Gao would leave here alive.
High above the stage beams, Daredevil remained motionless.
His senses expanded.
He heard Fisk's heart hammering like a drum.
He smelled decay beneath Gao's tea fragrance.
He felt Joren's life force — vast, abyssal, impossible.
Three forces converged.
Above the clouds, a Quinjet hovered in stealth mode.
Nick Fury watched four light signatures converge.
Joren looked at the stage.
"No need for tea."
"Say your last words."
"I still need to get home in time for the ocean documentary rerun."
"Insolence!" Kingpin growled.
Gao lifted a hand, stopping him.
Her smile deepened.
"Gods are always arrogant."
She rose, arms opening in ritual invocation.
"And believers must offer devotion through sacrifice."
The theater began to tremble.
The stone slab beneath her table glowed blood red.
Ancient runes erupted outward across the stage floor.
"BOOM—!!!"
The stage collapsed inward, revealing a depthless black void.
Ancient malice surged upward.
"Beast," Gao sang reverently.
"Come… devour the sun."
Something rose from the abyss.
It had no fixed shape.
A flowing mass of black viscous darkness.
Like living oil.
Where it touched wood and steel—
matter dissolved without sound.
Joren frowned.
This sticky substance looked… troublesome.
Star Platinum manifested.
"Ora ora ora ora ora!"
A storm of blows struck the writhing mass.
No impact.
No resistance.
Only thick liquid distortion.
Ripples spread.
No damage.
The punches that shattered steel and diamonds were meaningless.
A shriek erupted from within the darkness—
a psychic scream tearing at the soul.
Joren's will, tempered by Ripple discipline, resisted the intrusion.
But unease lingered.
Yare yare.
This was new.
Shockwaves from the clash tore through the theater.
Seats ripped free.
Curtains shredded.
The stage of chaos was fully raised.
"Oh?" Gao observed calmly. "Has Kunlun developed new techniques? We never encountered guardian spirits in the old days."
A crimson blur dropped from above.
Daredevil descended.
His strike targeted Fisk's skull.
Kingpin pivoted instantly.
BANG
Daredevil crashed into the wall.
Even wounded, Fisk's strength was monstrous.
"Bug," Fisk growled, advancing.
His fist rose.
A webline snapped through the air.
"Hey! Big guy! Bullying the weak is bad form!"
Spider-Man slammed into Fisk's back.
He landed in front of Daredevil.
He looked at the writhing darkness consuming the stage.
"…Wow."
"Pretty sure I missed the worst opening ceremony in history."