Chapter 25: The God of Cursing Streets

Matt was rescued, but he still hadn’t escaped life-threatening danger and remained under observation in the intensive care unit.

Sheer said to Strange: “Doctor Strange, I owe you one. If you ever need help, come find me.”

Strange’s face was grim; he’d been dragged in from the afternoon and had performed nearly ten straight hours of surgery. He snapped irritably: “God save me, never let me see you again, weirdo.”

Sheer said: “I’m sure you’ve already witnessed my abilities. Let me add a piece of advice: drive carefully.”

Strange replied: “Don’t play your weird tricks on me. I’m going back to sleep.”

He left immediately. Sheer shrugged. He knew he couldn’t change Strange’s fate—Strange was in no state to listen to anything.

But it didn’t matter. When he eventually begged and pleaded to heal his arm, he’d naturally think of Sheer.

After returning to his clinic and sleeping well, Sheer woke to find he’d gained two more random chat opportunities, indicating he’d significantly impacted two key characters in the plot—one was Daredevil, Matt, and the other was Spider-Man.

Sheer planned to use one now. Clearly, his abilities urgently needed strengthening. After witnessing Matt’s accident, he realized his defense and evasion skills were still inadequate, especially his reaction speed. Even with his blink ability, no one could guarantee they’d react in fractions of a second. Relying on that unreliable Spider-Sense was out of the question.

So Sheer opened the chat system and used one random chat.

Soon, his chat partner arrived. But strangely, the avatar was odd—the frame was pitch black, with only two glowing eyes visible.

As soon as the connection was established, Sheer heard a stream of unintelligible language from the other side.

All his previous chat partners spoke English—even Ancient One communicated via brainwaves, and the meaning was clear.

But this time, he encountered someone babbling in a language he couldn’t understand at all.

He tapped the system: “Can’t the chat system translate? What language is this?”

Due to his past experiences, Sheer had visited and exchanged ideas with universities worldwide. Besides English and Chinese, he knew bits of several European languages—but this language wasn’t any of them. He’d never heard anything like it.

The system replied: “The chat system automatically translates any language spoken by the partner. If content remains incomprehensible, the host differs in biological form from the partner, or requires a specialized brain organ to interpret the language.”

Sheer understood. The partner wasn’t human. The stream of sounds wasn’t language—it was a signal requiring a specific brain organ to receive. As a human, Sheer likely lacked their species’ organ and thus couldn’t comprehend it.

Sheer opened the avatar. Clear text read: “Symbiote God N’al.”

He hadn’t expected a random connection to link to N’al.

The Symbiote God’s background in the Venom comics was thoroughly detailed: he was an ancient being existing since the universe’s dawn, Lord of the Abyss, who forged the Black Death Sword, severed the head of a Celestial, and began ravaging other civilizations.

He developed a method to create dark lifeforms by splitting symbiotes, then led his symbiote legions and dragon armies across the cosmos unchecked.

Until one day, he ordered his symbiote legions to attack Earth—only to be struck by a thunderbolt from Thor, severing most of his connections.

Most symbiotes scattered across the universe, bonding with diverse lifeforms. Many were benevolent and rational aliens, who realized their creator’s destructive acts were evil—and collectively rebelled.

After the rebellion, the symbiotes imprisoned their creator, Symbiote God N’al, on a remote, desolate planet—the so-called Symbiote Homeworld.

Sheer didn’t rush to use his next chat opportunity. Instead, he became fascinated, studying what N’al was saying.

Since the connection began, N’al had been ranting nonstop, flooding him with incomprehensible syllables.

The setting here was more plausible than in the comics—where everyone spoke English. N’al’s speech was utterly unintelligible to Sheer, yet the endless monologue revealed patterns.

After repeated analysis, Sheer finally understood: N’al was cursing.

Yes. Though not everyone in the universe spoke English, all sentient beings cursed with nearly identical intonations, repeating certain vulgar words. N’al was no exception.

Sheer noticed the word “Nataru” repeated constantly in N’al’s furious tone. He guessed it was the symbiote race’s equivalent of an F-word.

So when N’al finished another long tirade, Sheer casually said: “Nataru.”

The other side fell into eerie silence.

For the first time in centuries, the Symbiote God had been cursed back.

Sheer was right—the word was indeed the symbiote language’s profanity. N’al retaliated with even fiercer language, but Sheer merely replied again, casually: “Nataru.”

After hearing it repeatedly, Sheer learned several other curse words, even mimicking their tongue-clicks and pronunciation perfectly.

N’al kept sending long rants; Sheer often picked a few of those words to hurl back.

After all, N’al couldn’t crawl through the internet to beat him. What did it matter if he was Lord of the Abyss or had slain a Celestial?

As he traded curses with the Symbiote God, Sheer recalled the ancient being’s origin story.

N’al was unlucky. Regardless of good or evil, his own creations had turned on him, imprisoned him, and left him alone on a planet—apparently for a very long time.

Sheer could understand why he cursed. If it were Sheer, he’d curse too.

Then Sheer began studying how to replicate N’al’s ability—but hesitated. He guessed N’al’s power was creating symbiotes, but Sheer didn’t want that ability.

He opened the avatar. The word “Replicate” turned red, with a parenthetical note: “Target’s ability is mutating. Proceed with caution.”

Sheer had never seen this phenomenon before.

It began with N’al’s origin story.

After being imprisoned, N’al wasn’t idle—he schemed to escape. Sheer arrived just in time; N’al had just conceived this plan when Sheer connected.

N’al was an ancient being—perhaps not the first in the Seventh Universe, but among the earliest.

His strength came from innate talent, not intellect. His escape plan wasn’t born of wisdom, but of instinct. Sheer hadn’t read much of this in the comics, but he knew N’al’s offspring varied in power—some strong, some weak.

Some offspring possessed unique abilities. N’al planned to exploit this: he’d create a special symbiote without physical form, a sentient cloud of smoke. When he transferred his consciousness into it, he’d break free from his planetary prison.

Honestly, it wasn’t a brilliant plan—and might not even work. But trapped alone on a desolate planet, what else could he do? His daily routine became two things: cursing and birthing.

Just as he finished creating this new offspring and prepared to transfer his consciousness, Sheer connected. Hence, N’al’s ability was mutating—he was shifting his consciousness into the new body, and his power was transforming into the new body’s ability.

Normally, with a partner like N’al, Sheer couldn’t replicate his ability at all—like a spider before being bitten. N’al’s original power in the cosmos was the Living Abyss Black Death Sword. His ability to split dark lifeforms stemmed from his innate nature, not learned skill—it emerged only after his defeat and fall, with no origin.

Sheer couldn’t replicate these things. Even if he could, he wouldn’t. Why cut himself into pieces? Worse, those fragments might unite and betray him. Too unreliable.

So Sheer unhesitatingly chose to replicate the mutating ability. If it was invisibility or damage evasion, he’d strike gold. Even if it was like Venom—granting immense strength or forming armor—it’d be excellent.

“Symbiote Ash Mist (Special Ability) Loaded.”

Instantly, Sheer felt a new perspective—still using his eyes, but not his own mind. The visual signals entered his brain as if from another source.

It felt as if he’d directly replicated a symbiote.

No—it was different. The system never added external objects or equipment when replicating abilities.

For example, if Sheer replicated Iron Man’s ability, he might gain Stark’s genius intellect or his equipment-design skill—but not a finished Mark 5 suit.

The system replicated only the partner’s inherent ability, not anything outside their body.

Sheer felt a naive soul inserted into him. But it wasn’t external—it was still himself. The symbiote didn’t become a separate entity like Venom that could detach. It became part of Sheer.

In short, it became a system-loaded ability, fused into Sheer like all his other system-given powers—irrevocably bound to him. If Sheer died, it died too. It couldn’t escape or seek another host.

Yet it retained symbiote traits: it could think. Sheer sensed a region of his brain altered—the symbiote had become a brain organ. Their communication resembled a dialogue between two personalities.

This symbiote was truly unique. Sheer would later realize N’al had infused it with greater ambitions during its creation.

After being replicated by the system, the system further modified the symbiote to fuse its traits with system-loaded abilities, transforming it into a singular, unparalleled lifeform—and an immensely powerful one.