Early Thursday morning, Peter Parker walked downstairs feeling better than he ever had in his life.
His entire body buzzed with energy.
Every step felt lighter, stronger.
At the dining table, Aunt May and Uncle Ben had already prepared breakfast.
When Peter appeared, May smiled warmly.
"You slept from yesterday afternoon all the way until now," she said. "Come sit down. I made extra food."
Peter grinned as he dropped into his chair.
"Thanks, Aunt May. Honestly, I feel like I could eat a whole cow."
He wasn't exaggerating.
The moment he started eating, the food vanished at an alarming speed.
Uncle Ben switched on the television while they ate. The morning news flickered across the screen.
A reporter stood outside a familiar building.
"…As you can see behind me, the bank robbery that occurred yesterday morning ended with one injured security guard, six deceased suspects, and one suspect captured alive."
Peter paused mid-bite.
"There was a robbery yesterday?"
Uncle Ben nodded.
"Oh yeah. Big one. Heard about it all over town."
The reporter continued.
"What makes this case unusual is that the suspects weren't subdued by police. Instead, one of the hostages managed to stop the entire robbery alone."
A photograph appeared beside the reporter.
Peter froze.
A piece of toast fell from his hand.
"What the—?!"
His mouth was still full of food as he stared at the screen.
It was Noah Vale.
Aunt May chuckled softly.
"He's very handsome, isn't he? Some of the girls at my office even printed out his photo yesterday."
Peter struggled to respond.
"No, it's not that—it's just… he…"
His brain simply stopped working.
Yesterday he had been bitten by a strange spider.
He woke up with superhuman strength.
And now his classmate was on national television for taking down a gang of armed robbers.
Had the world always been this insane?
Peter glanced between the screen and his aunt and uncle.
Neither of them seemed remotely concerned.
After a moment of awkward stammering, he gave up trying to explain anything.
Instead, he devoured the rest of breakfast at record speed and rushed out to catch the school bus.
On the way, he tried calling Noah.
The phone was turned off.
Peter sighed and slipped the phone back into his pocket.
Then he looked up—
And nearly forgot how to breathe.
Mary Jane Watson was walking toward him.
She smiled brightly.
"Hey, Peter."
His heart immediately started pounding.
Okay… today might actually be my lucky day.
But then Mary Jane spoke again.
"Have you seen Noah today?"
Peter blinked.
"What?"
"We tried calling him yesterday but his phone's off," she said. "Do you know where he is?"
Peter's hopeful expression collapsed instantly.
"…No."
He shook his head weakly.
Mary Jane looked disappointed.
Peter watched her walk away and sighed.
Definitely not my lucky day.
At noon, inside the gym, Noah Vale sat cross-legged on the floor.
His muscles trembled slightly after another brutal training session.
The new equipment had arrived that morning, and he had already pushed his body to its limits again.
As he breathed slowly, a faint purple glow gathered around him.
The energy coiled upward like mist, drifting above his head in slow spirals.
Behind him, Smith stood drenched in sweat.
He swung a steel rod repeatedly against Noah's back.
Clang.
Clang.
Each strike landed with full force.
Yet Noah's body didn't move even a millimeter.
After half an hour, Noah slowly raised both hands and completed the final motion of his breathing exercise.
The swirling energy faded.
A new thread of internal power settled inside his body.
He opened his eyes with quiet satisfaction.
The technique he practiced allowed its users to cultivate inner energy through meditation.
For most people, producing even a small amount required hours of focused practice.
According to the description shared in the Interdimensional Chatroom by The Noble Blade, the martial arts world measured internal energy in very simple terms.
A small strand of energy represented roughly a full day of practice for an average person.
Ten strands formed a larger unit.
Thirty-six units equaled roughly one year of accumulated internal energy.
Three hundred and sixty units represented ten years.
Three thousand six hundred units meant a century's worth of power.
But Noah's situation was completely different.
With his physical condition approaching superhuman levels, he could generate a new strand of energy roughly every three minutes.
In other words, sixteen hours of training could produce what an ordinary martial artist might accumulate in a full year.
He stretched slightly and looked back at Smith.
The man had collapsed onto the floor, breathing heavily.
"Your stamina is starting to slow down my training," Noah said calmly.
Smith stared at him in disbelief.
"Hey, that's not fair."
He wiped sweat from his forehead.
"For a normal person, swinging a steel bar at full force for three minutes straight is already exhausting."
He pointed weakly at Noah.
"Not everyone's built like you."
Noah nodded thoughtfully.
"I'm not blaming you," he said. "I'm thinking about ways to improve your endurance."
Smith shrugged.
"You could just hire more people to help hit you."
"No."
Noah rejected the idea immediately.
"My strength is improving too quickly. I can't trust strangers around me."
He looked directly at Smith.
"You're the only one I trust with this."
Of course, his real reasoning was far more practical.
Smith was predictable.
Noah knew where he lived.
If Smith ever tried exposing his secrets, the consequences would be… unpleasant.
Other people would be far less reliable.
Smith, unaware of Noah's internal calculations, felt strangely moved.
Noah suddenly spoke again.
"I'll teach you the technique I was practicing earlier."
Smith blinked.
"The one that made the purple mist appear?"
"Yes."
Smith's eyes widened.
"You mean… Chinese kung fu?"
"And you're going to teach me?"
"Something like that," Noah said casually.
In reality, Smith's natural talent was average at best. Even if he practiced for years, his progress would likely be slow.
But that wasn't the point.
Noah had other plans.
A month from now, he intended to meet the owner of the gym.
And the "billion-dollar deal" he had mentioned earlier?
It was this technique.
Selling access to a martial arts system capable of producing real superhuman power would attract attention from far more than just a gym owner.
For now, however, Noah still needed time.
If his strength hadn't grown enough after a month of training, he could simply postpone the meeting.
He held the advantage.
No one could force him into anything.
Noah glanced at the clock.
"It's almost noon," he said.
"You should go home and rest."
Smith looked surprised.
"You worked pretty hard this morning. Come back around three."
Smith nodded gratefully.
"Thanks, boss."
He left the gym feeling strangely excited.
Learning real martial arts from Noah felt like a dream.
Once the door closed behind him, Noah walked into the shadows of the gym.
He retrieved a sealed glass container.
Inside it was a clear liquid.
98.3% sulfuric acid.
Noah examined it calmly.
Time for the next phase of training.