"Looks like it's just the two of us now," said Doctor Octopus leisurely, her gaze fixed on Peter.
"Mm-hmm, yeah," Peter replied with a perfectly straight face. "So, are you treating me to crab buns for breakfast? I happen to be starving."
"Only if you'll let me study you," she said sweetly. "Don't worry—just a tiny slice."
Peter shook his head. "I'm not an onion. Why would you need to slice me?"
In truth, he had considered studying the blond Spider-Man's current physical condition.
Because something about it was deeply strange.
It was as if he were trapped in a kind of Schrödinger's state of death.
When Peter's consciousness left that body, the blond Spider-Man's body began to decay, entering a death phase.
But when Peter's consciousness returned, the body recovered completely—alive and normal again.
That was definitely not a natural state.
Still, letting Doctor Octopus be the one to study it? Yeah, no thanks.
He could walk away at any time—but Aunt May, the blond Spider-Man, and even his lover, Mary Jane, couldn't.
If Octavius ever figured out something dangerous from that research…say, for example, a "Schrödinger's zombie"?
The image flashed in Peter's mind—the blond Spider-Man's flesh rotting, his lifeless eyes staring blankly, wearing his tattered red-and-blue suit, mouth dripping with someone's blood…
Peter shuddered.
"No, no—absolutely not!"
"In that case," said Doctor Octopus, her patience gone, "I'll just take what I need myself!"
Three of her fluid-metal tentacles lashed toward Peter at once.
He could've handled two easily.
But as the saying goes—two fists can't beat four hands.
Add one more tentacle, and the variables multiplied; the fight became exponentially harder.
Peter couldn't even figure out the exact mechanics behind those arms. He suspected that each tentacle contained its own intelligent chip, all networked into a central control hub operated by Octavius.
That would explain why they could move independently yet still coordinate seamlessly, keeping him completely boxed in.
As he fought, Peter couldn't help but think of the Iron Spider suit stored in the blond Spider-Man's private underground base.
That suit had three mechanical spider legs on its back, all controlled by an onboard AI system.
But that thing cost a fortune—and every time it was taken out for a fight, maintenance alone was a nightmare.
The blond Spider-Man wasn't poor, but he wasn't rich enough to fund a high-tech battle suit indefinitely. His wealth mostly came from investments and dividends—he hadn't founded his own company yet, and his finances were still modest.
Besides, he'd never been the type to chase money.
And normally, he didn't need a high-tech suit anyway.
Even if Kingpin sent several of his best enforcers at once, it was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.
But now, Octavius was getting impatient.
They'd chosen this specific time for a reason—early morning, not late enough to disturb the neighborhood, yet quiet enough that there weren't many pedestrians.
Even if someone saw the fight, Kingpin could easily suppress the news.
But in another hour or two, the streets would fill with commuters. The chaos would be impossible to hide, and even Kingpin would have to consider the consequences.
Her growing anxiety, however, gave Peter an opening.
Suddenly, he accelerated—darting toward her flank.
Octavius immediately swung her tentacles to pursue—
—and in that instant, Peter's movements shifted. He reached back, pressed his hand against one of the mechanical limbs, and in a blur, spun around her—once, twice, three times—
When he stopped, Doctor Octopus was trussed up like a rice dumpling, bound tight in her own tentacles.
Peter thoughtfully added a generous layer of webbing over her body, ensuring she couldn't break free.
Throughout the entire process, she glared at him with cold, unblinking eyes—as if trying to see straight through him.
The intensity of that look made Peter's scalp prickle. He checked her bindings one last time to make sure she wasn't going anywhere, then tossed her aside and turned to survey the rest of the battlefield.
Over where Spider-Man Noir was fighting, Scorpion lay motionless—his legs bent at grotesque angles, his mechanical tail ripped clean off.
As expected, without Peter around to hold back, Noir fought far more ruthlessly.
Spider-Gwen was heading back this way—apparently, those gunmen had already met their "unexpected" ends.
Amazing Spider-Man B was punching Kingpin to the ground, shouting something Peter couldn't quite hear from a street away.
But… there was no sign of Miles.
Peter frowned. Something wasn't right.
Judging from Amazing Spider-Man B's urgency—could Miles have gotten into trouble?
A chill ran through him.
Miles might be reckless and prone to mistakes, but the truth was undeniable—once Peter left this world, Miles was the only one capable of succeeding the blond Spider-Man.
He couldn't afford to lose him.
Without hesitation, Peter sprinted toward the commotion.
When he arrived, he froze.
A man in a purple trench coat was sprawled in a pool of blood—and Miles was kneeling beside him, sobbing uncontrollably.
The man in the purple coat was Miles's uncle—the Prowler.
He was also one of Kingpin's enforcers, and because of that, long counted among the blond Spider-Man's enemies.
Up on the rooftop, Amazing Spider-Man B stood watching the scene below, his face clouded with sorrow.
Peter landed quietly beside him, just as he murmured,"Destiny… this is the curse of fate. Every Spider-Man… loses someone they love."
His voice was hollow, his eyes empty.
Peter frowned, leapt down from the rooftop, and landed beside Miles.
Thud.
He crouched and inspected the Prowler's wound.
The shot had hit him square in the chest—fired from a large-caliber weapon.
His suit was made from bullet-resistant material, but not enough to withstand that kind of impact.
The bullet had torn through him, and the shockwave had pulverized his insides.
There was no saving him.
Peter could tell at a glance.
Miles looked up at him through tear-filled eyes, searching his face for any sign of hope.
Peter sighed softly, patted his shoulder, and stood up.
As he walked away, a shadow fell across his heart.
Spider-Man Noir, the Amazing Spider-Man, the blond Spider-Man, and now Miles…
Amazing Spider-Man B's words echoed endlessly in his mind:
"Spider-Man is a curse.It doesn't just follow us—it destroys those around us.Because of it, I've missed so much… and lost even more."
Was that it?Was this the curse?
And if so—who would the curse take from him?
Aunt May?
No.Never.
-----------------------
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(End of Chapter)