Peter’s snoring was rhythmic.
It sounded like an old pair of bellows pulling air.
Leon leaned against the window frame, gazing out at the pitch-black night.
Fatigue washed over him like a tide once the adrenaline ebbed, yet he felt no desire to sleep.
Tonight was merely the beginning.
The Scorpion was just a pawn used to test the waters; the true player behind the scenes was still swirling a glass of red wine in the shadows.
“Come out,” Leon muttered silently in his mind.
“I know you’re listening.”
There were no witty lines of golden text, nor any mocking narration.
That high-dimensional entity calling itself “God” still seemed to be taking an extended vacation—or perhaps lurking in the dark, peeking silently.
“Time to pick a new one.”
Leon closed his eyes.
His consciousness sank, plummeting into that familiar black void.
This time, Leon’s frame of mind was far calmer than the previous two times.
Knowing the ropes, he looked into the void where three new cards floated—still a choice of one out of three.
The card faces were etched with intricate golden patterns, as precise as miniature galaxy charts, revolving with an ancient rhythm with every turn.
Yet Leon’s gaze locked directly onto the card in the middle.
“You’re the one.”
Leon pointed his finger in the air.
*Crack.*
The card shattered, transforming into countless streams of green data that washed over his conscious form like a torrential rain.
[Obtained: Upgrade]
Lines of green code danced wildly across his vision, accompanied by a signature digital sound effect:
[Species: Galvanic Mechamorph]
[Origin: Galvan B]
[Ability Rating: Tech Supremacy Class]
[Traits: Liquid Metal Body, Technological Possession, Mechanical Enhancement, Beam Projection]
[Evaluation: If you want to control the Pentagon’s nuclear missiles, or turn your toaster at home into a laser cannon, picking this is definitely the right choice.
In this era ruled by silicon microchips, you are the one true god.]
[Tactical Analysis Supplement: Extremely high current world technology level detected.
This form possesses a devastatingly hard counter against Stark Industries products and Oscorp personal powered armor.]
Consciousness returned to reality.
It felt strange, like countless streams of liquid mercury flowing down his optic nerves and into his brain.
The world had changed.
Leon opened his eyes.
A green light flickered.
The originally dim room instantly deconstructed before his eyes.
It was no longer wooden boards, walls, and furniture.
It was flowing lines of matter, a structural diagram of atomic arrangements.
His gaze landed on the digital alarm clock on the desk.
[Old-fashioned Quartz Clock: Simple structure, aging circuitry.
Can be merged with.
Can be retrofitted into a directional acoustic bomb.]
His vision penetrated the floorboards, looking down at the ground floor.
The compressor of that ten-year-old refrigerator was groaning, the flow path of Freon inside clearly visible.
If he wanted to, he could now turn into a puddle of liquid metal, crawl into the electrical wiring of this house, and turn this place into a fortress of steel.
“Is this…
the world through the eyes of a silicon-based lifeform?”
Leon clenched his fists.
This sensation of dominating all technological creations was utterly intoxicating.
…
7:00 AM.
The kitchen was alive with domestic warmth.
The aroma of frying bacon and coffee drifted from the kitchen.
May hummed an old tune, scooping golden fried eggs onto plates.
Ben sat at the dining table, holding today’s *Daily Bugle*, brow deeply furrowed as he read the front-page headline.
The headline was sensational: *Scorpion Armor Ravages Unfinished Building: Is Spider-Man an Accomplice?*
“These reporters really just want to watch the world burn,” Uncle Ben said, shaking the newspaper in dissatisfaction.
“Spider-Man clearly defeated that Scorpion suit, so how did he become an accomplice?”
Leon walked down the stairs, pulling out a chair with a composure that betrayed nothing.
“Because fear sells more papers, Dad.
People love seeing heroes fall from grace, and they love seeing monsters destroy the world.”
“Where’s Peter?” May turned with plates in hand.
“Why can’t that boy wake up lately?”
“Let him sleep.” Leon took the glass of milk.
The moment his fingertips touched the glass cup, the density and fracture points of the glass automatically popped up in his mind.
He spoke in a flat tone, “He was ‘studying’ too hard yesterday.
A huge batch of brain cells gave up the ghost.”
The moment his words landed, a deep, smooth engine rumble came from outside the house.
It was the unmistakable roar of a twelve-cylinder engine—precise, expensive, and arrogant.
The sound ground to a halt right in front of the Parkers’ overgrown lawn.
Ben took off his glasses and leaned out curiously.
“A Rolls-Royce?
When did an important person like that move into our neighborhood?”
Leon’s movement drinking milk paused slightly.
[Tactical Analysis] activated.
His vision penetrated the curtains and the bulletproof glass of the black sedan.
A red warning box locked directly onto the man in the backseat who was straightening his tie.
[Target: Norman Osborn / Green Goblin?
(Inactive)]
[Identity: Chairman of Oscorp / Potential Threat]
[Status: Human Enhancement Formula Serum not used]
[Danger Level: Normal ~ Extremely High?]
That bright red “Extremely High” stabbed into Leon’s retina like a sharp knife.
The doorbell rang elegantly.
Ben went to open the door with a slight awkwardness.
A few seconds later, the business titan who frequently appeared on financial news walked in with a flawless social smile.
“Good morning, Mr.
Parker.”
Norman Osborn’s voice was deep and magnetic, oozing the authority of someone long accustomed to giving orders.
“Pardon the intrusion.
I am Norman Osborn.”
Ben stood frozen in place, not knowing where to put his hands.
“Os…
Mr.
Osborn?
My goodness, Peter mentions you all the time!”
“Peter is a fine boy.” Norman smiled as he walked into the living room, his gaze sweeping over the home’s furnishings like radar before locking precisely onto the back of the teenager sitting at the dining table.
“This must be Leon?”
Leon set down his knife and fork.
The porcelain plate made a crisp clink.
He turned around, a polite smile fitting for a high school student plastered on his face, but deep within his eyes, countless streams of green data were frantically analyzing the man in front of him.
He could even see the circuitry layout of the fitted body armor worn beneath his suit.
“Mr.
Osborn.” Leon stood up without offering his hand.
“What wind blew a billionaire chairman all the way to Queens?”
“Just passing by.”
Norman pulled out a chair and sat down without waiting for an invitation, his dominant presence instantly filling the small dining room.
He stared at Leon, a playful glint in his eyes.
“I heard Peter suffered…
a bit of a workplace injury yesterday?
As his employer, I came to check on my intern.”
This was a probe.
And a show of force.
He was telling Leon: *I know who was there last night, and I know who Peter is.*
“Peter just has a cold.” Leon unclasped his hands, subtly stepping forward to block the staircase.
“It’s highly contagious.
As for you, Mr.
Osborn, the public safety around here isn’t great.
Parking a luxury car outside makes it prone to being scratched.”
“No matter.”
Norman steeled his fingers into a teepee under his chin, his grey-blue eyes flashing with a neurotically intense glint.
“My car has excellent defensive capabilities.
Just like Oscorp, anyone who attempts to attack it…”
He paused, the corners of his mouth tearing into an exaggerated arc.
“…will be crushed into powder.”
The air in the dining room froze.
May nervously brought over tea and snacks.
“Mr.
Osborn, we only have plain black tea at home…”
“This is wonderful, ma’am.” Norman displayed perfect gentlemanly courtesy, but his eyes never left Leon.
The next ten minutes were the strangest breakfast conversation Uncle Ben had ever experienced in his life.
Norman Osborn seemed extremely interested in Peter’s “internship performance,” yet every word sounded loaded with double meanings.
“Peter has great potential.” Norman took a sip of black tea, tapping his fingers lightly against the tabletop.
“But sometimes he’s a bit too…
‘passionate.’ Young people often can’t control their tempers, making it easy to burn themselves—and easy to burn down everything around them.”
Uncle Ben thought he was talking about Peter’s work attitude and quickly explained, “Peter is just too earnest.
Sometimes he really is a bit impulsive.”
“Impulsiveness is a devil.” Norman stared at Leon, a touch of madness gleaming in those grey-blue eyes.
“Sometimes, we need a little cold water to douse those unrealistic flames.
Don’t you agree, Leon?”
Leon cut into the fried egg on his plate, the knife and fork dragging against the porcelain to produce a sharp screech.
He lifted his head, a harmless smile on his face, but his eyes were as cold as Siberian permafrost.
“There are many kinds of fires, Mr.
Osborn,” Leon said slowly.
His voice wasn’t loud, but it made Norman’s tapping fingers freeze.
“Some fires are used for warmth, and some are used for light.
As for whether someone gets burned…” Leon popped a piece of fried egg into his mouth, chewing thoroughly before continuing, “…that depends on whether the person reaching out stretched their hand too far.”
The air beneath the dining table felt as though it had dropped to the freezing point.
Ben and May exchanged glances, utterly baffled by the riddles these two were speaking in, feeling only a suffocating tension in the room.
Norman narrowed his eyes.
He had originally expected to see a panicked high school student or a naive, struggling vigilante trying to hide his identity.
But he was wrong.
Sitting across from him was a young wolf in sheep’s clothing.
There was no fear in those eyes, only evaluation—as if calculating where to sink his teeth in to snap his prey’s throat the fastest.
That kind of look made the insane personality inside him want to scream with excitement.
“Hahaha!” Norman burst into sudden laughter, the laugh abrupt and neurotic, giving Aunt May a fright.
He stood up abruptly, adjusting the hem of his suit jacket.
“Fascinating perspective.
The Parker family really is full of interesting people.”
Norman looked at Uncle Ben.
“Thank you both for the hospitality.
Tell Peter that as soon as his ‘injury’ heals, he’s welcome back to Oscorp for his internship at any time.”
“Leaving already?” Uncle Ben couldn’t quite keep up with the pace.
“I have a meeting at the company.” Norman turned toward the door.
Halfway there, he paused, his back to everyone.
“Leon, why don’t you walk this guest out?”
Leon wiped his mouth and stood up.
“The honor is mine.”
The two walked out of the house one after the other.
The instant the door shut, the cozy warmth inside was completely sealed off.
The early autumn wind carried a chill.
Norman stood beside his Rolls-Royce while his bodyguard respectfully held the car door open.
He turned around, the smile on his face completely vanished, replaced by unadulterated murderous intent.
“The fireworks display last night was nice.”
Norman lowered his voice, pointing toward the Parkers’ roof.
“But next time, if someone gets in my way again, I’ll step on this house and squash every ant inside with it.”
This was a declaration of war.
Using his family’s safety as a bargaining chip.
Leon stood on the steps, hands shoved in his pockets.
If it were yesterday, he might have been furious, might have wanted to transform on the spot and choke this Green Goblin to death.
But now, possessing Upgrade, what he saw was no longer a towering, invincible villain.
It was a walking pile of buggy, flaw-ridden data code.
Leon glanced at the expensive smartwatch on Norman’s wrist, then at the luxury car parked nearby that was packed with cutting-edge tech.
If he wanted to, he could detonate the car’s airbags right into Norman’s face right now, or overload the watch battery in an instant, blowing that hand into charred meat.
But he held back.
Now was not the time.
The game of cat and mouse was just beginning.
“Mr.
Osborn.” Leon took a step forward, closing into Norman’s personal space.
He leaned down slightly, leaning near Norman’s ear, his voice soft as if greeting an old friend.
“Do you know the story of Icarus?”
Norman’s brow furrowed slightly.
“Fly too high, and your wax wings will melt in the sun.” Leon stepped back, holding open the car door for Norman and making a picture-perfect “after you” gesture.
“Be careful not to fall from the sky and shatter into pieces.”
Norman’s pupils contracted sharply.
He stared dead at Leon, seemingly trying to read something off the teenager’s face.
After a few seconds, he let out a cold snort and climbed into the car.
“Drive.”
The Rolls-Royce started up, its tires rolling over fallen leaves as it sped away.
Leon stood by the roadside, watching the taillights vanish around the corner.
The fake smile on his face disappeared instantly, replaced by a bone-chilling coldness.
Being targeted by the Green Goblin meant the Parker house was no longer a safe house.
But that wasn’t even the worst part.
The alert from [Tactical Analysis] hadn’t been lifted with Norman’s departure; instead, it had grown even more piercing.
Leon turned his head to look down the end of the street.
Parked there was an unassuming grey utility van bearing the words “Queens Power & Light Maintenance.” From last night until now, that vehicle had been parked there for over ten hours.
An ordinary person wouldn’t see any flaw.
In Leon’s eyes, however, behind the privacy film of that vehicle, encrypted band signals were being continuously transmitted outward.
[Analysis Result: SHIELD Field Surveillance Unit]
[Equipment: Long-Range Acoustic Eavesdropper, Thermal Imager]
“Heh…”
Leon chuckled in cold irritation.
First Green Goblin comes knocking on his front door, and now agents are squatting outside monitoring him.
Did these people really think the Parker house was a public restroom where anyone could come and go or spy whenever they pleased?
SHIELD.
Nick Fury.
It seemed the commotion caused by “Heatblast” last night was too big after all, ultimately drawing these flies over.
The fact that they hadn’t moved yet meant they were probably confirming identities or waiting for that one-eyed man’s orders.
But Leon didn’t like being watched.
Especially right after his family’s safety had been threatened by Norman Osborn.
This feeling of a dagger at his back made him profoundly displeased.