The next morning, just after dawn.
Early-rising pigeons strolled across the square, their feathers tinged with soft morning light. A gentle breeze drifted through the corner café, carrying the rich aroma of roasted coffee beans.
The rustle of a cleaner's broom sweeping the pavement mingled with distant car horns, weaving together a tranquil morning melody.
Damian shuffled unsteadily toward the gate of MidTown High School, his sallow complexion and hollow eyes making him look like a zombie resurrected after eight years underground. Passersby instinctively gave him a wide berth—three meters, at least—not out of cruelty, but because his gaunt, sleep-deprived appearance radiated an aura of impending collapse. No one wanted to be the one blamed if he keeled over.
At that moment, Damian felt a strange kinship with the sick roosters back in his rural hometown. He, too, wanted to crow at the sky the moment he woke—except his voice would've come out as a groan.
Smack!
The instant he stepped through the school gate, a heavy hand clapped down on his shoulder. The force alone told him exactly who was responsible.
Damian spun around and glared, exasperated.
"Peter," he said flatly, "remember this: though 'greeting' is a compound word with a biased meaning, it refers to greeting—not assault!"
Peter Parker chuckled awkwardly, blinking with feigned innocence. "Hehe… How'd you know it was me?"
Damian gave him a deadpan look. "In this entire school, there aren't many who'd want me dead… and only one who actually could pull it off."
He added, under his breath, with the vacant stare of a man long resigned to cosmic cruelty: "Live first. Let karma handle the rest."
Peter turned away guiltily—just in time to spot a familiar figure approaching from the street corner.
Valerie Layton.
One of the seven survivors of Flight 180.
Her eyes were sunken, her expression hollow. Once delicate and composed, her face now bore the deep lines of exhaustion and grief. She moved like a ghost, radiating a quiet, shattered stillness.
Damian had only ever seen that same fractured aura in two others: Shang Yang and Boyi Kao.
Peter's expression softened. "Miss. Layton's really dedicated," he murmured. "After everything that happened, she only took three or four days off before coming back to teach."
Damian shook his head. "I doubt she's here to teach. She's here to resign."
Peter frowned. Midtown High offered excellent pay and benefits—no one quit unless they had a better offer.
Before he could press further, a sharp, icy jolt shot through his chest—his spider-sense screaming in warning.
At that exact moment, a flatbed truck hauling massive steel coils roared past on the adjacent highway.
As it passed Valerie, the truck's right rear tire struck a fist-sized rock.
BOOM!
The rock shot out like a cannonball, streaking straight for Valerie's temple.
"Oh my God!" a mother gasped, yanking her child's face into her coat—but her own eyes were wide with terror.
"Look out—!"
Peter didn't hesitate. In one fluid motion, he snatched a metal trash can from the curb and hurled it like a shield.
CLANG!
The rock slammed into the bin with a deafening crash, denting it deeply and ricocheting upward.
For a heartbeat, it seemed the danger had passed.
Then—disaster unfolded.
The deflected rock sliced through a tangle of overhead utility cables like a scythe.
Sssizzzle—!
A live wire whipped down, crackling with electricity, lashing toward Valerie like a venomous serpent.
At the same time, the jolt from the truck's impact loosened the restraints on its cargo.
CRUNCH… CRUNCH…
The steel coils—each weighing over fifty tons—began to shift.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
One coil broke free, tumbling off the flatbed and thundering down the road straight toward Valerie. The asphalt shattered beneath it, sending spiderweb cracks racing outward with a bone-chilling grind.
Screams erupted. Crowds scattered in panic.
WHOOSH—WHOOSH—!
Suddenly, dozens of glistening white spider-webs shot from the rooftops, lashing around the rolling coil like cables. The other ends anchored to nearby buildings, yanking the monstrous mass to a shuddering halt—just five meters from Valerie.
The webbing groaned under the strain, trembling like piano wire tuned to rupture.
"Yes!" someone shouted.
"Long live Spider-Man!"
Cheers surged through the crowd. Girls hugged each other, tears streaming down their faces.
Peter slipped back into the throng, clapping along as if he'd merely witnessed the rescue.
Valerie collapsed to her knees, gasping, her hands shaking as she wiped cold sweat from her brow. A fragile, relieved smile touched her lips.
But fate wasn't done.
From the side street, a black convertible sports car rounded the corner at high speed—too fast.
Screeeech—!
Tires shrieked against pavement as the driver lost control. The car fishtailed wildly—directly toward the stalled steel coil in the road.
Time froze.
Valerie's smile hadn't even faded when her eyes widened in horror.
BOOM—!
The convertible slammed into her, pinning her against the brick wall behind with brutal force.
CRASH—!
Bricks exploded outward. Dust billowed. Silence fell—then shattered into chaos.
As the smoke cleared, the horror revealed itself.
Valerie was wedged between the crumpled hood and the shattered wall, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.
"Ugh… ngh…"
Her fingers clawed at the bricks, leaving red streaks—then went limp.
A beat of stunned silence. Then—screams.
"Call an ambulance! Now!" a woman in a business suit shrieked, fumbling for her phone with trembling hands.
"Back up! Everyone back up—it's not safe!" a tall man yelled, but his voice was lost in the din.
From the wreckage, the driver stumbled out—pale as death. He collapsed to his knees, whispering over and over:
"I didn't mean to… God… I didn't see her… I didn't mean to…"
Damian's eyes narrowed.
The driver was Carter Horton—another survivor of Flight 180.
In the passenger seat, dazed and bleeding
from a cut on her forehead, sat Terry Chaney, Carter's girlfriend—and the seventh survivor.
Damian exhaled slowly.
Death had struck again.
Visit patreon.com/ShiroTL to gain access to 40+ chapters