Leander sat quietly on his bed, the aftermath of his rapid, painful healing process still echoing in his mind. He focused on the mental screen, the display refreshing with his new, improved parameters:
Control Points: 50 (Up from 49)
Strength: 7
Defense: 6 (Up from 5)
Speed: 8
Spirit: 17(The bedrock of his Metal Control)
Skill: D-rank Metal Control, E-rank Body Enhancement (NEW)
Enhancement: Golden Eyes (8%) (NEW)
A full-body holographic projection of his ten-year-old self shimmered briefly in his internal vision. The projection was mostly monochrome, save for a unique, faint golden light radiating from the eye area.
Fifty CP! He felt the solid, tangible surge of power—a slightly thicker, more responsive connection to the metal around him. And I finally unlocked a new branch skill! 'E-rank Body Enhancement.' Looks like absorbing all that trauma energy didn't just fix the bones; it started the next evolutionary step.
With a controlled clench of his right hand, a new, large iron rod—the next in his rapidly dwindling supply—flew over from the rack beside his desk, stopping precisely two centimeters from his outstretched fingers.
"Golden Eyes, huh?" Leander mused, tracing the word on the display. "Sounds vaguely mythological. Let's see what kind of X-Men mutation my System is cooking up."
A loud, cheerful voice cut through his focus, wafting up from the kitchen downstairs.
"Leo! Honey, come down for breakfast! Uncle George is going to take you to school this morning!" his Aunt Jenny called.
Leander snapped his focus back to the present. He needed to move, and he needed to eat—or rather, fuel. He instinctively flexed his hands. The iron rod in his grasp snapped cleanly into two halves. He moved his hands in a swift, subtle upward motion, and the two iron pieces morphed, flattening out and curling into two perfectly balanced, circular weights. They clamped securely to his calves, hidden beneath his baggy jeans. The slow absorption process continues.
He quickly changed into a fresh hoodie, grabbed his small backpack, and hurried downstairs, the weights on his legs already beginning their silent, steady energy transfer.
Aunt Jenny was still bustling happily in the bright, tidy kitchen. Uncle George was already seated at the dining table, frowning slightly over the morning edition of the New York Post.
"Jenny, Leo, did you see this?" Uncle George folded the newspaper, its headline screaming about the devastation. "Two absolute monsters attacked Manhattan last night. Hundreds killed, the city's a wreck. It's terrifying, truly. It's not safe out there anymore." He reached out and gently patted Liu Chong's head. "Leo, my boy, you can't run around by yourself at night. If you need to go anywhere, you tell us, and I'll go with you."
Jenny emerged from the kitchen, balancing a staggering haul of food: three platters stacked high with fried eggs, crispy ham slices, thick slices of bread, and two entire hot dogs. It was enough food to feed a small construction crew.
"Oh, George, relax!" Jenny laughed, placing the food down. "Leo has been independent since he was tiny, and I trust him completely. Besides, Leo is such a wonderful, good boy, he wouldn't run off!"
Leander patted his perpetually empty stomach, adopting his practiced persona of the polite, hungry young man. "Don't worry, Uncle George. I won't go out without telling you. I've been busy lately working on those model commissions—they're worth a couple hundred bucks! But I'm starving. I'll eat first!"
He immediately grabbed two slices of bread, efficiently layered them with ham and a fried egg, and began devouring the creation in massive, rapid bites, projecting the image of a ravenous, growing ten-year-old. The snacks from two hours ago might as well have been a dream.
George watched his adopted son consume food at an alarming rate, shaking his head with a fond smile. "Leo, hobbies are good, but don't strain yourself with the work, okay? You're only ten. Your aunt and I may not be rich, but we can definitely still support you, little man."
"Nonsense, George!" Jenny interjected proudly, sitting down next to Leander. "Even though Leo eats enough for a lineman, he earns his keep with those beautiful models, don't you, sweetie!"
George and Jenny were the definition of wholesome normalcy—a company analyst and an electrical engineer. Their inability to conceive after ten years of marriage was their only deep sadness. Finding Leander (then five years old and desperately hungry near an adoption center) had been their miracle. They had planned to call him Lean, but the Americanization stuck, resulting in Leo. He was their precious, unexpected gift.
Leo continued to consume the plates of food. He finished his two ham sandwiches and immediately started on the hot dogs, yet his stomach remained physically empty. Every calorie, every gram of protein and fat, was instantly shunted away from normal digestion. It transformed into a pure, invisible stream of energy that surged directly into his brain, combining with the trace metals in the food and the larger metallic weights on his calves. This was his self-taught "Cultivation Method."
As he chewed, he felt a gentle, warming energy flow from the weights on his calves up into his torso and then collect behind his eyes. In the background of his mind, the 'Golden Eyes' progress bar ticked up from 8% to 9%.
Leander cleaned the plates, having devoured nearly all the remaining food with the efficiency of a woodchipper. He grabbed his schoolbag, and Uncle George, shaking his head at the power of a growing boy's appetite, drove him toward the school.
George was only two blocks into the drive when Aunt Jenny excitedly pointed. "George, pull over! That's my colleague, May, walking to school! Look, she has a child with her!"
George slowed the car. Jenny rolled down the window. "Hey, May! Where are you going? And wait, who is this little one? May, are you...?"
May Parker, a young, attractive woman, smiled warmly. "Hi, Jenny! No, no. This is my sister's son, Peter. He's staying with me now. Peter, honey, say 'hello' to Aunt Jenny!" May gently encouraged the small child she was leading by the hand.
"Oh, little baby, you're so cute! What's your name?" Jenny gushed.
The little boy, shy and wearing an expression of gentle worry, shrank slightly behind his aunt. "P-Peter. Peter Parker," he whispered.
Jenny's eyes lit up. "May, get in! We're headed right there. Leo goes to that elementary school too. They can play together!"
Leander, sitting quietly in the back seat, felt a strange coldness wash over him, followed by a rush of pure, unadulterated excitement. He slapped his forehead, internally screaming.
Aunt May! Peter Parker! Oh my God. I've found him. The timeline placement is confirmed, the pieces are falling into place! I'm in the background of Spider-Man's childhood!
Seeing the six-year-old Peter looking terrified and overwhelmed, Leander forced a friendly, decade-older grin and reached out his hand, pushing down the adult urge to yell "It's fine, kid, you're just going to grow up and get bit by a radioactive arachnid!"
"Hello, Peter! My name is Leo. I'm ten years old and in the fourth grade. You can call me Brother Leo from now on! I'll show you the ropes at school."
Peter turned his large, earnest eyes toward Leander. After a moment of hesitation, the shared experience of being dropped off at a daunting school created an immediate, silent bond. The two little guys—one a future superhero, the other a current metal demigod—had just formed a nascent, wonderful friendship.
That night, Leander lay restlessly on his bed, unable to sleep. His mind was a carnival of possibilities. Peter Parker. This changes everything.
BANG.
The two metal weights—now depleted and structurally compromised—detached from his trouser leg and flew automatically into the scrap metal box beside his desk, shattering into brittle pieces upon impact.
With a fluid motion of his hand, Leander commanded a small piece of silver steel—Brinell hardness 500—to float out from his materials rack. In his hands, the metal was utterly pliant, like warm clay. He kneaded and molded it, quickly shaping it into a small human figure. In a matter of minutes, a breathtakingly detailed, miniature metal Spider-Man figurine was complete.
It was exquisite: smooth, cold, perfect. Every muscle fiber and web line was distinct, yet the surface felt seamless and comfortable, far superior to any normal cast. "If I sold this on the black market as high-art sculpture, it'd fetch hundreds," he thought.
He opened his bookshelf—a secret compartment revealed dozens of such figures. Some were commissions waiting to be shipped; others were personal keepsakes, like the Mark I Iron Man model and his brand-new Spider-Man.
He settled back down. After a full day of quiet absorption, the progress on the new enhancement was dramatically increased.
He grabbed a new iron rod, placed his hands on it, and initiated the final, critical step. The golden light reappeared, stronger now, emanating from his entire body. Countless golden specks flowed from the rod and merged into him, concentrating in his head.
From the depths of his black pupils, a tiny golden pinprick of light appeared, rapidly growing until it consumed the entire eyeball. When his eyes snapped open, a momentary beam of concentrated light shot out into the dark room before dissipating.
He summoned the System interface again:
Control Points: 50
Strength: 7
Defense: 6
Speed: 8
Spirit: 17
Skill: D-rank Metal Control, E-rank Body Enhancement (Up from E)
Enhancement: Golden Eyes (54%), Copper Skin (3%), Steel Bars (0%), Iron Bones (0%)
Complete!
Leander stood up. The room was now almost completely dark, yet he could see with perfect, crystalline clarity, far better than daytime vision. The darkness had absolutely no effect on his sight.
But that was just the appetizer.
He narrowed his eyes, concentrating the latent golden energy. The surrounding walls of his room seemed to melt away—not physically, but visually. He could see straight through the wood, drywall, and plaster.
It was enhanced X-ray vision, combined with extreme range.
"Uncle Kai next door is cooking dinner," he observed, astonished. "Aunt Jenny told me Aunt Jing always did the cooking. Traitors!"
He panned across the street. "Hey, isn't that Rui from my class? Why is he rolling around on the floor like that... doing crunches? Trying to get swole, huh?"
He focused further. "Aunt Ida is actually hiding money in the back of that loose brick in the chimney. Clever girl."
The level of detail was staggering; he could see the dust motes dancing in the light of the far-off street lamps, 100 meters away.
"Uh, it looks like Uncle Fitz isn't sleeping next to Aunt Donna tonight. That's... disturbing." He quickly averted his gaze from that particular room.
Suddenly, his playful exploration froze. Across three blocks and through multiple apartment walls, a distinct, high-contrast image flashed into his Golden Eyes.
"Wait... that's... a gun. And a terrified woman. Someone's committing an armed robbery!"