The mont the realization hit, Gwen felt her entire worldview suffer a violent, unprecedented collision.
But she didn't have ti to dwell on the existential implications because her father was still fretting outside the door. "Are you hurt? Do I need to take you to the hospital?"
George wanted nothing more than to burst in and check on his daughter. However, knowing she was growing up and wanting to respect her privacy, he managed to restrain himself.
"I—I'm fine! I just need a minute," Gwen replied, struggling to peel herself off the ceiling while trying to sound as casual as possible.
"Alright then. Call if you need anything."
Hearing her father's retreating footsteps, Gwen let out a long, shaky breath. She cautiously attempted to regain control over her limbs. After several grueling tries, she finally overca the strange adhesive force—only to go thud as she faceplanted onto the floor.
Despite the height of the fall, she felt no pain.
Scrambling up clumsily, Gwen stared at her hands. She could feel a new, seemingly inexhaustible well of power surging through her veins. Her expression was a chaotic ss: shock, confusion, fear, and a tiny, irrepressible spark of excitent.
Her life, it seed, had taken a sharp turn onto a completely unknown path tonight.
At the sa ti, Gwen was playing a ga of wits with her father, inside another old house in Queens...
Peter was locked in his bedroom, engaged in a grueling struggle of his own.
"One... two... three..."
He was face-down on the floor, teeth grit, performing "diamond" push-ups. His thin arms shook like they were powered by high-frequency motors. If it weren't for the Horse Talisman's passive protection, he was worried he might actually snap a bone.
"...Fourteen... fif...teen..."
After barely fifteen highly unstable reps, Peter was completely spent. He collapsed into a "starfish" shape on the floor, gasping for air. Looking at his scrawny chest where his ribs were clearly visible, despair washed over him.
Weak! Too damn weak!
His current physical state was appalling.
While the Horse Talisman could instantly heal injuries and flush away the lactic acid buildup—allowing him to train without the burden of soreness or long recovery tis—his "level 1" base stats were severely bottlenecking his progress.
He was like a Souls-like protagonist with an infinite health glitch but a stamina bar the size of a toothpick. He wouldn't die, but he'd be out of breath after two swings of a sword.
Sure, if he stuck to it and maybe acquired so advanced technology down the line, he could transform from a nerd into a powerhouse faster than any human. But God only knew how long that would take.
A month? Three months? Half a year?
He didn't have that kind of ti.
With Gwen becoming Ghost-Spider, the gears of this world had already begun to turn. The villains lurking in the shadows—the Green Goblin, Doc Ock, Sandman, Electro—would soon erge like sharks sensing blood.
Just thinking of those nas made Peter's skin crawl. In his current state, a stray shockwave from a battle would turn him into paste. And as noble as the Horse was, even it couldn't fix a puddle of at.
Training naturally is too slow! I need a shortcut!
He needed a massive power spike in a short window. Only then could he maximize his System's potential and start a "snowball" effect.
With that thought, his genius intellect—one that could make even Tony "Stark" do a double-take—began to whir at high speed. Monts later, a flash of inspiration struck.
Peter sat up, his eyes gleaming with a terrifying light. He thought of the serum he took in the original "Sacrificial Script"—the Lizard Serum that Curt Connors perfected with the help of Peter Parker's notes.
Injected, it provided raw strength rivaling Spider-Man, incredible durability, and insane regeneration. Of course, the cost was total: loss of sanity, genetic collapse, and becoming a cold-blooded monster.
Under normal circumstances, Peter wouldn't touch that stuff with a ten-foot pole.
But now?
Sorry, the Noble Horse expels all external forces!
The Horse Talisman's power dispelled all "abnormal influences" detrintal to the host. Whether it was genetic instability or predatory instincts, to the Horse, they were nothing more than "impurities."
If he used the Horse Talisman while injecting the serum, the magic would automatically strip away the side effects, leaving only the pure, concentrated enhancent.
The lethal Lizard Serum would be transford into a version of the Super Soldier Serum! No—it would be a Pro Max version, far stronger than what Steve Rogers ever got.
Peter's heart hamred against his ribs. This was the optimal play.
"To get the serum, I need to help Dr. Connors solve the Decay Rate Algorithm, just like in the movies."
"And the key to that algorithm is hidden in my father's old briefcase!"
With a plan in place, Peter bolted out of his room. He ran downstairs, devoured the rest of the dinner like a starving wolf, gave a quick wave to Uncle Ben, and headed straight for the dusty, musty attic.
After a frantic search, he finally unearthed the old, battered briefcase. Inside were layers of complex mathematical formulas and biological papers that would make an ordinary person's head spin.
To the "old" Peter, this would have been gibberish. But with his current genius-level mind, the contents were crystal clear.
Back in his room, Peter began studying by lamplight. As he flipped through the "script" left by his parents, he reached a specific page, and a System prompt suddenly appeared:
[Detected Sacrificial Item (Deep Blue): Original Decay Rate Algorithm Manuscript]
[Description: A nto of Peter's parents, and the key that allows Curt Connors to develop the Lizard Serum and leads Norman and Harry Osborn toward becoming the Green Goblin. Holds significant sentintal and plot-driving value.]
[Sacrifice Value: 3,000 Points. Would you like to sacrifice?]
Holy crap... that much?!
If Peter hadn't awakened his past mories, he would never have sacrificed his parents' last legacy, no matter the price. But the current Peter felt no emotional tether to parents he had never t. To him, the "sentintal value" was non-existent.
Peter didn't hesitate. He quickly copied the formulas onto a fresh sheet of paper, double-checking for errors, and then gave the command:
"Sacrifice!"
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