Before the words had even faded, Muzan's figure vanished from where he stood.
A sharp prick at the back of Spider-Man's head—his pride and joy, his Spider-Sense, was screaming a frantic warning!
Danger was coming from all directions; it was impossible to pinpoint the exact source! He had no time to think, as his body instinctively performed a backflip.
"Swish!"
A shadow of a black whip swept past, barely grazing the tip of his nose, the fierce wind stinging his cheeks.
The whip-shadow struck empty air, yet it carved a deep trench into the ground, sending gravel flying.
Spider-Man landed on the roof of a police car and stared at the trench, his heart tightening. If that had hit a person, the consequences would be unimaginable.
"Not bad reflexes."
Muzan's figure reappeared a few meters away, as if he had never moved. His tailored suit didn't have a single wrinkle.
"Like a startled bug."
"A bug? I prefer to be called an 'arachnid,' thank you." Spider-Man quipped, though his body was tensed to the absolute limit.
"And, sir, you've damaged public property; you'll have to pay for that."
He flicked his wrist, and two white strands of webbing shot out, aiming for Muzan's shoulders in an attempt to restrain him.
The webbing stuck precisely to Muzan's shoulders. Spider-Man pulled hard, but the scene he anticipated—the opponent being yanked over—did not happen. He felt as if he were pulling on a mountain; it didn't budge an inch.
"Is this your ability?"
Muzan glanced down at the webbing on his shoulders, a look of undisguised contempt in his crimson eyes.
The next second, his back erupted, and several tentacles resembling black thorns whistled out, striking at Spider-Man with lightning speed, far faster than the webbing!
Spider-Man's pupils constricted; the stinging sensation from his Spider-Sense was enough to make his head feel like it was about to explode.
Without a second thought, he immediately severed the webbing and leaned back to the limit on the car roof, his body almost parallel to it.
"Pfft, pfft, pfft!"
Several thorn-like tentacles grazed his suit, piercing through the roof of the police car beneath him and leaving several holes that emitted black smoke. The metal edges hissed, having actually been corroded!
"Hey! Taxpayers bought that car!"
Spider-Man did a flip and jumped onto the street, crying out in distress as he looked at the poor police car.
He dared not be careless any longer. The enemy before him was the most bizarre and dangerous one he had ever encountered.
It wasn't brute force; it was a pure, unadulterated evil born for slaughter.
"Interesting, truly interesting!" The smile on Muzan's face grew wider—an excitement like that of someone who had discovered a new toy.
"Your body, your reaction speed—they far surpass the inferior creatures of this World. What a perfect specimen! If I were to turn you into a demon—"
"A demon? Buddy, it's the twenty-first century, and Halloween passed a long time ago."
Spider-Man said this while moving rapidly across the street, searching for a flaw in his opponent.
However, Muzan gave him no chance. More black tentacles surged from his back like an all-encompassing web of death, sealing off all of Spider-Man's escape routes.
At the same time, his arms transformed into terrifying flesh whips, cracking the air and producing sonic booms as they unleashed a storm of attacks in coordination with the tentacles.
For a moment, the sound of gunfire on Broadway disappeared, replaced by the even more terrifying whistling of whip-shadows and the sound of metal being torn apart.
Spider-Man was like a lone boat in a stormy sea, relying on his Spider-Sense and superhuman agility to dodge and weave through the gaps of countless lethal attacks.
Every second, he brushed shoulders with death.
The asphalt road was carved with deep grooves, the fire hydrant on the side of the road was cut in half, sending a jet of water shooting into the sky, and the street lamp poles were twisted and deformed like pretzels.
This fierce battle taking place in the city center quickly attracted everyone's attention. Especially the news media, with their keen sense of smell.
"Good evening, viewers! This is a live broadcast from the Daily Bugle! We are currently on Broadway. Just a moment ago, a violent robbery occurred here, but now, the situation has taken a shocking turn!"
"The New York citizens' old friend, Spider-Man, is currently engaging in battle with an unidentified mysterious man! My God! Everyone can see that this man's attack style—it's like he's a demon from hell!"
The roar of helicopters echoed in the night sky, and the beams of searchlights locked firmly onto the center of the battle.
Every television station in New York City simultaneously beamed these jaw-dropping images onto the screens of thousands of households.
— Queens, the Parker residence.
Under the warm lights, Aunt May was watching the TV news with great worry. Uncle Ben sat beside her, gently patting the back of her hand to comfort her.
"Oh, my goodness—it's Spider-Man again—I hope he's okay."
Aunt May watched the red and blue figure on the screen, dodging thrillingly through countless black tentacles, and clasped her hands together in prayer against her chest.
"Who exactly is this guy in black? This is simply not something a human can do."
Uncle Ben furrowed his brows, his face full of worry.
Misaka Mikoto, sitting on the other side of the sofa, also kept her gaze locked firmly on the TV screen.
Her brows were tightly knit, but she wasn't just worried about Spider-Man.
In her mind, she recalled a series of Peter's recent abnormal behaviors.
Always arriving at the classroom just a few minutes before class, often returning late after school with excuses like "club activities" or "studying at the library," and occasionally having small but rapidly healing wounds on his body.
Most importantly, just after finishing dinner, Peter had said he had important homework to do and rushed upstairs. And the time this battle on TV broke out was shortly after he had returned to his room.
Aunt May sighed, "Peter has been like this lately, too, all secretive. He never used to make us worry."
That one sentence woke Mikoto up.
She stood up abruptly from the sofa and said to Aunt May and Uncle Ben, "I'll go upstairs and check on Peter."
She walked quickly up to the second floor, came to Peter's door, and knocked gently.
"Peter? Are you in there?"
There was no response from inside the room.
A strong premonition seized her heart. She gripped the doorknob and turned it gently.
Click.
The door was locked from the inside.
At this moment, all the clues in Mikoto's mind connected into a complete line.
That kind, inarticulate "brother" who always wanted to protect her but was a bit clumsy, and the hero on TV fighting on the edge of life and death, protecting this city—the figures slowly merged before her eyes.
So that was it.
"Aunt May, Uncle Ben!" Mikoto poked her head out from the stairs, trying to make her voice sound as calm as possible.
"I suddenly remembered I need to buy something. I'm heading out for a moment; I'll be back soon!"
"It's so chaotic outside, Mikoto, go tomorrow!" Aunt May called out worriedly.
But Mikoto had already put on her shoes and opened the door. The night wind blew through her tea-colored short hair.
"Don't worry, I'll be back soon."
The door was gently closed, shutting out the light and worry from inside the house. Mikoto stood in the shadows outside the door, her bangs obscuring her eyes.
She raised her hand, and a wisp of blue-white electricity danced quietly at her fingertips.
— On the battlefield, Spider-Man had already exchanged dozens of blows with Muzan. They went back and forth, and Peter found himself unable to do anything about Muzan for the moment.
"Huff—huff—buddy, can't you take a break? Let's sit down, have a cup of coffee, and talk about life goals or something—"
He panted heavily. The webbing was almost useless against an enemy that didn't fear physical attacks.
"I've changed my mind."
Muzan suddenly stopped attacking. He stood in the center of the street, which was filled with mist from the damaged fire hydrant, looking down at the disheveled Spider-Man. His crimson eyes glimmered with a light like that of someone admiring a work of art.
"Killing you would be too wasteful. Your body, your will—they far surpass any creature I have ever seen. You deserve a 'gift'."
"A gift? What kind of gift? A free donut?" Spider-Man looked at him warily.
"Become my subordinate, become a 'demon'." Muzan's voice carried an unquestionable majesty.
"You will gain eternal life, as well as power far beyond what you have now. You will no longer be a babysitter for this group of lowly humans, but a higher, more noble existence that stands above them."
He slowly extended his hand, and a drop of crimson blood condensed at his fingertip, emitting an eerie light.
"Obediently accept my blood. This is the greatest honor of your life."