Chapter 8: Possessing Organic Webbing and Spider-Web Fluid
With a slight tension in my chest, I pressed two fingers into my palm, hoping that something would come out—anything at all. But nothing happened. No burst, no dramatic sound.
Only the still midday air greeted me, silent and unmoving, as if it were mocking my expectations. I stared at my wrist, then tried again, this time putting in more force, my jaw unconsciously tightening. Still nothing.
“You’ve got to be kidding me…” I muttered in irritation. A slow wave of embarrassment crept in, making me feel a little foolish—standing alone on a rooftop, striking a Spider-Man pose that didn’t even work.
I shook my hand, trying to loosen my wrist as it began to feel stiff, then attempted again from a different angle. This time, I focused harder. I drew in a breath, channeling strength from my wrist muscles up through my arm, as if sheer willpower alone could activate the mechanism.
And finally—fiiuush!
A white burst shot out from a small opening in my wrist, so sudden that my reflexes were almost too slow to react. It fired straight ahead—but instead of forming a long, swinging web like I’d imagined, it condensed into a small, dense projectile of webbing that slammed into the brick wall in front of me and stuck there with a light sound.
I stared blankly for a moment, eyes fixed on the white lump clinging tightly to the rough surface of the bricks. “Okay… that’s not a web line for swinging. That’s a web bullet.”
I frowned, my brows knitting together as I tried to process what had just happened. Without thinking too much, I tried again. And again.
“All right, maybe I just need momentum,” I said, my voice sounding more like I was trying to convince myself than actually believing it.
I raised my right hand, then my left, firing webbing alternately. Each time, the result was the same—small web projectiles flew off in random directions. Some hit the wall and stuck fast, while others missed entirely, falling short of their target, dangling briefly in the air before dropping away.
My movements gradually lost their rhythm, and after more than a dozen attempts, the muscles in my arms began to burn and feel heavy, like I’d just finished an intense workout.
“Ugh… so firing webs consumes stamina, huh?” I muttered between breaths, my chest rising and falling faster than before.
Sweat began to soak into my temples, trickling lightly beneath the mask. I let out a long breath, trying to gather my thoughts, then said, “Spider-Man System, why does this suit have web-shooters if I can already shoot webs directly from my body?”
A transparent screen appeared soundlessly in front of me, floating calmly like an AI assistant that was always ready to respond. The letters on it were neat, orderly, and cold.
[If you feel tired, you may use the Web-Shooters. This suit is capable of producing Spider-Web Fluid automatically, but it requires time to replenish the Spider-Web Fluid reserves within the Web-Shooters.]
I blinked a few times, digesting the information, then nodded slowly. “Oh, I see. So if I get tired, I can use the Web-Shooters. And if the Web-Shooters run out of Spider-Web Fluid, I can rely on Organic Webbing from my own body. That’s pretty… flexible.”
A wide grin spread across my face, satisfaction and amazement blending together. “Not bad! That’s actually a really smart two-way system!”
Then I looked back down at both of my wrists, my curiosity growing stronger, as if I were seeing them for the very first time. Beneath all the earlier confusion and awkwardness, I could sense an even greater potential waiting to be explored.
“By the way, how long do Organic Webbing and Spider-Web Fluid last after being deployed, System?” I asked casually, though my tone was filled with anticipation. My gaze lingered on the empty air before me, as if the screen had already appeared even before the answer arrived.
[Your Organic Webbing can last for two hours, while Spider-Web Fluid from the Web-Shooters lasts for one hour.]
I nodded in satisfaction, the corners of my lips lifting slightly. That information felt crucial—far more important than I’d expected.
“All right! Two hours of duration is plenty, and one hour for the Web-Shooters—not bad.” I let out a short breath and fixed my gaze straight ahead. “Now… it’s time for the real test.”
I stood at the edge of the three-story building’s rooftop. From here, the distance between myself and the ground felt far more real than before. A cold breeze swept past, biting faintly into my skin beneath the suit, making the small black cape at my back flutter gently, as if it shared my unease.
From this height, the daytime view of Forest Hill spread out before me—corporate buildings rising tall with gleaming glass walls, tightly packed apartments, and busy streets below, flowing like living lines that never stopped moving.
Cars passed beneath me, their sounds muted, reduced to a distant hum that felt strangely detached, as though the world below no longer quite touched me.
I took another long breath, filling my lungs completely, feeling my heartbeat quicken—loud, fast, as if it were reminding me just how insane what I was about to do truly was.
“All right, all I have to do now is not die,” I muttered to myself. It sounded less like a joke and more like a brief prayer. Without hesitating any longer, I fired my Organic Webbing toward the ten-story building across the street.
Fiuuuussh!
This time, the web shot out perfectly—smooth and confident—before latching firmly onto the glass wall at the fifth floor. I could feel a faint vibration in my hand, a taut sensation traveling up my arm, clear proof that the web had secured itself and wasn’t going anywhere.
“Hah! Finally!” I exclaimed in satisfaction, a wide grin forming automatically behind the mask.
Without thinking—without even giving myself time to regret it—I jumped. The world seemed to flip upside down for a moment. Wind slammed into my face as my body plunged freely for several meters, my stomach dropping, my heart feeling as if it had stopped altogether.
Then, suddenly, the web went taut and yanked me forward. My body swung through the air, tracing a smooth arc along the pull of the web—and for the first time, I felt something that was hard to put into words: a blend of pure fear and an intoxicating sense of freedom.
“WAH—!” I shouted, unable to hold it back, my breath coming out ragged as I survived the first swing. My chest felt light—strangely so—not from panic, but as if a weight I hadn’t even realized was there had just been lifted.
I stuck to the glass of the building, my palms and feet holding my body in place with reflexes that felt unnaturally natural. I stared at my own reflection in the glass. A figure clad in white with web-like accents stared back at me. The black, lens-shaped eyes of my mask narrowed slightly, as if reacting to my emotions.
“Okay… this is insane,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, suspended between awe and nervous excitement.
I raised my hand again, this time with far greater confidence, and fired a second web toward the building across the street. Once more, my body was flung into the air—but now the movement was smoother, more controlled.
The midday wind slapped against my face, the air feeling both cool and warm at the same time. It was a strange sensation, yet oddly pleasant. The snap of the web going taut, the rush of wind in my ears, the powerful pull on my arms—everything felt vivid, alive, sending my adrenaline soaring.
The daytime sky above Forest Hill looked more beautiful than I had expected. The blue seemed brighter than usual, white clouds drifting lazily, sunlight reflecting off the tall buildings below.
And then, without me fully realizing exactly when it happened, I began swinging from one building to another. A rhythm slowly formed, my body adjusting to each pull and release, each arc through the air.
People down below started to notice. Heads tilted upward. Fingers pointed toward the sky. A figure dressed entirely in white could be clearly seen swinging between the tall buildings, streaking across the bright afternoon sky.
“What is that?!”
“Is that a superhero?!”
“Seriously? A new hero?”
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