As the White Spider-Man in Earth-76 with the Spider-Man System

I started moving again, swinging as best I could while the sky continued to darken, deep blue slowly swallowing the last remnants of twilight.

I forced myself through several short jumps and brief swings from low buildings or the corners of four-story structures that appeared from time to time. It was uncomfortable—the gaps were tight, the angles often awkward—but it was still enough to let me move faster than running along the streets below.

That was when I finally drew close to my neighborhood. And in the middle of that motion, I saw something. A sight that made my movement falter.

A group of people stepped out of a black van. Their movements were hurried yet coordinated. In their hands… firearms. Without hesitation, they went straight into a building.

A bank.

My body stopped instantly. My breath caught without me realizing it. Their actions were fast and precise—the van doors slid open, five men jumped out, weapons already in hand, and without wasting a second they entered the building bearing a sign that read BANK New Forest Hill. The atmosphere around the area shifted at once, the air tightening even as the sounds of the city continued on as usual.

Seeing that, I froze for a few seconds. This world was truly something else. I had just been about to head home, ready to give in to exhaustion and call it a day, yet criminals had gone and caused trouble right in front of me. Damn it. Looks like I’ll be getting home late tonight.

I let out a short breath, almost like a dry, hopeless laugh. The world never understood the meaning of a “polite coincidence.”

Without wasting any more time, I moved. I crept along the bank’s wall and climbed up to the second floor, my body clinging to the surface with ease.

I slipped into the bank, and as the glass door closed behind me, the noise from outside was immediately muffled, replaced by a silence that felt unnaturally orderly. My heartbeat automatically slowed, as if my body itself understood that even the smallest sound could become a fatal mistake.

Stepping further inside on the second floor, I glanced around. I found myself in a small open space at the end of a corridor—a kind of doorless room with a window. It was deserted, and the air there felt slightly cooler than in the main hallway, as if the air-conditioning had wandered into the corner and then frozen in place.

The room felt like a dead pocket within the large building, a place rarely touched by human activity, where even dust seemed reluctant to linger for long.

The overhead lights reflected off the pale marble floor, creating a tense sense of emptiness, and I could hear the ticking of a wall clock from the floor below, creeping upward like an unwelcome echo. Every second sounded far too clear, as though time itself had deliberately slowed just to test my patience.

I pressed myself against the wall to make it harder for the robbers to find me, drawing my body close like a dark shadow, holding my breath so not even the faintest sound escaped. My muscles tightened, my back flush against the cold surface that made the hairs on my neck stand on end, yet that sensation only helped keep me alert and focused.

Crawling along the wall, I began to move slowly, each motion feeling like a step taken in a dream that had to remain silent. I counted every breath I took, making sure there was no friction loud enough to give me away.

My palms clung tightly to the cold surface, while my heart pounded—not from fear, but from extreme concentration. The rhythm felt like a metronome inside my chest, keeping my movements controlled and precise.

Then I finally saw one of the robbers start climbing up to the second floor via the stairs. The man’s footsteps sounded heavy, unhurried, yet clearly carrying deadly intent. Each step creaked softly under his weight, announcing his presence even before his figure came fully into view.

From what I had observed earlier when the robbers stormed into the bank, there were five of them—one heading upstairs, while the sounds of movement from below confirmed that the rest were still roaming about like restless predators, waiting for an opening.

Those faint noises—whether footsteps or the scrape of weapons—kept my mind automatically mapping out their positions, over and over again.

That meant there were only four left downstairs. When one of the robbers began walking toward the area where I had entered earlier, his steps tapped against the floor in a lazy rhythm laced with suspicion. I immediately dropped down and struck him on the head, extending my arm in a swift, decisive motion. The blow landed with a dull, heavy thud.

In a fraction of a second, everything happened without hesitation. My body moved faster than my own thoughts.

The robber collapsed instantly, his body going limp as the tension in his muscles vanished all at once. The sound of his body hitting the floor was solid and weighty, making me instinctively hold my breath, afraid the noise might draw attention from below.

Damn it! Did I accidentally kill him? I should check his condition. The thought flashed through my mind like a jolt of electricity, making me bend down in brief panic. A cold sensation crept through my stomach—not guilt, but fear of the consequences.

I quickly checked whether the robber was still breathing, bringing my ear close to his mouth while watching his chest rise and fall, barely perceptible. Thankfully, he was still alive, and I let out a breath of relief. That exhale felt long, as if a weight had been lifted slightly from my shoulders.

I then sealed the robber’s mouth with spider silk, layering the sticky fibers until they hardened instantly in place, making it impossible for any sound to escape. The web clung tightly to his skin, glinting faintly under the neon lights.

After that, I bound both his hands and feet with more spider silk. The strands tightened automatically, gripping his wrists and ankles with unyielding strength. I made sure there wasn’t even the slightest gap—one small mistake could easily spiral into complete chaos.

Next, I dragged the robber back to where I had entered earlier, a small open space at the end of the corridor. The floor was cold and neatly polished, producing a faint dragging sound as his unconscious body slid across it.

The noise was almost inaudible, yet it kept me on edge. My eyes remained fixed on the corridor, alert for any shadow that might emerge from the darkness.

I quickly hid the robber so he wouldn’t be immediately discovered by the others, propping his body into a dark corner where the shadows concealed his form.

I positioned his head to hang low and his legs to bend at an unnatural angle, so that from a distance he looked like nothing more than a formless mass of shadow, blending seamlessly into a blind spot rarely noticed by human eyes.

After that, I continued by crawling along the wall slowly, lifting my body back upward with light, careful movements, almost completely silent—as if gravity itself had decided to go easy on me. The muscles in my arms tensed briefly before relaxing again, settling into a steady rhythm.

Then I turned my attention to the robbers on the first floor. Through the narrow gap between the floor’s edge and the wall, I could see the bank’s lobby from above, like an eagle watching its prey. My gaze swept across the wide space quickly yet meticulously, catching even the smallest movements.

There were two robbers near the exit. Both men looked tense as they held their positions, their weapons occasionally lifting as if anticipating something to move.

Their shoulders were stiff, jaws clenched, and their eyes kept darting restlessly, betraying the nervousness they were trying to hide behind an air of forced calm.