[Ding! Artificial memories being transmitted...]
Peter felt the impact before he even understood what was happening.
It wasn't like the other times.
It wasn't a quick flow of organized images, nor fragmented scenes that felt like a sped-up movie. Karai's memories came like deep, heavy waves, full of contradictions. They came with emotion. With pain. With contained rage and wounded honor.
He saw an old dojo, lit by red lanterns. The smell of incense mixed with dried blood. A girl training until her hands bled, being praised for her precision… and punished with the same intensity for any hesitation.
He saw the name Karai spoken with respect — and, at the same time, with ownership.
She was the heir. The perfect blade. The future of the Foot Clan.
But she was never free.
Peter felt the weight of Shredder's figure looming over those memories. Not like a warm father — but like a constant shadow. A severe mentor who mixed approval with manipulation, honor with control. Every compliment came with an invisible chain. Every victory reinforced the idea that she belonged to the clan, not to herself.
And then… the Turtles.
Fierce rooftop battles. Confrontations that began with hatred and ended in doubt. Leonardo.
Peter felt it with uncomfortable clarity.
Karai's inner conflict. The crack in her blind faith in the clan. The gradual discovery that there were lies — many of them. That the path she'd been given wasn't the only possible one.
He felt the fall. The betrayal. The sensation of being discarded once she stopped being convenient.
And finally… the fire.
A collapsing building. Explosions. Screams. And then… him.
Peter Parker, pulling her out of the rubble. Not as an enemy. Not as a master. But as someone who extended a hand without demanding anything in return.
He saw himself as a constant.
He saw himself preventing unnecessary executions.
He saw heated arguments on rooftops about how far honor could go without becoming tyranny.
He saw Karai watching him in silence, trying to understand how someone so powerful could refuse to command.
To Karai, Peter wasn't an idealized savior, but a breaking point. Proof that strength didn't need to come with cruelty. That power could coexist with compassion.
Peter gasped, as if he'd surfaced from underwater.
"Looks like you finally decided to get the old gang back together, Peter," she said, her voice firm and melodic. She looked around, evaluating the fifty ninjas with a clinical gaze. "And I see you kept the boys in shape. Although the posture of number 12 there needs correction."
Ninja number 12 straightened instantly, as if he'd been shocked.
"Karai… it's good to see you," Peter said, still catching his breath from the mental surge. "I… I really needed someone to organize this mess. Kenji is great, but—"
"Kenji is a soldier. You need a general," Karai interrupted, stepping closer. She didn't kneel like the others. She stopped just inches from Peter and inclined her head slightly. "I am at your service. But know this: I won't be gentle with them. If we're going to protect your legacy in this city, they need to be stronger than they are now."
Peter snorted, amused. "It's good to have you here," he replied, his voice a bit steadier thanks to the newly installed memories. "I'm glad you're here. As you can see, the situation is a little… improvised."
Karai looked around, analyzing the decrepit warehouse and the fifty kneeling ninjas. She scoffed lightly, crossing her arms over the silver metal cuirass. "Improvised is generous, Peter. This is more like a low-budget horror movie set. But at least the men still look sharp. Kenji did a good job maintaining discipline in your absence."
At the sound of his name, Kenji bowed even deeper. "Lady Karai. It is an honor to have you leading our ranks again."
"Stand up, Kenji," she ordered, her voice carrying a natural authority that Peter envied for a second. "Peter here has too soft a heart to give us real orders, so I'll be taking over operational logistics from now on."
Peter scratched the back of his neck, putting the mask back on to hide the faint blush. "Hey, I heard that! But you're right. And now that you're here, maybe we can organize these 'jobs' better than delivering burgers."
"Burgers, Peter? Seriously? Leave it to me. I'll use the funds they've raised to establish a front company. 'Parker Surveillance and Logistics Services.' Sounds good?"
"Without the Parker, please. And can you do that with seven hundred dollars?"
Karai let out a short laugh, a dry sound that wasn't quite mocking, but carried the confidence of someone who had once managed the finances of a global criminal empire.
"Peter, seven hundred dollars won't buy an office in Manhattan, but it will buy listening equipment, generic tactical uniforms, and the silence of a few low-level informants in the underworld. In one week, I triple that amount. In a month, we'll have an entire floor." She turned to the ninjas, who remained motionless like ebony statues. "Akari! Haruto! Bring me the patrol reports and the contact list you collected today. Now!"
Peter blinked. "They did that?" Karai merely rolled her eyes at the question.
The two ninjas sprang into action the instant she finished the sentence. Peter watched, impressed.
[Ding! Long-Term Mission: The Path of the Grandmaster — Current Progress: 25%]
[System Note: The presence of a General (Karai) increases subordinate training and fund-gaining efficiency by 50%!]
"You know, Karai, I was thinking of something more… discreet. Maybe a self-defense NGO?" Peter suggested.
"Discretion is our specialty, Peter. But to clean the streets the way you want, we need eyes where the police can't see. And for that, we need structure." She stepped closer, her expression softening by just a millimeter. "Go home. Rest. We'll take care of the city for you. And tomorrow we'll have a real base — or at least a plan that doesn't involve cardboard boxes and leaks."
Peter felt an invisible weight lift from his shoulders. Watching Karai take control was like seeing a perfectly oiled gear start turning again. She wasn't just a warrior; she was a strategist who understood hierarchy and power in a way Peter, with his individualistic sense of responsibility, could never replicate alone.
"Alright," Peter conceded, grabbing his backpack from a corner of the warehouse. "I'll leave logistics to you. And also a few little gifts."
Spider quickly pulled from the inventory the Basic Nutrition Pills, the Basic Medical Kit, the Long-Duration Smoke Bombs, and the Stealth Training Scroll, placing them on the floor.
"It's not much, but it should be useful." He looked at Karai, whose eyes were wide with surprise.
"… H-how did you do that?"
[Ding! Warning: Characters dropped by the system are not aware of its existence nor that they came from it.]
'And you're only telling me now!?' Peter shouted in his mind. "That was just a little… magic trick."
Karai raised an eyebrow at him. "Looks like you weren't just relaxing while we were away."
Peter gave a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck as he backed toward the skylight. "Yeah… time flies, Karai. We'll talk tomorrow!"
Before she could question the impossible physics of pulling tactical supplies and ancient scrolls out of thin air, Spider-Man fired a web and vanished into the rainy Queens night.
Karai stood still for a moment, staring at the spot where Peter had been. She looked down at the items on the floor: pills that smelled like a laboratory, smoke bombs of unknown design, and a scroll that radiated an aura of antiquity that shouldn't exist in a New York warehouse.
"Kotsu, Aruki. Store these upstairs — leave only the scroll," she ordered, picking it up. "Kenji, I want three squads of five. Now. I want a survey of all illegal cargo depots belonging to the Hand Clan and the Maggia within a ten-kilometer radius. Do not attack. Do not expose yourselves. Just observe guard-change schedules."
Kenji hesitated for a second. "The Master ordered us to avoid the Hand Clan to prevent 'headaches,' my lady."
Karai walked up to him, her presence filling the space between them with icy pressure. "Peter wants to protect the neighborhood. To do that, we need resources. And there is no more efficient source of resources than the vaults of those who can't complain to the police when their money disappears. He wants results; I will deliver the means. Now, move!"
In a frightening unison, fifteen ninjas vanished into the shadows.
"Akari," Karai called to the kunoichi near the coffee dumpster. "Forget McDonald's. Tomorrow, you'll infiltrate City Hall as an administrative assistant. Haruto, you'll stay on Uber Eats — I want a full map of this city: alleys, shortcuts, the safest and least-watched areas. Everything."
The subordinates nodded, their eyes shining with new purpose. They were ninjas of the Foot Clan, but now, under Karai's command and Peter Parker's banner, they felt they were becoming something much more.
Meanwhile, Peter landed on the ledge of his building, a bit tired. He'd done a short patrol before heading home — just an hour and a half. He trusted Karai to take care of the city, but old habits were hard to break.
When he entered his room, he barely had the strength to take off the suit. His muscles screamed and his mind was a whirlwind. He sat on the edge of the bed and opened the system screen one last time before blacking out.
[Current GP: 30]
"Thirty points," he murmured. "Tomorrow I start saving for Bronze Rank. If Iron gave me Karai, I can't even imagine what Bronze might bring." He gave a tired laugh, laying his head on the pillow.
Peter closed his eyes, but his mind lingered on one specific point in Karai's memories he hadn't fully explored yet. The name "Leonardo." The conflict. The turtles.
"System," he thought, hovering on the edge of consciousness. "Is there a chance the Gacha… could bring the turtles here?"
[Ding! All characters and items within the multiverse are possible drops, as long as the Host has the required amount of GP.]
"I see… Is it possible to filter the types of drops I can get from each gacha? For example, filtering rewards to only combat-oriented skills and magic-oriented characters?"
[Ding! This mechanic is only available starting at System Level 2.]
Peter raised an eyebrow. "And how do I level you up?"
[Ding! To raise the Gacha System's level, the Host must accumulate experience through cumulative GP spending. You are currently Level 1.]
[Progress to Level 2: 100/500 GP spent.]
[Upon reaching Level 2, the following functions will be unlocked:
Category Filter: Allows focusing the Gacha on desired character, item, or skill types.
Basic Item Shop: Allows direct purchase of previously obtained Iron Rank items.]
Peter sighed deeply. "Not even halfway yet, apparently."
Sleep finally won the battle against his curiosity. The last image in his mind before total blackout was Karai, in her silver armor, ordering elite ninjas to dominate the food-delivery market. Maybe he'd dream about that tonight.
Manhattan. 03:45 AM
While the Master slept, his General worked.
Atop a rusted water tower, Karai watched the city's silhouette. The cold dawn wind whipped her hair, but she remained still. Around her, four shadows materialized — members of the reconnaissance squad she had sent out.
"Report," she ordered, without taking her eyes off the horizon of steel and glass.
"We identified three warehouses operated by the Maggia in the port sector," one ninja reported, voice muffled by his mask. "They're moving stolen electronics and low-caliber weapons. Security is lax: six armed men, two obsolete CCTV cameras."
Karai made a sound that could be taken as a scoff. "The Maggia… they've grown soft over the years. They think fear of their name is enough to keep the wolves away."
The ninja continued. "All movements are of little importance; they won't dig deep to investigate their disappearance."
"Excellent." She turned to the group. "Spider-Man wants us to be heroes, but he doesn't understand that for his light to shine, we must be the shadow that clears the path. We won't touch the weapons. Weapons attract the attention of the Hell's Kitchen vigilante and the Punisher. We want the money and the electronics. We'll convert the cargo into clean capital through the pawn contacts Haruto mapped."
"Yes, ma'am!"
"Go. I want the funds deposited in the ghost account by dawn. And remember: if you're seen, you don't exist. If you're caught… well, you know Master Parker would be very disappointed if he had to bail you out of a precinct."
The ninjas shuddered. The idea of disappointing Master Parker was somehow more terrifying than any torture the Maggia could inflict. They vanished into the air.
Queens. 07:15 AM
Peter's alarm clock went off with the enthusiasm of a second-rate villain. He rolled out of bed, feeling every muscle protest.
"Ugh… never asking for ten rounds at once again," he muttered, heading to the kitchen.
When he opened the fridge for milk, he found something that hadn't been there the night before: a small note stuck to a sealed plastic container.
"You need real protein, not sugary cereal. Your glucose levels were fluctuating. Eat this. – Akari."
Inside was a traditional Japanese breakfast: rice, grilled fish, and pickles. Perfectly balanced and still slightly warm.
Peter looked at the closed window, then at the plate. "They really came into my apartment… while I was sleeping… just to make me breakfast. Well, I'm not complaining."
As he ate, he called the system mentally. 'Status, please.'
[Ding! Host Status:
Name: Peter Parker (Spider-Man)
System Level: 1 (Progress: 100/500 GP spent)
Current GP: 30
Active Skills:
Spider Sense (Rank ? – Professional): A precognitive connection to the Web of Life and Destiny. A sensory distortion manifesting as a buzzing at the base of the skull, alerting the host to imminent danger, etc.
Persuasion (Iron Rank – Novice): Increases argument acceptance chance by 15%.
Basic Carpentry (Iron Rank – Novice): Basic technical knowledge of wooden structures and how to build them.
Inventory:
Kunai (x1)]
Peter finished the meal, feeling oddly refreshed. He got dressed and headed out for another day at Horizon Labs.
As he walked down the street, he noticed a man in a cap and sunglasses sitting on a park bench, reading a newspaper. The paper was upside down.
Peter gave a subtle smile. "Good morning, Takeshi."
The man gave an almost imperceptible two-finger salute.
Night. 09:00 PM
The day at Horizon had been productive, thanks to the mental clarity Akari's breakfast provided. But when Peter arrived at the warehouse in Queens that night, he found a transformation that left him speechless.
The floor, once covered in dust and debris, had been swept and polished. The leaks were fixed — probably with high-resistance duct tape. In the center, Karai sat before a series of cutting-edge laptops, all connected to monitors displaying security camera feeds from across the city.
"Welcome back, Peter," she said without looking away from the screen. "We achieved our first financial victory today."
"Financial victory? Karai, you didn't rob a bank, right?"
"Of course not. I'm not an amateur," she spun the chair around. "The Maggia had an outstanding debt to society. We merely… collected the interest. We now have fifty thousand dollars in a protected account. I've already put a down payment on a decommissioned martial arts gym in Brooklyn. Three floors, reinforced basement."
Peter swallowed hard. "Fifty thousand? In one day?"
"Crime pays very well, Peter. Especially when you steal from those who can't call the police." She stood and walked toward him. "Tomorrow, we move the clan to the new base. I've named it 'The Web.' Like the tribute? There, we can train properly."
"Karai… just promise me one thing," Peter said seriously. "We won't become what the Foot Clan used to be."
Peter knew — he remembered everything the Foot Clan had done, to enemies and allies alike. It wasn't human, and it wasn't something he wanted to be part of, even remotely.
Karai placed a hand on Peter's shoulder. The touch was firm, not aggressive. "Peter, they… we serve your light. But for the world to be safe for people like your Aunt May, someone has to hunt the monsters in the dark. Let us be the monsters other monsters fear."
And she brought up May again — why was it always emotional blackmail? Peter thought it was unfair.
He let out a muffled laugh. "…Since when do you say such clichés?"
"Alright, Karai. The Web. Let's do it. But I choose the wall color."
Karai sighed, exasperated. "Black, Peter. The color will be black."
"I was thinking a web-blue—"
"Do you want to hear a bit about our plans for the business? We're calling it 'Shadow-Step Solutions,'" she forced a smile.
Peter sighed, defeated by Karai's relentless practicality. "Shadow-Step Solutions? Sounds like a tech startup that sells meditation apps. I like it."
Karai ignored the joke and gestured to one of the monitors, where a hologram of a Brooklyn map glowed. "The idea is simple. We'll offer high-level private security for businesses operating in high-risk zones. Our edge is our information network. With fifty of us spread out, we have eyes in every alley. If a shipment is stolen, we recover it before the police even finish filing the report. We charge a success fee and a monthly consulting retainer."
Peter rubbed his temples. "But Karai, what about legality? Licenses, taxes, identities… I don't have SSNs or work visas for fifty ninjas and one person."
Karai gave a sideways smile — the one that always preceded an answer that made Peter feel like an amateur at real-world matters. "Remember Akari at City Hall? She's not just serving coffee. She already 'found' lost records of a group of immigrants from a defunct cultural exchange program. By the end of the week, we'll all have basic documentation. As for taxes… we'll be the most compliant company in New York. Nothing raises more suspicion than tax evasion, Peter. Al Capone learned that the hard way."
Peter sat on a crate, staring at his hands. It was strange. He'd spent years trying to do everything alone — swinging around, catching criminals, hoping the police would handle the rest. It helped, but never the way he truly wanted.
But now… it felt like he was building something that could really change the game. But what if he lost control? What if he failed and ruined everything?
"You're not alone, Peter," Karai said simply, sensing his state and sitting beside him. "You have me. You have them. And from what I saw today, you have a balanced breakfast."
Peter laughed, the tension finally leaving his shoulders. "Yeah, the fish was great."
He stood, putting on the mask. "I'll do one last patrol before heading home. Karai, tomorrow I'll help with the move to 'The Web.' And please try not to rob any of Fisk's vaults tonight. He's… vindictive."
"I promise nothing," she smiled, crossing her fingers. "But don't worry — we're not planning to dive into the city's underworld yet. What we took from the Maggia was good, but nowhere near enough. We'll act as a normal security company for a while before trying anything like that again."
Peter nodded, and with a leap, exited through the skylight. The cold night air hit his face, and for the first time in a long while, he felt light.
[Ding! Long-Term Mission: The Path of the Grandmaster — Progress: 90% (Only formal inauguration remaining)]
Peter launched into the night sky, the swing of his web feeling lighter than usual. Atop a skyscraper, he paused, watching the city lights. New York had always been a jungle, but now he felt like small gardens were being planted in places he never knew existed.
Having Karai in command was a relief and a terror at the same time. She was efficient — frighteningly so.
'System,' he thought, crouched on the gargoyle of an old building. 'These artificial memories… are they really that deep? Karai seems to remember me more clearly than I remember myself.'
[Ding! The memories are woven into the structure of the character's soul. To Karai, the rescue from the fire, the rooftop arguments, the battles you fought together, and the advice you gave her are as real as the air she breathes. Her loyalty is not programming code; it is a feeling forged in a history that, to her, truly happened.]
Peter sighed, feeling a pang of guilt. He was living a lie with the people most loyal to him. But when he looked down and saw a group of Foot Clan ninjas moving silently two blocks below — monitoring a trafficking point without intervening, just gathering data — he realized the alternative was leaving them as cannon fodder in another life.
"Better to be a clone with happy memories than a corpse in a disposable ninja uniform," he muttered to himself.
Next day
Peter landed at the new address of "The Web" at exactly six in the morning.
The Brooklyn building was an old 1940s boxing gym, with exposed red brick and tall windows now covered by thermal and visual insulation film. On the façade, a brushed-metal sign already displayed the discreet logo of Shadow-Step Solutions.
Inside, Peter found his ninjas in civilian clothes — hoodies, caps, leather jackets — moving boxes of electronic equipment with frightening coordination. Akari stood at the center of the main hall, directing two men installing a high-density server into a rack.
"Master," Akari greeted him with a nod. "Was today's fish cooked properly?"
"It was excellent, Akari. But seriously, how did you manage all this in twelve hours?" Peter gestured at the environment, which already looked like an advanced command center.
"Organizational efficiency and lack of bureaucracy, Peter," Karai's voice echoed from the second floor. She descended the metal stairs, wearing tactical pants and a black tank top. "While you slept the recommended eight hours, we made seven truck trips. The basement is already prepared for your… private laboratory."
"My what?"
Karai led him to a freight elevator that descended into the basement. When the doors opened, Peter's eyes went wide.
The basement wasn't the S.H.I.E.L.D. Triskelion or Horizon Labs' main lab, but for someone who often had to brew web fluid on Aunt May's stove with a Bunsen burner, it was paradise.
The space was large, with reinforced concrete walls and white LED lighting that eliminated unwanted shadows. At the center, a solid stainless-steel workbench held a scanning electron microscope — clearly second-hand, but well calibrated — and a set of centrifuges. An industrial 3D printer hummed softly in a corner, fabricating something in polymer, and a desktop computer with three monitors, not holographic, but powerful enough to run complex systems.
"We got most of this from a bankruptcy auction of a biotech startup in Jersey," Karai explained, crossing her arms. "The servers are municipal surplus that Akari… 'reallocated' before they were recycled. It's not Stark Tower, but you have vacuum distillation, a functional fume hood, and a basic stock of chemical reagents."
Peter ran his hand across the cold surface of the bench. "Karai… this is incredible."
"I'm glad you like it. But remember: this place isn't just for science. It's the heart of our network. From here, we control every sensor we've installed in the surrounding alleys," Karai pointed to a wall monitor displaying a Brooklyn heat map.
[Ding! Long-Term Mission Completed: The Path of the Grandmaster!]
[Reward: 300 GP + Bronze Rank Item added to inventory!]
[Current Total: 330 GP.]
Peter felt a chill in his stomach at the notification. Three hundred points at once — the biggest jump since the screen began haunting him. And the Bronze Rank item? The system didn't reveal it immediately, only a glowing icon pulsing in his mental inventory.
"Peter? Are you okay? You look like you zoned out staring at nothing again," Karai commented, arching an eyebrow. She was getting used to her boss's sudden "pauses."
"Oh, yeah! Just… processing everything. It's a lot to take in at once," Peter lied, though his heart pounded. 'System, what's the Bronze Rank item?'
[Bronze Rank Item obtained: Flying Board (Classic Model – Galvan). An advanced-technology board capable of high-speed flight, acrobatic maneuvers, and impact resistance. Operates via ionic propulsion and gravitational stabilizers.]
'A flying board? Like the Green Goblin's?' The thought left a bitter taste. 'No, the system said Galvan… What is that? Some kind of highly advanced alien species?' he wondered.
"Karai, I'll need to test something in the lab. Can you give me ten minutes?"
"Of course. I need to finish organizing the perimeter surveillance schedule. Kenji is outside installing motion sensors disguised as bird nests," she replied, heading upstairs.
Once alone, Peter focused on the inventory. "Summon: Flying Board."
The air condensed and, with a faint metallic hum, a futuristic-looking board appeared above the workbench. It was metallic gray with neon-green details, aerodynamic and surprisingly light to the touch. It didn't look powered by explosives or fossil fuels; the finish was smooth, almost alien.
"Wow… this is cutting-edge tech. If Grady saw this, he'd have a heart attack," Peter whispered, running his fingers over the pressure sensors where his feet should go.
He couldn't resist. Peter stepped onto the board. The moment his feet touched the sensors, it emitted a green glow and gently levitated thirty centimeters off the lab floor. The balance was intuitive, responding to micro-movements of his muscles.
A quick thought flashed through his mind. What if he could replicate this technology? Sure, it would take weeks, maybe months — but if he could… it would be incredible.
The device's agility was astonishing; it seemed to read his thoughts. The gravitational stabilizers compensated for every shift in center of mass, making the experience as natural as walking. Peter stopped mid-air, hovering motionless.
"This is every science nerd's dream toy," Peter murmured, making the board spin in place with a slight tilt of his heel. "And the nightmare of anyone trying to hit me in the air."
He stepped off, and the device resumed floating silently a few centimeters above the ground. Peter's mind buzzed. With 330 GP, he now faced a crucial choice. He could spend it all on thirty more Iron Rank rolls — potentially tripling his army — or end up with a record collection of infinite, faulty household items.
Or he could finally take the leap.
'System,' he thought, feeling his palms sweat slightly. 'I want a Bronze Rank draw. A single draw.'
[GP: -200]
[Remaining GP: 130]
[Progress to Level 2: 300/500]
[Drawing… Please wait.]
Unlike the Iron Rank draw, which felt like a carousel of fast lights, the Bronze Rank was different. The translucent screen grew dense, taking on the hue of molten metal. A rhythmic thump, like a bronze heart, echoed in his mind. The glow was more intense, heavier.
An image of an ornate box engraved with gears and runes appeared, slowly opening to reveal a deep amber light.
[Lottery Result:
Skill – Earth Domination: A mystical and martial elemental control technique. The host gains the ability to manipulate earth, rock, minerals, and with advanced proficiency, even metals or sand. The technique is based on firm stances, unshakable willpower, and the philosophy of "waiting for the right moment to strike."]