New York, Manhattan, ESU – Alex's POV
The next morning came quietly, sunlight spilling through the blinds of my room like a soft reminder that life went on — missions or not.
Dinner with Mom and Wendy had been… normal, in the best way possible. Laughter over cheap takeout, harmless teasing, small talk about classes. For a few hours, the system felt distant, almost unreal — just a strange dream I could set aside.
Now, back at ESU, reality settled in again. The campus buzzed with its familiar rhythm — students hurrying to class, the hum of conversations, the scrape of sneakers against pavement. I blended into it easily, backpack slung over my shoulder, half-awake and nursing a cheap coffee that barely qualified as drinkable.
It was a good kind of ordinary. After everything that had happened, I needed that.
I made my way across the quad, scanning the familiar sea of faces. I wasn't really listening to the morning chatter around me — half of my attention was fixed on finding one person. Gwen.
I told myself it was just to check in, maybe grab a coffee together before class… but deep down, I knew it was more than that. I needed to talk to her — really talk. About us. About what the system had just thrown our way.
It didn't take long before I spotted her near the science building, standing by the steps, her blonde hair catching the light like spun gold. I couldn't help the small, unbidden smile that tugged at my lips.
"Morning," I called as I approached, letting a teasing lilt edge my tone. "How's my queen doing today? Queen of my harem, that is."
Gwen turned, raising an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Your what, exactly?" she said, crossing her arms in mock offense.
I chuckled, holding up my hands in surrender. "Kidding. Just… couldn't resist. You set the bar pretty high yesterday."
She shook her head, though the amused glint in her eyes betrayed her. "You really don't know when to quit, do you?"
"Not when it makes you smile," I replied simply.
That earned me a small laugh from her — genuine, warm, the kind that always seemed to cut through whatever weight I was carrying. For a moment, the world felt lighter again.
Then I softened my tone, letting the playful edge fade just a little. "Hey… are you free after class today? I was hoping we could talk. At your place, maybe. There's something I want to run by you — serious stuff this time."
Gwen tilted her head slightly, curiosity flashing across her face. "Serious, huh? You're not about to tell me you're secretly a supervillain or something, right?"
"Not yet," I said with a faint grin. "But it's… important. Just us, after class."
Her expression shifted — thoughtful now, but she nodded. "Alright. My place after class."
"Thanks," I said, feeling the tension in my chest ease just a bit.
As the bell rang in the distance, we started walking toward the lecture halls side by side — the easy rhythm of our steps and conversation a quiet reminder of the normalcy I was still fighting to preserve.
I sat in the back of the lecture hall, notebook open, pen in hand — though my mind was miles away from whatever the professor was saying about molecular bonding. The words blurred together, white noise filling the background as my thoughts spiraled elsewhere.
I was here more out of habit than focus. Attendance, routine — the illusion of normalcy. But my real attention was split between two threads of thought that had been looping since morning.
The first was Leech's power. I'd absorbed it a few days ago, but like everything else the system granted me, it wasn't static. It was… evolving on its own.
When I first tested it, the range had barely stretched a meter — close contact only. Now, without me doing anything to push it, the radius had expanded to nearly five meters. The growth wasn't from effort or control; it came from the constant, quiet assimilation of the template itself. The system was integrating the power deeper into my body, refining it, adapting it to me.
That alone was both fascinating and unsettling. The ability was learning me as much as I was learning it.
The suppression effect still puzzled me. It worked perfectly on mutants — shutting down their abilities like flipping a switch — but when I'd been near Gwen, there had been no reaction at all. No suppression, no interference. Which meant either her powers didn't register as mutant, or my control wasn't yet nuanced enough to target beyond the X-gene specifically.
I leaned back, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. If I could one day direct that suppression — choose what powers to disable — it would be a game changer. But for now, the process remained mostly passive, tied to the system's mysterious pace of integration. All I could do was observe and prepare.
The second thread of thought was far more mundane — but just as crucial. Money.
Even in a world filled with superheroes and billionaires, the power of money hadn't vanished. It couldn't solve every problem, but it could remove the ones that didn't matter — and I wanted that kind of freedom.
At first, I considered recreating some of the apps from my old world — Instagram, WhatsApp, even something like Spotify. The idea was solid, but the logistics weren't. No infrastructure, no capital, no legal leverage. I wasn't Tony Stark; I couldn't brute-force a company into existence overnight.
I needed something smaller. Faster. Something I could build alone.
And then it hit me — games.
The technology here was advanced enough to handle simple 3D environments, even if not at the cutting-edge level of my past life. All I'd need was creativity, time, and my cyberdeck. That machine could handle coding, simulation, and even graphics testing if I optimized it right.
I could rebuild a classic.
I thought through my mental library of titles — games that had defined entire generations where I came from. I needed one that didn't rely on realism, that could thrive on simplicity and imagination. Something endlessly replayable, timeless.
Minecraft.
The thought made me smile faintly. It was perfect. A world made of blocks, shaped entirely by the player. Simple enough for the tech here, yet powerful enough to hook anyone with a spark of curiosity. I could code it piece by piece, test it locally.
For once, the system wasn't pushing me — I was pushing myself.
The bell rang, breaking my focus. Students began to pack up, chatter filling the air. I stared down at my blank notes and smirked.
"Well," I murmured to myself, closing my notebook, "I didn't learn much about programming today… but maybe I just planned the start of an empire."
I stood, stretching slightly, the faint grin still tugging at my lips. Maybe for once, I could build something that wasn't about power. Something my own hands — and my mind — could shape.
New York, Queens – Gwen's POV
I'd been home for about an hour, but I hadn't done much besides pace and think. Alex's words from this morning kept looping in my mind — "We should talk. Seriously. After class, at your place."
The phrasing shouldn't have worried me as much as it did. Alex wasn't the type to pick fights, and our relationship had only grown closer since… well, since everything started feeling more real between us. But still, "a serious talk" could mean anything — and not knowing was driving me crazy.
I sat cross-legged on my bed, staring absentmindedly at the soft glow of the evening light filtering through my curtains. My thoughts ping-ponged between possibilities.
Was he upset about something I said?
Did he notice how off I've been lately?
Or worse — did he figure out… that?
My gaze flicked to my hand, flexing my fingers slowly. I could feel it now — the strange, subtle hum that had settled under my skin since the spider bite. The one that made my muscles feel lighter, sharper, alive. Every instinct told me to panic, to hide it, to pretend nothing was happening.
But Alex's promise of a "serious conversation" pushed all that fear into the background. Somehow, worrying about him worrying about me was easier than facing the truth crawling in my veins.
I let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of my neck.
"God, Gwen, you're spiraling," I muttered to myself. "He probably just wants to… I don't know, talk about school. Or maybe he's just being dramatic again."
That last thought made me smile — small, but genuine. It was strange how even the uncertainty tied to Alex could feel grounding. Like thinking about him gave my mind something solid to hold onto, even as the rest of my world started shifting into something… superhuman.
And then — three soft knocks at the door.
My heart jumped. I froze for half a second, eyes wide, before a tiny flutter of relief spread through my chest.
He was here.