Karl walked slowly toward the direction of the attack, his expression dark and composed. Ahead, the shadow ninjas were already engaged in combat.
As he advanced, he considered who would move against him so quickly.
His gaze flicked briefly toward his motorcycle.
Understanding dawned instantly.
Very few people could purchase a million-dollar superbike with cash — and certainly not the adopted son of a farmer. The sudden appearance of such wealth was an obvious red flag.
Karl sighed inwardly.
He was still inexperienced.
Had he routed the money through layered accounts or laundering channels, suspicion might have been avoided. But even large cash deposits would attract federal scrutiny. In this world, financial monitoring was far more sophisticated than most people realized.
He gave a faint, wry smile and quickened his pace.
Soon he reached the source of the attack.
A dozen shadow ninjas surrounded a man calmly dispatching them one by one.
A target symbol was tattooed on his forehead.
Karl recognized him immediately.
Bullseye.
Kingpin's most lethal assassin.
Karl watched as another shadow ninja dissolved under a razor-sharp projectile.
The ninjas were formidable — yet Bullseye's thrown weapons struck with surgical precision and lethal force. His accuracy bordered on the superhuman.
So this was Fisk's answer.
Bang—!
Whoosh—!
As Bullseye continued throwing metal projectiles, each strike eliminated another ninja.
Karl's eyes flashed icy blue.
With a flick of his hand, he formed razor-sharp ice spikes and launched them forward at high velocity.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Bullseye twisted and shifted with uncanny reflexes, dodging most of the incoming projectiles while simultaneously engaging the shadow ninjas.
Even so—
Two ice spikes pierced his shoulder and side.
The remaining shadow ninjas surged forward, blades at his throat, forcing him to the ground.
Karl approached slowly.
With each step he took, frost spread outward beneath his boots, forming delicate ice-lotus patterns. The air temperature plummeted, and frost crept across nearby brick walls.
He stopped in front of Bullseye.
"Kingpin sent you, didn't he?"
Bullseye's eyes narrowed.
"How do you know my name…?"
He paused, then exhaled slowly.
"So what if he did? You robbed Fisk's vault. Even if you kill me, someone else will come."
There was no fear in his voice — only grim acceptance. Failure within Fisk's organization carried consequences worse than death.
Then, without warning—
Snap!
Bullseye fired a thin silver needle from his mouth, aimed directly at Karl's heart.
It struck.
Bullseye's eyes widened.
Karl stood unmoving.
No blood.
No wound.
Karl calmly reached forward and removed the needle from his chest.
His body shimmered with translucent frost — elementalization had rendered the attack harmless.
Bullseye's shock lasted less than a second.
Karl raised his hand.
An ice spike formed instantly and shot forward.
Crack.
It pierced Bullseye's skull.
The assassin collapsed.
The shadow ninja holding him dissolved back into darkness.
Karl had maintained elemental form the entire time. Against a killer who lived on the edge of death, even a moment's carelessness could be fatal.
He turned and walked back toward his motorcycle.
Being targeted by Kingpin was dangerous.
Though Karl had stolen Fisk's money first, he felt no guilt. Fisk's wealth was built on violence, extortion, and exploitation.
Still, retaliation was inevitable.
Preparation would be essential.
…
Karl retrieved his helmet.
May Parker and the young boy were no longer in the park.
Karl had already begun considering acquiring the spider research data. If he possessed spider-sense, Bullseye's surprise attacks would never have come close to landing.
He mounted the motorcycle and headed toward Queens.
According to what he remembered, the Parker residence was located in Forest Hills. If he intended to obtain research data connected to Oscorp's genetic spider program, stealth would be essential.
As he passed through a narrow alley near a residential block, a desperate voice rang out:
"Let go of my aunt! Help! Help!!"
"Peter! No— please! Take the money, just don't hurt him!"
Karl braked immediately.
Peter?
He removed his helmet and stepped into the alley.
The scene before him froze his steps.
Several men were restraining May Parker while a small boy clung to one attacker's arm, biting desperately as another man tried to pry him off with blows.
When they noticed Karl approaching, one shouted:
"Get lost if you know what's good for you!"
Another spat an insult.
Karl's eyes hardened.
He stepped forward and slapped the man holding May's arm.
BOOM—
The nearly two-meter-tall attacker flew sideways, slamming into the wall.
The second man pulled a switchblade and lunged.
"Watch out!" May cried.
Karl pivoted and drove a kick into the attacker's torso.
The man lifted off the ground and crashed onto his fallen companion.
Silence fell.
May rushed to Peter, checking him frantically. Aside from bruises and scrapes, he was unharmed.
Relief flooded her face.
She guided Peter toward Karl.
"Thank you… thank you so much," she said breathlessly. "If you hadn't come—"
She didn't finish.
Karl gave a calm nod.
"I heard someone calling for help," he said. "Is this brave little guy alright?"
Peter looked up at him, eyes wide but determined.
Karl allowed himself a faint smile.
Then he glanced briefly at May Parker.
She possessed a gentle beauty and mature composure, the quiet strength of someone who had endured hardship yet remained kind.
It was easy to see why she inspired trust.
And for the first time since arriving in this world,
Karl felt that fate might be steering him toward something far greater than survival.
…