Floor 15, Interspecies Genetics Laboratory.
The moment the elevator doors slid open, a blast of air conditioning with a distinct artificial chill rushed out.
The air here felt as if it had been filtered through a precision mesh; not only was it dust-free, but even its natural moisture had been stripped away.
The climate control system locked the room temperature at 18 degrees Celsius. Accompanied by the low, continuous hum of the central air conditioning, it cast a cold, forbidding filter over the area.
Behind a massive bulletproof glass wall stood rows of incubators glowing with a faint blue light.
This light spectrum was designed to simulate the habitat of nocturnal creatures, yet it made the entire laboratory look like a morgue beneath the deep sea.
"This is the pride of Osborn, a miracle of bioengineering—the Super Spiders."
The person in charge of the presentation was a plump female researcher.
Her white lab coat was starched spotless, and her tone carried a hint of near-fanatical pride.
She pressed a button on her remote, and spotlights instantly focused on the massive circular display platform in the center of the hall.
At the core of the platform was a gene centrifuge model rotating at low speed, surrounded by fifteen individual reinforced glass compartments like stars orbiting a moon.
"Using CRISPR technology, we have edited and recombined the superior gene sequences of three different spider species."
The researcher's voice echoed through the vast hall.
"Look, they possess the explosive jumping power of Jumping Spiders, the high-strength web-spinning resilience of Funnel-web Spiders, and the Grass Spider's sixth sense—so keen it's almost precognitive."
With a swipe of her finger, the lights above the glass compartments turned on one by one, illuminating the diverse and colorful creatures within.
"The silk they produce has a tensile strength three times that of Kevlar fiber of the same diameter. One could say this is the future of biomaterial science."
An uncontrollable wave of awe rippled through the crowd of students.
Camera flashes popped one after another, and the sound of shutters was like a dense downpour.
Peter Parker was like a child seeing candy; his face was nearly pressed against the cold glass, his voice trembling slightly with excitement.
"My god, Harry, Alice, look at that one! Its exoskeleton structure is completely different. The patterns on its carapace are a perfect geometric distribution. It's like the work of God—no, it's gene fusion that surpasses God."
Alice stood at the very back of the crowd, not at all drawn to the colorful spiders like the others.
Compartment number 14 was empty.
There was a nearly imperceptible break in the corner of the glass, which would be completely hidden by the decorative artificial withered leaves if one didn't look closely.
But Alice saw it: a regular circular hole. It didn't look like external damage, but rather like some highly corrosive liquid had melted through from the inside.
"A top-tier lab with A-level security actually had a sample escape? It seems the management chaos within the Osborn Group is even worse than I imagined; it's just a slapdash operation. Or perhaps, the evolutionary level of this spider has already exceeded the understanding of these fools?"
Just then.
A faint glint of silk flashed across the metal light fixture directly above Peter Parker's head.
It was a coin-sized spider.
Its back bore an eerie red and blue pattern, like some kind of totem. It was hanging upside down from a nearly invisible silk thread, descending slowly and silently.
Its landing point was Peter Parker, who was focused on taking photos.
Alice's finger twitched slightly.
Now, she could interrupt this fateful process with just the flick of a coin or even a soft cough.
She could save Peter from the mutation, letting him remain a mundane but safe high school nerd. Even if he were bullied by Flash, even if he spent his life pining for the girl next door, he would be safe.
In a Flash of thought, Alice chose to silently watch the red and blue spider as it landed bit by bit on the collar of Peter's slightly frayed plaid shirt.
The spider's legs were as light as a speck of dust, failing to trigger the slightest alarm in Peter.
"Hey, Peter, this angle seems better for getting a clear shot of the centrifuge."
Ned called out from the side.
"Coming," Peter replied.
The moment he turned and his neck muscles tensed, the spider seemed to sense a threat—or perhaps it captured the perfect moment to strike.
It crawled quickly along the folds of his collar, instantly reaching Peter's defenseless nape.
Then, it sank its fangs in deep.
"Hiss—"
Peter gasped as if pricked by a red-hot needle.
Instinctively, he raised his hand and slapped his own neck hard.
"Smack!"
A crisp sound echoed.
"What's up, man?" Ned asked, looking at Peter's exaggerated movement in confusion.
"I don't know. Something seems to have bitten me. It really hurts." Peter frowned, his features contorting slightly from the pain.
He pulled his hand away to find his palm empty, but a red, swollen lump had clearly appeared on his nape, with two tiny puncture marks oozing crimson blood.
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