[Third Person Pov]
"We have space available at our base if you don't have anywhere to spend the night," Peter offered, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the team's headquarters.
Thor gave a polite, almost courtly nod. "I appreciate the gesture, Man-Spider, but the beautiful Lady Jane has already invited me to spend the night in her living quarters."
Peter's thoughts flickered with mild exasperation. 'Just how hard is it for them to say 'Spider-Man'? Between Thor and Loki I've been called at least ten different variations of the same name…'
A mischievous grin spread beneath the mask. He nudged Thor lightly with his elbow. "Okay, big guy, I see how it is. Don't worry—you sure don't waste any time, huh?"
Thor only looked more confused. "I do not understand."
"Ignore him," Gwen said firmly, grabbing Peter by the arm and pulling him away before he could dig the hole any deeper. "He doesn't know what he's talking about half the time."
---
Later that night, after the team had parted ways with Thor and returned home, Peter wasted no time.
He stood inside the virtual training space, a vast, softly glowing chamber whose walls were lined with cascading streams of text, diagrams, and floating holographic notes. Every scrap of magical knowledge he had absorbed over the past months hovered around him in organized columns, waiting to be sorted, refined, and tested.
A soft shimmer of light appeared behind him. Felicia materialized in her black-and-white suit—the virtual version of it—and without ceremony climbed onto his back, arms looping loosely around his shoulders.
"I heard you were planning to train," she murmured near his ear, "and I've been slacking off lately. Mind if I join?"
"Of course not." Peter turned his head just enough to press an affectionate kiss against her cheek. "Though I might get distracted with a beauty this close."
"You flirt~" she giggled, tapping two fingers against his cheek. Her eyes drifted to the wall of floating text. "What are you doing, anyway?"
"Reorganizing everything I've learned about magic," Peter explained, sweeping a hand through the air. Entire sections of notes rearranged themselves at his gesture. "I'm trying to make sense of the practical side of it."
Felicia leaned closer, studying the images that accompanied some of the text—detailed illustrations of hand positions and sequences of finger movements.
"You're studying hand gestures?"
"Yeah. At first I thought they were just ritualistic movements, something traditional for show. But there's an actual practical purpose behind them. They help guide and direct the energy flowing through the body—almost like giving that energy a specific path to follow. In my case, that energy is chi.
"Monks and other spiritual practitioners used these gestures for centuries as a way to concentrate their thoughts and focus their internal power. Instead of relying completely on conscious will to shape the energy, the physical framework of the hand signs gives the body something concrete to follow. It makes control, focus, and direction a lot easier."
He lifted one hand and formed the classic "devil horn" gesture he normally used for web-shooting—index and pinky extended, the other two fingers folded tightly against the palm.
"For example… watch this."
A small orb of crackling blue-white chi sparked into existence between the two extended fingers. Peter drew his arm back as though pulling an invisible bowstring. The energy stretched, condensed, then launched forward in a sharp, arrow-like bolt. It struck a distant holographic target with an explosive crack, the force easily strong enough to punch through solid material if given more power.
Felicia's eyes widened. "Woah! Cool! How did you do that?"
"Come here—you can do it too." Peter gently guided her off his back so she stood in front of him. He took her hands and adjusted her fingers into the same horned shape. "Hand signs are basically a kind of sign language that speaks directly to energy and intent.
"This particular gesture is the symbol for concentration. And I don't just mean mental focus. The harder you press these two middle fingers into your palm, the more densely the energy compresses between the extended ones. Think of it like loading a spring. The tighter the hold, the more force you can release when you finally let it go."
He stepped behind her, lightly adjusting the angle of her wrists.
Felicia followed his instructions carefully.
An orb of pure, crackling energy bloomed between her extended fingers—bright, unstable, and humming with raw potential. She pressed her middle fingers more firmly into the center of her palm, just as Peter had shown her. The orb immediately compressed, growing denser and brighter until it looked almost solid.
Peter lifted his own hand and formed a second gesture, two forefingers extended side by side.
"This one is the symbol for precision and control," he explained. "Archers use something similar when they aim. It tells the energy exactly where to go and how tightly to hold its shape."
He stepped behind her again, gently adjusting the angle of her arms.
"Now draw it back. Build the tension—distance and speed come from how much you load into the release."
Felicia closed one eye with theatrical flair, sighted down the imaginary line, and let the energy fly. The beam snapped forward like a crackling whip of pure silver light, striking the far holographic target with a sharp, satisfying *crack*.
"Nice!" she cheered, spinning around to slap Peter's raised hand in an enthusiastic high-five. "Look at Mama go! Woo! Okay, what else?"
Peter laughed at her pure excitement. "That's exactly what I'm still trying to figure out. The whole system is basically a kind of sign language that teaches our energy how to behave—output, range, effect, duration, everything. The more complicated the result you want, the more signs you have to string together."
A playful grin spread across his face. He couldn't resist showing off in front of her.
"Watch this."
His hands began to move in a fluid sequence of gestures, fingers weaving through precise shapes. At the final motion he seized his own wrist and barked a sharp "Ha!"
A compact sphere of fire burst to life above his open palms. Tiny sparks of residual electricity still danced across his fingertips, but the main mass of energy had clearly changed state. Keeping the flames stable required his full concentration; sweat already beaded at his temple.
Felicia's eyes widened. She started clapping in genuine amazement. "How are you doing that? I thought your thing was lightning!"
"It is," Peter answered, voice tight with effort. "But chi isn't locked into one form. I'm commanding it to change its state of energy—telling it to behave like fire instead of electricity. There's a lot more nuance under the surface, of course, but that's the basic idea."
He flicked his wrist and the flames vanished. "Right now it's mostly a parlor trick. Burns through energy way too fast to be practical in a real fight. But with practice it should get more efficient."
Felicia tilted her head, watching him with open amusement. "Are you going to need the hand signs every single time? Because—Petey, I love you—but no offense, you looked a little silly doing all that."
"You look a little silly," he shot back immediately, lower lip pushed out in an exaggerated pout.
Felicia rolled her eyes and giggled.
Peter brushed a few strands of hair away from his face and continued more seriously. "Like I said, I should get better with practice. It's not like the Ancient One needs a whole routine just to summon a single fireball. The hand signs are training wheels—or a walking stick. They're helping me learn how to walk so that eventually I can run without them."
He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "It also depends on the spell itself. Some techniques treat the gestures as a required part of the ritual. Others are more flexible. That's about as far as I've gotten. I was still sorting through the rest when you showed up."
Felicia raised both hands in mock surrender. "Sorry for wanting to spend time with my nerdy magical boyfriend."
"I wasn't admonishing you, dummy." Peter rolled his eyes, then made no effort to dodge when she playfully punched him in the shoulder for the name-calling.
He stretched both arms over his head until his shoulders popped, already feeling the weight of the night's remaining work.
"Anyway… let's get started on the real training. I've got a lot I want to cover before tomorrow."
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