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After School
"Heading out again?" Sylas asked, pretending not to sound suspicious.
Peter adjusted his backpack. "Yeah, just checking out a school club. Maybe join one."
"Nice. Hope it's fun," Sylas said, bumping fists with him. "Don't get into trouble."
Peter smiled faintly and walked off. Sylas watched him go, then turned in the opposite direction.
...
At Home
"Where'd Peter run off to?" Aunt May asked, helping Sylas hang up his jacket.
"He said he's checking out a club," Sylas replied casually.
May smiled softly. "Good for him. He doesn't get out much maybe he'll make more friends."
Sylas chuckled. "Yeah… that'd be nice."
Then, lowering his voice, he asked, "Hey, Aunt May, is there anything you've always wanted? Something special?"
May looked at him, surprised. "My, Sylas you're getting thoughtful on me."
She hugged him gently. "I don't need anything, sweetheart. Seeing you and Peter healthy and safe that's all I could ever want."
Sylas blinked, trying not to tear up. "You're too good for this world, Aunt May."
Later that night, he sat in his room, staring at the duffel bag full of diamonds.
"If I sell these, I can finally get her something nice… and maybe a new TV for Uncle Ben," he muttered.
...
That Evening
When Peter came home later, he unknowingly asked May the exact same question.
"You two really are brothers," she laughed. "Sylas asked me the same thing earlier!"
Peter raised an eyebrow, amused. "Huh. Guess we think alike."
Then he went upstairs and knocked on Sylas's door.
"Come in," Sylas said.
Peter stepped inside to find his brother sketching on a notepad. "What's that?"
"Just drawing," Sylas said, handing him the paper.
Peter tilted his head. "A dog?"
"Yup. Was hoping to… inspire something," Sylas said vaguely. He'd been trying to trigger the [Dog Talisman] through symbolic focus, but no luck so far.
Peter smiled. "You're pretty good. Ever think about joining the art club?"
"Not really. Too much structure, not enough freedom," Sylas said, leaning back in his chair.
Peter hesitated, then asked, "What do you like, anyway? Like… stuff you'd actually want?"
Sylas thought for a moment. "A gaming console, maybe, Other than that, not much."
"Got it." Peter grinned mysteriously and left the room.
Sylas blinked. "Wait, what was that about?"
---
Nightfall — Queens Rooftops
"The night belongs to me," Sylas said softly, standing at the edge of a high-rise as wind whipped through his hair.
He wore his black combat gear and mask part ninja, part vigilante.
No spider webs, no gadgets. Just raw agility, chi energy, and the strength of his mutated blood.
It was time to turn those diamonds into something useful.
---
Eagleridge Bar — Underground Market
The neon sign buzzed as Sylas entered the dimly lit bar.
Every head turned his way, the masked stranger in black, before quickly turning back to their drinks.
He approached the bartender. "Looking to sell something."
The man behind the counter smirked. "First time here, huh? You've got that… rookie aura."
"Where's the trade room?" Sylas asked flatly.
The bartender jerked his thumb toward a wooden door. "Down the hall. Don't touch anything that's not yours."
Sylas nodded and stepped through.
...
Inside, four armed guards stood by the entrance.
"Hand over your weapons," one said.
"No weapons," Sylas replied, shaking the small bag of diamonds. The faint clinking echoed through the air. "Just merchandise."
They searched him for nothing. He was allowed in.
The "market" was more of a den masked traders haggling with middlemen, crates full of contraband, and cash stacked in open boxes. The smell of smoke, metal, and greed filled the air.
Sylas scanned the room. Dozens of people, maybe twenty armed. His eyes landed on the door where others came out carrying money.
That's when the idea hit him. "Why sell when I can steal?"
...
He walked toward the guarded room. Two men with pistols stopped him.
"Sir, trades are done at the counter. You're going the wrong way," one said coldly.
Sylas smiled under his mask. "Oh, I know."
CRACK!
His fist slammed into the first guard's jaw, sending him crashing into a table. The second barely reacted before Sylas grabbed him by the collar and headbutted him into unconsciousness.
Chaos erupted. Gunfire. Shouting.
The entire underground market devolved into a riot.
People lunged for the cash, trampling over each other in panic and greed.
"Stop! Everyone stop!" the lead enforcer shouted, firing into the ceiling.
It didn't help. If anything, it made things worse.
A notification flickered before Sylas's eyes:
[Black Market Disrupted — Sin Points +100]
"Not bad," he muttered.
He slipped through the chaos, kicking open the money room door, and froze.
Stacks of bills, Crates filled to the brim, A goldmine.
"Bingo."
But the five armed men inside were already turning their guns toward him.
"Who the hell are you?" one demanded.
Sylas sighed. "Man, I was really hoping this would be easy."
The first muzzle flash lit the room.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Sylas's spider instincts kicked in every shot missing by inches as he twisted and rolled, moving like a shadow.
He closed the distance in seconds, disarming one man and turning his own weapon back on them.
BLAM! Point-blank to the chest.
BLAM! Headshot.
BLAM!
One after another, five men dropped in the space of a heartbeat.
He stood among the bodies, breathing steadily. "Five Sin Points, huh? Guess life's cheap in the system."
[Eliminated 5 Criminals — Sin Points +5]
He wiped the smoke off the barrel, whistling softly. "Messy, but effective."
Then, with a wave of his hand, the shadows deepened and several figures emerged silently from the darkness.
The Shadow Dominion answered his call.
"Pack it up," he ordered.
The black ninjas bowed and began transferring bundles of cash into shadow portals, vanishing one by one.
Sylas smirked beneath his mask, stepping into the moonlight streaming through a cracked window.
"Tonight," he whispered, "the Dominion grows richer."
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