Spade woke to pain.
Not the sharp, immediate pain of injury that he was used to. This was deeper, more insidious, like his bones were grinding against each other beneath his skin. His shoulder throbbed where it had been dislocated, professionally reset by a C-rank healer who'd charged Kaizer's people ten thousand pesos for five minutes of work.
The healer had fixed the joint. But she couldn't do anything about the exhaustion.
His apartment's single window showed gray morning light. 7:23 AM according to his phone. He had two and a half hours before his meeting at Silverline Tower.
Evolution training. The thought felt surreal in the harsh light of day.
Spade sat up slowly, testing his shoulder. The range of motion was back, but it ached with the memory of last night's desperate jump. His body was cataloging every bruise, every strained muscle, every moment where he'd pushed beyond what a D-minus aspect should have been capable of. He'd survived through cleverness, not power.
His phone showed three messages. The first was the payment confirmation, fifty thousand pesos deposited, exactly as promised. The second was from Eli
Good work last night. Don't be late for your meeting.
The third was from an unknown number, sent at 3:47 AM
You're making enemies, little spider.
Spade deleted it and stood up, moving to the shared bathroom down the hall. The mirror showed someone who looked older than twenty-three, dark circles under his eyes, a healing cut along his jawline from some debris he'd clipped during his escape, the lean wiriness of someone who ate irregularly and slept poorly.
He showered in cold water, the building's heater had been broken for months and changed into his cleanest clothes. The courier uniform was stained and torn from last night, so he went with dark jeans and a button-up shirt that had only one visible patch. Respectable enough for a corporate tower, humble enough not to pretend he was anything other than what he was.
At 9:30 AM, he left for Silverline Tower.
The city looked different in daylight, less predatory, more indifferent. People rushed to work, vendors set up their stalls, the rhythms of commerce and survival playing out in endless repetition. Spade took the train this time, standing in the packed car with his awareness carefully collapsed inward. He didn't want to feel the press of so many bodies, so many potential threats.
Silverline Tower gleamed against the morning sky like a middle finger to poverty. Spade approached with the same trepidation as yesterday, but this time the woman at reception was expecting him.
"Mr. Bonifacio," she said, her tone considerably warmer than before. "Mr. Ventura is waiting for you. Sixty-fifth floor, conference room B."
The elevator ride was just as disorienting, but Spade's awareness stayed calm. No ambushes today, just a meeting that would determine whether he stayed in the underclass forever or clawed his way up one painful rung.
Conference room B was smaller than the penthouse, but no less impressive. Floor-to-ceiling windows showed New Manila sprawling below. A long table of dark wood, chairs that probably cost more than his monthly rent.
And Kaizer Ventura, standing by the windows with his back to the door.
"You're early," Kaizer said without turning. "Good punctuality."
"Sir," Spade said, unsure if he should sit or stand.
"Sit." Kaizer gestured to the table. "And stop calling me sir. It's tedious."
Spade sat, choosing a chair with a clear view of the door, old habits from the streets. Kaizer finally turned, and Spade saw the man was holding a tablet displaying what looked like surveillance footage.
"I've watched your performance six times," Kaizer said, setting the tablet on the table. It showed multiple angles of the warehouse---Spade's wall-climbing, the web-trap, the desperate jump across rooftops. "Do you know what strikes me most about your fighting style?"
"That I avoided fighting?" Spade offered.
Kaizer smiled. "Exactly, most D-ranks with your power would have tried to generate stronger threads, or develop venom like natural spiders, or push for combat-applicable mutations. You didn't, you treated your ability as a tool for escape and misdirection."
"Because that's what it is," Spade said. "My threads can't hold someone like Hilda. My awareness isn't fast enough to dodge a C-rank's strikes... fighting directly would just get me killed."
"And yet you defeated her." Kaizer pulled up the footage of Hilda tearing through the web-trap while Spade escaped. "She's three ranks above you. Has actual combat training, chemical weapons in her body, but you neutralized her through environmental manipulation."
"I didn't defeat her. I ran away."
"You accomplished your objective while denying her hers." Kaizer leaned forward. "That's victory. War isn't about fair fights, it's about achieving goals. The sooner you understand that, the more dangerous you'll become."
Spade studied Kaizer's expression. The A-rank Storm-aspect user wasn't just being philosophical. He was teaching something specific.
"You're saying my power is suited for a different kind of combat," Spade said slowly.
"I'm saying your power is being wasted on courier work." Kaizer pulled up a new document on the tablet. "This is an evolution analysis conducted by the Bureau's research division. They've identified three potential development paths for Spider-aspects."
The document showed branching diagrams, each path labeled
Path One: Predator
Enhanced venom production, stronger threads, aggressive hunting behavior. Psychological shift: Increased territorial instincts, reduced empathy. End state: Solo hunter capable of taking down targets several ranks higher.
Path Two: Architect
Expanded web construction, thread manipulation, structural engineering. Psychological shift: Obsessive planning, need for control. End state: Area denial specialist, trap master.
Path Three: Unseen
Advanced sensory abilities, vibration detection, perfect stealth. Psychological shift: Paranoid awareness, difficulty with trust. End state: Infiltration and assassination specialist.
"Most Spider-aspects default to Predator," Kaizer said. "It's the most intuitive, mirrors natural spider behavior. But you..." He tapped the screen showing Spade's warehouse escape. "You're already developing toward Architect without formal training."
Spade stared at the paths, feeling something cold settle in his stomach. "The psychological shifts," he said. "They're permanent?"
"Yes." Kaizer's tone was matter-of-fact. "Every evolution changes you. The Blessing isn't just power, it's transformation. Push too far, evolve too fast, and you risk losing your humanity entirely."
"Then why offer me training?"
"Because the alternative is worse." Kaizer pulled up another document, this one showing casualty statistics. "D-rank Blessed have a sixty-three percent mortality rate within their first two years. Most die trying to use their powers without understanding them. The few who survive usually do so by never using their abilities at all, essentially wasting the Blessing."
He fixed Spade with those crackling eyes. "You used your power cleverly last night, but cleverness has a ceiling. Eventually, you'll face someone who's both clever and powerful... without proper evolution, you'll die."
Spade looked at the three paths again.
Predator
Architect
Unseen
All of them changed who he was.
All of them turned him into something other than human.
"What path are you?" he asked.
Kaizer raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"Storm-aspect. A-rank, you've evolved multiple times... w-what did it cost you?"
For a long moment, Kaizer was silent. Then he held up his hand. Small arcs of electricity danced between his fingers, crackling with barely contained power.