Another week had passed by in a blur as I settled more comfortably into the rhythm of my new life and daily schedule. Juggling school and dungeon clearing had become the norm, while my armor crafting project was slowly drawing to a close. Fighting for my life every night wasn't what most would call a rexing lifestyle, but I had grown used to it, and it all started to feel more manageable and even normal. As normal as things could be when one’s daily routine includes fighting monsters and being covered in blood.

  School, by comparison, had been a breeze tely. Our little trio continued hanging out and ever since the incident with the Xmen and The Brotherhood we had also slowly started hanging out with the X-Men students in the other css.

  Rogue, Nightcrawler, and Kitty were the first to break the ice and join us for lunch, but it didn’t go unnoticed by the others since the next day the rest of their crew, Scott, Jean and Bobby, caught wind of it and joined us as well, pying nice.

  We didn't get to hang out as much with the mutants as we did with just the three of us, as we were after all in different csses, mostly only gathering together for lunch occasionally or meeting up in between csses. But despite that we had, if not become friends, at least gotten to be on good terms, which pissed off the brotherhood members severely.

  They would spend an unhealthy amount of time gring at us from a distance but couldn't take any action as clearly Mystique was not on their side. I even saw her admonishing the trio just a few days ago as she learned of us becoming friends with the X-Men instead of them.

  Meanwhile, the dungeon continued to escate.

  Jeff and I finished clearing out the eighth floor earlier in the week. The difficulty kept rising steadily, but so did our teamwork, so despite the enemies becoming tougher, faster, and more aggressive we were able to match them even better than earlier. After the most recent boss went down, I finally made a breakthrough in my stats as well, bumping up my Might to the rank of E.

  I doubt I have caught up to Gwen’s level yet, but I was definitely no longer just measurable by normal human standards. At my current strength, I was probably in the same league as some weaker superhumans, someone like Captain America. At least the MCU version of him, the comic Cap, might still be out of reach since the comics version is a bit stronger, as they tend to be. One solid punch from me could break bones, and thanks to what Gali expined, that same stat was reinforcing my body too.

  Durability came as a package deal with might. Back on the sixth floor, I’d already noticed that low caliber bullets weren’t doing much, just leaving shallow wounds that I could pull bullets out of with my bare hands. Now though, I had yet to test it but Gali estimated that weaker weapons like handguns would barely pierce the skin, if even that. Larger and more powerful guns, though? They would still tear me apart like confetti.

  Jeff for his part had also made solid progress. His might had reached up to E, matching mine, and his finesse had climbed up to F+, making him less like a slowly rolling bowling ball and a bit more agile.

  Outside of us two, the only major development was that Gwen had finished her suit. In the st few days, I lent her a hand here and there with my inventor skill, mostly with gadgets on her mask. Minor stuff such as lenses that allow her to zoom in her vision, the ability to snap photos just by blinking, and a direct line to the police radio so she could listen in on criminal activity from anywhere in the city. All basic features, but incredibly handy.

  I would have helped with more stuff, maybe reinforce the suit or add some gadgets to her arsenal, but she, quite predictably, turned it down. Gwen wanted the suit to be hers, her design, effort and mission. I didn’t fight back and just threw up my hands, she can do her own thing and I damn well know she will do it well. In the first pce she was far smarter than me, and with time could probably put together better stuff than I could, even with my inventor skill.

  Just like on her first night when she got her ass handed to her, I connected to her suit’s audio and video feed again. A little remote oversight, mostly by her request since she wanted someone to talk to, at least at first. It was also cool to see for me, since there was now a far better camera through her own eyes and I got a much better view.

  With an actual suit and extra time we had spent training, the difference was day and night. The inexperience still showed, but unlike before, she moved with purpose and confidence. The criminals never stood a chance.

  We listened in on police chatter, and she was able to respond to any calls before officers could even show up. She moved with speed that normal humans would have little chance of reacting to, taking fights much more strategically than just jumping in like before. It seems Ryusei’s training had cemented itself into her mind as well, not just mine.

  Guns and knives were casually plucked out of hands mid-sentence, webbed to walls, or thrown into dumpsters before the thugs holding them even realized what was happening. Before even going in, several thugs would find themselves hanging upside down from balconies or stuck on walls. She was doing whatever she could to set the fight in her favor before jumping in.

  Yes, technically, she was still green and could be defeated or hurt by those with years of experience or powers, but the average ruffians were always dispatched easily and in no time As Ryusei said, the significant difference in pure physical ability is almost impossible to overcome with just experience and technique.

  While the media had taken notice of her and started reporting non-stop about the new masked hero, Gwen’s purpose was actually a bit different from just stopping crime. She was searching for Moon Knight.

  She hadn’t forgotten the night he saved her from getting gutted, and was now far better equipped, to find and thank him… and get information on The Chameleon and the people who saved him from going to prison.

  The problem? Moon Knight wasn’t exactly a guy you could just find. Even the media had only a few pictures or blurry videos of him. Unsurprisingly, there was no public address you could just show up at to meet the guy.

  At my suggestion, she shifted her focus to patrolling and keeping watch over the city. If she couldn’t find Moon Knight directly, odds were she’d eventually run into someone connected to Chameleon’s crew instead. These guys wouldn’t stay buried forever. Sooner or ter, they'd poke their heads out to re-establish operations. And when they did, Gwen would be there.

  By the third day of her solo runs, I stopped watching her feed. She didn’t need me holding her hand anymore, and I had better things to spend my time on than just watch over her shoulder constantly. She was the Spider-Man of this universe, and I was sure she would handle herself just fine.

  Case in point, the scene unfolding before me

  I was walking down the street casually like any normal human would when I heard a loud rumbling coming from far behind me. In seconds, people started panicking and moving out of the way as a maniac in a giant mechanical wheel the size of a two-story building, rolled through downtown like it was a Sunday drive, crushing hydrants, mailboxes, and a delivery van as if it were all part of a theme park attraction.

  And right behind him was of course none other than Ghost Spider, swinging from building to building, occasionally shooting webs ahead to get people out of the way of the big wheel.

  She zipped through the air like a missile, trying even to use her webs to slow down or stop the wheel from moving, but it wasn’t working. It kept rolling on, showing no signs of slowing down.

  As for me?

  I turned the corner onto the block like this was just another errand on my list, holding a receipt in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. I paused for a second to look back as Big Wheel thundered past where I had just turned the corner, Gwen’s form flipping high above in pursuit.

  New York, dies and gentlemen. What a magical pce.

  I stepped over a cracked bit of sidewalk that had been pulled up by the wheel’s path, and walked straight through the reinforced double doors of a metalworking pce I had found, one of the best bcksmithing and custom fabrication shops I could find in the state.

  Inside was calm, unlike the panic that had taken pce outside. There were sounds of hammering and machines working, but I liked that. The woman at the front desk barely looked up from her tablet as I walked in.

  “You Reo?”

  “Yep.”

  She gestured with her pen toward the back. “Bay 3. Go on in.”

  I gave a nod and kept walking, passing through rows of industrial machinery and old-world armor sets that would belong to medieval knights. Not sure if they were here for sale or dispy, but I could feel my eyes light up at the sight of them. Very cool.

  I rounded the corner into Bay 3 and found a tall guy with thinning blonde hair and permanent bags under his eyes bent over a forge setup, checking over a half-done commission that wasn’t mine. I had already seen this person before.

  “Maxwell Dillon?” I asked, getting the man’s attention.

  He blinked, startled at the sudden intrusion, and turned. “Yeah. That’s me. You’re mister Reo Hill?”

  “That’s me.”

  He wiped his hands on a rag and nodded toward a rge steel table. “Your parts are over there. Took the team seven days straight, and they had to rework the bracers twice. The guys were joking that if this hadn’t been the highest paying job our pce had seen in years, they would have found and strangled whoever made these blueprints.”

  “It’s a good thing I'm paying four hundred grand for this, then.” I said, walking over to check out what I was getting. Clearly Maxwell hadn’t been informed of the full price I paid, as he started choking just from hearing the number.

  Laid out on the table were several sleek pieces of segmented metal armor.

  Segmented pting made of titanium-tungsten alloy, light enough to move in but strong enough to take a beating. The chest piece had reinforced ribs with kinetic gel padding underneath, military-grade stuff used in next-gen body armor. The forearms had mounting brackets I could attach gadgets or weapons to. The shin guards were yered with shock-absorbing mesh and hard polymer ptes for flexibility. Even the backpte had modur socket points for future upgrades.

  All of it was unfinished on the surface, raw metal with no paint or fir. Which was perfect. I’d be yering materials and coverings over it ter myself. As far as the bcksmiths were concerned, this was just industrial-grade armor. No connection to any masked viginte on the news.

  “Looks good,” I muttered, running my hand over the chest pte. “Perfect, actually.”

  “You pnning on walking out of here with all that?” Max asked with a raised eyebrow as he finally got his cough under control. “That's like… over a hundred pounds of metal at least. You bring a truck or something?”

  I grinned. “Kinda”

  Max frowned. “What’s that mean?”

  “Can you do me a favor and grab me that checklist you guys left at the front?” I pointed vaguely back toward the hallway. “I think I left something unchecked, and I’d rather not leave paperwork unfinished.”

  He did not even argue and nodded quickly and walked off to do as told.

  The second he turned the corner, I scanned the bay. Two security cameras in the corners. Not a lot, but enough.

  I slipped on an extra web shooter I had made for myself and aimed. In an instant the first camera was down and the second soon followed. And following that, before Max could return, I dumped the whole project into my inventory with none the wiser.

  When Max returned with the clipboard, the bench was empty.

  He stopped dead. “... Where the hell did it go?”

  I looked up from my phone. “What?”

  “The armor! It was right there!”

  “Oh, that. I had two of my guys come over and carry it out to the truck. Do you have the papers?”

  “Uh… oh, I was told there was nothing more to sign and that everything was already taken care of. I can take you to the receptionist to confirm if you wis-”

  I shook my head with a smile, “That won’t be necessary, I guess I must have forgotten about already filling in everything. Thank you for your assistance. I’ll be taking my leave now.”

  Max only nodded dumbly as I walked past him. Hope he won't get into any trouble over the broken cameras.