[Third Person Pov]
"Come on," Peter called out as he glanced up toward the observation room, placing his hands on his hips theatrically. "That can't be all, can it? I was expecting a little more… oomph."
Up in the viewing chamber, Angel folded his arms, a sharp smile tugging at his lips. The provocation had landed exactly as Peter intended—and he wasn't about to let it slide.
"Hank," he said without taking his eyes off the boy below, "give him the most difficult Stage Three scenario you can possibly come up with."
Hank hesitated and instinctively looked toward Charles for confirmation. Charles leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin as he observed Peter's relaxed stance and unreadable confidence. After a brief moment of consideration, he nodded slowly.
"I believe he can handle it," Charles said calmly.
That was all the confirmation Hank needed.
He turned back to the control panel and began rapidly reconfiguring the Danger Room. His fingers flew across the holographic interface, inputs stacking upon inputs as the machinery beneath the floor hummed to life. Below, the vast chamber began to shift—panels retracting, walls sliding apart, and mechanical components sinking back into hidden compartments.
Peter glanced around as the environment around him dissolved and reformed. The sterile training room faded away, replaced by towering holograms that built themselves piece by piece. Steel structures rose from the ground, smokestacks forming in the distance as thick plumes of gray smoke curled into a once-clear blue sky.
Within seconds, Peter found himself standing in the heart of an enormous industrial district—an endless array of steel factories stretching in every direction. The air felt heavier, thick with the illusion of heat, soot, and machinery.
He tilted his head, brow furrowing in curiosity—until his posture snapped upright.
The hairs along the back of his neck stood on end as a sharp pulse of danger screamed through his mind. His spider-sense flared violently.
Behind him stood a towering figure clad in red and purple armor. A long, regal purple cape billowed behind him as though caught in a phantom wind. His helmet gleamed, polished to a mirror shine, its crimson surface accented with deep violet.
"Are you the insignificant bug," the man said, his voice cold, commanding, and dripping with arrogance, "that dares stand in the way of mutant supremacy?"
Peter spun on his heel instantly, pointing a finger upward in correction before the threat could fully sink in.
"Um, actually," he said lightly, unable to stop the grin spreading across his face, "spiders are arachnids."
The smile widened when he realized exactly who he was facing.
Magneto.
"It matters little to me," Magneto replied dismissively. He spread his arms wide, palms open, as raw power surged outward from him. Invisible waves of magnetism rippled through the area, and the world itself seemed to respond.
"I will crush you beneath my boot all the same. The distinction makes no difference."
The environment erupted.
Steel beams tore free from the ground. Poles, pipes, sheets of metal, loose screws, bolts, shattered debris—everything metallic rose into the air as if answering a silent call. They swirled around Magneto in a raging storm, orbiting him in deadly, controlled chaos.
"Oh boy," Peter muttered, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet as excitement bled into his voice. "This is going to be so much fun~"
He began hopping side to side, building momentum, his movements loose and playful. If someone didn't know better, they might have thought he was dancing rather than preparing for battle.
Magneto's hands sliced through the air.
The storm answered instantly.
Metal screamed as it cut through the sky, dozens of projectiles firing downward toward Peter in a lethal barrage. A massive steel beam slammed into the ground where Peter had been standing—but he was already gone.
He moved like water.
Peter spun, twisted, leapt, ducked, and slid across the ground with flawless athletic precision. Each attack missed him by inches as he flowed effortlessly between them, never slowing, never hesitating.
Two steel beams suddenly jutted from the ground in front of him. Peter fired twin web-lines at them and launched himself skyward just as the speed of the assault intensified. Metal rained around him, but none found its mark.
He fired more webs—snagging falling debris, yanking himself sideways, then upward—using fragments of metal as temporary platforms. He bounded from one to the next, weaving through Magneto's attacks as if he were dancing between raindrops.
Up in the viewing room, Scott stared at the display in disbelief.
"Honestly," he said quietly, "the way he moves is insane." He shook his head. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone with that level of mastery over their own body."
Hank adjusted his glasses, eyes rapidly tracking Peter's trajectory.
"Based on his movement pattern and approach vector," Hank added, impressed, "it's almost as if he's predicting the most optimal and least dangerous path toward Magneto. Not a single movement is wasted. Almost as if every action is precisely calculated."
"That's because it is," Aria said, speaking up at last.
Everyone turned to her.
"Every time Father moves," she continued confidently, "he's running calculations in his head. Force, speed, distance, weight—every variable. He does it constantly, even in the middle of combat. To him, fighting is just another equation that needs solving."
Peter became a flashing streak of motion as he leapt from one airborne projectile to the next, using flying debris, torn steel beams, and twisted metal shards as temporary footholds. Each step left behind a glowing neon afterimage, a streak of electric blue light that traced the exact path of his movement through the air.
In the blink of an eye, he appeared directly above Magneto, fist drawn back and clenched tight. Bolts of electricity erupted around his arm, crackling violently and letting out shrill, piercing cries as the energy intensified.
Peter fired a web-line past Magneto, anchoring it to a thick metal pipe behind him, and yanked himself forward like a living missile.
Magneto reacted instantly.
An electromagnetic barrier flared to life around him, a translucent shield of rippling force that absorbed the brunt of the impact. The collision detonated against the shield in a blinding flash of light and sound—but while the barrier held, the sheer force behind the blow was impossible to fully contain.
Magneto was hurled downward, smashing into the ground below.
Peter met him there.
As Magneto recovered, jagged arcs of energy began to dance across his armor and body, violent and unstable. Unlike Peter's brilliant electric blue, Magneto's power crackled in deep, regal purples—raw electromagnetic force manifesting in sharp, violent waves.
Magneto extended one armored hand, his expression hardening as he exerted his will. The magnetic field around Peter surged dramatically, intensifying to crushing levels. At the same time, the terrain itself twisted and shifted—steel plating buckling upward, metal fragments tearing free and launching toward Peter from all directions.
The ground beneath Peter trembled violently.
Rather than fight it directly, Peter reacted instinctively. He activated his repulsive force and lifted himself just an inch above the surface, skimming across the battlefield like a skater on ice. He weaved through the oncoming barrage with impossible speed, metal shards and spikes narrowly missing him as they attempted to pierce his body.
He was simply too fast.
However, with the magnetic pull strengthened, the projectiles adjusted midair—curving sharply, tracking him like guided missiles.
Peter clicked his wrists together.
Shkk!
Twin metal claws burst from beneath his sleeves, sliding free with a sharp metallic snap. The sudden reveal drew immediate reactions from the viewing room as Peter surged forward instead of retreating.
He tore through the storm of metal head-on.
With expert precision, Peter slashed apart incoming attacks, his movements fluid and lethal, each strike perfectly timed. Metal screamed as it was cleaved in half, fragments scattering harmlessly around him as he carved a clean path forward like a master swordsman.
"Are those…?" Kitty asked, eyes wide with disbelief.
"Like Wolverine's?" Kurt finished, equally stunned. "Seems to be that way."
Rogue leaned forward, squinting at the chaos below as electricity and shockwaves lit up the battlefield.
"Why isn't Magneto stopping Spider-Man with his magnetism?" she asked. "He's clearly got metal on him. Magneto should be tossing him around like a ragdoll."
"It's not that he isn't," Harry said calmly, eyes never leaving the screen. "It's that he can't."
He adjusted his stance. "Our suits are enchanted—designed to resist and completely negate electromagnetic influence. Magneto can't get a grip on him."
Below them, Peter spun through the air and unleashed a barrage of crescent-shaped energy blades. They tore forward in a glowing storm, forcing Magneto to retreat and raise his defenses as the attacks exploded around him.
Peter landed lightly, the ground fracturing beneath his feet as he braced himself—then vanished.
With a thunderous crack, he accelerated forward at super speed.
He reappeared directly in front of Magneto and brought his claws down in a brutal cross-slash. The force-field shattered instantly, splitting apart with a violent burst of energy that detonated outward in a rippling shockwave.
Peter didn't pause.
He retracted his claws and shifted seamlessly to his fists, which blurred as they began moving at impossible speeds. Every punch landed with devastating precision. Magneto's armor dented and buckled under the assault as his body jerked violently with each impact, convulsing beneath the relentless barrage.
The strikes blurred together into what looked like a single, continuous attack.
Then Peter switched to one hand.
Still striking at the same blistering pace, he turned away slightly, his posture relaxed—almost bored. With his free hand, he casually brushed his mask as if it was his hair, as though the fight were beneath his attention, his lone fist continuing to hammer Magneto without pause.
"…That's just disrespectful," Harry muttered, snickering as laughter threatened to escape him. Only Peter could dismantle one of the most dangerous mutants alive with such blatant arrogance.
"I don't even know how I'm supposed to feel about this," Jean said with a tired sigh. "Watching Spider-Man handle Magneto so easily… especially when none of us can beat him on our own."
"I know exactly how you feel," Scott replied, shaking his head.
"Magneto is far from an easy opponent," Charles said gravely. "And remember—this is only a simulation."
"I'm absolutely stealing that move," Harry added, still chuckling as Peter continued to dominate the fight with effortless confidence.
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