"Alright… with this, it's ready for practical use."
Inside the laboratory, excitement erupted as everyone watched Dr. Curt Connors' arm regenerate before their eyes—muscle, bone, and skin growing back in real time.
It was a miracle.
Even Peter allowed himself a faint smile.
This—
Was a gold mine.
Compared to powered armor, the value of this technology was on an entirely different level. Destruction might win wars, but creation… creation built empires.
Cannons could conquer territory, yes—but what came after? Collecting protection fees?
No.
Flatten the land. Build skyscrapers. Open businesses.
That was how wealth was truly generated.
Stark's Iron Man suits, whether Tony admitted it or not, were weapons—tools designed to harm. But Peter's serum?
It saved lives.
War only consumed humanity, reducing both population and wealth. The world didn't need more conflict.
But no one—
No one would dare claim they didn't need something that could save their life.
No one could guarantee they'd never suffer an accident… never develop cancer… never end up in a hospital.
…
"Alright," Peter said calmly, turning away from the observation platform. "Prepare three doses for me."
Today was the third day.
Three days since he had deliberately unleashed the storm—fabricating evidence, editing footage, and spreading rumors that Umbrella's breakthroughs were nothing more than an elaborate scam.
And now—
It was time to collect the results.
In just three days, Umbrella's market value had plummeted by nearly sixty percent. From its peak—double its pre-rebranding value—it had now fallen to less than a third of what it once was.
The stock market was in chaos.
Inside the boardroom, those so-called elites were on the verge of losing their minds.
They had watched their fortunes evaporate day by day, their wealth shrinking at an unimaginable rate. For people driven purely by profit, this wasn't a loss of millions—
It was hundreds of billions.
They wanted answers.
They wanted Peter.
They wanted him to tell them Umbrella could still be saved—that the biological research was real.
But—
They couldn't find him.
Because Peter was already on the move.
In his hand was a list.
A very special list.
Two billionaires.
And one scientist.
They had one thing in common.
They were all disabled.
…
Three days ago, Peter had already contacted them. To reverse the situation, he needed a focal point—something so undeniable that the entire world would be forced to pay attention.
And more importantly—
He needed capital.
The two billionaires had been waiting for him.
They had seen the news.
They had heard the rumors.
But for the chance to reclaim their bodies—
They had no choice but to believe.
After all—
What was the worst that could happen?
"Fifty million," one of them said coldly, sitting in his wheelchair, his eyes locked onto Peter. "If your serum works, I'll pay fifty million."
Peter didn't answer immediately. Instead, he smiled faintly.
"Let's not rush the price," he said. "Why don't you try it first? What if it doesn't meet your expectations?"
The serum was injected.
The effect was immediate.
A strange, unbearable tingling spread through the man's legs, causing him to cry out.
His bodyguards rushed forward, surrounding Peter in an instant.
"Stop!" the billionaire shouted, his voice trembling. "I'm fine… no—I've never felt better."
Twenty years.
For twenty years, an accident had left him paralyzed.
And now—
That tingling sensation, that faint pain…
To him, it was nothing short of a miracle.
Slowly—
His legs moved.
For the first time in two decades.
They lifted.
Responding to his will.
…
"Ha… hahaha… this feeling… this feeling!"
Tears streamed down his face as he shoved his bodyguards aside, gripping the armrests of his wheelchair. With trembling effort, he lowered his feet to the ground.
And in that instant—
He felt it.
The solid, undeniable sensation of standing.
The weight of his body.
The touch of the earth beneath his feet.
It overwhelmed him.
He could barely breathe.
"The effect of this serum lasts for three months."
Peter's voice cut through the moment like a blade.
The man froze.
His expression stiffened.
"One hundred million," he said immediately, his voice urgent. "I'll give you one hundred million. Give me the complete version."
But Peter simply began packing up.
The remaining two vials were placed neatly into a case.
"This three months…" he said lightly, "is my gift to you. Enjoy it."
And with that—
He turned to leave.
"Stop him!"
The billionaire panicked.
After twenty years, he had finally stood again—how could he let this slip away?
But as his bodyguards closed in, he quickly shouted,
"Wait! Back off—everyone, back off!"
He forced himself to calm down, looking at Peter with desperate intensity.
"Mr. Parker… please don't go."
He glanced down at his legs, feeling the ground beneath his feet.
His voice dropped.
"…Just tell me. How much do you want?"
…
A few minutes later—
Peter walked out with one billion dollars transferred into his account.
Then, smiling, he invited the man to accompany him into another room.
…
Ten minutes later—
Another 1.5 billion was secured.
The first billionaire, having just paid a staggering price, seemed almost eager to reclaim some sense of satisfaction—helping Peter ruthlessly squeeze the second one for everything he was worth.
…
And finally—
Peter turned his gaze to the last person in the room.
"Well then…"
His smile deepened slightly.
"Mr. Hawking—"
"You're next."
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T/N:
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