In an abandoned warehouse in a certain city, strange sounds echoed from within the building.
If someone were to enter, they would see a collection of strange poles in the center with several weights swinging erratically above them.
And that's not all they would see—they would also notice a shadow moving at incredible speed over the strange poles, dodging the weights hanging from the ceiling.
If they had good vision, they would see that the shadow moving quickly between the poles was actually a man with well-defined muscles.
The man's muscles looked as if they had been forged in the flames by Hephaestus the ancient Greek god of fire, volcanoes, forges, and blacksmithing —they were that perfect. His muscles did not have the irregular and brutal appearance that people with overly bulky bodies often have.
No, his muscles were a testament to perfect harmony, a model of what balanced strength should be.
With muscles like those, the man not only had incredible explosive strength but also a graceful agility hidden within that allowed him to move in complex ways, never limiting his movements, even in such a challenging environment.
That shadow, that man, was Spider-Man—Peter Parker. A month and two weeks had passed since he had started his grueling training.
His training had pushed him to his limits countless times, nearly breaking his spirit on several occasions. But looking at him now, effortlessly dodging obstacles blindfolded as he moved at high speed with agility and flexibility, one wouldn't be able to guess that it was his indomitable thirst for power that brought him to this point without giving up.
The thought of easily gaining power without having to bleed for it is a path many would take without a second thought.
But he ignored such temptations and kept training, no matter how hard or painful it was. He understood the consequences of taking the easy way out...
The shadow moved faster and faster, giving the illusion of being everywhere at once. This continued for several minutes before the shadow finally stopped and jumped away from the metal poles.
He landed on the ground with his back straight as a bowstring and wide as the walls of a medieval fortress.
He stood in the same spot for a while, catching his breath. This was the end of his long, uninterrupted training session.
*"Sigh."*
He sighed, but the meaning of that sigh was difficult to grasp. It could have been one of relief or perhaps anticipation for what was to come. No one knew—only his heart held the answer to such a question.
Slowly removing the blindfold that covered his eyes, he looked around at the place where he had spent most of his time over the past few weeks.
This was the first time in days he had used his sight again. At first, he would take off his blindfold after finishing his perception and agility training, but after a few days, he stopped doing that.
He began to wear the blindfold all the time, not just during training, to the point where it became second nature. He had given up his vision to progress even further in his training.
Initially, it was extremely difficult—almost fatal, at times, during his strength training. Once, he nearly dropped a train and several wagons on top of himself. But even then, he didn't give up. He kept pushing forward, insisting on something that others would find reckless. Six weeks of perseverance bore fruit.
Not only could he now lift 9 tons more than before he started training, but he could also perceive everything around him without needing to use his eyes.
After all the training he had undergone, he could now lift up to 19 tons at his limit and "see" almost 10 meters around him with his eyes closed. This was a feat that many would never achieve.
But he did it. And even then, he didn't let it go to his head because he knew that arrogance was the path to destruction.