Marvel Knight of Zodiac

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" Big Mac has already defeated twenty-nine opponents. Will he complete his 30-game winning streak?" The host's voice reverberated through the gym, excitement palpable in the air. "Who will be the next challenger to end his reign?"

"Introducing our next contender, Deathmask!" The spotlight swept across the audience, landing on a figure clad in dark attire, his face obscured by a mask.

As uplifting music blared, Deathmask made a dramatic entrance, eliciting a wave of cheers from the crowd. Yet, the murmurs among spectators hinted at skepticism—this was a slender, seemingly frail man stepping into the ring against a behemoth like Big Mac.

The event organizers, eager to extend Big Mac's winning streak, aimed to capitalize on the hype and bolster the wrestling gym's reputation. The crowd buzzed, the stakes were high, and it was clear that many had placed their bets on the towering champion.

A few individuals who had wagered everything they owned caught wind of the situation, their anxiety turning into a fervent excitement.

As James made his entrance, the iron cage surrounding the ring descended, sealing both fighters inside.

"Will Deathmask last three minutes? How will Big Mac showcase his dominance over this new opponent? Audience, the moment of truth is upon us!" the host continued, his voice building anticipation.

In the betting area, spectators clamored. "All in on Big Mac!"

"That kid looks like a pushover. He won't last three minutes. I'm betting on Big Mac to win!"

"Big Mac's gotta secure that thirtieth victory!"

Confidence in Big Mac's triumph soared, driving the odds down to an unexciting 1:0—$100 wagered would yield nothing, a clear sign of the audience's belief in the champion's prowess. In stark contrast, James's odds ballooned to an enticing 20:1, though few seemed to consider his potential for victory.

"I'm betting on Deathmask!" Peter declared, grabbing the attention of nearby bettors, who shot him skeptical glances.

With a nonchalant grin, Peter placed an old suitcase on the ground, dismissing the curious stares of onlookers.

As the bets closed, the host stoked the crowd's anticipation, and with the tolling of the bell, the match began.

"Kid, let's make this interesting. Don't worry, I'll go easy on you," Big Mac said, towering nearly six and a half feet tall, muscles rippling beneath his skin as he grinned down at James.

James shrugged, unfazed. "Thanks, but I'm in a hurry."

Before he could finish, Big Mac charged forward like a freight train. The crowd gasped as James sidestepped with astonishing agility, and in a flash, Big Mac found himself on the mat, crumpled and bewildered.

The room fell silent, disbelief washing over the crowd.

With unarmed strength surpassing 400 kilograms and lightning speed, James had taken Big Mac down in less than five seconds, leaving many spectators speechless.

The host, ever the professional, quickly raised James's hand in triumph. "The winner is... Deathmask!"

Offstage, Peter's anticipation peaked as he watched James dispatch his opponent with ease. With $1,500 wagered at 20:1 odds, Peter stood to win a staggering $30,000—a potential fortune that would allow him to afford the materials for crafting Spider-Man and Sentinel's suits.

Tapping the table, Parker beamed. "Pay up, winner!"

---

At Osborne Group headquarters, Gwen sat at her desk, lost in thought.

Her mentor, Dr. Connors, approached, his right hand in a sling. "What are you working on?"

Gwen quickly stood, a hint of panic in her voice. "Oh, nothing important."

Dr. Connors leaned in, his eyes widening in surprise as he caught sight of the formula she had been scribbling. "This formula... Did you devise it?"

He grasped her shoulder gently with his remaining hand, and his face lit up with excitement.

"Sir, you're hurting me," Gwen said, stepping back, flustered by the unexpected attention.

"Apologies, Gwen. I didn't mean to startle you. This formula looks promising, but we'll need to verify its accuracy."

The formula had appeared on her desk in a crumpled ball, a mysterious gift from Parker during class. Gwen remained oblivious to its origins, yet she couldn't shake the feeling that it had the potential to revolutionize their experiments.

"This could be a breakthrough. If you're willing, I'd like your assistance in refining it."

Gwen smiled, intrigued.

Meanwhile, back at the wrestling gym, James and Peter were counting their earnings. The bookie, having profited handsomely from bets on Big Mac, was now reluctantly parting with $30,000 to Peter. Though significant, it was a small price to pay, and the bookie didn't dare contest their winnings in front of the crowd.

"This money will fund future endeavors for our organization," James said, handing over the cash.

Thus, the Guardians of the Zodiac began to take shape.

In the comic world, Spider-Man had long been known as the struggling hero, relying on mutation for his fame. But with James at the helm, Peter needn't suffer that same fate.

As for James's financial future, he felt secure, with a $1,000 reward still waiting for him.

On the second floor, James and Peter entered the wrestling gym office. Behind the desk, a disheveled middle-aged man was counting money.

As the duo entered, the man tossed a hundred-dollar bill onto the table. "Here's your reward. Now get out."

"Hey, that's not what your ad said," Peter protested, only for James to hold him back.

James snatched a stack of cash from the table, counting out thirty bills before tossing the rest back. "These are my rightful earnings, as per our agreement."

The man slammed his palm on the table, his temper flaring. "Are you looking for trouble on my turf?"

Just then, the office door burst open, and a yellow-haired man strode in, tossing a bag onto the table. "Put all the money in the bag."

The tension in the room escalated, and all eyes turned to the newcomer, the atmosphere thick with uncertainty.