Chapter 884

Peter shook his head hard, then squeezed his eyes shut until his eyebrows and eyelids pressed into a single line; when he opened them again, the tears clinging to his lashes blurred into shimmering halos.

Peter saw his own arm waving in front of his eyes, but it took several seconds before he regained control of his body; the next moment, he sprang up into a defensive stance, only to find his spider-sense silent.

The faces of the three people before him were deeply familiar: Nick Fury, Coulson, and Dr. Dora—all long dead.

Even stranger, each of them wore a glowing halo above their heads, radiating bright light.

For a moment, Peter felt his mind had stopped turning; he looked down at his hands and found them unchanged from his memory.

He opened his mouth again and noticed his voice was delayed; when he tried to stand upright, the instant he exerted force, he floated upward—Peter's eyes widened in shock, but then a bug-catching net came down and pinned him.

The three figures with halos immediately gathered around; Nick spoke: "I knew it—even Spider-Man, fresh here, would float up. So me floating up was normal, right?"

Coulson looked at Peter and said: "Seriously, I lost again. I thought Spider-Man had better body coordination and wouldn't make this mistake."

Dr. Dora adjusted her glasses and said: "Instead of betting here, you should be helping in the lab. Let's go."

Dr. Dora turned to leave; Shiler lifted the net, Peter stood up, and he turned to Shiler: "Dr. Shiler, what's going on? Am I dead? Is this heaven?? But… why are you here?!"

"This is indeed heaven," Shiler replied calmly. "But my halo's been borrowed for other duties, so I don't look much like an angel."

"But… but you're not dead either? Weren't you in Washington? Oh my God, Doctor, did you also sacrifice yourself?!" Peter's mind was still foggy after regaining consciousness; he had no grasp of the situation, and his thoughts were chaotic.

Shiler stepped forward, wrapped an arm around Peter's shoulder, and said: "Don't rush. You're a guest from afar—let me first introduce you to where you'll be living: heaven."

Still dazed, Peter followed Shiler out of the place filled with radiant halos and into a beautiful chapel.

The entire chapel was vast; the few of them walking inside looked like tiny specks, mere cosmic dust, insignificantly small.

On either side of the golden chapel stood six colossal statues, each behind a banner with unique patterns; at the center of the chapel was a fountain, and at the far end, a massive door.

Peter's mind slowly cleared; he recalled something and said, "Wait—this is heaven?? But… this décor looks a bit like Kamar-Taj?"

"That's your illusion," Shiler said immediately, quickening his pace to lead Peter to the door; he pushed it open, revealing a square beyond.

The stone pavement, natural and earthy, was lined with tall shrubs bearing blooming roses, grapevines, and various vines, while butterflies and dragonflies fluttered through the air.

Massive stone pillars stood along the path, each crowned with metal trellises supporting climbing plants, now bursting with small, blooming flowers.

Walking along the dappled path, Peter saw a central garden at the square's heart, centered on the fountain, with neatly trimmed shrubs radiating outward, dividing the entire square into several sections.

As they passed the fountain, Peter glanced at the statue atop it—not the usual cherub or goddess statues of New York, but a sailboat carving, cutting through waves.

Peter recalled something again and said: "This feels a bit Nordic… Aren't such statues used only by fishing and hunting peoples?"

Shiler immediately turned Peter's head in another direction and said: "It's just decoration. Come this way."

Peter wanted to look back, but Shiler had already pulled him around a corner; as they walked straight ahead, Peter saw a miraculous building: a pyramid half-floating in midair.

The pyramid's lower half rested solidly on the ground, where Peter even spotted a sphinx face; yet its peak floated upward—Peter rubbed his eyes, thinking he was hallucinating.

At the pyramid's entrance, Peter opened his mouth wide, tilting his head up to stare at the enormous sphinx. "I always wanted to visit Egypt—I never imagined the sphinx would be this big…"

"Hello, new arrival. I really am this big," the sphinx said.

Peter jumped straight up, then soared into the air; Shiler had to pull out the bug-catching net again and net him down. "Peter, don't jump around until you've adapted to your soul state. Fly any higher and you might hit a Pegasus."

"Oh, sorry!" Peter instinctively apologized, then shouted: "But!!! Why is the sphinx talking?!?!?"

"I ask you," Shiler said, "do spiders fly?"

Peter instinctively shook his head; Shiler continued: "You're flying now—why shouldn't the sphinx speak?"

"Sphinx, could you open the door? The newcomer needs to register." Shiler waved at the sphinx.

The sphinx smiled and nodded; with a thunderous "boom," the massive door at the pyramid's base swung open. Inside, Peter realized it wasn't the narrow corridor he'd imagined, but another vast hall.

A Persian-style carpet stretched from the entrance to the hall's far end; twelve pillars supported the ceiling, each encircled by rings of candles whose flickering light added an air of mystery.

Low tables were neatly arranged between the pillars; Peter saw many humanoid creatures with black dog heads moving among them, speaking a language he didn't understand—yet he comprehended their meaning.

"Egyptian pantheon resurrection: one! Report tomorrow at 2 p. .! Anubis says this one's his relative—be polite when receiving…"

"Asgard's Valhalla resurrection: two! Wait—one's not coming after all. Who's going to receive? No one? But even if you hate those warriors, it's still your job…"

"Heaven resurrection: one! Let me see… this afternoon—right now—where is he? Who's receiving? Did they show up late again?"

"Heaven's quotas are overflowing lately. The first human resurrected got sent to Anubis because his skin was too dark—don't make the same mistake again. Human souls are fragile; if you damage one, it'll be disastrous…"

"Peter Parker! Peter Parker, are you here?! Human Peter Parker! Are you dead? What's going on? Why aren't you dead yet? Ugh, late again…"

"Peter Parker is here," Shiler called out, raising his hand. The dog-headed creature scanning the area spotted Shiler and hurried over. "Archangel Shiler, is this the new angel, Peter Parker? Follow me—we'll register first, then head to the nearby temple for supplies…"

Peter felt his mind had turned to sludge—he could no longer think. His newly regained thoughts were scrambled again, for the situation before him utterly exceeded his comprehension.

He could only follow Shiler step by step, through a side door of the temple, into another room.

Behind a desk sat a massive hippopotamus, her plump hand holding a feather pen, writing; hearing the door open, she looked up and gasped.

"Oh my heavens! Shiler! You're finally here! I was just about to ask you—your heaven has taken in so many people these past months. Do you even have enough quotas to resurrect them all?"

"Don't forget—human souls are different from ours. Yours are far more fragile. Stay too long here, and you won't adapt when returning to your body."

"Thank you for your concern, Goddess. In fact, they haven't even filled my resurrection quotas yet. Heaven's resurrection service just opened; unlike yours, which have accumulated tens of thousands of unfulfilled quotas over millennia—hence the overcrowding."

"Oh, don't even mention it!" The hippopotamus goddess let out a wail. "Anubis just told me he missed a batch from three thousand years ago—our quotas are even tighter now!"

"Hey, this must be Peter Parker," the hippopotamus goddess grinned, stepping forward, grabbing Peter's arm. "Definitely a fine lad. When Shiler mentioned you, I knew you were a good kid…"

"Come here, child. I need to register you. How old are you? Where do you go to school? …New York University? Good heavens! You must be an excellent student—I have a son at NYU too…"

"What? You live near Forest Street in Midtown? My daughter lives there too! Do you have a girlfriend? She must be a wonderful girl—come here, let me see your soul…"

"Amun! Why is your soul so vibrant? Let me examine your good and evil heart… Oh my goodness, such a kind soul exists in this world? Come here, child, sit down, fill out this form…"

The hippopotamus goddess led Peter to her desk, had him sit, then handed him a form. "Don't be nervous—take your time. I'll go get you some snacks…"

She smiled and nodded to Shiler beside her; Shiler smiled back. Their atmosphere was like a father dropping off his child for the first day of school, meeting the future homeroom teacher.

Peter's movements were stiff; then, upon seeing the form, his expression froze even more—because the first question read: "How did you die?"

Looking further down, the second question was the time of death, followed by the deity worshipped, the scheduled resurrection time, expected lifespan after resurrection, and so on.

Peter's hand trembled slightly as he held the pen, but Shiler stepped forward, tilted the paper slightly, and pointed: "I'll show you how to fill it out. Death time—write truthfully. Deity worshipped—just indicate your faith. You're Protestant, right? Just write 'God'…"

"Scheduled resurrection time—write 'immediately.' Expected lifespan after resurrection—write anything. One hundred years, two hundred years—it doesn't matter…"

"Soul vitality was already tested—just write 'excellent.' Good and evil heart—don't fill that in. Look here—summarize your life in a few sentences…"

"No, no need to start from elementary school. Focus on your achievements. This is for resurrection application—but since heaven's quotas are generous, you don't need to wait in line. Just write something casual."