THWIP!

You hadn't time to even blink before Noir shot another web at your ankle, yanking you with what's probably a minuscule fraction of his strength and sending you hurling straight into the wall.

Your back sharply collides with the wall, and the air leaves your lungs in a rapid exhale, your muscles aching and crying out in protest against the brutal, vigorous training.

Nevertheless, you got up. You always got up. That was what Noir admired about you.

However, you didn't exactly stay balanced for too long before Noir had swiftly sweeped a leg beneath your feet and sent you crashing to the floor.

Your reaction time was lacking and slow, and Noir was trying to improve that.

Whether improvements are by ass-kickings and getting thrown around or by normal, much more gentle training, you don't know.

All you know is that you're going to get up as many times as you have to, and you're going to show Noir that you're not some pathetic, weak pushover who doesn't know how to use their spider-powers or spider-sense.

"You can do alot better than that." Noir murmurs under his breath, eyeing your panting form on the floor.