Arthur helped Peter hide in a small improvised base he had built in that world. The place was nothing more than a reinforced shelter, hidden among the ruins of an old warehouse, but it served its purpose well: it was safe, discreet, and beyond the reach of prying eyes.
"Damn it… I shouldn't have used all my senzu beans!" Arthur clenched his fists in frustration.
"Now that I think about it… my intervention might have completely messed up the canonical events! No, wait… if I remember correctly, Miguel O'Hara said that Miles was the true anomaly, and that Peter wasn't supposed to die in this incident…"
Taking a deep breath, Arthur turned to Peter.
"Peter, I have an idea… To prevent Prowler and Kingpin from continuing to hunt you, I'll spread the news that you died in the last incident," he said firmly, even knowing the weight those words carried.
"In this world's original timeline, Miles's growth is directly tied to Spider-Man's death. If they know you're still alive, it could compromise everything."
Peter lifted his tired eyes toward him but didn't argue.
"It's fine. I believe in you," he answered with a weak smile.
Arthur had already tended to his friend's wounds. Fortunately, some of the healing items he had received through the system's logins had managed to stop the worst of the bleeding. Unfortunately, none of them were strong enough to heal Peter completely. He would still need days, maybe weeks, of rest.
For now, only May, Ben, and Mary Jane knew that Peter Parker was alive. To the rest of the world, Spider-Man had fallen as a hero.
"Okay. For now, you'll have to stay here and recover," Arthur adjusted his coat before standing up. "I've already sent the location to Mary Jane. She'll come take care of you."
Peter only nodded, closing his eyes again, exhausted.
---
The next day.
The news of Spider-Man's death spread like wildfire through Manhattan. In less than 24 hours, newspapers, radios, and even digital billboards displayed mourning headlines. New York was plunged into funereal silence: it wasn't just a hero who had fallen, but the symbol of hope for a city constantly balancing on the edge of chaos and survival.
Arthur walked the streets, watching the grieving faces, the makeshift murals with flowers and messages on the walls. Every corner seemed to breathe nostalgia. Passing by a small Spider-Man merchandise store, he decided to step inside. The bell above the door jingled, and inside he found a familiar figure, head bowed, holding a cheap costume.
"Miles… are you okay?" Arthur approached and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.
Miles looked up. His red eyes betrayed that he had been crying. He tried to smile, but the expression only made his pain more obvious.
"I… I'm fine, Arthur," he lied, his voice trembling.
Arthur knew exactly what was going through his mind. Miles was blaming himself, believing that somehow he had gotten in Spider-Man's way.
After paying for the costume, Miles turned to leave.
"I'll see you later," he said without enthusiasm.
"Hey, Miles!" Arthur called before he crossed the door. "Someone who's really fine wouldn't say it like that. They'd say something like: 'I'm good, thanks. How about you?'"
Miles froze for a moment, then forced an awkward smile.
"Hehe… I'm good, Arthur," he replied before leaving the store.
Arthur sighed and was about to leave when a voice echoed behind him.
"Hey, hello there, Wonder Boy."
Arthur turned and was stunned. The store clerk… had Stan Lee's face.
"You know me?" Arthur raised his eyebrows, genuinely surprised.
"Of course I do," Stan smiled, his eyes gleaming with that enigmatic spark. "You were a very interesting anomaly in your universe."
He walked calmly past Arthur and added:
"I hope we meet again, Damian Gray."
Arthur froze, unsure how to respond. The next moment, another man entered through the back door.
"Hello, I'm the manager of this store. Can I help you with anything?" he said with a formal smile.
Arthur just walked out in silence, ignoring him. His heart still echoed the name Stan Lee had just spoken.
"Damian Gray…? Who the hell is Damian Gray?"
"Wait… could it be one of my versions?"
Arthur pressed his hands against his head.
"Shit… now I'm confused as hell…"
---
Meanwhile, the mourning continued.
Mary Jane spoke from a crowded podium, her voice steady and full of emotion.
"What I loved most about Spider-Man… is that he made us feel powerful. Somehow, each of us carries a little piece of him inside. And today, more than ever, we need to believe in that."
Hidden among the crowd, Miles murmured to himself:
"They need me…"
But someone nearby, wearing a cheap Spider-Man mask, quickly crushed his hope.
"Hey, kid, don't get carried away. That was meant for everyone, not just you."
Still, the seed had been planted.
That night, Miles sought refuge in old Spider-Man comics. He tried to learn how Peter did it, as if the pages could teach him how to be a hero. When he climbed to the rooftop of a building, his heart raced. He looked at the building across the street and prepared to jump.
"If I were you, I'd tie my shoelaces first."
"Whoa! Ah!" Miles startled, stumbled, and fell face-first onto the roof.
Rubbing his aching face, he looked up and saw Arthur sitting casually on top of an air conditioner.
"Why are you here?" Miles asked.
"If I wasn't, who would stop you?" Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Wearing a Spider-Man costume and jumping off buildings… that looks more like suicide than heroism."
Miles flushed with embarrassment. But with sudden courage, he decided to open up:
"Arthur, I want to tell you something. Please, don't freak out. I was bitten by a radioactive spider. Now I have—"
Arthur cut him off with a faint smile.
"Now you have Spider-Man's powers."
Miles's eyes widened.
"How do you know?"
"Just a guess," Arthur replied, already standing up. "But please… don't do something that stupid again."
He waved and walked away. Miles, however, couldn't hold back his impulsiveness. He ran to the edge of the building and leapt… only to repeat the same humiliating fall as before.
---
Later, at the cemetery.
Kneeling before Peter Parker's grave, Miles bowed his head. The place was covered with flowers and farewell notes. He held the broken key Peter had given him tightly in his hands.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Parker… I wanted to do what you asked. I really did… but I don't think I can." His voice cracked with each word. "I don't know if I can do this without you…"
Tears streamed freely down his face when he heard footsteps behind him. Instinctively, he put on his mask and shot out a web.
"Hey, kid!" a familiar voice exclaimed.
Miles fired his web-shooter without thinking. On the other side, Peter Parker — alive — was flung backward in shock.
---
(End of Chapter)
"Hmph. If you really want to be useful, then entertain me, try to throw those pathetic power stones at me. Let's see if even your insolence can amuse a king."