Chapter 77: The Three Great Delusions — "I Can Win This"
The knight standing in the alley was Ethan. He hadn't expected to run into a panicking Peter Parker the moment he stepped outside.
One look at the kid's face told Ethan everything. Peter hadn't even begun to process his new abilities. The spider powers were still more terror than gift.
This kid needed guidance. And in Ethan's estimation, if things played out the way the movie went, Peter would get steamrolled by a villain like Doc Ock — and that was just one Doc Ock. This universe currently had a roster of them.
Peter, meanwhile, was staring at the Kamen Rider three feet in front of him and short-circuiting.
His hero. The man from the television. The cape. The mask. Right here. Close enough to touch.
Peter's hand was already halfway up before he caught himself. He almost reached out to pat the armor.
"C-can I — can I get a picture with you?"
His eyes were shining. This wasn't just a photo. This was the closest Peter had ever stood to the person he wanted to become.
The Rider didn't answer.
He just looked at Peter with a gaze that was quiet, deep, and not at all friendly.
Peter's excitement started curdling into something else. Something's wrong.
Ethan raised his right hand. A golden ring of light spun open behind Peter.
Ethan's plan was simple: take the kid somewhere empty and beat some education into him.
Too many eyes in this alley. He needed space.
He crossed the distance in a blink, planted a boot in Peter's chest, and kicked him through the portal.
Peter didn't have time to object. He tumbled through, hit dirt, and rolled.
When he looked up, he was in the middle of nowhere. Flat, featureless plains in every direction. Not a building or a person in sight.
Fear and confusion hit him at the same time. Where am I? What does the Rider want from me?
Ethan stepped through after him, and the portal closed.
"You want to be a hero?" Ethan's voice was flat. "Then show me you've got what it takes."
And then the Kamen Rider attacked.
Peter's spider-sense was barely forty-eight hours old. The instinct was there — razor-sharp reflexes, a gut-level awareness of incoming danger — but he had no idea how to use it. The first few swings, he managed to react. Barely.
Then Ethan sped up.
Peter fell apart. Dodging wild. Getting hit clean. Ethan's fists and kicks were landing flush, and Peter was coughing up blood.
Ethan stood over him, looking down.
"That's all you've got? I've met people with the same powers as you. They weren't this weak."
The words hit Peter harder than the fists.
"A guy like you — even with superpowers — you're still a punching bag. Maybe just go back to getting pushed around. At least you're used to it."
Ethan kept pushing. Kept cutting. He needed something inside Peter to break.
Peter lay in the dirt, tasting blood, and the thing that hurt worst wasn't the beating.
It was the truth.
His whole life, every single day, had been this. Laughed at. Tripped. Ignored. Rejected. And now he'd been given something incredible — something that was supposed to change everything — and he was still on the ground getting hit.
Peter Parker was done with this.
His eyes went hot. His fists clenched. His jaw locked. He dragged himself upright on shaking legs and stared Ethan dead in the mask.
"I am not going to be pushed around anymore! I'm going to be a hero people look up to — and you're going to see it!"
He threw himself at Ethan, swinging.
The punches were wild. No form, no plan. Ethan sidestepped them like they were standing still.
"Being a hero isn't about shouting about it. Use your spider-sense."
Ethan kicked Peter across the field. Several meters of air.
Peter slammed into the ground and didn't stay down.
Something in what Ethan said had landed. Not the cruelty — the instruction. Anger wasn't enough. Willpower wasn't enough. He had to learn to listen to the thing humming in the back of his skull.
Peter closed his eyes.
He let the world in. The vibrations in the ground. The shift of air when something moved. Every sound. Every pressure change. Every tiny signal his new senses were already collecting but he'd been too scared to hear.
And the world... slowed down.
Ethan's movements, which had been a blur, resolved into something readable. Clear. Predictable.
Ethan watched Peter recalibrate in real time, and something like approval flickered behind the mask.
He upped the intensity. Harder. Faster. Pushing Peter to adapt under fire.
And he started teaching. Between the strikes, he was coaching — how to read spider-sense, how to trust it, when to shoot webbing, where to anchor it, how to use the silk as a weapon instead of a panic response.
"A real hero doesn't just have power and speed. A real hero uses skill. Uses his head."
Peter was listening now. His attacks sharpened. His dodges found rhythm. He started landing web-lines on Ethan, binding limbs, creating openings.
He was keeping up. He was actually keeping up.
And then Peter felt it — the intoxicating, dangerous rush of I'm winning this — and he shouted:
"My turn!"
He launched himself at Ethan with everything he had.
Ethan laughed. One cold, quiet syllable.
"One more lesson, free of charge. Never underestimate your enemy. And never overestimate yourself."
His thumb hit the USB drive on the belt.
"Eternal — Maximum Drive."
"Now then. Let's see if you can survive this."
Blue flame gathered around Ethan's right leg, coiling tight, until the energy was a compressed star. He launched into the air — a bolt of blue lightning against the empty sky — and came down at Peter in a diving kick.
Peter watched it happen and understood, with perfect cold clarity, that he could not dodge this.
There was nothing left to do but take it.
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