After the fight, we explained what happened to the police, and they shared their reasons for being there and other relevant information. I've already got my reward for completing the quest, as the system recognized my achievement.

"So, you mean that vampire is from the organization called 69?" Kevin Bridget inquired, seeking clarification.

"Yes, sir," I confirmed, nodding. "I leave this case to you, sir, as I have to go now."

"Don't worry, Spider-Man, leave this to us," Kevin assured me.

I nodded gratefully, expressing my thanks for their understanding. Initially, I had been skeptical of the police, given the portrayal of law enforcement in some Spider-Man movies, but now I realized that officers like Sir Kevin and my father were genuinely kind people.

Lost in thought, Jamal Afari interjected, handing me a number. "Spider-Man, here," he said. "Call me. This is my Mcall device, in case vampires appear again."

"Roger that, sir," I acknowledged, nodding in understanding.

"Good," Jamal said, with a sense of purpose. "I still have something to do." With that, he left.

Taking one last glance at the police officers, I swung away towards home, ready to rest and reflect on the day's events.

As I swiftly landed in my room and triggered the deactivation command for my Spider-Man suit, transforming back into Michael Wilson, I thought I was the only one in my room. However, my relief was short-lived when I heard someone speak in my room.

"Michael, you're Spider-Man?" The voice belonged to Mark Fletcher, my best friend.

Turning to face him, I found myself at a loss for words. Mark's eyes were wide with surprise and curiosity, waiting for an explanation. My mind raced to come up with something convincing, anything to deflect suspicion.

"Mark," I started, my voice betraying a hint of nervousness, "this is... complicated." I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself. "I... uh... well, you see..."

But Mark wasn't buying it. His expression was a mix of disbelief and intrigue, urging me to spill the truth. Caught in the moment, I realized there was no escaping it—I had to come clean to my best friend.

"Yeah, I am Spider-Man," I confessed with a heavy sigh, acknowledging the weight of my secret. I knew deep down that eventually; Mark would uncover the truth. It seemed inevitable, especially considering the countless portrayals of best friends discovering the superhero identities of their counterparts in various Spider-Man universe.

Suddenly, Mark interjected, his voice filled with surprised and worried. "I get it now. You've been disappearing a lot lately, especially during those four months. You always had some excuse to leave, "he said, his words tumbling out as he connected the dots. "And now I realize you were gone during that incident. I'm really worried about you, man!"

"I mean, come on, Michael," Mark continued, his tone filled with concern. "You're out there risking your life, fighting criminals and monsters. What if something happens to you? What if you get hurt or worse?"

I sighed, feeling the weight of his words. Mark had always been like a brother to me, and I hated keeping secrets from him. But I couldn't risk his safety by revealing my identity as Spider-Man. "I know, Mark," I said, trying to reassure him. "But I have to do this. There are people out there who need help, and if I can make a difference, then it's worth the risk."

Mark nodded, his expression still troubled. "I get that you want to help people, Michael," he said softly. "But promise me you'll be careful out there. Promise me you'll watch your back and come back in one piece."

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I smiled gratefully at him, touched by his concern. "I promise, Mark," I said earnestly. "I'll do everything I can to stay safe."

"So, anyway, how did you end up here? Shouldn't you be with Mary?" I asked Mark, trying to change the subject.

Mark leaned back against my desk; his expression thoughtful. "Well, my sister was here in your living room helping Aunt Ember in cooking," he began, his voice carrying a hint of mischief. "I was just trying to surprise you. I even told my sister that if you asked where I was, I told her I had to buy something, you know."

Mark continued, "And Also you're lying to your mom. You're telling Aunt Ember about some project. Since when did we have a project? And you didn't even include us, your friends." Pausing for a moment, he advised, "You've got to think of better excuses. Otherwise, people will start to wonder what you're up to."

Mark's words hit home, making me realize, the complicated things I'd created with my deception. "I get it," I confessed, feeling a bit embarrassed as I scratched the back of my neck. "Finding believable excuses isn't simple." He was right; my avoidance tactics could raise doubts among the people I cared about.

"Now that I'm here," Mark continued, his expression shifting to one of concern, "maybe we can figure this out together. You don't have to carry this burden alone."

Then Mark looked at me with a sense of urgency, his eyes showing both determination and vulnerability. "That's why train me, Michael," he pleaded earnestly. "Help me become strong so I can support you."

I couldn't help but feel a surge of conflicting emotions at his request. "Are you kidding me?" I responded, my tone a mixture of frustration and concern. "I hide who I am so that my friends and family are safe from harm."

"I know, Michael," Mark conceded, his voice heavy with sadness. "But I can't leave you alone. I don't want you to end up like Teacher Dan." His words carried the weight of past tragedies, the memory of loss lingering in the air. "You remember that incident, Michael, in the slums where you saved us. But back then, it was traumatizing. I know Emily, my girlfriend, is still haunted by it. And I couldn't do anything to prevent it. I was powerless against those criminals, Michael. I'm weak."

Feeling the heaviness of Mark's emotions, I couldn't help but understand his situation. "I get it, Mark," I said, my voice gentle with understanding. "And I'm grateful that you're here for me." Even though I had concerns, I couldn't ignore the truth in what he said.

"Alright, I'll teach you," I agreed, making a choice. "But we have to be careful. I can't risk putting you in danger."

Mark's expression brightened at my concession, a glimmer of determination in his eyes. "Don't worry, Michael," he reassured me. "I'll do everything I can to become strong and support you. Consider me your trusty sidekick," he added with a smile, his determination shining through.

I want to train Mark because I don't want my friends or those close to me to be in dangerous situations. If I can make him strong enough to protect himself, then my worries will be lessened. Additionally, I need to train myself. After that confrontation with the sorcerer named Atlas, who is as strong as Doctor Strange but even more powerful, it's to be expected, considering Atlas has lived for hundreds of years compared to Doctor Strange. And also it's clear that I need to improve my skills. That's why I need to train. Even though it may reduce my hero activities temporarily, I have to do it for the sake of the future.

[Meanwhile Mary rose side]

Mary Rose Fletcher expressed her confusion as she overheard voices coming from Michael's room. "What's happening? Why is Brother talking in Michael's room?" she wondered aloud. She then turned to Emberly Wilson, seeking clarification. "Did we see Michael going upstairs, Aunt Ember?"

Emberly Wilson responded, "We didn't see him. Maybe because we were too focused in the kitchen. They're probably just having some boys' talk," she said with a chuckle, dismissing any concerns.

.............

Meanwhile

Princess Lysandra panted, still recovering from the encounter. "Why did we leave? We could have just ended them right there," she questioned, frustration evident in her voice.

Atlas regarded her with a calculating gaze. "I don't want to dispose of him so easily. I want him to endure immense suffering, to deal with tough situations that will force him to make difficult choices," he explained. "Besides, when I envision many possible outcomes we fought, there's one where his suffering is so profound that his very identity is erased from the world."

Princess Lysandra's eyes widened in surprise. "And how long would that take? Days? Weeks? Months?" she inquired.

Atlas grinned cunningly as he responded, "Four years." He let out a dark chuckle, the sound carrying a sense of ominousness. "Until then, let him have his brief moments of peace."

The End Of Book 1 Part 1