The knee that had once absorbed the impact of an arrow faced its grim fate. With a sickening crack, the joint bent backward, breaking bones that pierced through muscle in a grotesque display.
Satisfied with the outcome, James clasped his hands together, the tall kidnapper having long succumbed to unconsciousness from the excruciating pain.
Turning his attention to the woman huddled in the corner, James reassured her, "Miss, you're safe now. You can go home. Just remember, if you venture out at night again, take care of yourself."
"Thank you… thank you so much," she stammered, trembling as she stood up, hesitating to move from her corner.
With a wave, James melted into the shadows, disappearing from sight.
As night fell, whispers of the " Sentinel " began circulating in local stories, a name that would soon become a legend.
The next day, James returned to school as though nothing had happened. After a night filled with vigilant activities, he carried a sense of purpose, radiating an almost palpable energy.
At the lockers, Peter, who had arrived early, leaned against the wall with an air of despondency. No matter who reached school first, the two would always wait for each other here.
"Hey, Peter," James greeted, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Where did you find those old-school glasses? Trying to enhance your top-student image?"
Peter, typically a contact lens wearer, had opted for vintage black-framed glasses today, giving him the appearance of a distinguished scholar.
"Just trying something new," Peter replied with a shrug, his tone weary. "My naturally outstanding good-student temperament doesn't need enhancement, does it?"
After grabbing their belongings, the two entered the classroom and took adjacent seats.
"Yeah, you're the top student—well, considering the total number of students at Midtown High, it's not much of a competition for you," James teased.
Peter smiled confidently. "Naturally."
"Do you both enjoy boasting this much?" a voice chimed in, interrupting their playful exchange.
James turned to see Gwen Stacy, an attractive blonde who exuded charm in her casual outfit—a shirt, pullover, short skirt, and boots. She was the object of affection for both Peter and James.
"Hi, I'm Gwen Stacy," she introduced, her smile warm and inviting.
Peter seemed momentarily flustered. "Oh, I know, I'm Peter Parker."
"James," he said, nodding at Gwen. "Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you too," Gwen replied, her smile unwavering. James sighed inwardly; they had been classmates for four years, yet she seemed to find joy in this simple greeting.
"That's right," Gwen said, her tone polite yet teasing. "Peter here is second in the class, not first."
Peter's face fell slightly at her words. Even as a girl, she couldn't casually dismiss something he took pride in.
"Second? Are you sure?" he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.
"Yes, believe me, I can't be wrong," Gwen affirmed.
"Who's first?" James asked instinctively, straightening his posture and running a hand through his hair. "It seems that no matter how hard some try to hide, their brilliance can't be concealed. It's time for you to meet the number one student in our class."
"It's certainly not you," Gwen replied with a playful smile. "Yes, James, I used to see you as the quiet classmate who never intended to offend."
"Unexpectedly, you have a humorous side," she added, her tone light. "So, I heard you had a run-in with Thompson yesterday?"
James gestured dismissively. "Miss, even though you're beautiful, don't spread rumors. I was just playing basketball with Thompson. What happened to him?"
Gwen covered her mouth, stifling a laugh. "So, you settled it with basketball. Did you win?"
"Absolutely," James said with mock regret. "It's a pity you missed it. You know what you missed? It was a performance worthy of the NBA's top ten plays of the year!"
"That's a shame," Gwen said, nodding in agreement. "Have you thought about which university you want to apply to? Duke or UCLA? They're both renowned basketball schools."
James pondered for a moment. "I haven't decided yet, but I don't want to leave New York. Duke's in North Carolina, and UCLA's in Los Angeles. They're both too far."
"Why stay in New York? You've been here for years. Aren't you bored?" Gwen tilted her head, curious.
"Why stay here?" James scratched his neck, contemplating. "Because of ideals! Yes, ideals. I was born and raised here. It's my dream to build and protect this place."
"Your ideals are truly noble," Gwen teased, her expression softening as she realized she knew too little about him.
In the past, James had been timid and reserved around Gwen. Despite being in the same class for almost four years, he rarely spoke.
However, the James who had crossed over into this world was different. How could a man destined for greatness harbor a crush in silence? He aimed to captivate her with his extraordinary personality.
Behind them, Peter watched the exchange with a blank expression, feeling increasingly invisible.
Feeling a subtle melancholy, Parker lowered his head and began doodling aimlessly in his notebook.
"What's this?" James asked, noticing Parker's scribbles.
"Nothing," Peter replied quickly, tearing the page from his notebook, crumpling it, and tossing it aside.