9

I saw Ethan from a distance: he was standing at the entrance to the hospital, shifting nervously from foot to foot and clutching a beautiful bouquet of flowers in his hands. When I got closer, he turned around, and his face immediately lit up with a mixture of joy and obvious relief.

"Have you been waiting long?" I asked, glancing at his worried face.

"Bruce, where have you been?" he exclaimed with a hint of reproach. "Lilian is being discharged today, and I wanted to wait for you so we could go together. To be honest, I'm scared to go alone: she'll give me an earful again." He sighed sadly, his voice betraying his genuine concern. "I'm glad she's better, but I'm afraid I'll have to listen to her endless reproaches again."

"Come on," I said, trying to cheer him up. "The main thing is that she's all right. It's better to listen to her complaints than to sit outside the hospital door worrying about your friend."

We headed towards Lily's room, and the closer we got, the stronger I felt my own joy: she had spent so long in hospital after the vampire attack. However, along with the joy, there was a slight tinge of guilt — too much had happened recently.

When we entered the ward, we saw Lily, already dressed and sitting on her made-up bed. She was holding a fresh newspaper and reading it intently.

"Lily, congratulations on your discharge!" Ethan exclaimed, instantly switching to a cheerful tone, and handed her the bouquet. "I'm so glad it's all over.

I didn't hesitate either and handed her my bouquet:

"I join in the congratulations.

Hearing our voices, Lily looked up, and her eyes lit up with genuine joy:

"Oh, guys, you're here!" She clapped her hands, jumping up and down with impatience. "Finally, I'm leaving these hospital walls. Honestly, I'm so tired of doing nothing and leading a 'quiet' life." She laughed, and her laughter betrayed her undisguised relief.

"That's right." I smiled and took a vase from the window to put the flowers in it. "You missed a lot of school, so it's time to get back to your regular classes. I hope we'll finally see you cheerful and eager to get started."

She narrowed her eyes mischievously:

"It's okay, Ethan will help me catch up." Her gaze darted to our friend, and she added slyly, "He'll share his notes and explain everything I missed."

Ethan's face lengthened, alternating between red and pale:

"Um... Maybe... well... Bruce would be better?" he stammered in confusion. "I pulled my arm during training... it's hard for me to write these days, you know..."

Lily and I laughed at his attempt to wriggle out of it. Ethan was still the same — the life and soul of the party, albeit a little naive.

"Lily, how are you feeling?" I asked gently, leaning a little closer. "Ready to go back to the 'big world'? It seems like you've been here in the hospital forever."

"I'm great!" she said cheerfully, smoothing her tousled hair. "Mum will be here soon, and we'll go home. She's just finishing the paperwork with the doctors, the last formalities." Lily waved the newspaper she was holding, and her voice sounded excited: "Here, Mum brought me today's newspaper. It says that the criminal who attacked me has finally been caught. Apparently, it was some kind of cult on the Collins farm..."

My heart sank: I knew who was really hiding on the farm, but Lily had to be kept in the dark for her own safety.

"Listen to what it says here," she continued, unfolding the newspaper and tracing the lines with her finger. "It turns out that Sergeant George Stacy distinguished himself. He tracked them down and called in the federal agents. It was a joint operation with the FBI, and everyone was arrested. They say there was resistance and the sergeant was injured, so he was taken to New York for treatment. I was thinking of visiting him, but... it looks like I'll have to wait until he gets back. They say he's going to be decorated.

She was beaming with joy, and it was clear that the news of the arrest of the "killers" had lifted a heavy burden of fear and anxiety from her.

"Well, that's good," I said, trying to sound as calm as possible. "Good has triumphed, as always."

At that moment, Lily's mother entered the ward with the doctor. Seeing us, the woman smiled warmly:

"Oh, guys, it's so good that you're here. Lily, dear, it's time to go home. I'm sure you've missed everyone.

Lily happily got out of bed and picked up her pink backpack. Trying to help, I grabbed the heavier bag, and we headed down to the car park. Ethan chatted animatedly with Lily all the way, telling her the latest school news: what had happened, who had fallen in love with whom, who had fought with whom, how they had teased Mr Newton... I walked a little way behind, lost in my thoughts. After the recent events, something inside me had cracked: I had seen the world through rose-tinted glasses, and now I was forced to face its dark side head-on.

"Bruce, can I give you a lift?" Lily's mum asked me when we got to the car. "We're going the same way, after all."

The kids were already sitting in the car, staring at me curiously, waiting for my answer.

"No, thank you, Mrs. Reynolds," I declined politely. "I have some things to do in town. You go ahead without me. Ethan, Lily, see you tomorrow at school."

We said goodbye, and the car drove away. I stayed in the car park, watching them go, and then, making sure no one was watching me, I took a few steps towards a secluded alley and suddenly started walking quickly. I felt uneasy and wanted to be alone. Without realising it, my thoughts turned to Alaska, to its peaks.

In a matter of minutes, I was standing on the snow-covered summit of Denali, the highest mountain in North America. Its height has always been impressive — more than six thousand metres above sea level. Here, above the clouds, there is often a unique atmosphere: the sun's rays can illuminate the peak itself, even if its base is shrouded in fog.

When I arrived, clouds seemed to surround the mountain on all sides, but my superhuman speed helped disperse them, and a gap formed through which bright sunlight descended on the foothills. For a moment, I even imagined how someone below, looking up at the sky, would see the clouds miraculously part.

I stood at the very top, taking in the vast expanse with my eyes. Taking off my shirt and standing bare-chested, I spread my arms, absorbing the power of the sun. Here, in the thin air, I did not feel suffocated; it seemed to me that my lungs were functioning perfectly without the necessary amount of oxygen. And the cold, around minus forty degrees, was not felt by my body at all — as if it did not react to the extreme temperatures.

I took a deep breath. I looked around at the surrounding ridges, covered in snow-white expanses, and felt an unfamiliar sense of peace awakening within me. The sun's rays, which gave me a considerable boost of energy, caressed my skin, allowing me to forget my recent fears and worries.

"The fairy tale is over, but I still have power in my hands," I thought, closing my eyes. I understood that now I saw the world without rose-coloured glasses: miracles coexisted with mortal danger, and my abilities were merely a tool to be used with caution and purpose.

Standing on the summit of Denali, I felt at one with the height, the sun and the icy wind, which washed away the heaviness of the last few days from my soul. And even though there was still much to be resolved down below in the noisy cities, I wanted to stay here for at least a couple more minutes — amid the pristine whiteness and proud silence. But thoughts of me would not leave me, even here.

I thought long and hard about my nature and tried to understand where my strength came from. The deeper I delved into these thoughts, the more I became convinced of my unusual hypothesis that every cell in my body was a tiny replica of a star, a kind of miniature sun living by its own laws. At first, this idea seemed crazy to me, but the more I delved into it, the more I became convinced that it explained a lot of what was happening to me.

I imagined that the cells of my body were not structured like those of a normal person, where everything is held together by mundane chemical reactions and the oxidation of nutrients. In a normal human body, all energy comes from mitochondria and glucose, which is burned with the help of oxygen. But in my case, the basis may be completely different: processes similar to nuclear fusion, like in the heart of a star, are taking place in my cells. Subcellular structures inside me combine to release enormous amounts of energy, and special mechanisms control this "mini-reactor."

The sun is not just a source of heat and light here, but something like a "catalyst": its rays trigger nuclear-like reactions in my cells. I imagine how ultraviolet rays and other components of the solar spectrum penetrate the cells, as if entering a secret laboratory where particles are constantly merging. The energy I generate is hundreds and thousands of times greater than that produced by a normal body. This is where my incredible abilities come from: I can break walls with a single blow and move faster than light or sound.

But the most amazing thing is the structural "compaction." As cells perform new mini-syntheses and emit energy, they rebuild and strengthen their "equipment" like workers in a factory. In a normal organism, muscles can grow when a person exercises, but in my case, growth occurs immediately at the subcellular level because the very nature of my cells is akin to a thermonuclear generator. Each reaction leaves behind a denser, more perfect cellular matrix capable of absorbing sunlight even more efficiently and using it for further development.

On top of that, a kind of "energy shield" or biofield emerges. The excess energy constantly released during synthesis forms a powerful electromagnetic aura around me. It acts as a protective cocoon: blows, radiation, extreme temperatures — all of this is dispersed or delayed by my biofield before it reaches my body. The stronger I become, the more intense this aura is, and the harder it is to hurt or incapacitate me.

This self-reinforcing cycle opens up terrifying possibilities: the longer I am exposed to the sun's rays, the more energy I absorb and the faster my powers accumulate and consolidate. It turns out that, theoretically, I have no limits. As long as I recharge from the Sun, my body not only recovers its losses, but also constantly progresses and grows in volume. I don't understand what led to such a development in the Kryptonian body, maybe millions of years of evolution or intelligent genetic intervention by scientists of my race, but if so, they literally created living gods.

I am afraid to imagine that such power has been given to a teenager. It is both inspiring and frightening at the same time. My abilities grow with each passing day: when I catch the sun's rays, I feel power piercing my entire being, as if tiny stars are exploding inside me and merging into a vast universe of power. And if I want to, I can disperse clouds or tear apart the strongest materials with a single effort. But every time I clench my fists, I realise that I possess a real, almost immeasurable ability to cause destruction — and that thought slightly soberes me.

I clench my fists and feel the "heavy" sun in my cells give me an even greater surge of energy. A barely perceptible wave of pressure emanates from me, rippling the strip of clouds on the horizon. Inside, everything screams, "How can I live with this, control this?" And yet I remind myself: it is I who have been given this incredible legacy, and I must find a way to use it wisely. After all, if every cell in my body is a tiny sun, it is important that it illuminates and warms, rather than burning everything around it with a blind flame.

In my past life, I could only dream of such abilities; I was an ordinary human being, limited by the laws of physics. Here, the laws are different, and I am beginning to understand this more and more. It seems that the time when I could turn a blind eye to the true nature of this world is over. I will have to learn for myself and decide how to act, where to direct my power, and what to do. 

I glanced at my watch: it was almost eight o'clock, and my mother would definitely be looking for me if I didn't come home for dinner. I mustn't forget: no matter how powerful I am, I still live in an ordinary family, with human rituals and rules. Just a day ago, I saw off Blade and Abraham, hunters who probably knew much more about the dark side of this world than I did. But I hope they will tell me all about it in the future. They left for further hunting, and I remained in my city, aware that the fairy tale was long over.

But before returning, I linger for a moment at the top of the mountain. Standing in a realm of eternal snow and endless clouds, I feel like a living thermonuclear reactor, absorbing the power of the sun. A light breeze blows across my face, scattered light flickers behind me, and I realise that at this very moment, I am at the peak of happiness and fearlessness. The world seems small and fragile below, and I feel infinitely strong and dangerous above. But home is calling, and while I am still willing to remain human, I descend to where my loved ones are waiting for me — and where my strength will find its purpose, perhaps in the name of good, not chaos.

As I run across the endless expanses of America towards home, the last memories of my encounter with the hunters, which had such a profound effect on me, flash through my mind.

Memories

After the last vampire hunt, I was literally beside myself: it seemed that every nerve in my body was pulsing with anticipation of the coming changes. I couldn't wait for midnight to come so I could visit the hunters in their motel room again and ask them about everything that was swirling around in my head. When the clock hands approached the cherished hour, I moved there from my room with one sharp jerk

.

I knocked loudly on the door and heard the familiar heartbeats of Blade and Abraham inside. Hearing someone move towards the entrance, I froze, trying to calm my own excitement.

"Come in, Bruce," the elderly hunter said wearily as he opened the door. I entered, trying to gauge their mood.A dim lamp burned in the room. Blade, lying on the bed with his hands behind his head, glanced at me, but then turned away to face the wall. The look he gave me was one of irritation. I felt an unpleasant twitch in my temples — Blade's disregard had risen to a whole new level.

"Don't pay any attention to him," Abraham said quietly, noticing my confusion. "We've been through enough today. We only got back a few hours ago."

"Wow, you've been gone all day," I said, glancing at Eric, who continued to stubbornly pretend I wasn't there.

"We had to deal with an... organisation. A secret one," Abraham sighed heavily. "And they're sometimes worse than ghouls: vampires drink your blood and that's the end of it, but these guys suck your soul out," he said with genuine annoyance in his voice.

"You mentioned something about S.H.I.E.L.D. back then," I pretended not to be too familiar with it, although I understood what he was talking about from my memories of my previous life. But I wanted to hear his explanation, the view of S.H.I.E.L.D. from the mouth of a "native" of this world.

Abraham rubbed his nose and nodded:

"If you break it down, S.H.I.E.L.D. stands for 'Sixth Intervention Tactical Operational Logistics Service' (even the name gives me phantom pains). It's an international special service dedicated to protecting the world from threats that don't make it into the newspapers. They deal with terrorism, anomalies, and all sorts of supernatural stuff.

He paused, glancing around the room, apparently recalling today's bureaucratic ordeals:

"We prefer to fight vampires on our own, but S.H.I.E.L.D. sometimes gives us good leads. They have intelligence that allows them to quickly identify suspicious movements or anomalous flashes. Sometimes we use this information, and they sometimes use our reports — although unofficially. They have discipline and strict protocols, while we work our own way, 'like hunters', without unnecessary paperwork." Abraham smiled. "We hunters also have our own organisation, or rather a brotherhood that has existed for thousands of years. But we are often lone wolves, only uniting in the face of serious threats.

I listened, trying not to interrupt, although dozens of questions crowded my mind:

"So they cover the whole world?

"Yes," Abraham nodded. "They have agents and headquarters everywhere. This allows them to respond to mass crises: a 'vampirism' epidemic or something else of that nature. We hunters also have some bases here and there. The result is a symbiotic relationship: they help gather information, and we clean up the mess without making a fuss.

"Globally..." I said, trying to imagine the scale. "What about me? Won't they be interested in me?"

At these words, Blade tensed slightly and shifted position on the bed, but continued to look away. Abraham shrugged:

"We've already covered for you: we explained to the policeman — the one you saved — that he must keep quiet about his 'savior'. As for S.H.I.E.L.D., we haven't reported you yet. Why should we? But just in case, when I get to our archives, I'll enter you in the register as a 'novice' hunter. Then, if any information comes up, you can refer to us. According to our agreements, no one will bother you with questions after that.

"Is it really safe?" I asked cautiously. "Won't information about me be spread from the archives?"

"There's no such thing as absolute," Abraham sighed. "But we have a wealth of experience in protecting our secrets. Our archives are very well protected — hunters have had to learn a lot over the centuries. But if you want, I can register you under a pseudonym. Your real identity will remain hidden. Do you have a preference for what you want to call yourself?"

I hesitated, trying to figure out if I really needed a code name. In this world, many heroes and creatures have "super-personalities," which is sometimes vital for safety.

Finally, I looked Abraham straight in the eye and said quietly but clearly:

"Titan..."

***

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