He had made it.

The battle had been raging for a long time. He was visibly exhausted. He was afraid—not for himself, but for the people he fought alongside; for those who had nothing to do with this madness and had only recently returned to their families. Peter could not allow them to lose each other again. Striking blow after blow against the nameless titans, he felt as if this would never end. Peter swung on his webs across the entire battlefield, having already fended off hundreds of aliens. Finishing off yet another monster and casting its body aside, he scanned the battlefield, looking to see if his comrades needed help. Chaos reigned around him: droplets of blood, dust, and debris flew through the air; it was becoming hard to breathe. Everything before his eyes blurred into one massive smear of pain and hatred. It was difficult to catch sight of anything, yet he stubbornly searched for familiar faces. Just as he was beginning to give up his search and return to attacking random aliens, his peripheral vision caught Strange’s gesture—a silent sign that spoke louder than any words. The "conversation" between the Sorcerer and Mr. Stark lasted no more than a couple of seconds, but Peter understood everything. He understood the most important thing: he would not let this happen. He didn't give a damn about the "only winning scenario"; he refused to believe in it. Only one thought pulsed in his head: he would not let him die. He would fight to the very last. Without hesitating for another second, Peter lunged forward. Forcing his way through the battlefield, noticing nothing around him, he realized what would come after. "It’s okay, no one will even notice, right?.. Mr. Stark has a family waiting for him; the whole world loves and respects him. And I only have my aunt and my best friend—they are strong, they can make it without me." As he flew closer, he saw Thanos smirk, speaking of the greater good and inevitability. Peter didn't listen to that nonsense; in his ears, there was only the thumping of his own heart, beating at a frantic pace—the heartbeat of everyone on this field. He dropped to the ground the moment the Stones ignited one by one on the Iron Man’s gauntlet. His heart skipped a beat: "Not Tony, please, just not him!" Clinging to a piece of metal sticking out of the rubble with his webbing, Peter threw himself toward Stark, who was already about to utter his final words. Rushing to him, he drew the Stones onto his own suit, whispering something about how he wouldn't let anything happen to Mr. Stark. Tony looked at him, not understanding what was happening; he tried to stop him, but it was already too late. The Stones were already on Peter, and a surge of raw power coursed through the teenager's body. The world slowed down. Looking into his mentor's eyes, Peter whispered that he was glad they had met, that Tony had become the best father he could have ever dreamed of. — I’m sorry, Dad. Then, there was only the snap. A wave of energy surged across the earth; no one understood what had happened. Looking around, the survivors saw only a man weeping on his knees over the lifeless body of a young hero with a faint smile on his face... He had made it.