Chapter 73: The Broken Commander And The Resolved Doctor
A moment later - they reappeared outside the chamber, landing hard on the dark wasteland of Yamark.
Jeromy immediately sprang to his feet - his plasma whip crackling with energy - only to be met by the sight of Jim locked in a fierce battle against an endless horde of zombies, ghouls, and apparitions.
Jim's Solun Lance slashed through the monsters, glowing brightly with a mix of Solar and Lunar energy. His face was a blend of shock and worry at seeing Jeromy and Gravik suddenly beside him.
Jim: "Jeromy?! Gravik?! What happened? Where's Dr. Aron?!"
Jeromy gritted his teeth.
Jeromy: "Blooma's playing more of her twisted games... She sent us back here - and left Aron to face Sheila alone."
Jim's expression darkened - a mix of relief and concern.
Jim: "At least he's with her... but he's alone..."
Gravik, still trembling, muttered under his breath:
Gravik: "We're doomed... She's gonna kill us all..."
Jim shot him a sharp glare.
Jim: "Pull yourself together, Gravik!"
Jeromy crossed his arms, still seething.
Jeromy: "We need to focus - Aron's tough in his own way, but he's not a fighter. We have to trust him for now."
As the horde kept advancing, Jim and Jeromy prepared to fight - while Gravik nervously stayed behind, too terrified to move.
Meanwhile...
In a dimly lit chamber deep within Blooma's domain, Dr. Aron appeared - standing alone.
The air was cold and stale. Flickering torches lined the walls, casting long, dancing shadows. The room felt alive - as if the very walls were breathing with darkness.
Then - his eyes locked onto Sheila.
She was chained to the wall, bloodied and motionless.
Her body was frail - her once fierce and unyielding form now reduced to a broken shell. Her usually strong eyes were shut tight - her face contorted in silent torment.
Dr. Aron's heart shattered.
Dr. Aron: "Sheila..."
He rushed to her side, his fingers trembling as he grabbed his medical kit.
Her arms and legs were covered in deep cuts and bruises - her breathing was faint, shallow.
He worked quickly - bandaging her wounds, using what little healing serum he had left to stop the internal bleeding.
But... there was something worse than the physical injuries.
She wasn't responding.
Her lips were moving - murmuring - but it wasn't to him.
Sheila: "No... no... I have to protect them... I can't... I'm too weak..."
Tears slipped down her cheeks - but her eyes remained shut.
Aron gently cupped her face.
Dr. Aron: "Sheila... it's me... It's Aron."
She didn't react.
Her mind was locked in a never-ending loop of fear - reliving her worst nightmare over and over again.
A vision of her failure.
Of being too weak to protect her husband and children.
Of watching Aron, Darren, and Maria die at the hands of Dark Void's monsters while she stood powerless.
Her voice trembled, cracking through the silence:
Sheila: "Aron... Darren... Maria... no... please... I... I wasn't strong enough..."
Dr. Aron's heart broke.
He held her bloodied hand, his voice shaking:
Dr. Aron: "Sheila... none of that's real. You didn't fail. I'm right here."
Her body flinched - as if some part of her heard him - but the nightmare still held her tight.
Aron wiped his tears away, his jaw clenching.
Dr. Aron: "I won't let you break, Sheila... I know you're strong... but you don't have to be strong alone anymore."
He pressed his forehead gently to hers, his voice a whisper:
Dr. Aron: "I'm here. I'm always here."
The chamber's shadows twisted in the corners - as if Blooma's magic was feeding off Sheila's fear - growing stronger with each passing second.
Aron knew...
He didn't just have to heal her body.
He had to break the spell strangling her mind - before it devoured her completely.
Dr. Aron's hands trembled as he worked - sweat dripping from his forehead - but his mind remained locked on one goal: save Sheila.
Her wounds were deep and unforgiving - slashes along her arms, legs, and even across her face. Blood had dried in dark streaks, and her breathing was so faint, it was a whisper of life.
He used everything from his medical kit - sterilizing wounds, injecting healing serums, bandaging gashes - but it felt like he was bailing water out of a sinking ship with his bare hands.
No matter how much he treated her, her condition refused to improve.
And then-
A mist crept along the floor, curling into the air until Blooma's projection reappeared, her cruel grin stretching wider than ever.
Blooma: "A doctor's touch... how quaint."
Her voice echoed like a sinister melody in the chamber.
Dr. Aron: "I don't care what you say... I'm going to save her."
Blooma chuckled softly.
Blooma: "Save her?"
She gestured to Sheila's broken form.
Blooma: "Look at her, doctor. She's far from living... hanging by a thread. If you're lucky, she'll last another day... maybe less."
Aron's heart clenched, but his hands didn't stop moving - tying off another bandage, adjusting the flow of a healing serum - desperately trying to stabilize her.
Dr. Aron: "I don't care how long she has... even if she only has a day... I'll keep fighting for every second."
His voice cracked - but his resolve stood firm.
Dr. Aron: "If I can't do that... I don't deserve to call myself a doctor."
Blooma's smile twisted into something darker.
Blooma: "And when that last second passes..."
She stepped closer - her misty form swirling around Sheila like a predator circling its prey.
Blooma: "...you'll know true despair - the agony of watching your wife die in your arms, powerless to stop it."
She leaned closer to Aron.
Blooma: "That's why I let you come here alone - not to save her - but to see you break."
The mist coiled and then... vanished, taking Blooma's cruel laughter with it.
The chamber fell into silence - except for Sheila's soft, broken murmurs.
Sheila: "I... I have to... protect them... I... can't... I'm too weak..."
Aron's hands stopped for a moment - his heart twisting at her words.
Her fear wasn't of dying.
It was of failing - failing to protect her family.
Suddenly, it clicked.
He remembered every moment - every reckless decision she ever made - every battle she threw herself into.
Sheila wasn't reckless because she didn't value her life...
She was reckless because she valued theirs.
She had always seen herself as the only shield standing between her family and danger.
And now - in her trance - that fear had crushed her spirit.
Dr. Aron gently placed his hand against Sheila's pale cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped her closed eyes.
Dr. Aron: "Sheila... you're not weak."
She didn't react.
His voice softened - tender but fierce with love.
Dr. Aron: "You've never been weak."
He thought back to their wedding day - 10 years ago.
He remembered how beautiful and fierce she looked in her simple white dress - standing tall, her scars visible, a symbol of both her past struggles and her unbreakable will.
Even then, she carried the weight of her past - of growing up in a cruel world, fighting to survive, never wanting to feel weak again.
Sheila was always strong... but she had never stopped fighting the fear of not being strong enough.
Dr. Aron's voice broke slightly as he leaned in - his forehead resting against hers, a tear slipping down his cheek.
Dr. Aron: "You don't have to carry everything alone... You don't have to be strong for us... because you're already strong with us."
Her body gave a faint twitch - the first sign of any movement beyond her tortured murmurs.
It wasn't much...
But it was something.
He took a shaky breath, reapplying the final bandages and giving her one last injection from his kit.
Dr. Aron: "I'm not giving up on you... not for me... not for Darren and Maria... and not for yourself."
He gripped her hand firmly - her cold, limp fingers in his warm ones - and kissed her knuckles softly.
Dr. Aron: "I'll keep treating you until the very last second."
And so - despite Blooma's cruel words ringing in his head - despite the overwhelming fear of losing Sheila - Dr. Aron refused to give up.
After almost an hour...
Dr. Aron kept his arms around Sheila, his heart pounding against her limp body. Her skin was cold, her breathing shallow, and the wounds on her body-no matter how much he tried to mend-refused to fully heal.
The medical kit's tools were running out, and his hands were beginning to tremble, not from fear but from the sheer helplessness gnawing at him. Still, he gritted his teeth.
He whispered softly, his voice cracking, "Sheila... you are not weak. You've never been weak... Please... believe in yourself."
His mind drifted to their wedding day ten years ago.
He remembered how she kept scanning the crowd during the ceremony, more focused on checking for threats than on the vows. She had always been the protector, the warrior.
That day, Aron had taken her hand gently and said, "You don't always have to protect me, Sheila. Sometimes, let me protect you."
She hadn't responded then-just smirked and called him "soft." But now, in this broken chamber, those words echoed louder than ever.
Suddenly, as he brushed a strand of hair from her bloodied face, Sheila's lips parted ever so slightly, and a whisper escaped her mouth.
"No... I can't... be... weak..."
Aron's heart lurched. It was the same phrase she had been muttering in her trance, but this time-it was louder. Her fingers twitched. Her head shifted ever so slightly.
He grabbed both her hands. "Sheila! Listen to me! You're not weak! You are strong! You've always been strong-but you don't have to carry everything alone. I'm here. The kids are waiting. Please, come back to us!"
Sheila's face twisted-like she was fighting something, her mind stuck in a terrible loop of nightmares.
Aron realized Blooma's mental torture hadn't just left physical scars-it had broken into her deepest fear and caged her inside it.
Desperate, Aron closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers. His voice, raw with emotion, spilled out:
"You're not alone, Sheila. You never were. You have me... and Maria... and Darren. We're your strength too. So fight-fight not because you have to be strong-but because we need you."
For a long, agonizing moment, nothing happened.
Then-her fingers squeezed his hand.
It was weak-barely a movement-but it was there.
Aron gasped, tears threatening to fall. "Sheila..."
Her breathing deepened, ever so slightly, as if something within her was awakening.
But then-
The mist reappeared.
Blooma's face emerged, more monstrous this time, her lips curling into a sickening grin.
"Oh, how touching," she sneered. "But let's see if your precious words can truly break my spell-or if I should crush her mind completely."
The mist swirled, dark tendrils creeping toward Sheila's head like smoke ready to suffocate her once again.
Aron's blood ran cold.
He knew he didn't have much time.
Meanwhile...
Tim clutched his Solar Saber, his knees buckling as the illusions overwhelmed him.
Shadows twisted around him, forming images of his worst fears - Heatsun turning his back on him, Jim lying defeated, and worst of all... Rei disappearing into the void, calling his name, but he couldn't reach her.
"No... Rei..." Tim's voice cracked, his grip tightening on his weapon.
The dark chamber echoed with his ragged breathing as more images appeared - his family separated, his friends shattered, and himself standing alone. Always alone.
In another chamber, Rei was on her knees, her Lunar Crescent hatchets clattering to the ground. She saw Moonsalt's cold, disapproving gaze, the Resistance falling apart, and... Tim, fading away from her grasp.
"Tim..." she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek.
The pain wasn't just from the fear of losing battles - it was the fear of losing him.
Despite her usually cool demeanor, Rei's heart pounded. No matter how strong she acted, this was the first time she felt truly weak. Not because of her own pain - but because she was alone, without Tim by her side.
Their minds, though separated by walls of illusions, drifted back to the same moment.