Hospital

The hospital's emergency room was a flurry of activity, the sound of beeping machines and muted conversations filling the air. Nurses and doctors rushed to and fro, their scrubs a blur of color as they attended to the needs of their patients.

In the center of the room, a team of medical professionals surrounded a gurney, their faces set in determined expressions. On the gurney lay a young boy, his body battered and bruised, a tangled mess of wires and tubes snaking from his arms and chest.

Dr. Smith, a middle-aged man with a kind face and weary eyes, stood at the helm of the team, his voice calm and authoritative as he directed the others. "Alright, let's get him stabilized. We need to get the bleeding under control and get him prepped for surgery."

To his right, Nurse Thompson, a no-nonsense woman with a sharp jawline and a kind smile, worked to stem the flow of blood from the boy's wounds. Her hands moved with precision, her eyes locked intently on the boy's fragile form.

Across from her, Dr. Patel, a soft-spoken woman with a gentle touch, monitored the boy's vital signs, her eyes scanning the array of machines beeping and whirring around her. "His blood pressure is dropping," she warned, her voice low and urgent. "We need to get him on a transfusion, stat."

Dr. Patel's hands trembled as she lifted them onto the body of the boy, her eyes closed in concentration. She called upon her soul shards to bestow their powers upon her once more, but she was low on Aether, judging from the quivering of her lips and the pale hue of her face. Barely a second later, she was forced to stop as she ran out of Aether, her body weakening from the exertion.

Dr. Thompson looked at her with a worried expression, her brow furrowed in concern. "Please don't overdo it, Doctor," she urged. "You've run out of Aether. Wait a moment while I run to the vault to get you a soul shard."

But Dr. Patel's eyes were fixed on the boy's fragile form, her mind racing with the knowledge that every second counted. "But he'll be dead before you get back," she whispered, her voice laced with desperation.

Before Dr. Thompson could retort, a disembodied voice echoed through the room, the intercom system crackling to life. "Code blue, code blue. We have a code blue in room 304. All available personnel, please report to room 304."

The hospital's staff sprang into action, rushing to respond to the code blue. Dr. Thompson hesitated for a moment, her eyes locked on Dr. Patel's pale face. "Go with them," Dr. Patel urged, her voice firm. "I'll handle this."

Dr. Thompson's eyes widened in alarm. "How will you heal him?" she asked, her voice low and urgent.

Dr. Patel's expression was grim. "I think I'll have to go overboard," she whispered.

Dr. Thompson's face paled. "Don't—"

But Dr. Patel's eyes flashed with determination. "It's the only way now. Go."

Dr. Thompson hesitated for a moment before rushing towards the area of the code blue, her footsteps echoing through the hallway.

In the midst of the chaos, a lone figure stood out. A man in a black tuxedo suit, his eyes fixed intently on the boy on the gurney. He stood apart from the others, his presence almost forgotten in the rush to save the boy's life.

But as the team worked to stabilize the boy, the man's eyes never left his face. His expression was unreadable, his eyes burning with an inner intensity that seemed to pierce the very soul of the boy.

And then, as suddenly as he had appeared, the man vanished, leaving behind only the faintest whisper of his presence. The team surrounding the boy didn't notice his departure, their focus solely on saving their patient's life.

Dr. Patel focused her attention on the boy, her eyes scanning his fragile form. And then, she saw it - a soul shard standing on the bed beside the boy's head. She frowned, her mind racing with questions. Where had the soul shard come from?

She looked up, her eyes scanning the room, but the man in the black tuxedo suit was nowhere to be seen. Without hesitation, she crushed the soul shard and absorbed the pure Aether that flowed from it. After crushing the will behind the soul shard, she felt a surge of energy course through her veins.

And then, she began to heal the boy, her hands moving with precision as she channeled the Aether into his body. His flesh began to knit together, his legs straightening as they began to heal. His skin healed up, but his face was crunched up in pain, being the first time his soul had experienced such a rich Aether.

Dr. Patel was in a rush, so she didn't have time to regulate the entrance of the Aether into his body. In addition, his Aether veins weren't open yet, so it wouldn't lead to Aether poisoning. As she stopped healing, his face gradually became peaceful, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

Heaving a sigh, Dr. Patel rushed towards other emergency situations, rest far from her mind.

......…

On a hospital bed lay a young boy of about fifteen years, his bright red hair a stark contrast to the sterile white of the hospital sheets. His eyebrows, also a deep red, were slightly furrowed, as if he was concentrating on something. His eyelashes, a maroon red that could easily be mistaken for black, framed his scarlet red eyes, which fluttered open as he slowly regained consciousness.

The young man stared intensively at the ceiling for a few seconds, his eyes scanning the blank surface as if searching for something. Then, a minute passed, and still, he didn't move, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. A few more minutes ticked by, and finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Weird, why am I alive?" he muttered aloud, skepticism etched in his voice. He paused, his eyes narrowing as he thought back to the events that had led him to this point. "Could it be that I am hallucinating due to loss of blood?" he wondered, his brow furrowing in confusion.

With a cautious movement, he sat up in his bed, careful to avoid the void left by the absence of his legs. The memory of the brutal attack that had taken his legs flashed through his mind, and he could still vividly recall the sound of the third elder's hammer striking the beast, the impact of which had twisted his legs in an unnatural direction.

He didn't know whether to be angry at the third elder for ruining his legs or be thankful that he had gotten to live without them. But there was still a chance to get his legs back, and that was to survive the trials and... He stopped himself, his mind racing with the possibilities.

"Am I going too far thinking of ways to heal my legs while I could be hallucinating in a bunker?" he thought, his eyes scanning the room as if searching for answers.

He took in the sight of the medical instruments across and around him, the beeping machines, and the sterile smell of medicine that filled the air. "Damn, even the smell of medicine in the air is so real, damn it, just kill me already, damn beast," he muttered, frustration etched in his voice.

With a sigh, he lay back in his bed, one hand behind his head and the other on his stomach, his eyes fixed on the ceiling once more. A few seconds passed, then a minute, and then a few more minutes.

"Was I by mistake saved by someone, but there is no one who is capable of fighting that monstrosity in my entire shelter?" Eclipse thought, his mind racing with questions. He wondered if he was by mistake alive and was rushed to a hospital, but even if he was brought to a hospital, their shelter didn't have this type of equipment, he was sure of it.

As he lay there, lost in thought, the door to his room creaked open, and a figure entered. Eclipse's head whipped towards the direction of the sound, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of the person who had just entered.