Chapter 1043: Startling Ordinary People (Twenty) (Patreon)

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"You may not know that psychology and psychiatry are very young disciplines," sighed Steve. "When I was young, I heard many terrifying rumors about asylums."

"Some of them were just rumors, but some were true. Many asylums in Europe even exhibited some rare cases of mental patients as if they were animals, selling tickets to attract attention."

Steve crossed his arms and lowered his head. A struggling expression appeared on his face. Stark put away his armor and walked over to him. When he turned his head to look at him, he saw shades of Howard in his expression.

Stark remembered vividly the times when his father, drunk as a skunk, leaned on the lab table with a similar expression. At that time, the glorious past that came out of his mouth seemed to be covered in an obscure shadow that no one could see through.

Steve looked at the lights illuminating the emergency room and the blurry figures visible through the door, as if gathering courage. He took a deep breath and said:

"The medical standards of that era might seem absurd and primitive to you, even as primitive as cavemen. But if regular medical techniques are likened to cavemen, then the treatment for mental illness is akin to using grass shoes."

"If someone goes mad, you give them sleeping pills to calm down. If someone wants to attack others, you knock them out and tie them up until they regain their senses. And that's considered a relatively civilized method adopted by mental hospitals. As for the less civilized ones..."

Steve bit his lip, still feeling uncomfortable about exposing the darkness of the past era voluntarily. But he persisted, saying, "If Schiller is indeed from my era, then such medical accidents are quite normal."

"The initial doctor gave him insufficient medication, causing him to lose control and harm someone who was good to him, leaving him with a deeper psychological shadow. In that era, it couldn't even be called a medical accident, after all, he still received some form of treatment."

Steve's face showed a sad expression, and he summarized with a touch of despair, "It was an era that didn't allow weakness."

"If you expressed views contrary to public opinion, you'd be considered a lunatic. If your behavior was abnormal, you'd be sent to a mental hospital. And true mental patients could only spend their lives in dark dungeons. Schiller is already considered lucky."

Steve closed his eyes in pain and said, "All the drive I gained from that era, all my nostalgia for it, is actually because I was lucky enough to undergo transformation and gain abilities far beyond ordinary people."

"And in that backward era, there was too much suffering among ordinary people, not even a bit of it recorded. I'm aware of this, which is why I feel guilty about my nostalgia..."

Steve took a deep breath, wanting to say the next sentence, but Stark reached out and patted his shoulder, speaking first, "So, because of certain accidents, Schiller was left with a psychological shadow. But why, did it suddenly erupt this time?"

Strange squinted and said, "No, perhaps he didn't never show it before, we just didn't notice."

After saying that, he reminisced to himself, "The first time I met Schiller was at a very important joint consultation at Presbyterian Hospital. The patient not only had neurological diseases but also had certain psychological issues, so they needed a psychologist to join the consultation."

"At that time, I arrived at the consultation site first, but even until the scheduled start time, there was no sign of the consultation starting. I asked the assistant next to me, and he said someone was late."

Strange frowned, obviously, it wasn't a pleasant memory for him either. He sighed and said, "I was about to see who was so bold as to be absent from the consultation I attended. Don't they know my time is more valuable than gold?"

"At this time, Schiller came in..." Strange showed a complex expression of crying and laughing, saying, "You guys don't know, his state at that time was so bad, reeking of alcohol, clearly been drinking all night. Not only that, his uniform was untidy, the nametag was upside down, and there was powder on his glasses from who knows where. Clearly, he was a complete wreck of a junkie..."

Stark silently glanced back at the door of the emergency room, making sure Schiller wouldn't suddenly rush out and punch him. So, he lowered his voice and said, "The first time I met him wasn't much better either. Though I wasn't in a good state, he was the same."

"He looked like he'd been staying up all night, worse than me, and definitely not a fitness enthusiast. He exuded an air of decadence from head to toe." Stark shook his head and continued, "I'm not slandering him. For a long time, his state wasn't great."

"So, Dr. Schiller used to drink excessively too?" Peter frowned deeply and said, "That's completely different from the Dr. Schiller I know! Since I've known him, he's been a very good doctor."

Steve patted Peter's shoulder and said, "Yes, Schiller is indeed skilled in medicine and very patient with you. He's a good teacher for you. But it's undeniable that his state wasn't great during the time he first met us."

"I think, the situation at that time was probably similar to now. His mental trauma led to the recurrence of his psychological illness, and he could only drown his sorrows in alcohol." Strange sighed and said, "Well, if I had known he was a mental patient, I would have been more careful with my words."

"But back then, he hadn't developed self-harm, had he?" Matt raised an objection. "These wounds definitely look like they were self-inflicted."

Matt pointed out a fact that several people had already noticed. Considering Schiller's abilities, it was almost impossible for someone else to leave such deep wounds on him. After all, he was like a mist. How could mist get injured?

If Schiller had immersed himself in his psychological trauma before, the reason he hadn't resorted to self-harm might be that his life situation had changed, something distracting his attention. Stark rubbed his chin, analyzing with psychology theories he had read before.

"What you're saying is very likely us," Steve made a judgment. "During that time, he met several of us successively and then threw himself into busy work."

"But this time, the reason for his illness should be that he's too busy, the dual pressure of physical and psychological stress causing his mental illness to relapse."

"Now is not the time to discuss the cause," Strange said, crossing his arms. "The event has already occurred. We need to discuss how to heal Schiller's soul trauma. We can't just let him suffer like this."

"Have you sorcerers got any unique insights into soul trauma?" Stark turned to him. Strange rubbed his chin and said, "Actually, the so-called soul trauma has certain similarities with current theories of mental illness."

"When people encounter major upheavals, the soul becomes unstable. At this time, small wounds may appear, and if these wounds are further stimulated and expanded, from a medical perspective, it's considered as developing a mental illness. In magical terms, it's a soul trauma."

"The wound on Schiller might have already existed, originating from his experiences in the mental hospital before. And this time, due to excessive busyness, and..."

Strange hesitated for a moment, glanced at the others, who all lowered their heads in shame. So, he sighed and continued, "And the series of unexpected events involving us one after another, led to him being stimulated again, causing his soul wound to rupture."

"It's all my fault," Peter said, dejectedly hanging his head. "At the time, I noticed that Dr. Schiller wasn't doing well, but I was too absorbed in my own troubles. I should have turned my head and left..."

Steve furrowed his brow and said, "I also felt something was off at the time. Schiller never drinks, so why did he suddenly invite me for a drink?"

After saying that, they all looked at Stark again.

Stark pursed his lips, feeling somewhat embarrassed. "Alright, alright, you guys are all thoughtful and kind-hearted people, while I thought he was just after money and didn't care about his life."

"I had already prepared for my medical expenses for this quarter, leaving myself half a year's worth of work for nothing."

After that, he stomped his foot in place, touching the stubble on his chin. "So, how do we treat his wounds?"

"Later, I'll transfer Schiller to the Mirror Dimension and then have the sorcerers from Kamar-Taj draw a healing Magic Circle to see if we can increase the strength of his soul by forcefully injecting energy."

"Wait a moment, after the doctor leaves, I'll have my Mech armor bring in some monitoring devices to record changes in his body data..."

The group huddled together, figuring out how to improve Schiller's condition. Meanwhile, lying in the emergency room, Schiller's thoughts towered high, yet appeared unusually calm.

Marvel Schiller, with a gruesome wound on his neck, smiled indifferently and shrugged at Superego, saying, "Sorry, money over life."

Superego shook his head helplessly, as if he had expected this, and said, "You should know that the experiences Schiller went through are indelible psychological traumas for all the personality fragments. Our autism has never truly been cured."

"Therefore, whenever any personality trait floats to the surface due to excessive stress, triggering a traumatic stress response, it will result in injury."

Superego looked Marvel Schiller up and down and said, "They are planning to treat you now. If you want to rest, you can refrain from emerging for a while, or you can let Arrogance take over."

"Forget it, I'd rather remain unconscious," Marvel Schiller shrugged. "No matter how much they fuss, as long as no personality traits surface, I won't wake up."

Superego nodded silently and left. After he left, Marvel Schiller revealed a mysterious smile.

Not long after, a figure appeared at the entrance of the asylum. The wound on his neck, from the jawbone to the collarbone, was so deep and prominent, blood flowing continuously, coloring half of his body a dark red.

He walked straight in, heading for the farthest door.

A figure holding a knife rushed out at lightning speed, blocking his path. But the moment he saw the wound on his neck, he froze in place.

Marvel Schiller tilted his head back, reached out his hand, and plunged it deep into the wound on his neck. As blood gushed out, Moonlight Schiller took two steps back, shaking his head vigorously, as if seeing some hallucination.

"That's your doing," Marvel Schiller stepped forward, speaking in a low tone. "You know, who you've hurt like this, and what serious consequences such an injury would bring if inflicted on an ordinary person."

Marvel Schiller pressed harder, and Moonlight Schiller's hand began to tremble. He could barely hold the knife, staring intently at Marvel Schiller and said, "You're insane! That's our shared scar. You'll break down and bleed from it too..."

As he said, the wound on Marvel Schiller's neck began to deepen, spreading to half of his chest. But there was no sign of pain in his eyes. He said, "I know, but I don't care."

"No Schiller can afford not to care." Moonlight Schiller had no choice but to retreat. The door was right in front of him. Marvel Schiller didn't intend to waste any more words with him and charged forward.

Moonlight Schiller raised his hand to block, but in his eyes, Marvel Schiller's face began to blink continuously, showing the face of another person. Trembling arms and terrifying hallucinations made him unable to resist. In an instant, his knife was knocked away, and before he could shout, he was grabbed by the neck and pinned against the wall.

There was nothing in Marvel Schiller's eyes but endless greed, like the flying seeds ignited by lightning on the vast grassland.

With blood-soaked muscles bulging, fingers exerting force, Moonlight Schiller struggled continuously, uttering painful groans. Until finally, he couldn't even call out for Superego and fell into complete unconsciousness.

Marvel Schiller tossed Moonlight Schiller aside like garbage, picked up the umbrella knife that he had knocked away, grasped the handle, and thrust it into the lock.

As the door slowly opened, revealing the corpse lying on the sickbed, Schiller revealed a crazy and dangerous smile.

"I've found you."

[Read at www.patreon.com/shanefreak, and thanks for the invaluable support!]

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Next Chapter>>Chapter 1044: The Astonishing Mortal (Twenty-One)