Chapter 24 – Holy Light on Strike
When Leonard pushed open the apartment door, Ethan was sprawled on the couch watching Sheldon tinker with the fish tank.
"Hey," Leonard said. "I just ran into Penny downstairs. She seemed pretty upset."
"Probably menstruating." Sheldon didn't look up. "I've documented her cycle on my calendar for predictive analysis."
"Sheldon, I've told you a hundred times: that's a massive invasion of privacy and incredibly inappropriate," Ethan drawled from the sofa.
"Also," he added, "take that 'Penny Emotional Volatility Forecast' chart off the fridge. Every time I grab a beer I feel like I'm living with a stalker."
"Why?" Sheldon shot back. "Are you suggesting the data model lacks scientific validity?"
"I'm saying it's creepy as hell. If Penny sees it, we're all dead," Ethan replied flatly.
"Remember what happened when you pulled the exact same stunt tracking Peggy's moods? Her revenge?"
Sheldon froze mid-adjustment, then immediately bolted to the refrigerator and shredded the chart into confetti.
"You make a valid point," he said with complete seriousness. "We maintain the dataset internally." He tapped his temple. "No need to inform the test subject."
Leonard watched this exchange, decided to completely ignore that rabbit hole, and gestured at the aquarium. "So… what's going on with the fish tank?"
Sheldon returned to his aquarium setup. "It's a biological experiment."
"What happened to your revolutionary scrambled-egg research?"
"Dead end." Sheldon dismissed it with a wave. "Eggs are fundamentally limited; protein flavor profiles plateau rapidly. I've exhausted the theoretical possibilities."
Leonard frowned. "So… now you're experimenting on fish?"
"I read that Japanese researchers successfully spliced bioluminescent jellyfish DNA into other organisms. Logical next step: 'Genetically modified glow-in-the-dark goldfish!'"
"Glow-in-the-dark fish?" Leonard looked skeptically at Ethan, who just shrugged helplessly.
Sheldon was deadly serious. "Fortune-making innovation! Patent pending—keep it confidential!"
Leonard raised both hands defensively. "I won't say a word."
Ethan sighed heavily. "His exact words earlier were: 'If nature can achieve bioluminescence, why are we still dependent on Edison's obsolete technology?' I attempted to explain basic cost-benefit analysis and infrastructure requirements, but he was already planning massive fish breeding operations in sub-Saharan Africa to solve the global energy crisis."
"Africa?" Leonard echoed incredulously.
"Energy-impoverished regions require disruptive innovation," Sheldon explained matter-of-factly.
Leonard couldn't help himself. "Sheldon, are you absolutely sure you don't want to just apologize to Dr. Gablehauser and return to work at the university?"
"Absolutely not. I have far too many projects requiring my attention."
"Like… breeding bioluminescent goldfish to illuminate Africa?"
"Shh! Leonard!" Sheldon hissed urgently, finger to lips. "That's merely phase one. I'm also developing a subscription-based bulk feminine-hygiene distribution company—and—"
Ethan cut in desperately. "Sheldon! Do NOT finish that sentence!"
Too late.
Sheldon announced proudly, "Glow-stick tampons for enhanced visibility in low-light conditions!"
Leonard's jaw literally dropped open.
"Ethan claims this concept will trigger a gender-based vendetta against us," Sheldon said, glancing over dismissively. "Leonard, your professional opinion?"
"We'll revolutionize the market! Imagine perfect product placement verification even in complete darkness! Utility integrated with cutting-edge technology!"
Ethan buried his face completely in a throw pillow, groaning audibly.
Leonard stood absolutely speechless.
Only after frantic intervention from both roommates did Sheldon reluctantly abandon his "revolutionary" feminine-care technology empire.
Leonard turned to Ethan with concern. "Penny mentioned she's worried about you. Says you seem really off lately. Everything okay?"
"Thanks for checking, Leonard. Just working through some complicated personal stuff."
"Alright. Let me know if you need anything—seriously."
Three sun-drenched California weeks slipped quietly by.
Outside, brilliant sunshine; inside apartment 4A, blackout curtains sealed completely shut.
Ethan carried fresh coffee into the living room and discovered Sheldon seated before three curved 4K monitors, eyes peacefully closed.
Looping forest scenes played onscreen; a box fan provided ambient white noise; an essential oil diffuser pumped out synthetic "pine-forest-floor" aromatherapy mist.
Ethan surveyed the elaborate setup, hesitated awkwardly, then asked, "Sheldon… are you watching the Discovery Channel?"
"Negative." Sheldon opened his eyes calmly. "Virtual reality immersion therapy. I've digitally reconstructed Yosemite National Park: precisely seventy-two degrees Fahrenheit, forty-seven percent humidity, gentle 3.2 mph breeze simulation, authentic forest scent profile.
Seated here, I experience complete nature immersion without harmful UV radiation exposure or contamination from other humans."
Ethan stared in disbelief. "Most people cure three-week cabin fever by actually stepping outside their apartment."
"I have zero biological requirement for 'outdoor exposure.' I possess adequate nutrition, high-speed internet, hand sanitizer, and—optimally—absolutely zero unwanted human interaction."
"But humans need social contact to maintain—"
Ethan paused, searching for the right word, "—basic psychological stability."
"Incorrect. Psychologists propagate that myth to justify their profession and textbook sales.
You and I both understand the human brain functions perfectly well in extended isolation. My cognitive performance metrics are statistically superior to baseline."
Ethan rubbed his temples wearily. "So you're genuinely never leaving this apartment again..."
Sheldon glanced up briefly. "At least I'm maintaining productivity. Unlike someone who spends two hours daily staring at pigeons."
"That's meditation practice."
"Yet when one flew through the window and stole your AirPods, you chased it around the apartment screaming."
"That was instinctive response," Ethan muttered defensively.
Click-clack, click-clack—Sheldon methodically wove fabric at his newly purchased loom.
Ethan sat cross-legged nearby, coffee mug in hand, eyes fixed on the pothos plant on the windowsill.
Almost automatically he raised both hands to cast his absolute favorite spell—Renew.
Back in his pre-transmigration World of Warcraft days it had been instant-cast, mana-efficient, and extremely reliable.
In this reality it remained his most-used, most-practiced healing spell—a daily reflex as natural as breathing.
Usually warm, gentle golden light flowed smoothly from his palms.
This time the holy light sputtered weakly, then barely glimmered over his skin. Instead of the familiar healing warmth, it jittered chaotically inside his chest cavity, leaving uncomfortable heart palpitations and sudden vertigo.
He frowned deeply, troubled.
Ever since discovering the shadow energy was impossible to purge or diminish, his healing spells had become increasingly unstable.
At first he'd blamed simple mana depletion and exhaustion.
Three full weeks had passed; absolutely nothing had improved.
He lowered his hands slowly, genuinely bewildered—his single most reliable spell was now completely erratic and effectively useless.
"Perfect. Holy Light's officially on strike."
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P1treon Soulforger (20+chapters ahead)