The Final Imprisonment

Strength was a person's source of confidence.

Life was too.

When what had once been a long lifespan suddenly became the brief century of an ordinary human.

Carol, already nearing fifty, finally lost the last of her stubbornness.

"No, no, no, no!"

She no longer had even a trace of calmness.

Nor did she have that stubborn resolve that always made her rise again after setbacks.

She shakily raised her hands, then frantically touched her face with trembling fingers.

How had her arms become so withered?

How had such ugly wrinkles appeared on her cheeks?

Carol froze.

Her eyes, already dim from weakness, suddenly lost all their color.

Carol felt as though she had fallen into a pitch-black well, with the entire world slipping away from her.

"Already starting to suffer? Don't worry. Humans are highly adaptable creatures. You'll soon adapt to this pain. Like Nightmare, it will hover over your head for the rest of your life."

Leon's voice jolted Carol awake.

Her dull eyes turned toward Leon, as if she had suddenly seen hope again.

"Don't do this, Superman. Please, don't do this!"

"Give them back to me, please. Give them back. I can't lose them, I..."

Carol had never regretted anything as much as she did now.

She should not have returned to Earth, should not have provoked Superman with force, and should not have presumptuously agreed to let the Skrulls stay on behalf of all humanity just because of old feelings and sympathy.

Too many things she should not have done had led to the current situation.

Perhaps the thing she should not have done most was stubbornly insisting on her own views despite being far weaker than Superman.

Carol crawled toward Leon on all fours, but her voice and movements came to an abrupt halt.