Third Person POV
Conner's shout tore through the air the moment his patience snapped. "HAA!" he roared, swinging his Tyranno Staff with all the force of his fury.
The White Ranger caught the strike in one hand.
A heartbeat later, Conner was hurled across the battlefield, slamming into a concrete wall with so much force that a crater formed behind him. Conner grunted as he slid to the ground.
"Stay out of this, Red," the White Ranger spat.
"Stop!" Ethan and Kira both cried out, charging forward to the White Ranger without hesitation.
"You're seriously getting on my nerves!" Ethan snapped, his voice losing its usual playful rhythm, replaced by rage. His Tricera Shield struck with vibrating power, but the White Ranger shoved him aside like he weighed nothing.
"Ptera Grips!" Kira shouted. She lunged forward, striking with sharp, precise movements—only to be kicked brutally in the side. She hit the floor with a cry, skidding several feet away.
From the sidelines, Amaris watched her friends fall one after another, her heart tightening under the weight of each blow.
"Thank you for your assistance, Rangers," her mechanical voice rang out, calm even as she panted. "Allow me to conclude this conflict, White Ranger."
The White Ranger's stance wavered; even he was exhausted, body heaving with uneven breaths.
Amaris nocked another arrow to her Chrono Bow, her aim steady despite her trembling muscles.
But before she could release it, the White Ranger staggered. His hand flew to his helmet as a cry of agony ripped from his throat.
'This is it. This is my cue,' she realized. 'Trent is beginning to regain control.'
Her breath left her in a soft, relieved exhale. She tapped her belt, her bow returning to its slot and sprinted forward.
She reached Trent in two strides, hooking his arm carefully around her shoulder. But before she could move—
A beam of crackling energy tore toward them.
She twisted, narrowly dodging it.
The monster responsible—a hulking crocodile-like creature—growled, "The party's not over yet, Violet Ranger."
"Then I must apologize," Amaris replied, voice firm but unfailingly polite. "We will unfortunately be unable to attend your gathering."
Her mind raced. 'This is dire. I am nearly spent… and Trent may detransform at any moment. If that happens in front of the others—'
She didn't get to finish the thought.
Someone stepped in front of her.
The Blue Ranger—Ethan.
"You've got something you need to do, right?" Ethan said, not looking at her, his eyes locked on the monster. "Leave this guy to us."
Amaris dipped her head gratefully. "Understood. Thank you."
A small smile—hidden beneath her helmet—bloomed across her face.
She adjusted Trent's weight, then leapt upward, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, keeping to the shadows. Each movement strained her already battered body, but she pushed forward until they reached a quiet, secluded alley.
The moment her boots hit the ground, the White Ranger's armor dissolved in a shimmer of white light.
Trent collapsed to the ground. Fortunately, Amaris was able to catch his head.
Amaris let out a quiet breath of relief before detransforming herself. The instant her armor vanished, the full aftermath of the earlier battle crashed into her—her entire body aching so sharply it felt as though she'd been struck by a truck (again).
Ignoring the pain, she knelt beside him. "Trent, Trent," she said softly, worry threading through her gentle voice.
Trent stirred, his vision was hazy—his last memory was at the Shin Estate.
"Wh—what happened, Amaris?" His voice was hoarse, thick with confusion. Pain radiated through his limbs.
Then, like a dam breaking, the memories arrived—the destruction, his attacks, hurting the Rangers… hurting her.
He trembled.
"Amaris, I—"
The sentence ended in a pained gasp.
"Trent, please—are you all right?" Amaris asked, voice threaded with soft concern.
"I—I'm fine," Trent lied, bowing his head, shame creeping into every word. "I'm sorry, Amaris. I'm sorry I hurt you."
Despite her own pain, Amaris offered him a warm and reassuring smile.
"Please do not apologize," she murmured. "If anything… I should be the one expressing regret, Trent."
She sat beside him slowly, her shoulder ached as it brushed past against his, before she eased into a seat.
"I pressured you into designing Prototype 187. That was most inconsiderate of me."
"No—no, you shouldn't be sorry for that," Trent said quickly, lifting and waving his hand only to flinch when pain shot up his arm. He exhaled shakily. "It wasn't your fault."
He wanted to say more, but every word burned through his aching body.
Amaris watched him with a conflicted expression—guilt, sympathy, and determination all woven together. Then she took a steady breath.
"...I will remove the evil encoding, Trent," she said gently, but with unwavering resolve. "I assure you… I will not allow you to suffer like this any longer."
Trent's eyes softened. He managed a tired, but grateful smile.
"I'll help however I can… partner."