"Leonard, your fever is rising, you need a new dose in half an hour," Althea warned.

  Underneath the fever, something else stirred—a hollow sleepiness that hadn't been there before. Not pain. Not itching. Just... absence. Like my body was already beginning to forget what it felt like without the catalyst.

  Pythia's words rang in my mind: "Addicted." New dose regularly or I'll die. We were supposed to meet here with Evadne. My eyes scanned the armory desperately as if she could hide somewhere, which obviously she couldn't.

  "Althea, do you know how much time has passed since Evadne left?"

  "An hour and forty minutes." Her voice was strangely flat, calculated.

  "How do you know, by the way?"

  "Obviously, because I have a clock, dummy," Althea teased me.

  You little...! A spirit with a clock, obviously! Silly me, really.

  Movement caught my eye. Hector was waving at me, then making an inviting gesture.

  I shuffled toward him. Each step sent tremors through my legs. The fever made everything feel distant, wrapped in cotton. I heard Corvus's breath as he kept pace, close enough to catch me if I fell.

  I stepped into the gym. The air hit me—thick with sweat yet chilly, the temperature contrast making my skin prickle. The smooth polished floor was surprisingly grippy under my feet. I'd been shuffling to minimize the jarring impact on my joints, but the floor's texture forced me to raise my feet properly. Every lifted step cost me.

  Hector studied me as I approached, his expression shifting from welcome to concern.

  "You're just in time, Saint Leonard," he said, though his eyes told a different story. *You look like hell.* He measured me. "Good, I'll make sure today's a success too."

  I wanted to believe him. "How bad was it?" I asked. "Yesterday, I mean. From the outside."

  Hector's expression grew somber. "Brutus said after an hour you were like a wild animal, hissing and growling." He paused. "Then you went silent. That's when he got really worried."

  Silent. I didn't remember that part. What had I been like in those lost moments?

  "But you endured, despite everything," Hector continued, voice firm. "And succeeded. That's what matters." He clapped my shoulder gently—a gesture of respect. The contact still sparked pain at my shoulder, but I didn't flinch.

  "Thanks," I managed.

  He looked at Corvus, then past both of us. "Where's High Priestess?"

  "Good question. Probably still resting." I turned around, hoping to see her. The movement cost me—multiple spikes pierced my spine. "Can you call her?" I asked Hector.

  "What? By her spirit?" He twitched at the idea. "No, this... is very," he hesitated, "intimate thing to do, to call someone through their spirit."

  Intimate or not, I need my drug, and she said to contact her if need arises. I think this is it.

  "Althea, ask Evadne when she'll be here, ok?" I wiped my sleeve across my temple to get rid of drops of sweat. "Tell her the time's up."

  Althea didn't respond. My foot tapped the floor once, out of habit. A noise of frustration and pain hissed from between my clamped jaws.

  What's taking her so long? Is Althea doing what I asked for or not? I can ask, but will she tell me whole truth?

  "Althea, well? How is it?"

  "Give me a moment, Embodiment of Patience," Althea's soothing voice was full of sarcasm, "I wait for her reply."

  That damn Guide I swear...!

  After a moment that stretched awkwardly, Althea said.

  "She'll be here right away."

  Her words calmed me. To break the silence, I pointed at the large, leather belt, bar and weight plates lying behind Hector.

  "This for me?" I asked with raspy voice.

  "Maybe." He briefly nodded with lips turning gently upwards. "You drag your feet like you walked to hell and back," he said calmly, without mockery. "But fret not, today we focus on upper body."

  He gestured at the wall. "The catalyst bonds to bone and tissue. Every impact teaches your body how to accept it. How to integrate it."

  Integrate it. Like it was something that belonged inside me. Like I was supposed to become part metal, part flesh.

  "Just a different way to say training through torture," I said.

  "That's how potions work." He didn't deny it. "The pain receptors in the bones and connective tissue are enhanced."

  Then he continued on with new ways to "train me", but I was not naive. With the muddy potion it'll be torture. What an irony, I thought, the biggest challenge is not endurance or strength, but overcoming the pain potions induce.

  The sound of rushed footsteps growing louder prompted me to turn around, but this time I did it deliberately slowly. Evadne was half walking, half running toward us, her robes fresh and clean, but hair wet as if she just got out of the bath.

  "Sorry for calling you out like that," I started, "but Althea said I'm running out of time."

  Despite hurry, her breath was even and steady. She has good conditioning, I thought.

  "Let's start, but first, measurements."

  It turned out I'd gained 2 kilos, and my dry bone mass had increased by roughly 100 grams.

  I frowned. "Only 100 grams?"

  Evadne literally clapped her hands and almost jumped. "Only? That's impossible! In one day? This is a miracle!"

  We gave her cautious grins for her performance. She averted her gaze as she passed me the vials. Her hands were steady—professional—but her eyes wouldn't meet mine. Was she embarrassed by her enthusiastic reaction earlier? Or was it something else?

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The drugs themselves.

  She'd been trained as a healer. These potions didn't heal—they tortured. They were tools of controlled destruction, breaking down the body so it could be rebuilt stronger. Necessary, perhaps. But nothing about them aligned with a healer's purpose.

  I wondered if handing me these vials felt like betrayal to her. Like watching someone deliberately swallow poison and calling it medicine.

  "Thank you, Evadne," I said quietly, hoping she'd hear what I meant: I know this isn't easy for you either.

  She nodded once, still not meeting my eyes.

  I swallowed them quickly and conflicting sensation washed over me. My body cooled significantly. The ants in the potion seemed to be made of ice, soothing my fever. Yet they still pinched and scratched through me.

  "Optio Hector, proceed," Evadne said.

  He grunted, passing me the conditioning helmet. Level three, seven kilos. "As I said earlier. Upper body today." He moved to the wall, ignoring the bar on the floor. "Stand here." I stood where he pointed, then he put the belt across my chest and under my armpits. "Keep your core strong and lean on the wall."

  Experienced with "simply walk down the stairs" I hesitated. Following his command would make my hands bump on the hard surface. I had a pretty good idea what that meant. It would send force through my wrists, up the forearms, through the elbows, and into the shoulders. The little bugs inside me surely will react quickly. I gulped.

  "We don't have all day, Saint Leonard," Hector insisted.

  "You're right, I know, but still..." My voice trembled. All this 'heroic' courage and resolve suddenly seemed distant.

  Hector leaned in, still holding the belt. "Leonard, you can scream. You can cry. Anything that helps. I don't care. I've seen worse, trust me."

  I didn't reply, I shifted my body and landed on the wall. As expected the shockwave pointed the needles toward my arms. Hector pulled the belt putting me in the starting position. "Again," he said.

  After more repetitions than I could count, he commanded.

  "From now on, keep your elbow rigid for maximum impact. Again."

  I looked at him briefly, with anger, but did as he said anyway. The wall seemed to crush the bones in my palms on each hit, but Evadne insisted they're completely fine. And we continued, until Hector decided to make things more interesting.

  "Half step back. Rotate hands, fingers pointing outward. Again."

  "Water," I replied, hoping for a break. But Evadne was too efficient, the moment where she poured cold liquid to my mouth was too brief, barely giving any relief. Needles turned into chisels with horrific effect.

  "Finger pointing inward. Again."

  Time melted, my thoughts did the same. Single word, "again", echoed.

  "Land on your fists. Again."

  "Rotate fists outward. Again."

  "Inward. Again."

  Finally, Hector put the belt on the ground. My arms fell to my sides, two burning rods of fire. Hector took my hand and showed me how I should bend my fingers. He curled my fingers into a half-fist, aligning the middle knuckles—a leopard's paw. And ordered me to land on my bent fingers. Sadist.

  And Evadne? Merciless caretaker. She shoved white pulp into me whenever she had the chance.

  I did as he said, calling out to Evadne time and time again, asking her to check if my fingers weren't broken.

  "They're not broken," Evadne assured me each time, her voice steady. Professional. But I caught her glancing at Hector, something unspoken passing between them. Concern? Or confirmation that this was proceeding as planned?

  They were not broken, but perhaps I was.

  Then the brute pretending to be my trainer asked me to spread out my fingers and land on them again. Again. Again.

  "One step back. Again."

  The wall rushed up. My fingers bent wrong more than once, joints screaming.

  "Again."

  How...

  "Again."

  Much...

  "Again."

  More...

  "Now reverse it. Land on the top of your hands, knuckles toward the ceiling. Again."

  The first impact felt like the wall had crushed straight through skin to bone. No padding. No muscle. Just bone meeting wall with only a thin layer of skin between them, and the catalyst reacting to the direct skeletal shock like someone had lit my hand on fire from the inside out. My wrist was long gone, only burning hot pain remained.

  My vision darkened at the edges. The gym swam. I heard Hector's voice from somewhere far away: "Again."

  My arms were shaking. Not the controlled tension of exhausted muscles—the uncontrolled trembling of complete system failure. I could feel it happening. The disconnect between brain and body.

  Move. Move!

  "Again, just a little more, we'll switch to elbows soon."

  My arms finally gave in, elbows bent like broken matches. I didn't catch myself.

  Someone shouted, "No!"—Evadne's voice, breaking its professional calm for the first time.

  My head slammed into the wall.

  The loud thud sent an explosion of white-hot pain and I ceased to exist.