As I followed Pylades, Evadne walked beside me and Brutus followed like the shadow he was. It was only a few steps, but the ants in my body were growing impatient. Every step sent an annoying, itching wave up from my feet—shins, knees, hips—until it reached my head. The ants inside seemed to follow the sensation before dispersing when it faded.

  I glanced at Pylades, then at the doorframe ahead, then back at him.

  His face was serious.

  "Kick it," he said. "But carefully."

  I swallowed. If a simple walk itched like this, how would a kick feel?

  I raised one leg.

  "Without your boots," Pylades added.

  When I was taking the leather boots off, they pressed against my heels. Barefoot, I poked against the doorframe.

  Pain exploded through my toe. I gasped, suppressing a scream, though a loud groan escaped my lips.

  "I think I broke it," I mumbled through gritted teeth. My hand was on the doorframe, I leaned in toward the wall. As quickly as it came, the pain was replaced by itching inside my toe.

  Evadne knelt and took my raised foot in her hands. She grimaced as her eyes shifted to a dark grey.

  "It's intact." She looked up at me, the gold returning to her eyes. "The potions are working very well. We need to start quickly."

  With caution, I placed the foot on the chilly floor. Shifted my balance to press against both feet evenly.

  *Huh, it's really not broken.*

  When Evadne stood up and moved behind Pylades, the Centurion spoke: "You lack build, so we'll have to be creative." He held my arms with his massive hands. Brown tunic was stretched across his large frame. Buttons on his chest looked like heroes holding the cloth together. Bristles on his jaw didn't fit the sterile whiteness of the armory's main hall.

  "But don't worry." He looked down at me, and I noticed care and concern in his eyes. "Together with the High Priestess, we'll help you through this."

  *Thanks, Pylades.* Something that could generously be considered as 'worried smile' crawled on my face.

  "We'll use gravity to help us, avoiding straining your muscles—otherwise you'd collapse from exhaustion before we've put enough stress on your frame."

  *Well, that sounds ominous.*

  "Priest Marcus," he turned to the keeper of the armory, who'd been carefully watching our every move from the tall lectern nearby. "Please bring the conditioning helmet. First level."

  "Right away." Marcus went to what appeared to be a wall but turned out to be a hidden door that raised up with the barely heard sound of decompressed air. One moment there was smooth surface, the other part of the wall lifted up revealing the blue lit stairs down. Near them were shelves and wooden crates, rest outside of my sight. Just a normal storage if not for the strange light.

  When he returned, he held a helmet with molded additional layers of metal—it looked like someone had welded steel bricks on top of it.

  "This weighs three kilograms." He passed the helmet to Pylades.

  Pylades placed it on my head. It was cushioned inside, but the weight alone triggered a dull pain that drew the ants in my neck toward the vertebrae.

  "Alright," Pylades said. "Now we climb down the stairs."

  I reached for my boots, but Pylades stopped my hand.

  "Barefoot."

  ~ ? ? ~

  We took the elevator. Inside wooden interior there was nothing except a piece of copper plate with Pandora's symbols engraved. Looked very, very old, but well cared for. Evadne pressed her wrist against it. At the edge of hearing, a bee's hum and, with barely felt movement, we arrived at the top floor within a minute or so. When we stepped out, Pylades pointed me toward the stairs.

  "Simply walk down," he said.

  *Yeah, simple.*

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Evadne turned to Brutus. "Go first. If he loses balance, you must catch him. At all costs."

  Brutus nodded and moved into position ahead of me.

  I looked down the stairs. Muffled noises of the Temple - a cough, whispers, footsteps - filled the warm air. Grim descent was barely lit with one tiny window until landing. Then stairs turned around the corner, hiding the rest of my path. Stone underneath my bare feet was rough and grippy in some places, but dangerously smooth in other, more commonly used parts.

  *You only live once.*

  I started the descent, surrounded. Pylades on my side, Evadne behind.

  I raised my leg and carefully placed my foot on the step below, trying to minimize the impact.

  Althea's voice chimed in my mind, gentle but edged with threat. "This is not effective. The catalysts will settle randomly before you guide them properly. Use controlled force—stomp down."

  Surprisingly, Pylades echoed her. "This is not a procession, Saint Leonard. Push those legs harder."

  I did.

  The stairs fought back. A shockwave traveled up my skeleton—not intense, but enough to transform the itch into a nagging, pricking sensation that drove deep into my bones. Each step sent the irritation upward from my feet and downward from this damn helmet, meeting somewhere in my spine.

  Over and over.

  As my body shifted for the next step, my knee bore my full weight for a moment. Then my ankle joined. Lastly, my toes bore the burden. I felt the tendons stretching, joints grinding—but that wasn't all. The needles inside me went wild, as if angry at my moving parts.

  Over and over.

  My vision blurred, narrowing to just my legs moving forward and the few steps ahead. I tried to stabilize myself against the wall, but Pylades stopped my hand.

  "Use your core. No cheating."

  Every nerve screamed for me to stop. Instead, Pylades barked more corrections.

  "Look up. Shoulder blades together. Stick out your chest." A sharp finger jabbed my sternum. "I said chest, not butt."

  This continued until we reached the bottom floor. Relieved, I tried to sit down, but Pylades was merciless.

  "Okay, once again. But this time you go backwards."

  ~ ? ? ~

  A simple walk down the stairs had turned out to be a torture. This was the fourth descent.

  This time I was moving sideways, perpendicular to the stairs. Right foot first, then the left. The previous descent had been the opposite—left foot leading, then right.

  My body burned. Pain spread like wildfire throughout my legs, hips, and spine.

  "Leonard, you're doing very well!" Althea cheered me on. "The catalysts are highly engaged. You've bought yourself some time."

  "Step aside," Brutus' voice boomed through the staircase. I tried to focus on two figures below.

  "Saint Leonard?" Somebody said, pressing themselves to the wall as I passed, "Keep going! Show us what a Street Cat can do!"

  His companion nodded. "Right!"

  *Yes, now the right leg. Now left, right, left...*

  ~ ? ? ~

  Time dissolved.

  Forward. Backward. Sideways. I'd lost count of descents.

  The elevator became my sanctuary—a fleeting moment where my legs trembled and the helmet pressed down, down, down. Time to replenish the sweat pouring off me. At some point—who knows when—Evadne appeared with a bowl, stealing my precious rest to feed me.

  "You need to eat so your body has building blocks to strengthen you." She shoved spoon after spoon into my mouth, frantic, not wasting a second. "Before you collapse."

  "Again," Pylades would say when the doors opened.

  *Again. Always again.*

  My vision had collapsed to a tunnel. Just stairs. Just legs. Just helmet. Just pain.

  The ants weren't ants anymore. They were hammers. Tiny, relentless hammers pounding from inside my bones with every step.

  "How many?" I asked at some point. My voice sounded distant, not mine.

  "Enough," Pylades said.

  *Yes, finally.*

  "Now we add weight." His words crushed my hope.

  ~ ? ? ~

  "Level two. Five kilos," Marcus said.

  Pylades placed the new helmet on my head. It pressed relentlessly against my sore neck. But I felt it down along the spine, even in the hips. Constant. Nagging. Pressure. Even motionless, every tendon, cartilage, and joint in my legs was swarmed and hammered from within.

  The same routine began. I managed three more descents before I fell. But Brutus caught me, Evadne steadied me, and Pylades forced me to continue. And I continued. Not sure how many times more. Until I couldn't. Everything went blank.

  I just turned off, as if somebody pulled the plug.

  *Finally.*

  *I can res-*

  ~ ? ? ~

  Leonard hung in Brutus' arms like a soulless vessel. The guard gently placed him on the stairs, stabilizing his head.

  "Finally," Pylades said. "Took him long enough." He sighed, then chuckled, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Resilient bastard."

  "Watch it," I said, breathless. "He's Pandora's chosen." My robe clung to me, soaked with hours of stress and exertion.

  *We should carry him over to his room.*

  My Aide's voice resonated in my mind. "High Priestess, Saint's Guide insists on continuation."

  *What? He is unconscious.*

  "She reports continued catalyst release from the potion."

  *Impossible. Normal metabolism should have neutralized thirty percent by now.*

  "She claims hyper-compatibility. Catalyst binding at eighty-six percent. And dropping."

  *Dropping?*

  "Two hours before uncontrolled catalyst settlement," my Aide said.

  *Aide Micheal. Activate Cursed Eyes.*

  Pain flared behind my eyes as the world transformed. Colors drained to essence and energy, flesh fading to shadow.

  Leonard's skeleton and connective tissue burned white-hot against the darkness. Catalyst particles swarmed his vessel—far more than any previous participant at this stage. The seal mark pulsed at his wrist, intact. Neural pathways were on fire, but clear.

  Brain activity was minimal. He was alive, but his strained neural system had given in. A total shutdown.

  *By now, the catalyst should have settled. But it was still entering his system. Flooding it.*

  *Hyper-compatibility means higher potion efficiency. Faster failure if the pain stops guiding it.*

  *We have two hours before critical binding failure.*

  "Hour fifty minutes," Aide Micheal updated, but barely a minute passed.

  *No.*

  *No, no!*

  I shook my head, hair whipping with the sudden movement.

  *This is bad.*

  My sweaty hand shot up to my wrinkled forehead.

  *Deactivate Cursed Eyes.*

  The vision faded. I blinked away tears from the pain. He is unconscious, but his pain receptors are active. We need to guide the catalyst. Forcefully. Now.

  "Centurion," I said, my voice shaking but resolute. "We need to throw him."