Father Black moved again.
He crossed the chamber and activated another array of contraptions embedded into the wall. Plates shifted. Runes realigned. With a smooth, almost wet sound, a sleek black box slid forward and opened.
Inside rested a syringe.
It was massive—far larger than anything meant for a normal body. The barrel was etched with infernal circuitry, and inside sloshed a golden liquid, thick and luminous, like condensed sunlight mixed with molten mana.
Athena's brow furrowed.
"What is that?"
Father Black did not look away from the syringe as he answered.
"A specially engineered adrenaline," he said calmly. "In the body of a mortal man, it could make him fight a war for an entire month without sleep, food, or rest."
He paused.
"After that… the body collapses. Death is guaranteed."
Athena stiffened.
