Theron awoke shivering, his body feeling as though it had gone from hell and back. He felt weak in ways he hadn't felt since his first nights in the assassination guild's trials, and this time he had no body but his own to keep him warm.
He should have found himself something strong, something powerful, something capable of helping him to reach another level. But every time he entered that space, it felt like he was being punished far more than he was gaining.
Coughing, Theron tried to stand, only to find that his body hardly had the power to do that. It wasn't that he was too weak to even lift up his own body weight, but instead that the inner armor was really becoming his own personal hell on earth.
It was already holding him back before; now the situation felt even worse than that.
