CHAPTER 7 – THE FIRST WARNING

The sound of skates cutting across the ice echoed throughout the training rink.

Xyrus moved across the surface with determination, passing the puck to one of his teammates before turning toward the goal. He had been looking forward to returning to practice, even though Oliot had specifically instructed him to avoid strenuous activities.

But staying away from hockey was becoming increasingly difficult.

He missed the competition, the excitement, and the feeling of being part of his team.

Most importantly, he hated feeling helpless.

"Xyrus! Over here!"

He caught the puck and passed it without hesitation. His teammate returned it, allowing him to take a shot.

The puck flew toward the goal.

Unfortunately, just as Xyrus prepared to move again, an uncomfortable sensation spread across his chest.

He slowed down.

At first, he thought it was ordinary exhaustion. However, the discomfort quickly became sharper, making it difficult to breathe properly.

He pressed a hand against his chest.

"Not again," he whispered.

His vision briefly blurred.

He tried to take another breath, but his lungs seemed unable to cooperate. His knees weakened, and he struggled to remain standing.

"Xyrus!"

One of his teammates rushed toward him.

"Hey, what's happening?"

"I'm fine," Xyrus answered weakly.

But his body betrayed him.

He stumbled forward, dropping his hockey stick onto the ice.

His teammate immediately caught his arm.

"You're not fine. Look at your face!"

The coach blew his whistle, stopping the entire practice.

"Everybody, move back!"

He hurried toward Xyrus, whose breathing had become increasingly irregular.

"Get him off the ice. Now!"

Two teammates helped Xyrus toward the bench while the coach contacted the team's medical staff.

Xyrus lowered himself onto a seat, trying to control his breathing.

"What happened?" the coach asked.

"I don't know. It just started hurting."

"Is it your chest again?"

Xyrus nodded reluctantly.

The coach frowned.

"Didn't your doctor tell you to rest?"

"I know what he told me."

"Then why are you practicing?"

Xyrus looked away.

"Because I can't keep sitting around while everyone else plays."

"Your career won't matter if you destroy your health trying to protect it."

Xyrus remained silent.

The coach crouched in front of him.

"You're getting another examination. That's not negotiable."

Xyrus sighed.

He already knew which doctor he would have to face.

An hour later, Xyrus sat inside the medical examination room.

Oliot stood beside the desk, reviewing the initial report sent by the team's medical staff.

When he heard the door open, he looked up.

Their eyes met.

"Xyrus."

"Doctor."

Oliot noticed the irritation on his patient's face.

"I heard about what happened during practice."

"Then you already know why I'm here."

"Sit down. I need to examine you."

Xyrus crossed his arms.

"Before that, I want some answers."

Oliot placed the report on the desk.

"Your examination comes first."

"That's always your answer. Examine me, tell me to rest, and refuse to explain anything."

"Xyrus, this isn't the time to argue."

"Then when? When I'm unable to stand? When I collapse in the middle of another game?"

Oliot fell silent.

He understood the athlete's frustration, but the latest symptoms worried him more than he wanted to reveal.

"Tell me exactly what happened."

Xyrus described the sudden chest discomfort, blurred vision, and difficulty breathing.

Oliot listened carefully, writing down every detail.

"Did you experience dizziness before the chest pain?"

"Yes. Everything happened almost at once."

"How long did it last?"

"Several minutes. I'm still feeling a little uncomfortable."

Oliot immediately became serious.

"We need to check your vital signs and arrange further medical evaluation. If the chest pain or breathing difficulty is still present, you need urgent assessment rather than a routine examination."

Xyrus watched him prepare the equipment.

"Is this connected to my previous condition?"

Oliot paused.

"It could be."

"Could be? Doctor, you've examined me several times. Don't you know what's happening?"

"I need more information before making a conclusion."

Xyrus gave a humorless laugh.

"Sometimes I think you know more than you're telling me."

Oliot's hand tightened around his pen.

For a moment, neither man spoke.

Then Xyrus asked the question Oliot had been dreading.

"Did something happen during one of my previous examinations?"

Oliot looked directly at him.

"What makes you ask that?"

"Because ever since you started treating me, my body hasn't felt normal. And every time I ask about it, you look like you're hiding something."

Oliot struggled to maintain his composure.

He wanted to confess.

He wanted to explain the experiment, the unauthorized procedure, and the complications he had failed to disclose.

But fear held him back.

"Your symptoms require further investigation," he finally answered.

"That's not what I asked."

"I know."

Xyrus stared at him, disappointed.

"Then give me a real answer."

Before Oliot could respond, his computer displayed a notification.

A message had arrived from the confidential research account.

He glanced at the screen.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: The latest episode confirms that the reaction is progressing. Have you scheduled the next procedure?

Oliot quickly closed the notification.

Unfortunately, Xyrus noticed his sudden movement.

"Who was that?"

"Nothing related to your examination."

"You're doing it again."

Oliot turned away from the computer.

"Xyrus, listen to me. You must stop training until we understand what's happening. Don't return to the ice, even if you start feeling better."

"Am I going to lose my career?"

The question caught Oliot off guard.

He looked at the athlete, noticing the fear hidden beneath his anger.

"I don't know yet," he admitted. "But continuing to push yourself could make things worse."

Xyrus lowered his eyes.

For the first time that afternoon, his frustration gave way to genuine fear.

"All I've ever wanted was to play hockey. I worked too hard to get here."

Oliot softened his voice.

"I understand."

"No, you don't. You have no idea what this means to me."

Oliot said nothing.

He knew that Xyrus was right.

He had no right to ask for trust when he had deliberately taken away his patient's ability to make informed decisions about his own body.

After the examination, Xyrus received instructions to undergo further evaluation before returning to any physical activity.

He stood near the doorway, holding his medical documents.

"Doctor?"

Oliot looked up.

"Yes?"

"If you discover something serious, promise me you'll tell me."

The request felt like a knife twisting inside Oliot's chest.

He wanted to say yes without hesitation.

But he knew that the truth was already long overdue.

"I'll tell you what I find," he replied.

Xyrus studied his expression.

"I hope you mean that."

He turned and walked out.

Oliot remained beside his desk, staring at the closed door.

His phone vibrated again.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: You have until tomorrow to decide. Proceed with the next stage, or someone else will take over.

Oliot slowly lowered the phone.

His attention shifted toward Xyrus's examination results.

The athlete's condition was becoming increasingly unstable, and another procedure could make everything worse.

But refusing the request might expose the entire experiment.

For the first time, Oliot realized that the danger surrounding Xyrus was much greater than he had originally imagined.

And he was no longer certain that he could protect him from it.