As Athaerion kept conjuring a weapon for him to use, it was too late. The golem had closed the distance between him and itself. Not a second sooner, a gigantic fist flew out, heading straight into Athaerion's chest. He flew quite a long distance, landing near where Shade is, who was still thwarting off the zombies.
He thought he'd die from the shock. But he surprisingly felt nothing. That would mean that the mist's mutagenic properties had conferred into his body's immune system. It didn't mean that he was immune to it, as he still felt a bit bloodthirsty than usual, although said urges were made slightly dormant by the hyposyringes.
He tried standing up on his feet, since he wanted to destroy the burning meat golem more than ever, for punching him. However, his movements were slow; his bones were shattered. He had a hard time breathing. In fact, perhaps the only thing keeping him alive was the syringes he pilfered from the storeroom. Unfortunately, he only had one remaining in his longcoat, and he would need to use it strategically, more than ever to survive.
Instead of trying to fight the golem, he shambled towards Shade, who he was going to ask for help. He tried speaking to him...
..but only pained grunts and incoherent mumbling came out, shocking himself.
That's when he noticed that the zombies were ignoring him. He might have become one of them, now.
After fumbling around and forcing a lot of pained grunts and moans, he finally was able to say two words:
"He..l.p.. m..eee... "
Finally, he began to dash towards Shade, with hostile intent.
The syringes were keeping his mind straight, but now, he isn't the one in charge of his body.