The descent into the Hepatic-Basin was not a walk; it was a crawl through the digestive tract of a dying god.
The air here was thick, humid, and tasted of bile. The walls were no longer just rusted iron; they were coated in a thick, pulsating layer of "Bio-Moss" that dripped a translucent, yellow fluid. This was the Gyre's filtration center—a vast, subterranean cavern where the waste of the Upper Spires was processed by massive, organic "Liver-Vats."
***Karys*** followed Vrax through a narrow fissure in the calcified rock. His right arm felt like a pressurized steam pipe. The "Marrow-Suppressant" Vrax had injected was wearing off, and the Nidus was beginning to itch. It was a deep, internal itch that originated from the periosteum of his humerus.
"Watch your step," Vrax whispered, her elongated neck twitching as she scanned the darkness with her surgical blue eyes. "The floor here is 'Soft-Graft.' If you stand still for too long, the moss will start weaving into your boots."
***Karys*** looked down. The ground was spongy, yielding under his weight like wet muscle.
*Systemic Integration Percentage: 9.8%.*
The number was hovering on the edge of a double-digit breakthrough. He could feel his nervous system being re-mapped in real-time. His "Proprioception"—his sense of where his body was in space—was expanding. He didn't just feel the air on his skin; he felt the vibration of the air molecules as they bounced off the Bio-Moss.
"The Hepatic-Basin is neutral ground," Vrax continued, her voice barely a breath. "The Company fears the 'Blight-Rot' here. But that doesn't mean it's safe. The Feral-Grafts—the ones who lost their 'Identity-Weight'—hunt in the shadows. To them, you are a walking feast of Primal-Marrow."
They turned a corner and the tunnel opened into a massive cavern. In the center sat the "Blood-Auction"—a shanty-town built on the floating remains of a colossal, dead Liver-Vat. It was lit by jars of bioluminescent maggots, casting a sickly, flickering green glow over the hundreds of figures moving below.
This was where the "Graft-Lords" traded in forbidden biology.
"We need the 'Synapse-Silk,'" Vrax said, pointing toward a central spire made of fused human femurs. "It's a stabilizer harvested from the neural-fibers of Deep-Sea Harvesters. It will bridge the gap between your brain and the Nidus. Without it, the next time you use your power, the feedback will liquefy your frontal lobe."
***Karys*** didn't respond. He was staring at a group of figures near the entrance. They were "Feral-Grafts." Their bodies were a chaotic mess of unplanned evolution—limbs sprouting from chests, eyes embedded in palms, and skin that looked like melted wax. They weren't speaking; they were communicating through rhythmic clicks of their teeth.
One of them, a creature with a bloated torso and four disjointed legs, turned its head 180 degrees to look at ***Karys***. Its nostrils flared, catching the scent of the Loom-Nidus.
"They smell it," ***Karys*** muttered, his hand instinctively moving to the "Nerve-Shiv" at his belt.
"Ignore them," Vrax hissed, pulling him toward the Spire. "In the Basin, hunger is a constant. As long as you don't look like prey, they might wait for someone weaker."
As they entered the market, the sensory overload was visceral. The scent of "Open-Chamber Surgery" and "Fermented Ichor" was overwhelming. Merchants sat behind stalls made of rib-cages, displaying "Graft-Slugs" that writhed in jars of amniotic fluid.
"Step up! Fresh 'Optical-Clusters'! See in the dark like a Chitin-Bat!"
"Need 'Adrenal-Glands'? Harvested from a Sector-7 Gladiator! Guaranteed 200% reflex spike!"
***Karys*** ignored the shouts. He felt a strange, magnetic pull coming from the bone-spire. The Nidus was reacting to something. It wasn't hunger this time; it was a sense of recognition.
They reached the base of the spire. A massive man—if he could still be called that—stood guard. His skin was reinforced with "Chitinous-Plates," and his breath hissed through a series of "Gills" in his neck.
"Entry fee," the guard grunted, his voice sounding like gravel in a blender.
Vrax reached into her satchel and pulled out a jar containing a pulsing, violet organ. "A 'Nerve-Core' from a Company Scout. High-density. Unspoiled."
The guard took the jar, his eyes widening slightly. He nodded and stepped aside.
Inside the spire, the air was colder. In the center of the room, suspended in a vat of shimmering silver fluid, was a bundle of translucent, glowing threads.
**Synapse-Silk.**
It looked like a spiderweb made of liquid light.
"The bidding starts in ten minutes," a voice echoed from the shadows of the upper balcony.
***Karys*** looked up. Standing there was a figure draped in "Skin-Cloths"—layers of cured human hides stitched together into a majestic, horrifying robe. This was the "Marrow-Broker," the ruler of the Hepatic-Basin.
"We have a new guest," the Broker said, his voice smooth and terrifyingly calm. "A boy with a Primal-Root. How rare. How... appetizing."
Suddenly, the Nidus in ***Karys***'s arm let out a violent thrum. The violet veins on his arm flared so bright they shone through his tunic.
*Warning: External Neural Override Detected.*
"Vrax..." ***Karys*** groaned, his knees buckling. "Something is... pulling at it."
"The Broker," Vrax whispered, her face turning pale. "He's a 'Puppet-Master' graft. He doesn't fight with strength; he fights by hijacking your nerves."
The Broker raised a hand, and ***Karys*** felt his right arm rise against his will. The Nidus-Claw opened, its obsidian-tipped fingers twitching.
"Such a beautiful weapon," the Broker said, leaning over the balcony. "But a weapon is only as good as its wielder. Tell me, boy, does the parasite own you, or do you own the parasite?"
***Karys*** grit his teeth, his *masseter* muscles bulging. He fought to pull his arm back, his *trapezius* straining against the invisible tug.
"I... own... nothing," ***Karys*** spat, his voice dropping into that deep, Nidus-distorted register.
He didn't fight the pull. He used it.
He lunged forward, not at the Broker, but at the guard standing by the door. If the Broker wanted to play with his nerves, ***Karys*** would give the Nidus a different target to focus on.
His right hand shot out, the Nidus-threads exploding from his fingertips like harpoons. They didn't go for the guard's chest; they went for the "Neural-Ports" in the guard's neck.
"Fuel!" ***Karys*** roared.
The Broker's eyes widened. He tried to tighten the neural-tug, but the Nidus was now in "Feeding-Mode," its hunger overriding the external signal.
The guard didn't even have time to scream. The Nidus-threads tunneled into his brain-stem, hollowing out his consciousness in a fraction of a second. The guard's body went limp, his "Chitinous-Plates" turning grey as the Nidus sucked the life-force out of his marrow to shield ***Karys***'s mind from the Broker's influence.
*SIP: 11.2%.*
*Systemic Barrier Active.*
***Karys*** stood over the guard's shriveled corpse, his right arm vibrating with a terrifying power. He looked up at the Broker, his violet eyes glowing with murderous intent.
"The Silk," ***Karys*** demanded, pointing the "Nerve-Shiv" at the silver vat. "Give it to me, or I'll eat every living thing in this spire."
The Broker stared at him for a long moment. Then, a slow, jagged smile spread across his face.
"Interesting. A maggot with teeth."
He waved a hand. "The auction is canceled. Let us see if this 'Anomaly' can survive the integration. Give him the Silk."
Vrax rushed to the vat, her needle-fingers trembling as she began the delicate process of "Neural-Threading."
But as she touched the Silk, a loud, metallic siren began to wail throughout the Basin.
"Purge-Protocol 5," the speakers screamed. "Chemical saturation in 60 seconds. All biological assets will be liquidated."
The Company wasn't just tracking ***Karys*** anymore. They were going to burn the entire Basin to kill him.
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