The canopy thinned as they approached the bottleneck. The sounds of conflict resolved into distinct voices—shouts of command, pleas for mercy, the wet impacts of violence. The air smelled of blood and ozone and something else: the sharp, clean scent of recent corrections, like lightning-struck stone.
Kai held up a fist. The gesture was instinctive, military-precise, though he'd never served. His ability supplied the protocol. Halt signal. Assess before engagement.
Through a screen of hanging moss, they saw the bridge.
It wasn't man-made. Two massive, ancient trees had grown toward each other across a deep ravine, their trunks fusing in the middle to form a natural arch. The span was thirty feet across, but narrow—only wide enough for two people to walk abreast. Below, the ravine dropped two hundred feet into darkness filled with the same thorned, bioluminescent vines they'd seen earlier.
Control the bridge, control access to the inner rings. Simple, brutal geography.
A group had done just that.
Fifteen people, maybe twenty, formed a blockade at the near end. They'd erected crude barriers from fallen branches and what looked like the carapaces of large insects. Most showed visible corrections: one woman had eyes that glowed faintly amber; a man had skin that seemed to shift texture, becoming stone-like when struck; another had forearms thickened with extra muscle fibers that pulsed with each heartbeat.
In the center of the group stood their apparent leader. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with no obvious physical corrections. Instead, he moved with an unnatural calm, his eyes scanning everything with methodical precision. When one of his people brought him a captured survivor, he placed a hand on their forehead, closed his eyes for a second, then nodded or shook his head.
Analysis: Leader possesses assessment ability. Likely scans for useful corrections or threats. Designation: Evaluator.
"Shit," Anya whispered. "That's Silas. I heard about him. He was some kind of corporate recruiter before... this. Now he's recruiting for his little army."
Lena watched as Silas rejected a trembling older man. Two guards shoved the man toward the ravine's edge. He begged, offering his watch, a wedding ring. Silas shook his head once. The man was thrown over.
His scream was cut short by a sound like tearing cloth.
Population: 872/1,003
Another number ticked down. Not just dead, but culled. Judged unworthy by a self-appointed gatekeeper.
"They're not just taking tolls," Lena breathed. "They're filtering."
"Efficiency," Kai said, though the word tasted wrong. "They're building an optimal team for whatever comes after the Heart Tree."
Anya's sharpened fingers extended slightly with a soft click. "So what's our play? We can't fight twenty. We can't pay."
Kai's threat simulation ran automatically, presenting paths:
Option A: Attempt stealth crossing via canopy above bridge. Probability: 31%. Guards have lookouts in trees. Detection likely.
Option B: Wait for distraction, force passage during chaos. Probability: 42%. Requires external event.
Option C: Present selves as assets. Probability: 57%. Risk: forced conscription, loss of autonomy.
The numbers were clear, but incomplete. The simulation couldn't account for Silas's assessment ability. What would he see in them? In Kai's Broken protocols?
"Give me your knife," Kai said to Anya.
She hesitated, then handed over a small, bone-bladed knife she'd pulled from her boot. "What are you doing?"
"Creating a distraction."
Before they could protest, Kai stepped from cover and walked toward the bridge blockade.
Heads turned. Weapons—sharpened branches, stone axes, one actual steel knife—rose. Silas's gaze settled on him, analytical, weighing.
Kai stopped twenty feet from the barriers. He raised his hands, showing empty palms. Then, in one smooth motion, he drew Anya's knife across his own left forearm.
Blood welled, dark red. He didn't flinch. The pain registered as data: Superficial laceration, 4.2 cm length, minimal depth. Bleeding controllable.
But the correction responded. His skin around the wound shimmered, the edges pulling together. Tiny filaments—like silvery spider silk—emerged from the cut and began weaving it closed. In seconds, the bleeding stopped. In a minute, only a pink line remained.
Regenerative adaptation manifested. Efficiency: 87% faster than baseline human. Trigger: intentional injury.
He hadn't known he could do that. His Broken ability was evolving, responding to need.
Silas's eyes narrowed. He stepped forward, past his guards. Up close, Kai could see the man's pupils were slightly too large, absorbing too much light. Another correction—enhanced observation.
"Self-harm as demonstration," Silas said. His voice was calm, resonant. "Either desperate or calculated. Which are you?"
"Both," Kai said. "I have useful adaptations. So do my companions."
"Companions?" Silas didn't look toward the moss where Lena and Anya hid. He already knew. "Show them."
Kai gestured. After a moment's hesitation, Lena and Anya emerged.
Silas's gaze swept over them. He pointed to Lena. "You. Hold out your hand."
Lena complied. Silas touched her fingertips. His own fingers glowed faintly blue at the contact. "Minor regeneration. Common. Low value." He moved to Anya. "You."
Anya extended her hands, then retracted the bone blades with effort.
"Retractable weaponry. Moderate value for close combat." Silas turned back to Kai. "Now you. What else do you have besides fast healing?"
Kai considered lying. But Silas's assessment ability likely detected deception. Instead, he said, "Analytical adaptation. Threat assessment. Predictive simulation."
A flicker of interest in Silas's eyes. "Demonstrate."
"Your left guard," Kai said, nodding toward a woman with stone-textured skin. "She's favoring her right leg. Stress fracture in left tibia from recent jump or fall. She'll be combat ineffective in two hours without rest."
The woman's eyes widened. She hadn't told anyone.
"Your right flank lookout in the cedar tree," Kai continued. "His camouflage adaptation is leaking bioluminescent fluid from a wound on his thigh. He's visible as a green smear from three hundred yards. Useless as hidden sentry."
Silas didn't look to verify. He believed. "Predictive simulation. Show me."
Kai pointed to the bridge. "If you send three people across now, you'll lose one. There's a weak point in the fused section—rot from fungal infection. It'll hold two, collapse under the third. The one in the rear will fall."
Silas gestured. Three of his people moved onto the bridge. They walked carefully. The first two reached the far side. The third, a young man with elongated fingers for climbing, took his first step onto the fused section—
—and the wood gave way with a sickening crack.
The man screamed, grabbing for the edge. His elongated fingers found purchase, digging into the wood. He hung there, legs dangling over the abyss.
"Pull him up," Silas ordered, never taking his eyes off Kai.
They hauled the climber back to safety. He collapsed, shaking.
Silas smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "Valuable. Very valuable." He gestured to his guards. "Bring them. They join the core group."
"We prefer to pass alone," Kai said.
"That wasn't an invitation." Silas's voice remained pleasant. "You have useful skills. Skills that increase our collective survival probability. You now have a choice: join willingly, with full share of resources and protection. Or join unwillingly, with restraints and reduced rations."
The guards moved to surround them. Kai's threat simulation flashed red: Engagement now: survival probability 9%.
He looked at Lena, at Anya. Lena gave a tiny, resigned nod. Anya's jaw was tight, but she retracted her blades fully.
"We join," Kai said.
"Wise." Silas clapped him on the shoulder. The touch triggered Kai's aversion response—a wave of biological revulsion so strong he nearly vomited. He controlled it, his face a mask.