The Genesis Tower didn't look like a fortress; it looked like a cathedral dedicated to the god of Profit. As Kai, Mina, and the shadow-form of Vantablack crossed the threshold, the roaring chaos of the street-war vanished, replaced by a silence so thick it felt like being buried in cotton.
The lobby was a masterpiece of clinical horror. Polished white marble, flowing water features, and soft, lo-fi jazz playing over the speakers.
08:42.
"Okay, is it just me, or is the elevator music actually kind of a bop?" Silver-Tongue's voice crackled, breaking the tension. "I mean, if I'm going to be atomized in eight minutes, I'd prefer it to be to a smooth saxophone solo."
"Shut up, Silver," Kai hissed, his blackened hands twitching.
"I'm serious!" Silver-Tongue retorted. "I just hacked their guest Wi-Fi. The password was 'MaliceIsGreat69.' Honestly, the lack of digital security is the real crime here."
Mina didn't laugh. She was staring at the center of the lobby. There was a fountain, but the liquid flowing from the stone maiden's hands wasn't water. It was a viscous, glowing pink slurry that smelled like a hospital.
"What is that?" Mina whispered.
"The Raw," Vantablack hissed, her shadow-form coiling around Kai's legs. "It is the soup of the discarded. Every Graft that didn't take... every 'Mistake' who died on the table... they melted them down to feed the 'Perfects'."
Suddenly, a chime rang out. The elevator doors at the end of the hall slid open with a cheerful ding.
Out stepped a man wearing a perfectly tailored pink suit, holding a clipboard. He had no eyes—just two glowing blue R-nex logos embedded in his sockets. This was The Curator, a Sovereign whose job wasn't to fight, but to "Edit."
"Ah, the guests of honor!" The Curator chirped. His voice had the upbeat, manic energy of a morning talk-show host. "You're late for your deconstruction appointment. We had you scheduled for 09:00, but honestly, since you've already started the 'Urban Renewal' project outside, we can squeeze you in now."
"Get out of the way," Kai growled, the Null-Void swirling around his feet.
"Oh, Kaelen. So aggressive! It's the lack of fiber in the Sector 9 diet, I assume." The Curator checked his clipboard. "Now, let's see... Mina Sato. Your 'Angel-Wing' Graft has been revoked for non-payment of loyalty. And Vantablack? You're actually listed under 'Hazardous Waste.' I have a very nice incinerator for you on Floor 44."
The Curator snapped his fingers.
The Gore began.
The marble floor didn't just break; it unfolded. From beneath the stone, a dozen "Service Droids" emerged. But they weren't machines. They were human bodies grafted into chrome spider-legs, their faces replaced by glowing screens displaying "Searching..."
"Meet the interns!" The Curator laughed. "They're very motivated. If they kill you, they get a 5% discount on their next soul-rejuvenation!"
One of the spider-interns lunged at Mina. It moved with a sickening, twitching speed. Mina reacted by instinct, slamming her silver brooch into her palm and manifesting a blade of pure, solid light. She swung, slicing through the intern's chrome legs.
But as the droid fell, its "Searching..." screen changed to a smiling emoji. The body exploded—not with fire, but with a spray of pressurized acid made from liquefied Grafts.
"Mina, look out!" Kai lunged, his Null-Void expanding into a dome. The acid hit the void and vanished, but a single drop landed on Kai's shoulder. The pain was like a hot needle threading through his bone.
"These guys are literally walking bio-bombs!" Silver-Tongue yelled. "Kai, don't touch them! They're pressurized at 500 PSI. If you puncture them, the whole lobby becomes a melting pot!"
"Well, that's a design flaw!" Kai shouted back. He grabbed a heavy marble bench with his blackened hand, the stone instantly eroding into a jagged, reinforced club.
"My turn to edit," Vantablack hissed.
She didn't attack the droids. She attacked the shadows they cast. She grabbed the shadows of the spider-legs and pulled.
The Gore was anime-level absurdity. The interns didn't just fall; their limbs were yanked in opposite directions by their own shadows. Chrome snapped, and flesh tore with a sound like wet Velcro. One intern was pulled into a "V" shape, his spine snapping with a loud crack that synchronized perfectly with the jazz music's drum fill.
"Ooh, that's going to need a chiropractor!" The Curator joked, scribbling on his clipboard. "Adding 'Shadow-Resistance' to the next patch notes."
Kai ignored the comedy. He was focused on the Mystery. He saw a cable running from the back of The Curator's neck into the elevator.
"He's a puppet," Kai whispered. "Mina, the cable!"
Mina didn't miss a beat. She leaped into the air, her light-bow appearing in a flash of silver. She didn't fire an arrow; she turned the bow into a chakram of light and hurled it.
The blade of light sliced through the air, humming a high-frequency note. The Curator tried to dodge, but his upbeat movements were too stiff. The chakram severed the cable behind his neck.
The Curator's blue eyes went dark. His clipboard dropped.
"Aw, man," The Curator's voice suddenly changed. It was no longer manic; it was Malice's voice, cold and bored, coming through the suit's speakers. "I was really enjoying that character. You guys are no fun."
The Curator's body began to swell.
"Mystery solved!" Silver-Tongue screamed. "He's a detonator! Get to the elevator! GO!"
Kai grabbed Mina and Vantablack. He didn't run; he used a Null-Burst behind him, the force of the void's recoil launching them forward like a cannonball.
They dived into the elevator just as The Curator exploded.
The blast was a tidal wave of pink sludge and chrome shrapnel. The lobby was instantly painted in a layer of "Raw" bio-matter. The elevator doors slammed shut just in time, the metal groaning under the pressure.
Ding.
The elevator began to rise. The jazz music started again, a cheerful flute solo playing while the three of them sat on the floor, covered in pink gunk and gasping for air.
"I hate this building," Mina panted, wiping a smear of pink slurry off her cheek. "I really, really hate it."
"Hey, look on the bright side," Kai said, looking at his blackened hand, which was now vibrating with a strange, violet energy he'd absorbed from the cable. "We're on the Express Lane now."
06:12.
"Uh, guys?" Silver-Tongue's voice came back, sounding genuinely nervous for the first time. "The elevator isn't going to the top. I've lost control of the floor selection. You're going to the Basement Zero."
"What's in Basement Zero?" Kai asked.
"The registry," Vantablack whispered, her violet eyes trembling. "The place where the first Mistake is kept. The one they couldn't delete."
The elevator came to a jarring halt. The doors didn't slide open; they were ripped apart from the outside by a pair of massive, pale hands.
Standing in the dark of the basement was a figure that looked like a mirror image of Kai—but twisted. He was twelve feet tall, his body a chaotic mass of every Graft imaginable. A dozen eyes blinked from his chest, and his skin was a patchwork of gold, silver, and matte-black.
"Welcome home, brother," the giant whispered, his voice a chorus of a hundred screaming souls. "I've been waiting for someone to share the void with."