They say Minas Gerais is a sea of hills.

  They were wrong.

  Minas Gerais is a sea of lungs.

  The Dreadnought climbed the Serra da Mantiqueira, leaving behind the salty fog of the coast. Our vehicle was no longer just an armored truck; it was a mobile cathedral of war.

  The black chitin armor was now fused with plates of European Crystal (spoils from The Piper's fleet) and steam pistons from Petrópolis. Valéria had turned the transport into a self-sufficient laboratory, capable of purifying water, air, and... blood.

  I sat in the co-pilot's seat, adjusting the calibration of my new left arm.

  The Black Crystal prosthesis hummed softly. It had no skin. They were translucent bones of volcanic glass, filled with filaments of purple light that pulsed to the rhythm of my heart.

  It was cold. A cold that crept up my shoulder and tried to anesthetize the Parasite in my liver.

  "Tactile sensitivity: 98%," I muttered, flexing the crystal fingers. "Neural latency: Zero."

  "It's beautiful," commented Luna from the backseat. She was polishing her sonic baton, now encrusted with mana jewels that amplified her voice. "But it scares the kids in Leviathania."

  "I don't get paid to be a babysitter. I get paid to nip evil in the bud." I looked at the horizon. "And the root is right over there."

  We reached the top of the mountain range, at the state border.

  Valéria braked the Dreadnought. The Ether engine (now silent and efficient) idled.

  "Arthur..." Valéria pointed at the windshield. "The map said the Cerrado started here. Scrubland, twisted trees, dry soil."

  "Old maps don't work anymore, Valéria."

  Ahead of us, the "Cerrado" had disappeared.

  In its place stretched a Hypertrophic Jungle.

  The trees were colossal, with redwood trunks, but with leaves that looked like colorful feathers. The grass wasn't green; it was a deep wine-red, tall and undulating, like a field of raw meat.

  And the silence...

  There were no birds. There were no crickets. There was no wind.

  "Cut the engines," I ordered. "Let's listen."

  The silence was broken only by the sound of the landscape's "breathing."

  The hills rose and fell slowly.

  Inhale. Exhale.

  [ENVIRONMENTAL ANALYSIS: OXYGEN DENSITY 40% ABOVE NORMAL.]

  [POLLEN ALERT: HALLUCINOGENIC SPORES DETECTED.]

  "Masks," I said, putting on my biological filter respirator. "The air here makes you happy before it kills you."

  "What is that smell?" Gristle sniffed, even through the mask. "Smells like... milk? And funeral perfume?"

  "Smells like an incubator," I unlocked the door. "Gristle, Valéria, stay on overwatch. Luna, with me. Let's collect a soil sample."

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  We got out of the truck. My boots sank into the soft ground.

  It wasn't dirt. It was Muscular Humus. A mix of black earth and rapidly decomposing fibrous tissue.

  I walked to a nearby tree. The trunk pulsed.

  I drew my scalpel (now magnetically attached to my crystal wrist). I made an incision in the bark.

  Sap didn't come out. Warm blood did.

  "It's all meat," whispered Luna, disgusted. "Is the whole forest one single organism?"

  "Not one organism," I corrected, watching the tree's wound heal in seconds. "An immune system. My father didn't just let monsters loose. He transformed the ecosystem."

  Suddenly, the red grass ahead of us parted.

  Something was coming.

  Gristle, on top of the truck, spun the turret.

  "Movement at twelve o'clock! It's... a cow?"

  A creature emerged from the woods.

  It was the size of a hippopotamus. The head was bovine, with polished ivory horns. But the body...

  The body was covered in golden scales, and on its back, six dragonfly wings hummed, keeping the heavy beast hovering half a meter off the ground.

  The creature's udder dripped a glowing blue liquid that, upon touching the ground, made flowers bloom instantly.

  [SPECIES: BOVINE CHERUB.]

  [FUNCTION: SOWER AND MANA MILK TANK.]

  "It's beautiful..." Luna lowered her guard.

  "Don't touch it," I warned, my crystal arm glowing in purple alert. "In nature, bright colors mean 'I am poisonous'."

  The "Angel-Cow" looked at us with multifaceted insect eyes. It mooed. The sound wasn't a moo. It was a radio frequency.

  BZZZT... INTRUDERS... SECTOR 7... BZZZT...

  "It's a biological drone," I realized. "It just reported us."

  The ground shook.

  The surrounding trees began to move. Branches descended like arms, trying to grab us.

  And from the brush, the Gardeners emerged.

  They weren't human. They were chimeras.

  Tall humanoids, with tree-bark skin and four arms. Two arms held gardening tools (giant shears, hoes), and the other two were organic rifles that fired thorns.

  "Pruning required!" they shouted in unison, their voices sounding like cracking wood.

  "Defense!" I yelled.

  A Gardener charged Luna, the giant shears ready to decapitate her.

  "Cut the rotten branch!"

  Luna screamed, a sonic pulse that made the "feather-leaves" of the trees explode. The Gardener staggered back, stunned.

  I advanced.

  I didn't use the scalpel. I used the new arm.

  The Parasite channeled mana through the crystal.

  [PROTOCOL: CONTACT CRYSTALLIZATION.]

  I punched the Gardener's chest.

  The crystal touched his wooden "skin."

  The effect was immediate. The purple glow spread through the creature's body, turning the flexible biomass into fragile glass.

  He froze, becoming a statue.

  I spun my body and kicked the statue.

  CRASH.

  The Gardener shattered into a thousand pieces of organic glass.

  "It works," I smiled, feeling the cold power of the arm. "Valéria, fire at will!"

  The Dreadnought opened fire. Antimatter bullets (we now had limited ammo) erased the trees trying to crush the truck. Gristle jumped into the middle of the Gardeners with her cleaver, severing limbs and heads of wood and flesh.

  "There are too many!" Gristle shouted, covered in red sap. "They sprout from the ground!"

  "Arthur!" Valéria called on the radio. "Radar detecting a massive energy signature approaching."

  "It's not a monster. It's... a construct."

  The trees parted, opening a wide clearing.

  And there it was.

  A Wall of Flesh.

  A ten-meter-high barrier, made of interwoven muscles and bones, blocking the path inland.

  And on top of the wall, sitting on a throne made of living roots, was a man.

  He wore an impeccable white suit, stained only with dirt at the trouser hems. He held a glass of wine (which looked like blood) and read an old book.

  He looked to be sixty years old, but his eyes were young and cruel.

  "Hélio Veras," I whispered. His face was the same as the photos I burned.

  He closed the book. He smiled. A paternal smile that made my stomach churn.

  "Arthur!" His voice needed no amplification. The forest itself echoed his words. "You took your time. Dinner got cold."

  "I see you brought the new toys. A glass arm? A pet orc? And... ah, the rival scientist's daughter."

  He stood up.

  "Welcome to Eden, my children. Please, wipe your feet before entering. I hate external contamination."

  He snapped his fingers.

  The wall of flesh opened like a gate.

  But behind it, there was no paradise.

  There was a city made of pure biology. Buildings that breathed. Streets that digested trash.

  And in the center, a colossal tower that pulsed like an exposed heart, connected to the sky by umbilical cords of clouds.

  "Come in, Arthur," Hélio invited. "Come see what Real Evolution looks like."

  "Or stay out there and serve as fertilizer for my carnivorous begonias."

  I looked at my team.

  We were surrounded. The forest was his. The air was his.

  But the knife in my hand was mine.

  "We're going in," I said into the radio. "But keep the engine running. And your finger on the trigger."

  "Daddy wants to talk. Let's see if he bleeds."

  The Dreadnought advanced into the domain of Hélio Veras.

  The frontier of silence had been left behind.

  Now, we were in the belly of the beast. And the beast called us "son."