The Architect slag is no longer a scattered pile of debris on the ocean floor. It has grown. It has formed a massive, brutalist spire, easily three thousand feet tall, jutting out of the silt like a jagged, black tooth. But it’s not just metal. The sonar shows a complex, internal cellular structure. It’s pulsing. It’s alive.
And wrapped around the base of the spire is a localized, physical labyrinth. Shifting, geometric walls of programmable matter, constantly rearranging themselves to protect the central core.
It’s a fortress, Kade projects, his mental voice grim. They didn’t just bring Asher here to hide him. They brought him here to feed him to the seed.
Then we breach the walls, I reply, my physical voice steady, carrying the absolute, unshakeable authority of the Luna. Pilot, take
