The Crimson Graft Protocol
By @john1208
I ripped open the heavily armored courier package, expecting a set of titanium scalpels. Instead, I found a still-beating, iridescent beast organ and an anonymous invitation to the Zenith Conclave. Perfect timing, considering my return to the capital was instantly derailed by my ex-fiancé, Temur. Standing next to a weeping, fragile girl who looked remarkably like a softer version of me, he stammered that my endless surgical studies abroad meant he thought I was never coming back. I couldn't help but laugh - I only ever dated him because his resting heart rate was the perfect control group for my thesis on combat adrenaline. Without a second thought, I revoked his access to the Zenith Spire, permanently banning him from the only medical bays that could repair his gear. I immediately partnered with my aggressively uptight academic rival to dive headfirst into the explosive, high-speed world of live apex beast grafting. But as we slice through monsters under heavy fire to claim the Conclave's legendary Sovereign Core, a terrifying pattern emerges in the tissue samples. What if the grand prize we are risking our lives for isn't an evolution, but an assimilation?
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