The Sanitation Division van died three blocks before our destination, coughing up black smoke as if it had smoked three packs of cigarettes at once.

  "Radiator's blown," I announced, hitting the steering wheel. "And the rear axle is bent."

  "The radiator is the least of our problems," Luna groaned in the passenger seat. She was pale, clutching the backpack containing the hard drive, rocking back and forth. "Arthur, my nose is bleeding. And I keep hearing static."

  I looked at her. The "psychic scream" she used in the lab had taken its toll. Ruptured vessels in the sclera of her eyes, trembling hands. Mana overload.

  And I wasn't much better.

  [SYSTEM DIAGNOSIS]

  [USER: ARTHUR VERAS]

  [STATUS: CRITICAL]

  [RIBS: 3 FRACTURED.]

  [LEFT EYE: SUB-CONJUNCTIVAL HEMORRHAGE.]

  [BLOOD TOXIN LEVEL: 45% (SIDE EFFECT OF TROLL FLESH).]

  The Parasite was working overtime, burning my fat reserves to close internal wounds, but its hunger was a constant ache in the pit of my stomach.

  "We walk," I said, helping Luna out of the van. "Leave the vehicle. We'll torch it later."

  "Where are we going?" she asked, her voice weak. "We can't go to the hospital. They'll check our IDs. We're in the system as terrorists now."

  "I know. That's why we're visiting 'The Butcher'."

  We walked through the drizzle to a decrepit building in the Baixada do Glicério region. The storefront read "Appliance Repair and Used Magical Goods," but the windows were covered with newspapers from ten years ago.

  I knocked on the metal door. Three short taps, one long, two quick.

  A hatch opened. A cybernetic eye, glowing neon red, scanned us.

  "Doctor Veras," a female voice, raspy from nicotine, sounded over the intercom. "You look like you were chewed up by a Beholder and spat out by a Slime."

  "Good to see you too, Valéria. Open the door. I have money and an interesting case."

  The door unlocked with a heavy click.

  We entered. The smell inside was a mix of cheap antiseptic, machine oil, and sage incense.

  Valéria "Vivi" Sales was sitting in a modified dentist's chair, welding a mechanical mithril arm. She was a short, stocky woman, with healing rune tattoos covering her muscular arms. She was once the Lead Healer for the Silver Lance Guild, until she lost her license for "unethical practices" (read: healing criminals who paid well).

  She lifted her welding goggles, revealing deep dark circles under her eyes.

  "You brought a child." She pointed the blowtorch at Luna. "I don't do pediatrics, Arthur."

  "She's my intern. And she has mana shock. She needs a Spirit Drain and glucose IV."

  Valéria sighed, put down the torch, and walked over to us.

  "Sit her on the gurney. You..." she pointed at me, "sit on the floor. I don't want blood on my leather chair."

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  While Valéria connected Luna to a blue mana drip, I took off my coat and shirt. My torso was a map of purple and yellow bruises.

  The Parasite had already closed the skin, but the bones still creaked.

  "What the hell did you two attack?" Valéria asked, grabbing a curved needle and Wyvern gut thread. "This has traces of acid necrosis."

  "Helix Pharma," I replied, opening a bottle of alcohol on the table and taking a swig before pouring it on the wound on my shoulder. I let out a muffled scream.

  Valéria stopped. The silence in the room grew heavy.

  "Helix? The ones sponsoring the 'Health for All' program? Arthur, do you have a death wish?"

  "They're cultivating chimeras, Valéria. Using orphans."

  I threw the hard drive onto the metal table.

  "It's all there. And they sent a... thing... after us. Half machine, half Troll flesh."

  Valéria looked at the drive, then at Luna, who was sleeping under the effect of the magical sedative, and finally at me. Her cynical expression softened, replaced by genuine concern.

  "Troll flesh in cybernetics? That's unstable. The rejection rate is 99%."

  "They don't care about rejection. They just replace the parts when they break."

  Valéria started stitching my shoulder. Without anesthesia. I preferred it that way; anesthesia made the Parasite drowsy and slow.

  "If that's true, Arthur, you just kicked the Sovereignty hornet's nest. They control the media, the police, and half the parliament."

  "I know. That's why I need you to access that drive. Your decryption rig is better than mine."

  "It's gonna cost you."

  "Whatever you want."

  "I don't want money." Valéria finished the last stitch and cut the thread with her teeth. "I want the biotech data on that cyborg you fought. If they managed to stabilize Troll flesh, it would revolutionize my prosthetics."

  "Deal."

  Valéria walked to her main computer—a monstrosity made of stolen server parts and raw mana crystals. She connected the drive.

  The screen filled with code. Valéria typed furiously, her fingers (two of them mechanical) flying over the keyboard.

  "Military-grade encryption... Based on ancient elven runes. Clever. But I'm better."

  Minutes passed. The sound of rain outside increased. I ate a monster protein bar I had in my pocket to calm the Parasite.

  "Got it," said Valéria.

  I approached the screen.

  Folders upon folders. Videos. Autopsy reports.

  But what caught my attention was a video file dated three days ago. The title was: "KING PROTOCOL - FIELD TEST 01".

  Valéria hit play.

  The shaky footage showed an underground arena. In the center, a gigantic monster, a Beholder, was chained up.

  Then, a man entered the arena.

  He wasn't wearing armor. He wore only sweatpants. He had golden hair and a perfect smile.

  "It can't be..." I whispered.

  It was the Solar Knight. Brazil's number one hero. The face of Sovereignty. The idol of the masses.

  In the video, the Beholder fired a disintegration ray.

  The Solar Knight didn't dodge. He opened his mouth.

  His jaw unhinged inhumanly, the skin of his cheeks tearing to reveal black tendons and rows of serrated teeth.

  He ate the magic ray.

  He swallowed the pure energy.

  And then, the hero's arm mutated, transforming into a claw identical to a demon's, and he decapitated the Beholder with a single blow.

  Seconds later, the arm returned to normal. The skin regenerated. The perfect smile returned.

  The video ended.

  Valéria slumped back in her chair.

  "The Solar Knight... he isn't a human who awakened powers."

  "No," I finished, tasting bile in my mouth. "He is the 'Success.' He is the Perfect Chimera. Patient Zero."

  I looked at Luna, who was starting to wake up, rubbing her eyes.

  We weren't just fighting a corrupt pharmaceutical company.

  The country's greatest hero was a monster in disguise. And we were the only ones who knew the recipe for his anatomy.

  Suddenly, the television on the workshop wall turned on by itself. Breaking News.

  The image of the burning Helix warehouse appeared.

  And in the corner of the screen, two grainy photos taken by security cameras.

  Mine and Luna's.

  "URGENT: Terrorists identified. Former pathologist Arthur Veras and his accomplice are wanted for the biological attack that killed twelve innocent researchers tonight. The Sovereignty Guild and the Solar Knight have promised to lead the hunt personally."

  "Twelve researchers?" Luna gasped. "But there was only that robot-woman there!"

  "They killed their own employees to pin the blame on us," I said, putting on my torn shirt. "Cleaning house."

  Valéria stood up and went to a false wall, pulling a lever. The wall rotated, revealing an arsenal of illegal weapons and black-market potions.

  "You two can't stay here," she said, tossing a sawed-off shotgun loaded with alchemical rock salt to me. "But I'm not letting you leave empty-handed either. If the Solar Knight is coming... you're going to need more than a scalpel, Doctor."

  I held the weapon. The weight was comforting.

  "The Solar Knight is strong," I murmured, my eyes glowing momentarily with the red light of the Parasite. "But every organism has a liver. Every organism can be poisoned. We just need to figure out which poison he can't digest."

  "And how are we going to do that?" asked Luna, terrified.

  "We're going to do what any good doctor does before a difficult surgery." I smiled, a cold, sharp smile. "We're going to consult the medical literature. We're breaking into the Forbidden Library of the Metropolitan Cathedral."