The Weapon Within

Eleanor stood up from her seat at the gambling table, her grin lingering like a shadow over the defeated abnormals. The pile of winnings before her—gleaming trinkets, pouches of rare currency, and even some curious essence-infused items—was a testament to her skill. Luke watched as she stretched leisurely, her movements slow and deliberate, a predator enjoying the aftertaste of victory.

"Are you done here?" Luke asked, his voice tinged with exasperation. The crowd of abnormals shuffled uneasily, their eyes fixed on Eleanor with a mix of fear and resentment. One particularly scaly abnormal muttered under his breath, clutching the remnants of his losses.

Eleanor turned to Luke, her grin softening but not fading. "Done? Hardly. But I'll give these poor souls a break—for now." She swept the pile of winnings into her satchel, the metallic clinks and soft thuds reverberating in the tense silence.

Kuro edged closer to Luke, still wary of Eleanor. "You really have to antagonize them?" he asked, his tone low.

"Antagonize?" Eleanor repeated with mock offense. "They chose to play. They just didn't expect to lose this badly." Her eyes glinted with mischief as she glanced at the abnormals. "But I appreciate their generosity."

Luke sighed, gesturing for her to follow. "Let's go. We've got things to do."

As they left, the crowd of abnormals parted like a tide, their gazes glued to the ground. Luke couldn't help but glance back at their expressions: a cocktail of frustration and dread. They're terrified of her, he thought. Not just because she beat them, but because of who she is. A hunter hunting their prey.

---

The group made their way back to the Shifting Bazaar, the labyrinthine marketplace alive with noise and movement. Stalls fashioned from living, pulsating walls sold everything imaginable—biological trinkets, glowing fluids, and weapons that seemed to breathe. The scent of the place was a heady mix of musk, decay, and something sweetly metallic.

As they walked, Luke's thoughts drifted to his earlier realization. I need a weapon. His hand brushed against his satchel, its emptiness a constant reminder. Code had served him well, but relying on his surroundings felt precarious.

"Kuro," Luke began, breaking the silence. "I need something—anything—that's reliable in a fight. Got any ideas?"

Kuro glanced at him, his expression thoughtful, before looking at Eleanor. "Honestly? If you're going to be running around with us, you're overdue for an upgrade."

Eleanor smirked. "I wouldn't call what I have now lacking."

"Even so," Kuro replied, his tone serious. "Let's make sure we're all better equipped. Follow me."

---

Kuro led them through a series of winding alleys until they reached a grotesque structure that seemed to pulse with life. The building's exterior was a twisted amalgamation of sinew and bone, its walls heaving as if breathing. A faint glow emanated from its living surface, illuminating the words carved into the archway above the entrance: The Flesh Forge.

Luke grimaced as they stepped inside. The interior was even more unsettling. Organic tools hung from the walls, some dripping with viscous fluids. Tables were lined with half-formed weapons, their surfaces glistening as if freshly grown. The air was thick with the scent of iron and something far more primal.

Eleanor, however, seemed unfazed. She approached the forge master, a hulking abnormal whose skin was a patchwork of grafts and metallic implants. His eyes glowed faintly as he looked them over.

"Need something?" the forge master asked, his voice a low rumble.

Eleanor pulled her bow from her back and placed it on the counter. "This needs an upgrade. Faster draw speed, stronger string. Make it durable enough to block a blade without snapping."

The forge master picked up the bow, his massive hands surprisingly gentle. He examined it for a moment before nodding. "I can work with this. Got materials?"

Eleanor produced a pouch from her satchel, spilling its contents onto the counter. Among the items were shards of essence-infused crystal and sinew extracted from creatures of the labyrinth, the winnings from earlier. The forge master's eyes gleamed as he gathered the materials and got to work.

Luke watched as Eleanor's bow was transformed. The sinew was threaded into the string, its fibers glowing faintly with latent energy. The bow's frame was reinforced with an iridescent metal that shimmered like liquid in the forge's light. When the process was complete, the forge master handed the bow back to Eleanor.

She tested the string, her fingers a blur as she drew and released it. The twang of the string was sharp and resonant, the sound alone enough to make Luke wince. "Perfect," she said, a rare hint of satisfaction in her voice.

"And you?" the forge master asked, turning to Luke.

Luke hesitated, scanning the array of weapons displayed around the forge. He tried a few—a serrated blade that hummed with energy, a whip-like weapon made from living tendrils—but nothing felt right. Each weapon seemed either too alien or too unwieldy.

"Nothing?" Kuro asked, his tone tinged with amusement.

Luke shook his head, frustrated. "I'll keep looking."

---

As they left the Flesh Forge, they passed by the Bone Market. The sprawling bazaar was a stark contrast to the Shifting Bazaar's vibrant chaos. Here, everything was built from bone and sinew, the architecture angular and oppressive. Stalls displayed bizarre wares: relics scavenged from the labyrinth, essence-infused artifacts, and grotesque organic weapons.

Luke's attention was drawn to a large femur displayed prominently at one of the stalls. Its surface was etched with faint, swirling patterns, and it seemed to hum with a latent energy.

"That," Luke said, pointing to the femur. "What is it?"

The vendor, a wiry abnormal with elongated fingers, grinned. "Adventivore femur. Rare find. Strong, adaptable. Grows when exposed to advent."

Luke's mind raced. Like the fluxipede… He reached for the femur, its weight solid and reassuring in his hands. Focusing, he channeled a small amount of advent into the bone.

Before his eyes, the femur began to grow, its surface expanding and twisting as if alive. When he stopped the flow of advent, the femur shrank back to its original size. Luke's excitement grew as he pushed further, weaving Code into the femur. The bone's shape shifted, morphing into different forms—a blade, a staff, a shield—before settling back into its original state.

Eleanor watched with a raised eyebrow. "Interesting choice," she remarked.

Luke grinned, his earlier frustration melting away. This is it, he thought, gripping the femur tightly. This is what I've been looking for.

As the group moved on, the Bone Market fading behind them, Luke couldn't help but feel a new sense of purpose. The femur hummed faintly in his hand, a quiet reminder of its potential.

No more relying on my surroundings, he thought. This time, I'll make my own path.