If you descend the stairs of the abandoned Liberdade subway station, pass through the magical containment barriers, and ignore the rats that glow in the dark, you will find a rusty iron door. There is no sign, but the smell is unmistakable: saffron, fried garlic, and demonic sulfur.

  Welcome to "The Blind Cauldron." The only restaurant in S?o Paulo with three Michelin stars in the underworld and five health code violations on the surface.

  "Please, Arthur, can't we just get a pastel at the street market?" Luna pleaded, clutching the sleeve of my coat as we walked down. "Last time we came here, the soup blinked at me."

  "Beholder Eye soup is rich in Vitamin A, Luna. It’s good for your spiritual sight."

  I pushed the door open. The heat of the kitchen hit us like a physical punch. The place was packed: low-ranking mercenaries, dealers of illegal artifacts, and urban goblins wearing knock-off brand hoodies.

  In the center of the open kitchen, shrouded in steam and smoke, stood Madame Gristle.

  She was an old Half-Orc, two meters tall, but her appearance was that of an ordinary human, covered in burn scars and an apron that had once been white. She was chopping Sewer Kraken tentacles with the speed of an industrial blender. You couldn't even tell her genetic heritage, only her sheer size giving away some oddity.

  "Doctor!" Gristle roared upon seeing me, her voice sounding like gravel being crushed. She dropped the cleaver (which stuck into the wooden counter) and flashed a "grandma" smile. "I thought you were dead. I was already preparing a special sauce for your wake."

  "Not yet, Gristle." I sat at the counter, the seat of honor. "I brought a fresh ingredient. I need a 'Flash' prep. No slow cooking. I want the enzymes live."

  I took out the vial with the Wyvern's gland and placed it on the greasy wood.

  The hall went silent for a second. The customers knew how to recognize a high-level piece.

  Gristle took the vial, holding it up against the light of a will-o'-the-wisp lamp.

  "Draconid pituitary gland..." she sniffed the cap, even though it was closed. "It has a strange smell. Metallic. Not wild."

  "Exactly. I need to know what it ate before it died."

  "Understood." The orc's expression shifted from cook to alchemist. "Luna, darling, get the Asphalt Mandrake Root and the Basilisk Vinegar. We're making a Sauté of Truth."

  Luna obeyed, trembling, running to the pantry while dodging ghosts of plucked chickens scurrying across the floor.

  I watched Gristle work. It was art.

  She heated a black iron skillet until it was glowing red. She tossed in a spoonful of Minotauro butter, which melted with a hiss. Next, she sliced the Wyvern gland into paper-thin strips, translucent and gray.

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  "The secret," said Gristle, tossing the slices into the pan, "is not to let the protein denature completely. We just want to break the magical defense barrier."

  Tssssss!

  Purple smoke rose up. The smell was acrid, but with a sweet undertone, almost sickly.

  Luna returned with the vinegar, coughing. Gristle poured the acidic liquid. A green flame shot up to the ceiling.

  "Voilà." Gristle tipped the contents onto a white ceramic plate. "Caramelized Pituitary Carpaccio in Acid Vinegar. Bon appétit, you lunatic."

  The dish pulsed faintly.

  "Are you sure this won't kill you?" asked Luna, covering her eyes with her hands but peeking through her fingers.

  "What doesn't kill you fattens the database," I replied.

  I picked up the cutlery. I speared the first slice. The texture was gelatinous, but firm.

  I brought it to my mouth.

  The first sensation was burning, like biting into a habanero pepper. Then came the taste: motor oil, rotting meat, and, surprisingly... vanilla.

  I swallowed.

  The world around me froze. The noise of the restaurant vanished. The colors of reality faded to shades of gray, except for the lines of red code that began to fall like rain in my vision.

  [INGESTION CONFIRMED]

  [ACTIVATING MNEMONIC RESONANCE PROTOCOL]

  [MESSENGER RNA SYNTHESIS: 100%]

  My body shuddered violently. My eyes rolled back, turning completely black.

  I wasn't in the restaurant anymore. I was... floating.

  Dark. Cold.

  I don't have wings. Why don't I have wings?

  I am inside a tube. Green liquid. It tastes like medicine.

  A first-person vision formed. I was the Wyvern, months ago. I was just a fetus in a giant incubator.

  Through the thick glass of the tank, I saw shapes. Humans.

  "The Beta-7 strain is unstable," said a muffled male voice. "Muscle growth is tearing the skin."

  "It doesn't matter," replied another voice. This one I knew. It was cold, calculating. "Apply the acceleration serum. We need this batch ready for the Sovereignty parade next week."

  A face approached the glass. A man with an "X"-shaped scar over his left eye and a lab coat with a logo embroidered on the chest.

  I tried to focus on the logo. My monster vision was blurry.

  It was a Golden Spiral intertwined with a medical Caduceus.

  "Eat, my little disaster," said the man, pouring white powder into the tank. "Eat and grow."

  The powder tasted like vanilla and death.

  The vision fragmented.

  Pain. So much pain. The forced growth of bones. The rage. The desire to kill everything that moved.

  "ARGH!" I screamed, snapping back to reality.

  I fell off the stool, knocking the plate to the floor. My breath was ragged, cold sweat running down my back. The Parasite stirred in my stomach, satisfied with the meal but furious with the information.

  "Doctor!" Luna was by my side, fanning my face with a menu. "You started speaking in parseltongue! And your teeth grew for a second!"

  Madame Gristle handed me a glass of dirty water (probably dungeon potato vodka).

  "What did you see, kid?"

  I drank the alcohol in one gulp to get the taste of vanilla out of my mouth.

  I wiped the sweat from my forehead and looked at Luna and Gristle. My eyes returned to their normal brown.

  "It wasn't the Sovereignty Guild that created the monster," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "They just bought it. Commander Jin is just a client."

  "Then who?" asked Luna.

  I grabbed a paper napkin and a pen from my pocket. I drew the symbol I saw in the Wyvern's memory: The Spiral and the Caduceus.

  "Gristle, do you know this symbol?"

  The orc looked at the drawing, and her expression hardened. She spat on the floor.

  "Helix Pharma. A biotech company that popped up right after the Rift War. They make cheap healing potions for public hospitals."

  "They aren't just making medicine." I crumpled the napkin in my hand. "They're making patients. They create the monsters, release them in the city, Sovereignty kills them, and Helix sells the cure for the poison they invented themselves."

  I stood up. The nausea had passed, replaced by a cold determination.

  "Luna, prep the van. We're going to break into a pharmacy."

  "A pharmacy?" Luna blinked, confused. "Like... to buy aspirin?"

  "No." I smiled, and the smile was predatory, borrowed from the beast living inside me. "To conduct a surprise audit. And this time, I won't be using the scalpel to heal."