The Conduit -

Silas lay on the cold floor, staring at his palms. The silver filaments were charred black, ruined. He had traded his memories and his gift for a handful of credits and a broken body. He closed his eyes, trying to remember the green field from his childhood. All he could see were the blueprints of a railgun.

He knelt by the terminal and pressed his palms against the cold glass of the primary data core. "Initiating connection," Silas whispered. The Conduit

Silas groaned, pushing his goggles up. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked older, as if the data had aged him. "The credits... the Upper Spires..." Silas lay on the cold floor, staring at his palms

They walked through the neon-drenched labyrinth of Sector 4 to the Central Archive, a monolithic tower of black steel that seemed to swallow the dim city light. Inside, the air was thick with static. In the center of the main chamber sat the terminal, a massive console overflowing with thick, writhing cables that looked uncannily like mechanical tentacles. A pool of dark, viscous liquid—nanite-infused data—had leaked onto the floor. He closed his eyes, trying to remember the

"Focus, Silas," Vaelen’s voice echoed dimly from the physical world. "Find the tactical logs."