"The goods are decent, the price can be negotiated."
"Teeth are fine, bring them back for some training."
Those scenes of humiliation that had etched themselves into his bones now surged back under the spore stimulation.
Weir could barely breathe, his whole body weighed down immobile by the heaviness.
But suddenly, a warm light broke through the gray hallucination.
It was as if some warm power was slowly unfolding at the deepest part of his consciousness.
He opened his eyes and looked, at the edge of the chaotic illusion, a figure stood in the sky, reaching out to him like the first ray of sunlight shining into the abyss.
It was Louis, his silhouette was blurry, yet in Weir's heart, it appeared extraordinarily bright, like some existence that couldn't be looked at directly, above the mundane, above all.
It wasn't just the image of the Red Tide Lord, but the only target in his life truly worthy of loyalty, beyond doubt, unshakable.
