The corvette was on the brink of breaking apart.Between the damage sustained by the endless hordes and the constant degradation of the ship’s hull caused by the caustic waters, the vessel’s integrity was waning by the second. The living ship thrashed and roared against the maelstrom that was sucking it in, but the rapids were too strong, even with the aid of enhanced biomancy.Peythra made the calculations and grimly concluded that at the rate things were going, the entire expedition would soon be swallowed into the crushing guts of the dreadnought, where they would then be swiftly pulverised and digested.Not ideal, she thought to herself. Or as a more crude individual might put it, it would be a remarkably ‘shitty’ way for them to die, especially after everything. And that’s not even considering the noble status of most of the crew on board. “This is fine. I’ve been through worse,” Peythra murmured to herself. Her body tensed as she prepared for what was to come next. She was still seated on the captain’s chair. The organic furniture was nerve-wired to the entire ship. Pink tendrils with barbed stingers pierced the base of her neck, connecting her to the vessel and giving her full control. Each of the corvette’s biological functions — as well as its pain — was hers to feel and command.Within the belly of the corvette, stores of humans — some dead, some living, most trapped halfway in between — were fused into massive cysts of mutated cargo. Upon her will, they began to dissolve, providing precious fuel, mana, and biomass for the ship.Pooling more fresh material to the ship’s (...)