The trench didn't widen this time.
It narrowed.
Not by stone or collapse--but by intention.
The path was still clear, but every step bent inward. The walls didn't squeeze. They invited closeness. Intimacy. Like a mouth, not yet open, waiting to speak in reverse.
Hero stepped first.
Nahr followed.
The others--
Didn't follow at all.
Because they weren't here anymore.
The last trial had peeled them off. Slate during the heat-sync layer. Kelar during the mirror's choice.
Now there were two.
The Cohort Tag still blinked in Nahr's HUD:
[TEMPORARY UNIT | 2-BURDEN SYNC: 69.0]
But even that felt fragile.
Like their shared weight had already made its last decision and was only waiting for payment.
--
Twenty steps in, the slope changed.
Down became forward.
Stone became flatgrain.
And color?
Gone.
This corridor wasn't dark.
It was drained.
Of intention.
Of memory.
Of resistance.
Then a ripple.
Not in the air.
In the trench's attention.
It felt...
Less.
Less curious.
Less hostile.
Less watching.
Hero adjusted the grip of his Galieya. He didn't raise it. Just balanced it behind his shoulder the way only someone uncertain did.
Nahr noted it.
Filed it.
Didn't name it.
The trench did not reward awareness.
It punished it.
--
After one hundred steps, the wall on the left flickered.
Static formed shapes.
Then failed.
Then tried again.
This time--
Success.
A door revealed itself.
No seams.
No hinges.
Just memory giving permission.
It slid open without being touched.
Nahr looked to Hero.
No signal passed.
Just agreement.
They entered.
--
The room was square.
Exactly.
Not a millimeter of deviation.
Which meant it wasn't natural.
Not even trench-built.
This was manufactured clarity.
In the center--
A Core. Kneeling.
Silent. Breathing. Broken.
But not dead.
The Galieya embedded through their torso confirmed that.
Pierced deep. Spiral veins still pulsing dimly. A recent act. A deliberate one.
Hero walked around to the front. His HUD scanned.
No ID match.
No rank.
Just a trace name flickering once:
[Unit 73-B | INITIATION FROZEN]
Then gone.
Nahr crouched.
The Core's head turned--barely.
But enough.
Enough to see them.
Enough to speak.
But it didn't.
Because it had chosen not to.
Instead, it gestured.
Slow.
Heavy.
A mimic of the old symbol:
Chest â Mouth â Floor.
Burden was voice. I chose silence.
Nahr returned the gesture.
We carry what you won't.
Hero didn't.
But he nodded.
That was enough.
The door behind them sealed.
And the wall opposite flickered.
A new hallway formed.
Smaller.
Thinner.
More precise.
They entered.
--
The space beyond did not allow memory to follow.
Nahr realized it only five meters in.
His last fifteen minutes were... foggy.
He tried to recall the door.
The Core.
The gesture.
It resisted.
Only partially formed.
Like a half-rendered glyph in a broken interface.
Hero was silent.
But his pace had slowed.
Which meant--
He felt it too.
Then a sound.
Not noise.
Just... acknowledgment.
The trench approved.
For now.
--
They emerged into a chamber built from fragments.
Stone slabs. Memory panels. Recycled framework. Even shattered Galieya shafts used as reinforcement.
A ruin built from prior attempts.
And in the center--
An elevator.
Real.
Mechanical.
Rusted from neglect but pulsing faintly.
Its screen displayed two glyphs:
[GO BACK]
[GO FURTHER]
Hero approached first.
Pressed nothing.
Nahr stepped beside him.
No prompt.
No HUD flicker.
Just the choices.
Two simple phrases.
One clear weight.
Then--
A voice.
Not from them.
Not from the trench.
But from the machine.
"You must leave something behind."
They both turned.
No speaker.
Just sound.
Hero lifted his Galieya.
Pointed to his shoulder.
Then to Nahr.
Then downward.
Burden transfer?
Nahr shook his head.
"No. Not this time."
He stepped forward.
The screen changed.
[WHAT WILL YOU LEAVE]
Options bloomed.
None typed.
All implied.
Memory. Vision. Clarity. Trust. Name.
Nahr didn't hesitate.
He selected: Clarity.
The screen dimmed.
The lift activated.
They descended.
--
The tunnel that followed pulsed with wrongness.
Like every layer of the trench had vomited its residue into this one place.
Mimic wiring.
Echo husks.
Signal scars.
Faded memory glyphs burned into stone.
No cohesion.
Just remnants.
Just consequence.
It was a place of endings.
Not design.
But aftermath.
Nahr's step stuttered once.
Hero caught him.
Not physically.
Just presence.
That was enough.
Then--
A challenge.
Announced not by voice.
Not by system.
But by heat.
And color.
The walls lit red.
The floor hummed.
A single message appeared.
[DUEL INITIATED | CHALLENGER: LAST WEIGHT]
Hero's Galieya snapped into his hand.
So did Nahr's.
Not by choice.
By summons.
And from the far side of the room--
A figure stepped forth.
Wearing a trench-marked cape.
Black-spiraled Galieya.
No faceplate.
Just a mask.
Painted.
Old Core script etched across the mouth.
Translated in HUD:
"I chose silence. Now choose truth."
Hero stepped forward.
But the figure raised a hand.
No.
Not him.
Only Nahr.
He knew it before it was spoken.
Because the opponent...
Was a weight he'd forgotten.
A memory traded in a previous tier.
Now returned.
In full.
Weaponized.
This was what he'd left behind.
Clarity.
And it had grown.
Warped.
Sharpened.
The duel began.
--
Not immediately.
They circled.
Measured.
Nahr waited.
So did the figure.
Then--an opening.
Faked.
A low feint.
The masked Core struck upward, sweeping wide, cutting in reverse spiral.
Nahr blocked.
But barely.
The impact jarred his elbow joint.
Not physical.
Psychological.
The mimic remembered how he used to defend.
But now?
He was less.
Because he had chosen less.
He retreated.
Pivoted.
Reset stance.
Waited for the feint again.
It didn't come.
New tactic.
That meant it was learning.
Fast.
The mimic lunged.
Straight line.
No elegance.
Only weight.
The trench's favorite tool.
Nahr spun.
Dropped low.
Hooked his Galieya around the figure's midframe.
Forced a twist.
Slammed both bodies sideways.
The mimic grunted.
Not in pain.
In pleasure.
Like it wanted the weight.
Like it fed on resistance.
They rolled.
Separated.
Clashed again.
Strike. Block. Twist. Impact.
Then--
A fracture.
In the mimic's kneeplate.
A weak point.
Only visible because--
Nahr had once worn it.
It was his old flaw.
Before the trench reforged him.
Before the chair.
Before the silence.
He moved fast.
Too fast.
Ducked left.
Spun the Galieya in a diagonal arc--
And cut clean through the joint.
The mimic collapsed.
But smiled.
"You forgot me."
Nahr paused.
"You were the cost."
"And still are."
The mimic dissolved.
Its Galieya remained.
Dim. Dormant.
But whole.
Nahr left it.
That weight didn't belong again.
Hero stepped beside him.
"We continue."
"Yes."
--
The slope beyond was no longer trench-hewn.
It was...
Constructed.
Flat steel plates.
Reinforced joints.
Signal towers on either side, flickering low-priority pulses.
Something lived here.
Or once had.
They followed the path until it reached a lift shaft.
Too tall to climb.
Too unstable to descend.
Only one choice.
Wait.
Or jump.
Nahr looked over the edge.
Signal mist curled at the bottom.
Red light pulsed beneath the fog.
He looked to Hero.
No words.
Hero took one step back.
Then sprinted--
And leapt.
Nahr followed.
--
The fall was short.
But hard.
They landed in a shallow basin, surrounded by shattered Core fragments.
Not fresh.
But meaningful.
A battlefield of burden.
And at the center?
Not a weapon.
Not a trial.
Just a chair.
The kind used in the Vaultline.
Strapped.
Fixed.
Weighted.
And empty.
HUD text flared:
[THIS IS NOT A TEST]
[THIS IS A QUESTION]
Hero didn't speak.
Didn't look.
Nahr approached.
Stood in front of the chair.
Waited.
Then--
A voice.
Soft. Real.
Familiar.
Not from memory.
Not from the trench.
From himself.
"Would you sit again?"
Nahr lowered his Galieya.
Stared at the seat.
Felt every joint tremble.
Then looked back.
To Hero.
To the broken battlefield.
To the silence.
And said, simply:
"No."
The trench answered.
The floor dropped.
Weight returned.
Full.
Unyielding.
Real.
And they fell--
Together.
Into whatever came next.