There was no sunrise in the trench.
No sun at all.
Only the flicker of old filament veins embedded in the walls--glimpses of dying systems still trying to simulate light. But even these pulses were slow now, often delayed by seconds. One pulse would fire. Then a long pause. Then another. Like an exhausted heartbeat.
This wasn't illumination.
It was a reminder.
You were still alive.
Still being watched.
Still beneath everything that mattered.
Nahr stood at the mouth of the next slope. The incline stretched downward like a gutted throat--wide at the top, narrowing to a vanishing point below. A faint chemical scent leaked from the cracks in the floor. Not rot. Something older.
Recycled failure.
Burnt burden.
His Galieya was heavier.
Not because of the metal.
But because of what had passed.
The echo was gone, its kneeling figure already fading from his short-term memory log. But something deeper remained. A tremor in his grip. A persistent ache in his coreplate--where the memory shard had been pressed.
He hadn't earned rest. Clarity either. Just more walking—and the trench didn't care.
He descended.
The walls closed in.
--
Thirty meters down, the trench bent sharply left. Not gradual. Designed to snap the posture of those too fast or too confident. Nahr adjusted. Let his left heel drag to control the turn. Balanced the Galieya against the wall for stability.
Something shifted behind the stone as he passed.
A ripple.
Not sound.
A displacement.
He didn't stop.
A chamber opened at the base of the slope.
Irregular in shape. Formed from overlapping plates that looked half-melted and half-grown. At the center, two Cores waited.
One stood.
The other sat.
Nahr entered.
Did not speak.
Did not raise his lance.
But every joint in his frame tensed.
The standing one turned.
Tall. Slender frame. Flexible plating across the spine. His Galieya hung from his back like a weapon only half-concealed. Black spiral veins, but traced with blue signal-glow.
The standing Core studied him without moving.
Then turned back to face the trench.
Silent.
The one sitting finally spoke.
"Late."
His voice was static-ridden. Not from malfunction, but from age. As if the words themselves were coming from a distance deeper than the trench.
The sitting Core leaned back slightly.
"Name?"
"Nahr."
"Hm."
He pointed to the silent one. "That's Hero."
Then he gestured to himself.
"Call me Maldrin."
Maldrin's frame was broader. Thicker across the chestplate. His Galieya rested against the wall. Dented. Unsynced. One of the spiral veins flickered with a dull red light--a damage indicator ignored.
Hero said nothing. He never really did, unless the trench got too loud.
Nahr once wondered if it was a design flaw—but never asked.
Maldrin chuckled. "He doesn't talk much. Not unless the silence is worse than whatever he's thinking."
Nahr didn't respond.
Maldrin tilted his head. "You're one of those, then."
"One of what?"
"The type that thinks silence means strength."
Nahr looked at him. "Doesn't it?"
Maldrin smirked.
"No. It means you're afraid of what you'd say."
Hero raised his arm. A single gesture.
Maldrin sighed.
"Movement. Great. So much for introductions."
They moved.
--
The trench narrowed as they passed deeper.
One meter wide.
Shoulder brushing wall.
The Galieyas had to be held forward or dragged behind--no room to swing them sideways. A killing corridor, if ever one was needed.
Signal pulses lined the walls--old data-burns from prior Cores. Some still active. Most faded.
Nahr let his sensors sweep the path ahead.
Nothing hostile.
The trench felt like it was thinking again. That was always worse than a trap you could see coming.
Suddenly, Hero stopped.
Raised his hand again.
Maldrin didn't question. Just halted mid-stride.
Nahr crouched slightly.
Ahead, a figure lay crumpled along the right wall.
Core.
Unmoving.
Nahr approached.
Frame was twisted at the midsection. Chestplate opened--punched in, not torn. Galieya shattered beside it, spiral veins tangled with sinew-like memory wiring.
Maldrin stepped beside him.
"That's Cresk."
"Yours?"
"Not anymore."
"Friend?"
Maldrin shrugged. "He shared oil. Shared silence. That's close enough."
Nahr examined the damage.
"Pierced, then crushed. From behind."
Maldrin didn't flinch. "That's how most of us go."
Hero remained silent.
Nahr stood.
Said nothing.
But filed the damage pattern to his internal record.
No scorch trail.
No memory echo.
Which meant it wasn't a projection.
Or a construct.
Or a Core.
Just... something else.
He didn't like that.
They moved again.
--
They passed under a collapsed slab.
Maldrin had to turn sideways to fit.
Hero went last.
The passage beyond dipped, then curved into an unnatural spiral--like the trench had tried to grow in two directions at once and split its own path to fix it.
Data-fungus lined the walls.
Bright green and yellow.
It pulsed under their feet with every step.
Nahr didn't touch it.
Maldrin did.
He regretted it.
"It's hot," he muttered, shaking his hand.
"Don't touch things in the trench," Hero said.
First words since entering the layer.
Maldrin froze.
Then grinned.
"He speaks!"
Nahr didn't smile.
There wasn't time.
The fungus receded.
And the trench darkened.
--
Two kilometers down, the slope straightened.
Hero halted again.
This time, he signaled backward.
Danger.
Maldrin pulled up beside him.
Nahr flanked the rear.
Ahead, the tunnel opened into a wide room.
No movement.
But the silence was... wrong.
Too symmetrical.
Too steady.
Like the air had stopped breathing.
Then the shape emerged.
It wasn't a Core.
Not quite.
It moved like one. Walked like one.
But something was missing.
Something fundamental.
It twitched with every step.
Not broken.
Just... misaligned.
Its Galieya was fused to its forearm.
Half-melted. Half-grown.
Its body was flexible--too flexible. Plates shifted in ways real frames never could.
A mimic.
Not the animal kind.
A trench-born duplicate--made from failed data, corrupted memory, and things not meant to exist.
It charged.
Hero moved first.
Stepped forward, Galieya raised.
Clashed.
Metal against false metal.
Sparks burst.
The mimic twisted unnaturally--shoulder dislocating to slide around Hero's strike.
Maldrin attacked from the right.
His strike was slower.
The mimic caught it.
Slid backward.
Turned its head upside down.
Grinned.
Charged Maldrin.
Nahr stepped between.
Spiral veins engaged.
Galieya forward.
Not slashing.
Not stabbing.
Just pressing.
Weight.
The mimic stumbled.
Fell back.
Hero surged forward.
Strike.
Clean.
Right through the mimic's chest.
It screeched--static burst, followed by nothing.
Collapsed.
Twitching.
Then still.
Maldrin breathed heavily.
"Didn't like that."
Nahr stared at the thing's body.
It was decomposing.
Fast.
Like it had never really existed.
Just filled a space until it was no longer needed.
That was worse than death. At least death didn't leave a cleanup protocol.
He remembered one Core who tried to log grief. The file corrupted instantly.
"Keep moving," Hero said.
No one argued.
--
Another kilometer.
A new fork.
One path turned upward--toward faint light.
The other plunged further.
"Which?" Maldrin asked.
No one answered immediately.
Then Hero gestured left--into the dark.
Nahr stepped forward.
"This time, I choose."
Hero paused.
Allowed it.
They turned right--toward the light.
But the light wasn't hope.
It was fire.
As they entered the chamber, a blast of heat washed over them. Not from combustion--but friction.
Cores fought in the center.
Real ones.
Or projections.
It didn't matter.
Four frames.
Two on two.
Locked in brutal, elegant motion.
Galieyas clashing like ringing bells.
One turned.
Saw them.
Flickered.
Changed.
Then vanished.
The other three turned to ash.
Memory fragments.
Lessons.
Ghosts.
Warnings.
"This layer teaches through reminders," Nahr said.
"Or threats," Hero added.
Maldrin didn't speak.
They kept walking.
--
Eventually, the trench grew tight again.
Claustrophobic.
And then--too tight to walk side by side.
They split.
Single file.
Hero.
Maldrin.
Nahr last.
He didn't notice it at first.
The quiet.
Then the tension.
Then--
Maldrin Was gone.
Nahr turned.
Nothing.
No sound.
No shape.
No motion.
He signaled Hero.
Hero turned.
Vision wide.
Maldrin's trail ended ten meters back.
Just a smear of coolant.
And the faintest echo of static.
Nahr ran back.
Found nothing.
Only--
A diagonal slash, freshly etched into the wall.
Done by hand.
Not by weapon.
Not by weight.
A message.
One word.
"Bait."
Hero grabbed Nahr's shoulder.
"We keep going. If we stop now, we start thinking—and that's how things get broken."
"We don't leave him."
"If he wrote that..."
"...he wants us to."
Nahr looked back once.
then followed Hero
Step by step.
Further into the dark.
--
[TRIAL EXTENSION TRIGGERED]
[CONDITIONAL BURDEN UNLOCKED]
[ISOLATION MODE: ENGAGED]