Weight had always been the measure.
Every descent.
Every clash.
Every silence.
Weight shaped Cores.
It bent the trench into obedience.
It forced choices from the unwilling.
But now--
Nahr felt none.
The step past the glyph--two Galieyas crossed over a spiral--should have led to another corridor.
Another descent.
Another agony.
Instead, it led to air.
Real air.
Weightless air.
No gravity tugged at his limbs.
No burden etched against his memory log.
Even the tremor at his spine--his usual warning for trench shifts--was still.
Nahr hovered.
Not flying.
Suspended.
As though the trench had paused him.
Put him in a place where movement was allowed but direction wasn't.
Hero floated beside him.
No sound.
No gesture.
They were both drifting in a void made of forgotten weight.
The trench had no interest in their weapons now.
No interest in challenge.
Only observation.
Text bloomed in his HUD.
But not system-generated.
[WELCOME TO THE BURDENLINE]
[TIER CLASS: WEIGHTLESS]
[NO GALIEYA REQUIRED]
[NO CORE FORM GUARANTEED]
He checked his hands.
Still plated.
Still Core.
But... light.
Like the form wasn't completely anchored anymore.
Like the trench had loosed its grip.
That terrified him more than pressure.
Hero turned.
Made a hand signal.
Question.
What now?
Nahr returned the same.
Wait.
They drifted together until their boots caught traction.
Not ground.
Memory-solid.
The difference was clear.
It wasn't terrain.
It was a platform made from something remembered.
The color was bone-pale.
The shape--indecisive.
The material shifted with thought.
He stepped down.
And suddenly, he weighed again.
Not like before.
Not fully.
But partially.
As though gravity was a privilege.
Not a constant.
"Welcome," a voice said.
Not synthetic.
Not human.
Not echo.
Machine.
Somehow.
They turned.
Another figure stood before them.
Not a Core.
Not armored.
Thin. Pale.
Drifting skin of metallic cloth.
No weapon.
No face.
But presence.
Heavy presence.
Nahr tensed.
Hero did not.
The figure raised a hand.
"Don't. You're not in danger here. Not in that way."
Nahr didn't lower his stance.
"Where are we?"
"You're beneath the trench," the voice said. "But not beyond it."
Nahr stared.
"This is the Weightless Tier?"
"It is a part of it," the figure replied. "The trench doesn't like this place. It tolerates it. Like a scar."
Nahr circled the figure once.
"Why are you here?"
"To offer relief."
"What kind?"
The figure tilted its head.
"The kind you're not ready for."
Hero stepped forward.
Pointed to the trench wall--where a glow began to form.
A circle.
Pulsing.
The figure nodded.
"You've triggered the Exchanger."
Nahr narrowed his vision.
"What is that?"
"A trade," the voice said. "You give up a memory, and the trench lifts some of your weight. You forget something... and in return, survive longer."
Nahr said nothing.
The figure continued.
"You're at 73.4 burden. Your frame will begin to fault at 90. Emotional collapse follows at 95. Shutdown occurs beyond 100. If you want to finish this trench, you need relief. This is the only sanctioned method."
Hero looked to Nahr.
Then stepped forward.
Reached for the exchange glyph.
The figure didn't stop him.
"Pick carefully," it said. "You can offer anything. But what you lose, you never get back. Not in this tier. Not in any."
Hero placed his hand into the light.
A screen bloomed in the air.
Options.
All stored internally.
Fragments of experience.
A brief sparring session with Nahr.
A memory of looking down the trench before descent.
His name.
Nahr stepped forward.
"Hero."
But Hero didn't turn.
He selected.
The trench pulsed once.
Weight decreased.
Hero stepped back.
Nahr's HUD updated.
[COHORT BURDEN REDUCED TO: 70.2]
Then another line:
[COHORT NAME: UNKNOWN]
Nahr turned to Hero.
"You gave up your name."
Hero blinked.
Then shook his head.
Not in denial.
In affirmation.
Yes.
"I will carry your name," Nahr said.
The other Core looked down.
Silent.
Still himself.
But less.
The exchange node glowed again.
This time for Nahr.
He approached it.
Felt it call.
He hesitated.
Then placed his hand inside.
The menu bloomed.
Options:
Memory of first contact with trench floor
Maldrin's last signal
The fake Hero mimic duel
The moment before touching the Vault Chair
He stared at the last.
That memory had helped define him.
But maybe it could go.
No.
Not yet.
He tapped the mimic duel.
Accepted.
Pain.
Sharp.
Like static burned along his ribs.
Then--release.
Lightness.
He stood straighter.
[INDIVIDUAL BURDEN REDUCED TO: 69.0]
But something else was gone now.
When he tried to recall the fight--the mimic Hero--there was only blur.
Like a song he once heard from behind a sealed wall.
There.
But not his.
He turned.
The figure had moved.
Further back.
"Not all choose what they lose," it said. "You were lucky."
Nahr wasn't sure.
He looked at Hero again.
They were both lighter.
But were they still themselves?
They walked on.
--
The weightless trench expanded.
It wasn't built the same.
No more stone and wall.
Just patches of ground--drifting, suspended by fragments of memory and choice.
The trench didn't shape this place.
It tolerated it.
A scar.
A system for those who couldn't bear full weight.
An escape.
Or a trap.
They passed floating statues.
Figures in mid-step.
Half-Cores, frozen.
Some held Galieyas.
Others held nothing.
Each wore an expression of peace.
Until you got close.
Then the peace flickered.
Replaced by fear.
These were Exchanger victims.
Those who gave too much.
And forgot they were alive.
Hero touched one.
The face rippled.
Spoke.
"I gave my name. Then my purpose. Then... I gave my descent."
It stopped moving.
Hero stepped back.
Looked to Nahr.
He nodded.
"Limit the trade."
They moved on.
--
The final chamber of the Weightless Tier loomed.
Dark.
Immense.
Empty.
At its center: a mirror.
Full length.
Polished.
Free-standing.
No marks.
No supports.
Nothing but a Core-shaped frame etched into the surface.
Nahr approached.
Saw his reflection.
Hero's behind him.
And then--
Neither.
Only light.
And a prompt.
[LAST TRADE OFFERED]
[FOR THE RIGHT TO REMEMBER THE END, FORGET WHO YOU WERE AT THE BEGINNING]
Nahr reached toward it.
Stopped.
Looked to Hero.
His partner nodded.
Nahr lowered his hand.
"No."
He turned away.
The mirror vanished.
A voice--deep and absolute--filled the chamber.
"You are not empty enough."
And the door opened.
A slope.
A return to gravity.
To weight.
To consequence.
They stepped through.
--
Gravity returned in degrees.
With every step, the weight came back.
Veins in his Galieya lit again.
System tremors registered in his spine.
Sound returned to his steps.
Familiar.
Cold.
Real.
The trench welcomed them back.
Not kindly.
But with honesty.
[BURDEN RESTORED: 69.0]
[WEIGHTLESS TIER EXITED]
[NEXT SECTOR: THE HOLLOW MARCH]
They stood at the edge of a new trench.
A new trial.
But now--
They had given.
They had lost.
They had chosen.
And the trench had let them live.
For now.
Nahr stepped off the final ledge.
The ground beneath his boots was real again.
Coarse.
Dry.
It hummed faintly with pressure.
The trench wasn't hiding anymore.
It was ready.
Hero stood beside him, motionless.
No questions.
No recalibrations.
Just breath.
The kind Cores weren't programmed to need--but simulated, just to feel present.
Ahead stretched a narrow trench road.
Not carved.
Etched.
Every inch of the path had been worn by others.
Not many.
But enough.
The stones bore footfalls in perfect heel-arch patterns.
Some too large.
Some impossibly small.
All real.
And recent.
A wind passed overhead.
Not carrying ash.
Not carrying cold.
But carrying sound.
Whispers.
Not voices.
Not memories.
But echoes of weight never traded.
Hero looked to Nahr.
Nahr nodded.
They began walking.
One step after another.
No light to chase.
No signal to follow.
Just the trench.
And the promise it whispered to those
who'd gone too far to stop.
You are almost empty enough.
But not yet.
The Hollow March waited.
And it did not forgive those who returned lighter.