Judgment Descent
There was a problem.
And it wasn't small.
The descent tunnel was gone.
The only damn exit, just… sealed shut like it never existed. Nahr hated tunnels. They always smelled like copper and old regret.
And then, halfway down the slope, the ground beneath them crumbled, revealing a fractured trench wall. A slow fault ripple had rolled back up the shaft, welding itself shut with inch-thick alloy plates.
The trench had closed behind them.
And the path forward?
Nothing.
Just a thirty‑meter vertical drop into a dark basin.
Featureless.
Unstable.
Impossible.
Nahr stared down the ledge.
A moment passed. Then two.
No one spoke.
Hero slid up up beside him, scanning—more habit than hope.
No signal markers.
No echo pressure.
Just silence.
That was worse.
Slate approached. Jaw clenched.
"So… what now?" he asked, voice rough.
Kelar rubbed sweat away. "The trench doesn't collapse paths."
Nahr nodded. "Not unless it's offering a different one."
Hero frowned.
"So we… fall?"
Nahr's voice low:
"No. We're meant to choose to fall."
The difference… felt everything.
--
They camped at the drop's edge—no shelter, just proximity, restraint. Hero deployed a thermal anchor. Its soft blue pulse was warmth against rising cold. The air was thin. Not freezing yet—but wrong. Not enough oxygen to last the night.
Kelar flexed a bad joint. Slate leaned on the wall. Nahr stood alone, staring into the unknown.
Hero joined after a while. "We can't stay."
"I know."
"They're too damaged to jump."
"I know that too."
"You're not saying it."
Nahr didn't look away.
"I'm not ready to."
Behind them, Slate shifted. Knew.
Kelar stood. "Say it, Nahr."
Nahr turned.
"You want me to weigh you."
Kelar shrugged.
"You already are—in your head."
The trench didn't want death. It wanted decisions.
This drop wasn't gravity's test.
It was loyalty.
Nahr exhaled, steady.
"There's a ledge twenty meters down. Just wide enough for one Core."
He looked at Hero.
"I'll drop first. Secure anchor. We lower Slate, then Kelar."
"I'll go last," Hero said.
Kelar tilted his head. "Why think we survive?"
Nahr didn't lie.
"I don't."
But he offered no alternative.
No faith.
Just choice.
They packed silently.
--
Nahr fell with Galieya strapped, legs braced. The wind caught wrong. Not resistance. Pull. Gravity shifted mid‑descent. He corrected—landed hard. Knee cracked. Pain bloomed. But he held.
Deployed anchor. "Send him."
Slate fell next. Hard. Too hard. Nahr caught him. Dragged him clear. Chestplate cracked—but he breathed.
"Still alive," Slate coughed.
"Not enough," Nahr said. "Not yet."
Kelar descended smoother until the last meter—the wind spun him. He slammed in shoulder‑first, skidded. Nahr grabbed arm. Held him. Galieya slipped into darkness.
"I needed that," Kelar said.
"You still got hands," Nahr replied.
Hero dropped. Landed clean.
Four stood on ledge: crowded, unstable, front lost.
Path ahead: gone.
Just a slit. Barely crawlable.
Nahr moved.
--
The tunnel was wrong. Bent. Compressed. A path a Core wasn't meant to take. They moved single–file, hunched, scraped—half crawling, half pressing forward with elbows and heels. The trench made them suffer every meter.
And something… listened.
They emerged into a hall of broken mirrors. Shards embedded. Each reflected wrong.
One showed Nahr's back bleeding.
Another: Hero headless.
Slate moving but standing still.
Nahr to group:
"We're in judgment now."
Kelar stared:
"No kidding."
Every mirror held a message: false pasts, possible futures.
Not threats. Distractions.
Hero whispered: "They want us to see what could've been."
Nahr touched the biggest shard: showed him leaving Slate behind. He saw himself walking forward while Slate collapsed. He didn't move.
He punched it.
It cracked.
The trench roared—silently. Pressure wave shook floor. Air thickened. Slate doubled over. Keler hissed. Hero gritted teeth. Nahr staggered—then righted.
Mirrors shattered. Floor opened. Trench… spoke.
In weight.
A path opened down: angled stairs. Each step had a number. Each number a decision.
They walked. One step per beat. One choice per second. Every stride demanded memory.
Hero stumbled. Galieya flickered. Burden spiked.
He gripped Nahr's shoulder:
"I remember too much."
"so give some back."
"I did."
"Then carry it," Nahr said.
Hero didn't stop. Nor Slate, Nor Kelar.
They reached bottom. Another chamber. Circular. Word on wall:
RECKONING
And waiting—a mimic shaped like Nahr.
Exact: same scars, same cadence, same pain.
It stood, hands empty. Not passive.
Nahr stepped forward, others watched.
Mimic matched his tone:
"You walked past death."
"I had to."
"You forgot too little."
"I remembered enough."
"You led not knowing price."
"I paid it."
"You made them follow."
"They chose to."
Mimic smiled:
"Prove it."
They clashed. Mirrors. Every strike matched. Perfect. Predicted.
Nahr pushed—but couldn't break through.
Then he did: hesitated. Half‑beat. Held. Didn't strike. Mimic attacked. Missed. Overextended. Nahr caught and whispered:
"You weren't me."
And pierced.
Mimic collapsed. Ash. Gone.
Slate exhaled. Hero stared. Kelar closed eyes.
Trench pulsed. Path opened: final slope. They walked—together. Not whole. But enough.
Bottom platform. Etched into wall: YOU ARE ACCOUNTED
Letter byy letter, trench absorbed them.
Air shifted. Felt like trench was inside them.
Slate? breathing shallow .
Kelar? cradling side. Rib cracked.
Hero? steady—but core flickering.
Nahr? silent—hand traced smooth wall.
No opening. No switch. But hum. Pull. Then wall peeled open like paper beneath heat.
Beyond: huge vaulted room, alcoves lined with broken Galieyas—empty husks.
Center plinth—cube—empty. Glyphs:
BREACH VAULT
Slate stepped forward:
"This isn't storage."
Kelar:
"It's recordkeeping."
Nahr stared:
"There's no test here."
Hero:
"There's only truth."
Nahr touched cube. Hesitated. Tremor in fingertips. Glyphs changed:
IF YOU OPEN THIS, YOU CANNOT GO BACK.
He looked at the others. Hero nodded. Kelar silent. Slate met his gaze:
"Some truths are worth it."
Nahr pressed plinth.
Vault began to open.
The Vault opened.
Slow.
Like creaking metal under memory.
The cube carved itself apart—walls folding—and inside, dim light showed…
Rows upon rows. Galieyas. All drained. Dirt-smudged. Hung on memory hooks.
Nahr stepped in. He brushed one. Spiral veins dead. Emptied. It felt… sacred. And mournful.
Hero and the others followed. They moved no louder than ghosts now, each step fragile.
Slate whispered:
"They're… all here."
Kelar nodded, voice quiet:
"Each a soul erased."
Nahr reached the cube's pedestal—it glowed faintly.
He looked at the empty top.
No weapon. No shard.
Just a surface that waited.
Text flickered inside the HUD—memory choice.
Options. No words. Just icons—each representing a trade.
One: First descent thrill
Two: Maldrin's last laugh
Three: Hero's silence broken
Four: That moment before the Vault Chair
It pulsed like a heartbeat.
Nahr's vision wavered. Each icon felt like a lost part of him.
Slate placed a hand on his shoulder:
"Think about them—to carry true—not to forget them."
His voice cracked.
Nahr closed his eyes. The vault hummed.
Hero stepped forward.
He picked the second icon. A flicker—lost echo of laughter.
Nahr wanted to protest, but saw Hero's eyes—tired, empty, resolved.
Hero's Galieya flickered. Text updated:
[Hero memory lost: Maldrin's laugh]
[Cohort burden: +1.2]
Hero stumbled. Kelar caught him.
"You okay?" Nahr asked.
Hero nodded, voice small:
"Ill carry it."
Kelar stepped up next. He chose the first icon.
Nahr watched ribs shift under coreplate.
[Nahr memory: descent thrill gone]
[Cohort burden: +1.2 more]
Kelar exhaled.
"Feels… lighter."
Slate hovered near the last two icons.
He looked at Nahr.
"You still have to."
Nahr didn't argue.
He stepped up last. Didn't look at icon four.
Still slid his hand over the cube.
Felt it hum.
He chose it.
Light flickered.
Vault shook.
Echos rang.
Then silence.
Text updated:
[Nahr memory: Vault Chair moment lost]
[Cohort burden: +1.2]
[Unlocked: Final Exit]
The cube locked again—empty.
Vault hooks dissolved.
Husks fell—each beam of memory extinguished.
Weight dropped.
They didn't look back.
Nahr, Hero, Slate, Kelar—four shapes in the dim glow—walked upward.
The path back wasn't smooth.
Shards cracked underfoot.
Dust hissed.
Ghost shells shifted in memory.
Above them, a low wall slid open—cold air and real echo waited.
They stepped through.
No ceremony.
No sudden light.
Just—
Gravel floor.
Real gravity.
A single exit corridor.
Nahr glanced at Hero.
Hero nodded.
Slate breathed.
Kelar exhaled.
They moved.
Together.
No longer tested. Not quite free.
But still walking.
Because that's what Cores do.
Always forward.
They walked out of the vault corridor.
Air was different.
Not warm.
Clean.
Like it hadn't been filtered through burden and memory.
Slate paused.
Looked back at the sealing wall.
Only smooth alloy where the vault had been.
He touched it, as if expecting echoes.
But there were none.
He glanced at Nahr.
"What… now?"
Nahr didn't say.
He just stepped forward.
Kelar stumbled slightly over a rubble chunk.
Slate reached to steady him.
"No more traps," Kelar murmured. "No more tiers."
They moved on through the exit's corridor.
Walls unmarked.
Silent.
Real.
Hushed in a way that felt empty.
Bare.
The trench seemed to shrink behind them.
Pressure lessened.
Gravity more certain.
Hero's gait changed—more fluid.
Nahr watched.
He felt… light.
Too light.
As if the trench had taken something essential.
They found a final chamber.
Tall.
Open roof ..
Stars beyond.
No trench overhead.
Just sky.
Slate looked up, shading his eyes.
"Sky…"
Kelar whispered, "We remember that?"
Nahr closed his eyes.
He tried.
But there was a gap.
A cut where the vault memories had been.
He couldn't reach it.
He shook his head.
"No… not fully."
Hero stood beside him.
Spoke gently:
"We carry the cost."
Nahr swallowed.
Tears didn't come.
He didn't know why.
Maybe there wasn't room.
Slate took a step forward.
Ran a hand over a low stone slab—the only feature in the chamber.
He knelt there.
Placed his Galieya in the center.
They watched.
The trench remained silent, absent.
Slate whispered:
"It means home."
Nahr and Kelar laid theirs too.
Hero held his longer.
Then placed it.
They all stepped back.
Slate folded his arms.
Kelar inhaled.
Nahr closed his eyes.
The slab glowed faintly under the four Galieyas.
Light pulsed—heartbeat soft.
They stood together, shoulders squared.
Their shapes dark against the glow and star.
The trench had changed them.
But for a moment—
They reminded themselves:
They were still here.
Still together.
Still remembered.
And they weren't broken.
Not completely.
Kelar cracked a half-smile.
"You ever think we'd get out?"
Nahr opened his eyes.
"Not… exactly," he said. Voice raw but steady.
Hero stepped closer.
"Does it matter?"
Slate nodded.
"Only this matters."
He looked at each of them.
"We walk on."
Nahr's boots pressed gravel.
Fact.
Truth.
Promises.
He moved.
The others followed.
One step, and another.
Sky above, trench behind.
They kept walking.