There was no route forward.
The ascent trail ahead, once stable and marked by burial-etched footplates, had been severed entirely by a collapse.
Half of the Stoneweld-facing track had sheared off into the vast emptiness beneath, leaving only a crumbling edge to suggest it ever existed.
The four Cores stood near the faultline, silent.
Only the wind moved now.
Cresk turned to Nahr — not with trust, but with accusation.
"Too quiet."
His gait was unsteady.
He gestured to the crack-lined ledge with his free arm.
"Nothing about this place should be still."
Nahr did not answer.
Because Cresk wasn't wrong.
There had been noise before.
Ambient creaks, system moans, flex vibrations from distant anchor points shifting.
But now?
Silence.
Which meant one thing in the trench:
Pressure had relocated.
And it would soon return.
Maldrin leaned forward, looking over the ridge. He tapped his broken survey pole against the crystal-stitched stone.
"There's an echo fork below. That's where the old slope-steps likely folded. There may still be footing beneath."
Orren remained still, not looking down.
He was watching the cloudline — higher up.
"There is motion above."
They were trapped.
A hollow ledge behind.
A deadfall ahead.
A cliff above, where something unseen shifted too carefully.
Nahr stepped closer to the ridge, narrowed his stance, and slowly rotated his Galieya.
If there was going to be collapse — it would start here.
But the fall did not come.
Not yet.
Instead…
Something rose.
From the shadow split beneath the ledge, four spiked limbs emerged — segmented and coated in black friction hooks.
A Snare-Core.
A restraint-tier Core.
Not designed to fight.
Designed to detain.
It struck upward, catching Orren by the shoulder before any of them could react.
Dragged him down into the hollow below.
Nahr didn't hesitate.
He leapt.
Galieya in hand.
Dropped two tiers down the Stoneweld flank, boots grinding sparks into the surface.
The air blurred around him as another limb swept from the dark, nearly clipping his leg.
He turned mid-fall, buried the point of his Galieya into the slope to slow his descent.
And then —
He landed.
The hollow was wide.
A fractured loop-basin from a previous trench spill.
The Snare-Core loomed at the center — half-machine, half-suspended restraint-tier Core.
Orren was hanging upside down from its core-hook, trying to slash at the cables binding his legs.
But his blade glanced uselessly off the armored restraint.
Worse — from its exposed underside, three hatch-points opened.
And out from them poured reinforcement units:
Small Cores.
Fast.
Unarmed.
But programmed for one purpose:
Immobilize the target until authority arrives.
Nahr stepped forward.
No hesitation.
Just breath.
And strike.
The first unit lunged — leaping like a spider.
He crushed its chestplate with a horizontal sweep of his Galieya.
It collapsed without a sound.
The second reached his flank — trying to tangle his arms in reverse-latching tension mesh.
He pivoted and rolled, using the Snare-Core's limb itself as a springboard, launching himself into the third unit before it could anchor.
The two collided midair.
The sound of metal shearing echoed down the hollow.
He was on the ground again.
A breath.
Galieya in reverse grip.
He stabbed downward.
Behind him, Orren shouted something.
Nahr didn't listen.
Too slow.
The main body of the Snare-Core shifted.
A targeting light blinked on.
Torque-Thread Release: initializing.
The entire construct was about to convert.
From detainment…
To removal.
Orren twisted mid-suspension and swung his blade at the last cable.
It snapped.
He fell.
And landed hard beside Nahr, just as the Snare-Core deployed its Torque-Thread Release.
Nahr blocked.
But he was too far.
The pulse would fire in a line.
No dodging.
Only choice.
So he stepped into it.
Pain rippled through the stabilizer brace on his back.
The Galieya — caught between two anchor joints — fractured.
He twisted what remained and thrust the broken tip up into the weak seam near the underside node.
Direct hit.
No burst.
Just a soft pulse of light — like a detainment protocol canceled mid-order.
And then stillness.
The Snare-Core slumped.
Its limbs jerked once.
Then fell limp.
Nahr dropped the Galieya core, hand burning from the recoil.
Orren rose beside him, cloak torn, armor cracked — but intact.
They nodded.
Nothing said.
But enough shared.
Minutes later, Cresk and Maldrin slid down into the hollow, weapons drawn — too late, but not unwelcome.
They looked at the ruin.
Then at Nahr.
Then at the shattered chain of detainment Cores.
No one spoke of it again.
The climb resumed, now steeper, slower, and tighter.
But no one complained.
Not even Cresk.
Because in that fight, Nahr had not proven himself lucky.
He had proven himself necessary.
And that was far more useful to the others.
Especially now — when the trackline above was no longer a test…
…but a path into something worse.