The climb was a journey into a forgotten, mechanical sky. Ren's fingers, slick with grime, found holds on ancient girders and service ladders that groaned under his weight. The darkness was absolute, broken only by the faint, violet glow of the chamber far below, where the Phantasms drifted like malevolent stars in a captured nebula.
He was a hundred meters up when the diversion started.
A sharp, percussive CRACK echoed through the cavern, followed by the blinding flash of a chemical flare igniting on the far side of the chamber. Ren saw Valeria's shimmering [Ordinance Field] slam into a wall, not as a shield, but as a hammer, creating another deafening boom. Beside her, Silas had clearly used one of his scavenged treasures.
Down below, the Conductor's single, violet eye swiveled towards the disturbance. It was working. A half-dozen of its Phantasm puppets detached from their silent patrols and drifted towards the noise with an unnerving, silent grace.
Ren didn't waste the opportunity. He found his perch on a narrow catwalk directly above the central spire, the target a straight drop beneath him. He lay flat on the grating, the abyss yawning on all sides, and focused.
The world dissolved into the golden tapestry. The Covenants of the three primary support struts holding the broadcast array were like pillars of light, thick and immensely powerful. He reached out for the first one.
The resistance was like hitting a solid wall. The Covenant was ancient, stable, its weave tight and unyielding. Pain flared in his head. He ignored it, focusing his will into a single, sharp point and pulling. For a terrifying second, nothing happened. Then, with a low, resonant hum, the thread began to unspool.
The first support strut dissolved into a slow, silent rain of grey dust. The massive array shifted with a groan of stressed metal, its weight now held by only two anchors.
Down below, the diversion was escalating. The Phantasms had reached Valeria and Silas. Ren could see Valeria's kinetic barriers flickering into existence, not to block the intangible creatures, but to physically shove them, a desperate, energy-draining tactic to keep them at bay. Silas was a shadow, darting between data banks, hurling pieces of scrap to create distractions.
The Conductor was growing agitated. Its eye flickered, its light pulsing erratically. It sensed that its puppets were not destroying the intruders. Its attention was wavering.
Ren locked onto the second support. This pull was harder. His vision swam, and the taste of blood filled his mouth. He felt the Covenant strain, fray, and finally snap.
The second strut vanished. The broadcast array, now held by a single point, dropped several meters, swinging like a colossal pendulum on its last tether. The sound of groaning metal was now a continuous, high-pitched scream.
The Conductor knew.
Its violet eye snapped away from the diversion and swiveled directly upward, locking onto Ren's position. It let out a silent, psychic shriek of rage that lanced through Ren's mind.
One of the Phantasms detached from the group below and shot towards him with impossible speed, a glowing spear of vengeance.
There was no time. The Flaw, the lag, the pain—none of it mattered.
He grabbed the final thread. He didn't just pull. He poured his existence into it, his fear, his anger, his cold, desperate resolve.
The Phantasm was meters away, its intangible blade already descending.
The Covenant shattered.
The final support strut ceased to exist. For a heartbeat, the multi-ton broadcast array hung in the air, a monument to a broken promise.
Then, with a final, soul-shattering shriek of tearing metal, it began to fall.