Neo stepped into the warped field with the plaque locked in his fist, and the first ugly truth caught up with him at once. The way back hadn't erased what he'd learned on the way in - it had twisted it.
The floor had shifted, yes. Raised stone had slid sideways, safe plates had dropped, fresh slits had unsealed in the walls and old ones had closed up. But the sector spoke the same language. Gray Hand had not built a second test from nothing - they had taken the first one, snapped its teeth out, and rearranged the bite.
A boy near the center failed to understand that and paid immediately. He sprinted straight for what had been a safe strip on the way in. The plate held for one step, sank on the second, and launched a hooked iron bar up from the floor. It snared his ankle, ripped his balance out from under him, and sent him scraping across stone hard enough to lose both pride and plaque in one motion.
