Crossing the boundary felt like stepping into a held breath.
Eiran felt it in his joints first—a subtle resistance, as if the air had gained texture. Not weight. Not pressure. Expectation. The space around him seemed to pause, waiting to see whether he would continue moving or correct himself.
He did not hesitate.
Behind him, Kael crossed next. The moment his boot passed the line, the resistance spiked, sharp enough to draw a grunt from his throat. His armor creaked softly, metal protesting a force that had no direction.
Rook followed with measured precision. Lyra last, her shoulders rigid, jaw set.
The platform vanished.
Not collapsed. Not dropped.
Reclassified.
They stood now in a long, narrow corridor—no seams, no markings, its walls sloping inward so subtly it was almost imperceptible. The red glow returned, dimmer than before, pulsing at an irregular cadence.
Rook exhaled. "Spatial overwrite."
"Yes," Eiran said. "Localized."
They advanced in silence.
Ten steps.
Twenty.
At thirty, Kael slowed, frowning. "Leader. Something's wrong."
Eiran raised his hand. Halt.
Kael swallowed. "I feel… lighter."
Lyra frowned. "I feel heavier."
Rook adjusted his stance. "I feel nothing."
Eiran closed his eyes briefly.
"Conditional existence," he said. "The floor is assigning resistance based on role dependency."
Kael blinked. "English."
"Move alone, and you'll be corrected," Eiran said. "Move as a unit, and it tolerates you."
Lyra glanced at the walls. "So it's not attacking us."
"No," Eiran replied. "It's observing compliance."
As if in response, the corridor ahead warped.
A ripple passed through the stone, like a reflection disturbed by a thrown pebble. From it emerged shapes—humanoid, but incomplete. Their forms flickered between solidity and outline, edges blurring as if NULL had not finished deciding what they were.
Monsters.
Or something close enough.
They did not rush.
They stood in the corridor, blocking the path, unmoving. No weapons. No visible aggression. Just presence.
Rook raised his rifle instinctively.
"Don't," Eiran said.
Rook froze mid-motion.
The nearest figure tilted its head.
Not toward Rook.
Toward Eiran.
Eiran felt the attention like a cold fingertip pressed against his spine.
SYSTEM NOTICE:
ENGAGEMENT OPTIONAL.
OUTCOME WEIGHTED BY RESPONSE.
Kael whispered, "Optional how?"
"By meaning," Eiran said.
He stepped forward one pace.
The figures reacted instantly.
Not by attacking—but by adjusting. One blurred, thinning until it nearly vanished. Another sharpened, edges solidifying, mass increasing.
Lyra's breath caught. "They're… changing."
"They reflect intent," Eiran said. "Hostility creates resistance. Restraint creates passage."
Kael tightened his grip. "So what do we do?"
Eiran did not answer immediately.
He studied the figures, noting how their forms shifted in response to minute movements, how the corridor itself seemed to lean toward escalation.
Then he lowered his weapon.
"We pass through," he said. "No strikes. No spells. No targeting."
"That's insane," Kael hissed.
"Yes," Eiran replied. "But it's permitted."
He moved forward again.
The nearest figure dissolved as he approached, its form unraveling into red light that bled back into the walls. The others followed suit, fading one by one, until the corridor ahead was clear.
No experience gained.
No loot dropped.
No victory registered.
Only progress.
As they resumed walking, Lyra whispered, "If we'd fought…"
"We would've died," Eiran said. "Not because they're strong."
The red glow pulsed, slower now.
"But because NULL doesn't reward correct actions," he continued. "It punishes unnecessary ones."
The corridor stretched on.
And somewhere deeper within the tower, the system updated its internal assessment—not of their power, but of Eiran's restraint.