No one moved.
The space ahead remained open and silent, as if nothing had happened. No blood. No residue. The floor where the rookie had been taken was perfectly smooth, indistinguishable from the rest.
That was the cruelty of it.
NULL did not allow aftermaths.
Karsen lowered his shield slowly. His breathing was uneven, shallow, each inhale scraping against something tight in his chest.
"I reacted," he said hoarsely. "I didn't freeze."
"I know," Eiran replied.
The priestess stared at the ground, lips pressed together so hard they had turned pale. Her hands hovered near her staff, unsure whether to grip it or drop it.
The system window appeared again, almost politely.
HIDDEN CONDITION UPDATED
LEADERSHIP LOAD: REDISTRIBUTED
EFFICIENCY: ACCEPTABLE
Eiran felt something twist inside him.
Acceptable.
NULL did not care that the order had worked only partially. It did not care that Karsen would remember the weight of that shield for the rest of his life—however long that was.
It only cared that the structure held.
"Karsen," Eiran said, "report."
Karsen flinched at the word. Then he straightened.
"Contact was immediate. No warning. The floor… targeted hesitation. Not position alone—he stepped back when I paused."
Eiran nodded.
That mattered.
NULL was no longer killing based on mistakes alone.
It was killing based on decision latency.
"You hesitated," Eiran said.
"Yes."
"And it punished the one closest to that hesitation."
Karsen swallowed. "Then why not me?"
Eiran answered without pause.
"Because NULL isn't finished teaching you."
The silence that followed was heavier than any scream.
They regrouped without being told to.
Not because Eiran ordered it—but because none of them could bear distance anymore.
The space ahead finally resolved into form.
A downward ramp, spiraling slowly into darkness. The red haze thickened the farther it went, light bending strangely along its curve.
Floor Eleven was revealing its spine.
SYSTEM NOTICE: PATH CONFIRMED
PROGRESSION REQUIRED
Eiran stepped forward first.
Each step down felt colder, quieter. The breathing beneath the floor did not return, but something else replaced it—a sense of proximity, as if the tower were now close enough to whisper directly into thought.
Behind him, Karsen followed.
His shield no longer shook.
That worried Eiran more than fear ever had.
As they descended, a final message appeared—visible only to Eiran.
HIDDEN CONDITION — PERSONAL
FAILURE THRESHOLD APPROACHING
Eiran did not slow.
He already understood what NULL was preparing.
It was no longer asking whether he could lead.
It was calculating how many deaths it would take before leadership itself became an unacceptable burden.
And Floor Eleven still had plenty of room to count.