The thing by the fountain did not retreat.
It changed.
The swordsman's face peeled away like wet paper, folding inward without blood or bone. Underneath was nothing distinct—just a smooth, featureless surface that kept trying to become something else.
Someone else.
The windows shattered all at once.
Not outward.
Inward.
Glass fell into darkness that should not have fit behind stone walls.
SYSTEM UPDATE: FLOOR 11 — ACTIVE PHASE
THREAT TYPE: SUBSTITUTE ENTITY
CLEAR CONDITION: UNCHANGED
"That's it," Eiran muttered. "It's done copying."
The substitute stepped forward again, its body lagging half a step behind its own movement, like a delayed reflection.
Then it spoke in a different voice.
"Leader… I can't feel my legs."
The priestess whimpered.
That voice belonged to Mara.
A healer from three floors ago. Crushed when the ground folded inward. She had begged Eiran not to move her.
He hadn't.
Eiran's jaw tightened.
"Eyes closed," he repeated. "If you open them, you die."
The rookie nearest the front shook violently. Sweat dripped from his chin.
"I—I hear her," he whispered. "She's right there."
"I know," Eiran said. "Keep counting."
The substitute paused.
Its head tilted.
"Why do you remember them so clearly?" it asked.
This was new.
NULL rarely asked questions without a blade behind them.
"Because forgetting is easier," Eiran answered. "And I don't get to be comfortable."
The substitute's form flickered again.
This time, it became Karsen.
Perfectly.
Shield scar. Breathing pattern. Even the way he shifted his weight when nervous.
The real Karsen gasped.
"Leader—that's—"
"Don't answer," Eiran said immediately.
The fake Karsen smiled.
"You always put him first," it said to Eiran. "Did you know that?"
The pressure spiked.
Eiran felt it now—NULL pressing inward, trying to collapse hierarchy, to fracture trust.
Leadership Distribution had not been a metric.
It had been a vulnerability.
"Everyone," Eiran said calmly, "this is the rule now."
He raised his weapon, pointing not at the substitute—but at the ground between them.
"If anything speaks using a name that is already gone, it is not allowed to finish its sentence."
The fake Karsen's smile froze.
The ground cracked.
From beneath the square, something exhaled—deep, slow, vast.
The substitute stepped back for the first time.
Not because it was afraid.
Because the tower had finished replacing individuals—
And was now preparing to replace roles.
Eiran felt the weight settle fully.
Floor Eleven was no longer asking who would die.
It was asking who would lead when he finally did.