Eiran stopped speaking.
The effect was immediate.
The shadows hesitated—not advancing, not retreating. The pressure did not lift, but it stabilized, like a held breath that refused to release.
Karsen looked at him, confused. Afraid.
"Leader?" he asked quietly.
Eiran did not answer.
The priestess clutched her leg, teeth clenched against pain that had no visible source. Sweat ran down her temple.
SYSTEM NOTICE: COMMAND INPUT — ABSENT
ENVIRONMENTAL RESPONSE: SUSPENDED
So that was it.
NULL was not punishing silence.
It was rewarding it.
Eiran felt something cold settle in his chest.
Every order he gave sharpened the tower's tools. Every correction refined its response time. Leadership was no longer resistance—it was fuel.
But silence had a cost too.
Without orders, people defaulted to instinct.
And instinct broke faster than discipline.
Karsen shifted his stance slightly.
A shadow twitched.
The priestess gasped as pain flared again.
Eiran raised his hand sharply.
Not an order.
A signal.
They froze.
The shadows froze with them.
Eiran's thoughts raced—not chaotically, but with lethal clarity.
NULL had built a paradox.
If he led, they would be punished through attrition.
If he stopped, they would be punished through entropy.
There was only one remaining option.
Change the type of leadership.
"Karsen," Eiran said finally, voice low, controlled. "Do not ask me what to do."
Karsen blinked. "Then what—"
"Tell me what you see," Eiran interrupted. "Only facts. No decisions."
Karsen swallowed, then focused.
"There are… six shadows in front of us. Uneven spacing. They react after we move, not before."
Good.
Observation without command.
"Priestess," Eiran said, "status only."
"My leg hurts when spacing changes," she said, breathing hard. "No wound. Pain increases when Karsen moves independently."
NULL adjusted.
The shadows rippled, uncertain.
SYSTEM UPDATE: INPUT TYPE ALTERED
LEADERSHIP LOAD: PARTIALLY BYPASSED
Eiran felt it—resistance. Not from the tower's environment, but from its intent.
It had designed Floor Eleven to consume leaders.
It had not accounted for leaders who refused to decide.
They advanced slowly—not by instruction, but by shared observation. Step by step, movement by movement, feeding the tower less and less structure to exploit.
The shadows thinned.
Not vanished.
Retreated.
But NULL was not done.
The floor ahead darkened sharply, forming a narrow passage—too narrow for formation, too unstable for hesitation.
A final filter.
Eiran exhaled.
This was where Floor Eleven would collect its last due.
Not through command.
Not through silence.
But through forcing someone to act alone.
And this time, no amount of leadership would be able to absorb the cost.