The board outside the guild hall was full.
It was not always like this.
At first, it had only been a single column—clean, narrow, easy to ignore. A list of names engraved into light, hovering characters. They faded after a week. People said it was merciful.
Now the board had expanded.
Three columns. Then four. Then a second board, mounted lower, closer to eye level. The names no longer faded quickly. Some remained for months, their glow dimmed, edges blurred, as if the system itself hesitated to erase them.
Eiran stood in front of it without moving.
He was not reading for recognition. He already knew most of them.
Former teammates. Temporary allies. People he had recruited because they trusted his voice when he said, "I can keep you alive."
A lie, repeated often enough that it began to resemble hope.
Behind him, the guild hall was loud.
Arguments over raid schedules. Shouting about compensation. A healer crying near the counter, her hands shaking as she tried to explain that she had done everything correctly.
NULL had opened another floor.
That information alone was enough to destabilize a city.
"Leader."
Eiran did not turn.
The voice belonged to Karsen, a shield-bearer he had recruited two days ago. Young. Nervous. Still alive.
"We're… we're confirmed for the entry window tomorrow," Karsen said. "Floor Eleven. Same conditions."
Eiran nodded once.
Floor Eleven was not deep. Not by numerical standards. But NULL did not respect numbers. Floors were not harder because they were lower. They were harder because they remembered.
Every raid changed the tower.
That was the truth no one wanted to accept.
The system called it Adaptive Correction.
Hunters called it malice.
Eiran finally turned away from the board.
"Who backed out?" he asked.
Karsen hesitated. "The mage. And the scout."
Of course.
Scouts died first in NULL. Mages died screaming. Everyone knew this, but knowing did not stop people from trying once.
Eiran exhaled slowly.
"Find replacements," he said. "Not veterans. New ones."
Karsen stared at him. "New…? They won't survive."
"They will," Eiran replied. "For a while."
That was all NULL ever allowed.
As Karsen left, Eiran glanced back at the board one last time.
A name flickered.
Just for a second.
Then it vanished.
Eiran looked away before the system could decide to show him more.
Tomorrow, they would enter NULL again.
Not for glory. Not for rewards.
But because the world outside had quietly agreed on one thing:
If NULL was never conquered, then it would never stop.
And if it never stopped, then someone had to keep walking inside it—long enough to learn how it killed.
Even if everyone walking beside them kept dying.