No one went to NULL because they wanted to.
That was the lie told by those who had never stood before its gate.
The entrance was not grand. No towering light pillar, no divine announcement. Just a fracture in the air, like the world had been split open and forgotten to be repaired. A vertical seam of dull crimson, pulsing slowly, as if breathing.
Standing before it always made Eiran feel smaller than he remembered being.
The system window hovered in front of him.
ENTRY CONFIRMED
FLOOR: 11
RAID STATUS: UNREGISTERED
SURVIVAL RATE (EST.): 21.4%
No one commented on the number.
Behind him stood six people. Not a team yet. Just individuals temporarily aligned by fear, debt, and desperation.
A swordsman with a chipped blade and eyes that avoided the gate.
A priestess whose hands never stopped trembling.
Two rookies who still believed formation and strategy mattered more than luck.
Karsen, gripping his shield too tightly.
And Eiran, standing at the front because no one else would.
"Why does the world keep sending people here?"
The question came from one of the rookies. Soft. Almost ashamed.
No one answered at first.
Eiran didn't turn around.
"Because NULL doesn't stay quiet," he said.
The rookie frowned. "But it's sealed, right? It hasn't expanded."
"Not outward," Eiran replied. "But every floor it opens changes the balance."
He raised his hand, summoning a projection. A world map, dotted with red marks.
Dungeon breaches. Mana distortions. City-scale anomalies.
"All of these appeared after NULL reached certain thresholds," Eiran continued. "Every ten floors, the world pays a price."
The priestess inhaled sharply.
"So if we stop going in—"
"Then the tower compensates," Eiran finished. "Monsters appear elsewhere. Smaller towers form. People die who never even heard the name NULL."
Silence followed.
This was the part guilds rarely explained. This was the truth buried under reward charts and hero propaganda.
NULL was not just a dungeon.
It was a pressure valve.
Someone always had to be inside it.
That someone was rarely a hero.
The system chimed again.
ENTRY WINDOW: 00:00:30
Karsen swallowed. "Leader… if we die in there—"
"You will," Eiran said calmly.
The bluntness shocked them more than any encouragement would have.
"But not immediately," he added. "And not without meaning."
He turned to face them now.
"I won't promise survival," Eiran said. "I won't promise victory. All I can promise is that I will see how you die—and make sure the tower remembers it."
That was the only advantage he had.
NULL learned from failure.
So did he.
The timer hit zero.
The crimson seam widened.
As they stepped forward, Eiran felt the familiar weight settle on his chest.
Another entry.
Another set of names waiting to be carved.
And somewhere, deep inside NULL, something adjusted—quietly preparing to kill them better than last time.