The holding area did not last.
Stone seams reappeared ahead, spreading outward like stress fractures. The corridor resumed its forward pull, subtle but undeniable, as if remaining still would soon be interpreted as refusal.
Eiran did not wait for that interpretation.
"Move," he said.
They moved.
The rhythm shifted again—not faster, but denser. Decisions stacked closer together. Left-right corrections narrowed to inches. The floor no longer punished hesitation with damage; it punished it with compression.
Space shrank when they slowed.
The priestess nearly collided with Eiran's back as the corridor tightened abruptly. She caught herself just in time, breath sharp.
"It's closing us in," she said.
"No," Eiran replied. "It's compressing error."
SYSTEM NOTICE: COMMAND FREQUENCY — ELEVATED
WARNING: SATURATION APPROACHING
The notice blinked twice before fading.
The third survivor frowned. "That's new."
"Yes," Eiran said. "It's telling me I'm issuing too many commands."
"That's bad?"
"It means the Tower is starting to see me as a bottleneck."
They reached another segmentation zone—this one more aggressive. Panels shifted as they approached, rearranging themselves before any step was taken. Paths formed and dissolved in advance, reacting to Eiran's gaze more than his movement.
NULL was no longer waiting for him to speak.
It was predicting what he would say.
Eiran felt a strange pressure behind his eyes—not pain, but resistance. As if the Tower were pushing back against the speed of his decisions, testing whether he would slow down under cognitive strain.
He did not.
"Two steps. Stop. Now," he said.
They obeyed instantly.
The floor locked.
SYSTEM NOTICE: PRE-EMPTED FAILURE STATE — AVOIDED
RESOURCE COST: INTERNAL
Internal.
Eiran understood that word far better than he wanted to.
The cost was not HP. Not stamina.
It was him.
Each command issued cleanly, early, and without hesitation reduced uncertainty—but increased NULL's reliance on his presence. The more efficient he became, the less tolerance the Tower would have for deviation.
Including his own.
The priestess watched him carefully now. Not with trust. With something closer to concern.
"You're… different," she said.
Eiran did not deny it.
"I'm adapting," he replied.
"To what?" the third survivor asked.
Eiran looked ahead, where the corridor bent into something sharper, more angular—Floor Twelve beginning to show teeth.
"To a Tower," he said, "that no longer wants a party."
Silence followed them as they advanced.
NULL had stopped testing whether Eiran could lead others through danger.
It was beginning to test a more dangerous hypothesis:
Whether the raid would function better without the delay of other wills.
And if that proved true—
Floor Twelve would not ask permission to act on it.