this registry. What follows is drawn from the record of a season that is already over. Read on if you want to
know what is waiting, or turn back and find out the way it was meant to be found.
The eleventh floor is the shortest in the dungeon and the least like a floor. It is a single staged event
rather than an expanse to survive, and the System AI has been candid about why: a floor lasting weeks is a
rule for showrunners, not something in the code. It read the code.
Format: build a parade float, march a three-kilometre route past an audience that cannot
touch you, present a one-word theme at the Judging Stands, and finish in an arena.
The route: yellow brick, a knee-high fog, and thousands of masked figures ten deep on
either side. They are not moving. They are not anyone, any more. Partway along, they fall down where they
stand — and get back up wearing the faces they had only been pretending to wear.
The theme: each group is handed one word, not a choice. The words are chapters of the
System AI’s own account of a war that ended before the dungeon existed: Resolution. Decision. Betrayal.
Destruction. Vengeance. The last of these was never delivered. The AI said it had not been written.
The arena: a dozen football fields and a white tree, and everything you have already
killed.
Floor boss: Krakaren Prime, level 235, coiled on the tree.
Registration days: 159-189 — the staircase to the next floor opens on day 189, and it is the shortest floor in the dungeon — hours of it, not weeks.
On this registry
Because we keep a record of what each crawler has actually fought, the arena here is stocked from your own
history. The creatures waiting for you are the ones you have already put down, and they will remember whose
record they came out of.
The floor boss is the hardest fight in the dungeon. Losing it costs you the prize and nothing else —
not a level, not a floor, not an item. Leaving before you enter costs the same and is always allowed.