Morning didn't feel victorious.
It felt precise.
The bells rang at 06:30 like they always did, the sound carrying across the courtyard in clean metallic pulses. Dorm windows opened. Doors slid aside. Students moved.
But they didn't move like people under watch anymore.
They moved like people who had already measured the weight of authority—and found it survivable.
Enforcement units were still visible.
Black sleeves. Containment insignias. Mana signatures suppressed but active.
Thinner than yesterday.
Strategically placed rather than grid-dominant.
Oversight hadn't withdrawn.
They had repositioned.
Dreyden stood at the edge of the eastern balcony, forearms resting lightly on cool railing metal. From here he could see the central courtyard and the glass arc of the administrative tower reflecting pale morning light.
Students crossed pathways in mixed pairs.
Class A beside Class C.
Class B discussing something quietly with two D auxiliaries.
