The Triangle announced the dungeon exam like it always did.
Calmly.
Formally.
As if nothing about it had ever gone wrong before.
Dreyden read the notice once, then closed it.
MONTHLY JOINT DUNGEON ASSESSMENT
PARTICIPANTS: CLASS A & SELECT CLASS B
OBJECTIVE: CLEAR PHASE TWO
CASUALTY THRESHOLD: ACCEPTABLE
Acceptable.
That word always appeared in Triangle notices.
It wasn't there to warn students.
It was there to warn administration.
He didn't react outwardly. He never did anymore. But something inside him shifted—not tension, not anxiety.
Alignment.
This was early.
The dungeon exam wasn't supposed to matter yet. In the original trajectory, it was a proving ground, not a fracture point. A place where rankings shuffled and egos broke.
Not where systems collapsed.
Which meant one of two things:
Either the timeline had accelerated.
Or someone had pushed it.
Neither option was good.
Preparation Without Illusion
The staging hall buzzed with activity the next morning.
