The Triangle learned very quickly that escalation did not need to be loud.
In fact, loud escalation was inefficient. It rallied resistance, generated sympathy, created records that could later be questioned. Noise invited witnesses.
So instead, the Triangle applied pressure without sound.
Dreyden felt it the next morning—not as danger, not even as tension—but as subtraction.
A training room he regularly used was suddenly unavailable.
Not locked.
Not restricted.
Just… perpetually reserved.
The time slots didn't conflict with classes. They didn't overlap with official activities. They simply existed in a way that made the space unusable without explanation.
That was the Triangle's specialty.
Make resources inaccessible without ever denying access.
He adjusted without comment, choosing a secondary hall. Halfway through his warmup, an instructor wandered in—not his instructor, not anyone assigned to observe him—and lingered near the doorway with an idle posture.
