Lines were strange things.
They were invisible.
They were negotiable.
And until someone crossed them—
People pretended they did not exist.
Krishna felt it before the message arrived.
Not as panic.
Not as anger.
As certainty.
The system chimed sharply, its tone stripped of humor.
«Dharma Breach Confirmed.
Category: Institutional Injustice.
Location: Eastern Border Province.
Severity: Non-Negotiable.»
Krishna opened his eyes.
"Already," he murmured.
In Hastinapura, the morning court was just beginning when the messenger collapsed at the gates. Dust-covered, breathless, eyes wild—not from fear of death, but from witnessing something worse.
Vidura reached him first.
"What happened?" he asked.
The messenger swallowed hard. "The governor… he ordered mass seizure. Grain. Land. Children taken as 'labor collateral.'"
The hall froze.
Yudhishthira stood abruptly. "That violates every law."
Duryodhana frowned—not outraged, but calculating. "Which governor?"
The name was spoken.
A loyalist.
Ambitious.
Protected.
Silence deepened.
Krishna rose slowly from his seat.
This time—
No gentleness softened his movement.
The system chimed.
«Observer Mode: Disabled.
Enforcement Threshold: Activated.»
Krishna's voice was calm, but it carried.
"Who authorized this?"
No one answered.
"Who benefited?" he asked.
Still silence.
Krishna nodded once.
"Then responsibility is collective."
The temperature in the hall dropped—not from magic, but realization.
Bhishma stepped forward. "Krishna… how will you proceed?"
Krishna met his gaze. "By reminding them why lines exist."
He turned and walked out.
No announcement.
No debate.
Arjuna followed instinctively.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
Krishna glanced at him. "To return what was taken."
The journey was swift.
Not rushed—inevitable.
Villages appeared along the way, scarred by order masquerading as law. Empty granaries. Fields marked for seizure. Families silent with exhaustion.
Krishna walked through them openly.
People felt him before they saw him.
Not as divinity.
As assurance.
The system chimed softly.
«Public Trust Response: Immediate.
Fear Index: Dropping.»
At the governor's compound, soldiers blocked the gates.
"State your—"
The gates opened on their own.
Not forced.
Permitted.
Inside, the governor sat comfortably, mid-meal.
He laughed when he saw Krishna.
"Another moralist?" he scoffed. "Do you know who I serve?"
Krishna nodded. "Yes."
The man leaned back. "Then you know I am untouchable."
Krishna tilted his head slightly.
"That," he said, "is where you were wrong."
The system chimed—dry, precise.
«False Immunity Detected.
Correction Authorized.»
Krishna did not strike him.
He did not threaten.
He spoke.
"Return everything," Krishna said calmly. "Now."
The governor sneered. "And if I refuse?"
Krishna looked at the soldiers.
"At the scribes."
"At the overseers."
"At the system that obeyed without thinking."
"If you refuse," Krishna said softly, "you will learn the difference between authority and legitimacy."
The man laughed.
Then stopped.
Because no one laughed with him.
The soldiers lowered their weapons.
The scribes stepped back.
The overseers avoided his eyes.
The system chimed approvingly.
«Authority Collapse: Internal.
Violence: Unnecessary.»
The governor's voice wavered. "You can't—"
"I can," Krishna replied simply. "And I am."
Orders were issued.
Grain returned.
Children released.
Land restored.
All without bloodshed.
The governor was not executed.
He was removed.
Stripped of title.
Stripped of protection.
Left to face the laws he had bent.
As they departed, Arjuna exhaled slowly.
"You didn't punish him," he said.
Krishna nodded. "I removed his ability to harm."
"That was enough."
Back in Hastinapura, news spread faster than outrage ever did.
A line had been crossed.
And answered.
Duryodhana sat quietly when he heard.
"So," he said slowly, "this is what enforcement looks like."
Shakuni's fingers stilled on the dice.
"Yes," he said softly. "And now the board has teeth."
That night, Krishna stood alone beneath the stars.
Radha's presence reached him like a steady flame.
"You stepped in," she said.
"Yes," he replied.
"And it didn't hurt anyone."
"No," he agreed. "It corrected them."
The system chimed one final time, solemn.
«First Enforcement Complete.
Dharma Integrity: Restored.
Future Breaches: Less Likely.»
Krishna looked out across the sleeping world.
The line had been crossed.
And now—
Everyone could see it.
--chapter 31 ended--