The rumors spread faster than wildfire in dry grass.
By lunch, the cafeteria had witnessed it. By dinner, the entire dormitory knew. And by morning, every corner of the academy whispered the same phrase:
> "The Dorm God sent a noble flying with one punch."
"Did you hear?"
"They say he didn't even use magic."
"No powers, no weapon—just his fist!"
"House Veylor's heir, knocked clean across the cafeteria… unconscious before he hit the ground!"
Some students swore they saw the noble's spirit leave his body mid-flight. Others claimed Zane's punch carried the force of a dragon. One particularly dramatic bard already started drafting a ballad titled The Peasant's Wrath.
Teachers did get involved. Zane was summoned, his blindfold catching the attention of the stricter professors. But after a hushed conversation behind closed doors—where his lineage and unique "condition" were carefully danced around—the faculty could only issue him a warning.
No suspension. No detention. No punishment.
Just a warning.
Which only made the legend worse.
By evening, dozens of students wore blindfolds in mock tribute. The phrase Dorm God was whispered with reverence and awe. Even the noble factions stayed silent—because if teachers wouldn't punish Zane for flooring a noble, who knew what protection he had?
---
The problem was… classes were canceled again.
The sprite infestation had spread, leaving students with endless empty hours and far too much energy. The boys wrestled, the girls gossiped, and little cliques formed around whoever could provide the most entertainment.
At Zane's table, however, boredom had become the enemy.
Mira was lazily spinning her dagger on one finger.
Celeste leaned against the window, sketching something in a small book.
Luna fidgeted with her sleeves, humming softly.
Asher? He was lying on the floor, groaning.
And Zane… Zane was slumped in his chair, tapping the table with one finger, his expression the picture of irritation.
He finally muttered, loud enough for all of them to hear:
"I swear, if we don't find something to do soon, I'll punch another noble just for fun."
Asher groaned louder. "Please don't. My social life is fragile enough as it is."
Mira grinned. "Do it. I want front row seats this time."
Celeste sighed. "No, no, no. He's right. We need an activity… something to actually do."
Zane tilted his chair back, hands folded behind his head. "Yeah. Something stupid. Dangerous. Fun. Anything but sitting here rotting."
His shadow twitched faintly against the floor, as though agreeing with him.