Aren finished his meal quietly.
No reaction to whispers.
No reaction to stares.
No reaction to the stories already forming around his name.
In the Academy of Wolves—
Peace didn't last.
A shadow fell across his table.
Large.
Heavy.
Round.
A fat noble boy waddled forward 🍲.
Jewelry clinked on every finger 💍.
Hair slicked with oil.
Confidence inflated beyond reason.
He looked down at Aren.
"So this is him," he said loudly.
"The wild boy."
"The commoner."
"The one who thinks he belongs here."
Aren kept eating.
Didn't look up.
Didn't respond.
The noble's smile stretched wider.
"Here," he said, tilting his bowl.
"Eat like the dog you are."
SPLASH 🔥🍲
Hot soup poured over Aren's shoulder.
The cafeteria froze.
Forks stopped mid-air 🍴.
Spoons hovered.
Someone inhaled rice and nearly died.
Across the hall—
Lyris stood instantly 😡.
Rias's eyes sharpened ❄️.
Whispers spread.
"He just spilled soup on him…"
"That idiot's finished…"
"He doesn't know who that is…"
Aren stood.
Slowly.
Soup dripped.
Food ruined.
His face—
Calm.
Too calm.
The noble laughed.
"What? Gonna bark at me? Do somet—"
CRASH 💥🪑
Aren grabbed a chair.
And brought it down.
The chair shattered.
The noble dropped.
Gone.
The cafeteria exploded.
"HE USED A CHAIR—!!"
"IS HE DEAD?!"
"NO ONE SURVIVES THAT—!!"
Aren reached for another chair.
Carefully.
Deliberately.
He was going to continue.
Then—
SLAM ⚒️
A massive wooden spoon struck the ground.
The sound crushed the room into silence.
Old Lady Bruna stood there.
Massive.
Unmoving.
Unimpressed.
A grandmother carved from iron 💪.
Apron tied like armor.
White hair pulled tight.
Eyes that had ended more fights than war.
She stared at Aren.
"No."
Pause.
"Fighting."
Pause.
"In."
Pause.
"The cafeteria."
Each word landed like a hammer.
Even dragons would listen 🐉.
Aren stopped.
Mid-step.
He looked at her.
She looked at him.
No words.
Just understanding.
Bruna: Try it.
Aren: Not worth it.
Aren adjusted his soup-soaked shirt.
"…Okay."
The cafeteria exhaled 😮💨.
Bruna pointed her spoon.
"Clean clothes. Go to your room."
She glanced at the unconscious noble.
"No more smashing fat students."
Aren nodded.
"Yes, ma'am."
Immediate respect.
He picked up his bag 🎒.
Stepped over the noble.
Didn't look down.
And left.
The room stayed silent.
Then—
Whispers returned.
"Did you see that speed?"
"He didn't hesitate…"
"He doesn't fear anyone…"
"…except Bruna."
Lyris stared, stunned 😳.
Rias smiled faintly 😏.
"Aren…"
"…is interesting."
Aftermath 🌑
Aren walked through the halls.
Calm.
Untouched.
Found his room.
Opened the door 🚪.
Closed it.
Lay down.
And fell asleep instantly 😴.
As if smashing a chair over someone's head—
Was routine.
And somewhere in the Academy—
Without announcement…
Without writing…
Without debate—
A rule was born.
Do not spill soup on Aren.