Weakness attracted tests faster than blood attracted dungeon vermin.
By afternoon, the story had found three.
First came the scholarship students pretending not to stare as I passed through the lower corridor toward the equipment archive. They lowered their voices half a second too late, which meant the rumor had already changed shape at least twice before reaching them.
F-rank output.
Impossible precision.
Valdrake defect.
Cheating.
Cursed.
Dying.
The last one was rude because it was too close to true.
Second came a gold-tier noble with pale hair and a smile thin enough to cut paper. He stepped into my path with two friends arranged behind him like decorative witnesses and offered a bow just shallow enough to be an insult.
"Young Master Cedric," he said. "I heard the beginner floor proved educational."
"Then you heard more than you understood."
His smile tightened.
Useful. Dignity could complain later.
