In a very decisive turn, Phobetor barged out from his room into the hallway, barely turning the handle to allow it to be pushed back beneath his force. Of course, such wanton aggression was seldom without consequence, and it seemed that the gods of fortune had decided that now was a perfect time for one. As such, when the God of Nightmares slammed open his door, it unfortunately smacked right into the head of a fellow student and bowled him over.

It was a second before Phobetor, temporarily blinded by his temper, noticed what he had done. Upon the floor was sprawled the young man he had hit, his books scattered around him. To say that this shirtless, overweight Indian was heavily tattooed was an understatement; his swarthy skin was blanketed in decorative depictions of lotuses, wheels, gears, and other circular designs arrayed in geometric patterns. Though he couldn't have been more than eighteen years old, this guy already wore thick black sideburns and a bristling mustache, and -unusually- tiny sabre-like fangs. More worryingly, his face also hosted a look of wrath, which managed to be intimidating despite the ridiculousness of his appearance.

Phobetor pushed his fears aside—trepidation was for others to feel and him to inspire. He also didn't even pause to consider that he had been the one in the wrong. “Watch where you're going, tons of fun. Coulda put a dent in my door with that giant head.” Though the guy still looked furious, he said nothing as he pushed himself to his feet. Taking this for cowardice, Phobetor crossed his arms and pressed his assault. “Guess the standards at Natural Order must be lower than I thought, to get someone like y...!”

A simple backhand to Phobetor's face flipped him onto his back. He landed with a thump and a weedy “Augh!” By the time he stopped seeing stars, the other boy had already gathered his dropped books and was on his way. A pressure built up in the corner of Phobetor's eyes as hatred overwhelmed him. How []dare[/i] this fat sack of scum treat him so impudently! The indignant God of Nightmares decided that he couldn't take this lying down.

He hurried down the hallway after the other guy, shouting, “Hey hey hey, I'm not done with you!” When his enemy ignored him, Phobetor raised a hand from the shadows nearby and grabbed his ankle, causing the guy to trip and fall to the floor once more. That proved to be the last straw, for as Phobetor approached his fallen foe, he turned over and released a thunderous yawn. For a second, Phobetor was struck dumb, wondering what and why. The second second he collapsed onto the floor, sound asleep, unresponsive to the other's relieved sigh. “I am sorry, bitter friend,” he said, “But Bobakharna can only take so much. Sleep well, and rise with less resentment in your heart.” With that, Bobakharna gave a short bow and strode away, leaving Phobetor senselessly snoring on the ground.