I shifted in my seat as Professor Howlett's voice filled the lecture hall. My mechanical joints creaked softly beneath my uniform, a constant reminder of my less than human nature as the diminutive professor extolled humanity's divine right to rule.

"The gods maintain order," Howlett declared, pacing before the chalkboard. "Without their power, chaos would consume us all." His finger jabbed at a map marking the location of the Hellzones. "These regions stand as testament. The twelve Hellzones. They are areas beyond the gods' touch where reality itself becomes unstable. Speak with any adventurer you come across who has dared to tread these foul lands, and you shall hear tales of horror beyond imagining."

A student's hand shot up. "Professor, what about the thirteenth Hellzone?"

"Ah, you are of course referring to the Lathan Incident." Howlett's expression darkened. "Or as some call it, the Plague of Dead."

My fingers tightened into fists. I had never heard of this Plague of Dead. Something about those words sent uncomfortable ripples through my organic parts.

"Three centuries ago, in the Kingdom of Silk's Lathan region, a terrible sickness emerged." Howlett's voice dropped lower. "Thousands died. Sadly for those departed, death was not the end. Their corpses soon rose again, spreading the plague further.

"The gods called for heroes," Howlett paced as he spoke. "Hundreds of powerful warriors answered, and they all traveled to Lathan to destroy this scourge. These brave men and women fought through hordes of undead to reach the plague's source. They eventually succeeded in stopping it, though at great cost. To themselves and the world."

I pondered briefly what had triggered such devastation. Was it a powerful monster? A mad sorcerer? For once, the typically verbose lecturer became oddly light on details when discussing a topic that I genuinely had interest in. It was rather irritating.

"Even now, Lathan remains quarantined, shut out from the rest of the world. The kingdoms have sealed it off, sending soldiers periodically to cull the undead population." Howlett shook his head. "Some call it the Thirteenth Hellzone, though this is incorrect. The true Hellzones are primordial wounds in reality itself, not mere sites of tragedy."

The students murmured to themselves, some taking furious notes, probably thinking this part of the lecture would be on the tests.

"The gods protect us from such chaos," Howlett concluded. "Without their guidance, all lands might become like Lathan."

A student near the front raised his hand. "Professor, is it true that after the Lathan Incident, Ignum changed into Naori? Why did the God of Death suddenly want to become a goddess?"

Howlett's thick beard twitched as he frowned. His fingers drummed against the lectern. "Yes, that was indeed when the Lord of Dissolution transformed. As for why, we scholars do not know. Perhaps the incident in Lathan changed how death itself manifested in our world, requiring a new avatar to oversee it. Or maybe the god chose to honor one of the fallen heroes by taking on their form. Then again," he shrugged, "perhaps Ignum simply desired a change. The gods' motives are their own. Their whims are theirs and theirs alone."

I guided my empty combat frame to lift another heavy crate, its mechanical arms whirring smoothly through the motion. The Brace enchantment let me control it like a puppet, though the sensation remained strange, like having two bodies at once. I had removed the golden tendril on its back, returning the two extra arms I had previously removed.

Scattered tools and half-finished works cluttered the basement storeroom. My newest project dominated the available area: a streamlined chassis prototype integrating the auric steel advancements. The golden-hued metal gleamed under the lamplight, its shining surface betraying the strength and durability of the brand new alloy.

The door creaked open. Copelan entered, then froze mid-step when he saw my empty combat frame moving boxes.

"By the gods," he muttered, backing against the wall. "I still can't get used to that."

It's just me controlling it, I reminded him, making the frame wave in greeting. This only made him more uncomfortable.

"Yes, yes, I know." He edged around the room's perimeter, careful to keep his distance from my autonomous shell. "But seeing a headless mechanical body moving about... it's unnatural."

I directed the frame to set down its crate and stand motionless in the corner. Better?

"Marginally." Copelan approached my workbench, examining the new chassis components with scholarly interest. "Is this the new body? This craftsmanship is remarkable. These joint articulations are incredibly complex."

The auric steel allows for much finer mechanical tolerances, I explained, holding up a finger joint for his inspection. And mana flows through it easily, almost like blood through veins.

"Fascinating." He leaned closer, then jerked back as my combat frame shifted slightly. "Though I still don't understand why you need to keep that empty one moving about."

It's useful for heavy lifting. And practice. I gestured at the cramped space around us. I need to clear more room for the new design anyway.

"You could just ask for help, you know. Like a normal person would."

I'm not normal, I pointed out.

"Yes, well..." Copelan's eyes darted between my current form and the empty frame. "Point taken."

I couldn't help but feel amused at his discomfort. For all his tactical genius, Copelan could be remarkably squeamish about certain things. Still, he had a point; my abilities did tend toward the unsettling.

I need more gold, I told him bluntly.

Copelan's face went several shades whiter. "What... how much more?"

Several tons worth.

He staggered back, catching himself on a workbench. "Tons? Are you mad? Do you have any idea how much that would cost?"

I can calculate it precisely, if you'd like.

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"That's not—" He ran a hand through his hair, clearly distressed. "Look, I know my family has money, but we're not that wealthy. The gold I got you last time? That was most of my monthly allowance."

I tilted my head, considering. Could you perhaps request an advance?

"No! Absolutely not." He gestured wildly at the cluttered room. "And where would you even put it all? This place is already bursting with your materials and... contraptions."

As if to prove his point, one of my smaller constructs chose that moment to tumble off a shelf, clattering through a pile of metal scraps.

I can make room, I assured him. Besides, my Depository just reached rank B. That gives me two thousand pounds of storage space.

"Two thousand—" He pressed his fingers to his temples. "That's not the point. Even if I somehow convinced my father to advance me a year's worth of allowance, it still wouldn't be enough for 'tons' of gold."

The combat frame in the corner shifted slightly, making Copelan jump. I quickly stilled it.

Perhaps we could explore alternative funding sources, I suggested. The auric steel weapons have proven quite effective. We could sell—

"No," he cut me off. "The last thing we need is the school investigating why students are selling advanced weaponry. Besides..." He eyed the golden components of my new chassis design. "Don't you think all this gold is a bit... conspicuous?"

I considered this. The auric steel's distinctive color would indeed draw attention. But its properties were too perfect to ignore. I needed to find another way to acquire the resources for my upgrades.

You may have a point, I conceded. I'll need to reconsider my approach.

Copelan gestured at the gleaming pile of mythril ingots stacked against the wall. "What about all that? Couldn't you use it instead?"

I shook my head. While mythril is harder than steel, it's far too brittle for what I need. I picked up a small ingot, its silvery surface catching the lamplight.

That's why I need the gold, to create more auric steel. The gold's malleability combined with mythril's strength creates the perfect alloy.

"Hmm." Copelan frowned thoughtfully at the shiny metal in my hands. Then his eyes lit up. "Have you considered selling the mythril? You certainly have plenty of it."

On its own, it's not particularly useful, I pointed out. Too brittle for weapons or armor.

"Not everything needs to be a weapon, you know." He picked up one of the pieces, turning it to catch the light. "Look how beautiful it is. And you said it channels mana well? It would make excellent jewelry."

I stared at him. The thought had never occurred to me. My focus had been entirely on practical applications: weapons, armor, mechanical components. But jewelry...

I hadn't considered that, I admitted. Do you really think people would buy it for such purposes?

"Would they?" Copelan grinned. "A rare, beautiful metal that conducts magical energy? The noble houses would fall over themselves to acquire it. Enchanted jewelry is incredibly popular among the wealthy." He examined the mythril more closely. "And this material would take enchantments beautifully."

Do you know anyone who might be interested in purchasing it?

His smile widened. "My father has extensive contacts in the jewelry trade. I'm sure he could connect us with some interested buyers." He paused. "Though we'd need to be discrete about the source. Perhaps we could claim it came from old family mines..."

I considered this. Selling the excess mythril could provide the funds needed for gold without drawing suspicion. After all, noble families dealing in precious metals wasn't unusual.

That could work, I agreed. How much do you think we could get for it?

"Given its rarity and magical properties?" Copelan hefted the piece thoughtfully. "Quite a lot, I'd imagine. Especially if we market it properly." He set the mythril down and pulled out a small notebook. "Let me make some calculations..."

While he worked, I directed my combat frame to gather the mythril ingots into a more organized pile. The mechanical arms moved smoothly through the task, though I noticed some strain in the upper left shoulder joint. I'd need to perform maintenance soon.

We'll need to be careful, I said as Copelan scribbled figures. If we flood the market with too much at once, it could raise questions.

"Agreed. We'll start small, test the waters." He looked up from his calculations. "But if this works, we might be able to fund your gold purchases after all."

For the first time since beginning my chassis upgrade plans, I felt genuinely optimistic. Perhaps I wouldn't need to compromise on the design after all.

I stood in my workshop, examining my reflection in a polished metal sheet. The new combat chassis, which I dubbed as my war frame, was a testament to my evolving abilities. It was sleeker and more refined than my previous combat frame. My right arm flexed smoothly, the fingers curling with perfect precision. Though mostly crafted from standard steel, the auric steel skeleton gave it incredible strength without sacrificing agility.

Acceptable, I decided, watching the arm move through its full range of motion. The joints were silent, each movement fluid and natural. No one would guess the complexity hidden beneath the surface.

The golden gleam of auric steel peeked through gaps in the armor plating, which was unavoidable given the limited amount I'd been able to produce. Still, the skeletal framework provided exactly what I needed: a foundation of unbreakable strength. Regular steel components could be easily replaced if damaged, while the auric steel core would remain intact.

I shifted my attention to the war frame's lower half, where three serpentine tendrils of auric steel coiled beneath the torso. Each was a masterwork of engineering with thick, braided cords woven together into limbs twice as wide as my arm. The golden metal caught the workshop's dim light, highlighting the deadly barbs at each tip.

One tendril rose, its spiked end hovering at eye level. The motion was eerily organic, reminding me of the Cave Stalkers' fluid grace. I commanded it to strike a wooden target across the room. The tendril whipped forward to its full ten-foot length, the barbed tip punching clean through the hardwood.

Perfect, I mentally murmured, watching the tendril retract. The other two moved in concert, lifting the frame off the ground. They carried my weight effortlessly, the corded metal flexing and contracting like living muscle.

A quick test of mobility proved the design superior to traditional legs. The tendrils propelled me across the workshop floor with serpentine grace, each movement precise and controlled. I could scale walls, squeeze through narrow spaces, or launch devastating attacks, all while maintaining perfect balance.

I had originally planned for six tendrils, perhaps even eight. But gold was scarce, and auric steel required significant amounts. Even with Copelan's connections, selling mythril took time. These three would have to suffice for now.

My hand traced one of the tendrils, feeling the intricate braiding beneath my fingers. The design was a vast improvement over my previous prototypes. Where those had been thin and prone to damage, these were robust enough to withstand direct combat while maintaining their flexibility.

In the corner of my workshop, the old combat chassis loomed like a discarded shell. Scout Spider Three scuttled across its shoulder while Rolly attempted to climb one of its legs, only to roll backward with a metallic clang. The sight stirred something almost like fondness in me.

That first combat frame had been crude; all sharp angles and exposed joints, built from whatever scrap metal I could salvage. Its three mechanical arms looked brutish compared to my new tendrils, the legs thick and ungainly. Small patches of rust marked where moisture had seeped through gaps in the plating. Even the chest piece, once my pride, now seemed absurdly overbuilt.

Scout Spider Five perched on the old chassis' helmet, antennae twitching as it studied me. These children of mine saw the ancient frame as nothing more than a jungle gym, completely unaware of how it had kept me alive through countless battles. It had helped me survive Kolin, protected me on my journey to the Academy, and served faithfully during my early Hellzone expeditions.

But looking at it now, I could trace my evolution as a builder. Each repair and modification had taught me something new. The awkward hydraulic joints had led me to develop smoother pneumatic systems. The rigid armor plates had inspired my current flexible scaling. Even the crude mana conductors had shown me the potential that auric steel would later fulfill.

My new war frame represented everything I'd learned. Where the old chassis had been a hammer, this was a surgeon's blade. Every component served multiple purposes, every system optimized for maximum efficiency. The tendrils alone contained more engineering sophistication than that entire primitive frame.

Scout Spider Three skittered down to investigate my new golden limbs, its sensors probably detecting the complex mana flows within the auric steel. I gently shooed it away with one tendril. Soon I would test this frame's true capabilities in the Hellzone's depths. The old chassis could rest here, serving as a reminder of how far I'd come, and perhaps as a playground for my increasingly curious children.

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