The Scorn Spider's legs thrashed against my auric steel tendrils, its massive body writhing as I pinned it to the cavern floor. Behind me, I heard Langdon shouting for everyone to fall back, but I knew this fight was already won.

Stay clear, I projected through Mind Speech, though my companions hardly needed the warning. They'd seen me hunt these creatures often enough in our secret training sessions.

One of my tendrils stabbed through the spider's front leg joint, drawing a screech that echoed off the stone walls. The creature's thick green chitin, normally resistant to standard weapons, offered little protection against the enhanced strength of my war frame. Each strike of my golden limbs left deep gouges in its armor.

The spider tried to rear up, venom dripping from its mandibles. My tendrils responded instantly, two of them pinning its front legs while the third wrapped around its thorax. The creature's weight would have overwhelmed my old chassis, but the auric steel frame handled it effortlessly.

I slithered forward using my tendrils, bringing my sword-lance to bear. The weapon was a masterwork of minimalist design, far more elegant than my previous model. Its slim profile complemented my frame's serpentine aesthetics while maintaining all the stopping power of its bulkier predecessor.

The spider's eight eyes tracked my approach, its struggles growing more desperate. Venom splattered against my chassis, but the thick steel held. I pressed the sword-lance's tip against the side of its head, angling for the weak point I'd discovered during previous hunts.

Goodbye, I whispered, though the spider likely couldn't understand. My finger squeezed the trigger.

The mana-propelled round exploded through the creature's skull, spraying ichor across the cavern floor. Its legs spasmed once, then went limp. My tendrils released their grip, letting the carcass slump to the ground.

Congratulations! You have defeated and have received experience. You are now Level 28!

"Impressive," Langdon breathed, approaching cautiously. "I've never seen a student take down a Scorn Spider that quickly. Not even A-ranks manage it so efficiently."

I retracted my tendrils, letting them coil beneath my frame in a ready position. The secret is knowing where to hit them. Their chitin may be tough, but the joints are vulnerable.

"And those golden... arms of yours certainly help," he added, studying my frame with newfound respect. "I don't suppose you'd tell me where you learned to build such things?"

I turned away, the featureless auric steel mask I wore on my face hiding the grin on my lips as I pretended to examine the spider's corpse.

Trade secret.

The others gathered around the fallen monster, Annes already pulling out her knife to harvest useful materials. We'd developed an efficient routine during our secret expeditions and nothing went to waste.

"We should head back, soon," Langdon said, though I noted he watched our practiced harvesting with suspicious interest. "The fourteenth floor is no place for C-rank students, no matter how skilled."

Sven and Patter complained, saying that they were almost ready to level up.

I simply nodded, knowing that we would return on our own later. For now, we'd given him enough to think about.

This was the fifth time Langdon had taken our class down into the Hellzone. Although Captain Marca was still concerned about our safety, he had stopped complaining after the third time we had arrived back in one piece. Our group was an almost regular sight at the Hellzone gates by now, and we came there almost as often as the A rank students did.

The trek upward felt almost routine now. My tendrils dispatched any Cave Stalkers that dared approach while the others conserved their strength for essential fights only. Sven's daggers flashed occasionally to deal with stray Vile Roaches, but otherwise we maintained a steady pace through the familiar tunnels.

Watch the ceiling, I warned through Mind Speech as we passed beneath a particularly dark stretch. A week ago, we'd lost precious time fighting off a swarm of Cavern Crickets here. But today the shadows held nothing more dangerous than limestone formations.

Langdon led us past another teleportation circle, his shoulders tensing as always when we encountered the shimmering platforms. None of us suggested using them anymore; his story about his first class's fate had killed any curiosity about faster routes to the surface.

The hours blended together, marked only by brief water breaks and the occasional skirmish. By the time we glimpsed the torchlight from the main gates, even my enhanced frame felt the strain of constant motion. But we'd made it back again, proving that C-rank students could handle the deeper levels just as well as any A-rank team.

We filed through the black gates, our boots echoing off the polished stone floor. The harvested spider parts were safely stored in my Depository, ready to be sorted later in the workshop. As we emerged into the main corridor, familiar voices drifted toward us.

Professor Shawe stood with a group of A-rank students, his scarlet robes pristine as always. His lip curled when he spotted us.

"Letting the parasites into the Hellzone again, Hassel?" Shawe's voice dripped with contempt. "I suppose the headmaster's standards have truly fallen if he allows C-ranks to waste valuable training space."

I expected Langdon to shuffle past with his usual defeated demeanor. Instead, he drew himself up to his full height, his normally bleary eyes suddenly sharp.

"Interesting that you're whining to me instead of Headmaster Reins," Langdon's voice carried through the corridor. "If you had any real concerns, you'd take them up with him. But we both know you don't have the spine for that, do you?"

Shawe's face reddened. "How dare you-"

"Come on, students," Langdon cut him off, gesturing us forward. "Let's not waste time with people who prefer complaining to actual teaching."

As we moved past Shawe's group, my gaze fell on Bethani Morne. The change in her appearance was startling. Gone was the immaculate silver hair and perfectly pressed uniform that had marked her as royalty. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her hair hung in slightly tangled strands. She looked... exhausted.

When our eyes met, her expression tightened; it wasn't quite a glare, but something close to it. There was an intensity there that hadn't existed during our early days at the Academy. Whatever was affecting her went beyond simple fatigue.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

What happened to you? I wondered, though I kept the thought private. The proud queen who had demolished a stone golem with lightning magic seemed to be cracking under some invisible pressure.

"Move along," Langdon called, breaking my observation. I noticed Shawe was still sputtering, trying to formulate a response to Langdon's unexpected backbone.

As we climbed the stairs toward the upper levels, I heard Sven whisper to Annes, "Did you see the professor actually stand up to Shawe?"

"About time he did," Annes muttered back.

I remained silent, processing what I'd witnessed. Langdon's sudden display of strength, Bethani's deterioration, Shawe's impotent rage; the dynamics at the Academy were shifting in unexpected ways. While I had focused on my own growth through combat and construction, other changes had been occurring around me.

Perhaps it was time to pay closer attention to these currents. After all, understanding the politics of the Academy might prove as valuable as mastering its combat techniques.

The Academy's bell rang out as we climbed the steps, its deep tone reverberating through the stone corridors. One... two... three tolls echoed before silence fell again.

"A full assembly," Langdon said, his earlier bravado replaced by a thoughtful frown. "Three hours from now. Haven't had one of those since..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "Get yourselves cleaned up and in proper uniforms. And yes, that means everyone." His gaze lingered meaningfully on me.

Annes opened her mouth, likely to ask about skipping, but Langdon cut her off. "Mandatory attendance. No exceptions."

Our group split up at the next junction. Copelan, Yulios, and Sven headed for the east wing dormitories, while Patter and Annes took the stairs to the women's quarters. I watched them go, noting how they'd already stripped off the worst of their monster-hunting gear.

I made my way down to the basement, my tendrils carrying me silently through the lesser-used corridors. The workshop felt different in the dim light, and my mechanical children scattered at my approach, metal feet clicking against stone as they sought hiding spots among the equipment.

As I initiated the transfer from my war frame to the more presentable humanoid chassis, I pondered the meaning of this assembly. In my months at the Academy, we'd never had a full gathering of students and faculty. Even the entrance ceremony had been limited to new arrivals and key staff.

Something significant must have happened. Something that required everyone's attention.

I adjusted my uniform's collar, ensuring the cravat was straight and clean. Whatever this announcement would bring, I needed to maintain my carefully crafted appearance. The last thing I needed was to draw more attention from Shawe or his supporters.

Still, as I straightened my porcelain mask in the workshop's clouded mirror, I couldn't shake the feeling that change was coming to the Academy. The question was: would it work in my favor, or against it?

The auditorium's vaulted ceiling stretched high above us, supported by massive stone pillars carved with scenes of ancient battles. I'd passed this chamber countless times but never entered since most announcements came through individual instructors or posted notices.

Genta bounced in her seat beside me, her green hair bobbing as she craned her neck to take in the grand space. "Look at those carvings! And those banners! It's just like the stories about royal courts back home."

"This isn't entertainment," Copelan sighed from my other side. "The Headmaster's probably announcing policy changes or-"

"Oh hush," Genta waved off his serious tone. "Let me enjoy my first time in a proper theater. We don't have anything this fancy in the western kingdoms."

I studied the stage while they bickered. Unlike the training areas or classrooms, this space felt... older. The worn stone steps, the scratched wooden railings; they spoke of centuries of use. My gaze caught on a particular carving: a warrior wielding what looked like a blazing enchanted weapon against an undead, skeletal horror. Was this scene depicting the Lathan Incident I had recently just heard about?

The sea of brown uniforms around us rippled as more students filed in. Non-combat students made up the majority of the Academy's population, though you'd never know it from the attention combat students received. Their curious glances in our direction reminded me how rarely the two groups mixed.

"They're staring at you," Eyarna muttered from behind me.

"Let them stare," Loland replied. "They're just jealous of our superior fashion sense."

I adjusted my mask slightly, ensuring it sat properly. Whatever this announcement would be, having my entire friend group clustered around me felt reassuring. We'd faced Hellzone monsters together, trained together, grown stronger together. Whatever changes were coming, we'd handle them the same way.

The lights began to dim as the last students found their seats. On stage, shadows moved behind the heavy curtain.

The curtain parted with a whisper of heavy fabric. Headmaster Reins strode onto the stage, his white plate armor catching the light like fresh snow. Each step rang against the wooden boards, the sound carrying through the now-silent auditorium.

My mechanical fingers twitched at the sight of his enchanted blade. Even sheathed, the weapon radiated power that made my Mana Manipulation senses prickle with warning signals.

"Students of the Academy," his magically amplified voice filled every corner of the vast space. "I'll keep this brief."

He gestured stage right, where a stocky dwarf emerged from the shadows. The newcomer's dark gray armor bore intricate scrollwork that spoke of master craftsmanship, though my Assembly ability noted several inefficiencies in the design.

"May I present to you Principal Alchord Hilltuck of the Adventurer's Guild Vocation Institute," Reins announced.

Scattered applause rippled through the crowd. Beside me, Copelan straightened in his seat.

"The Institute trains the next generation of adventurers," Reins continued. "And today, I'm pleased to announce a partnership between our two institutions."

My ears picked up the sudden spike in attention from the assembled students.

"We will be holding the first ever inter-school tournament," Reins declared. "This event will be open to all students of both schools who are under level 30. The victor will receive not only a trophy and five thousand gold coins, but also..." He paused for effect. "A set of enchanted gear from my personal collection."

The auditorium erupted in excited whispers.

"A tournament!" Annes practically vibrated in her seat. "We have to sign up!"

I nodded slowly. It would be an interesting test of our capabilities.

"What's a tournament?" Yulios asked, his brow furrowed.

"A competition," Copelan explained. "Multiple rounds of combat between participants until one emerges victorious."

"Oh, like a game?" Yulios brightened. "I'll join too!"

"Count us in," Genta declared, Loland nodding beside her.

Patter and Sven exchanged glances before shrugging noncommittally.

"I'll pass," Copelan said. "My talents lie elsewhere."

"Good luck," Eyarna smiled. "Show them what we C-rankers can do!"

I ran calculations through my mind, considering the tactical advantages of my new war frame against unknown opponents. The prize money could fund significant improvements to my designs. But more importantly, this tournament would provide valuable combat data against a variety of fighting styles.

We should coordinate our training, I suggested to the others. Perhaps increase our Hellzone sessions.

The excited chatter around us swelled as Reins continued explaining the tournament rules. I noticed Bethani Morne sitting several rows ahead, her shoulders tense as she scribbled furiously in a notebook. Whatever this competition would bring, it seemed everyone had their own reasons for participating.

The light glinted off Reins' armor as he paced the stage, detailing the tournament structure. His voice carried easily through the hall even without magical enhancement. "This will be a group competition. Teams of six will face off in three distinct rounds."

My mind began analyzing the format. Six-person teams meant varied tactical options, especially given our group's diverse abilities.

"The first round consists of one-on-one matches between teams," Reins continued. "Only six teams will advance."

Annes elbowed me in excitement. I noted her enthusiasm while calculating optimal matchups based on our known capabilities.

"The second round takes place in the Hellzone." Reins' smile widened at the collective intake of breath from the audience. "Two artifacts will be hidden within. The first two teams to retrieve one and return will advance to the finals."

Perfect, I transmitted to my companions. We already knew those tunnels better than most instructors.

"The final round?" Reins paused dramatically. "A battle royale between the remaining teams. Last team standing wins."

Principal Hilltuck stepped forward, his dwarven frame almost comical next to Reins' towering presence. "However, as this is an inter-school competition, killing is strictly forbidden. Opponents must be knocked out or incapacitated only. Any deaths will result in immediate disqualification."

A chorus of boos erupted from several sections of the audience. Hilltuck's eyes widened in alarm, his hand instinctively moving toward a weapon that wasn't there.

Reins threw back his head and laughed, the sound echoing off the carved pillars. "Welcome to the Academy, Principal Hilltuck. I trust you're beginning to understand our students' particular... enthusiasm."

I felt my mechanical fingers flex involuntarily. No killing meant adjusting my combat protocols significantly. The war frame's tendrils were designed for maximum lethality; I would need to modify their control systems to ensure precise force application.

We should meet later to discuss team composition, I transmitted to the others. And begin specialized training immediately.

Their subtle nods of agreement were all I needed to see. We had work to do.

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