I studied the crowd gathered before the Academy Hellzone's gates. Four Academy teams lounged against pillars or sat on benches, their postures relaxed, faces betraying boredom at this "school exercise." In stark contrast, the two Institute teams huddled near the walls, checking buckles and straps with trembling fingers.

One Institute girl's hands shook as she tightened her quiver strap for the third time. Her companion obsessively counted healing potions, muttering numbers under his breath. These weren't the actions of mere students; these were the habits of survivors.

My Assembly ability picked up subtle details in their gear: patches on leather armor, makeshift repairs to metal plates, weapons maintained despite heavy use. They'd learned their craft in true Hellzones, where a single mistake meant death. Unlike the Academy's controlled environment with its watchful instructors and carefully monitored danger levels, they'd faced the raw chaos of uncontrolled zones.

I recognized that wary look in their eyes, the way they positioned themselves to watch all approaches. I'd developed those same instincts during my time in the Lodrik Hellzone, where every shadow might hide death. These Institute students understood what my Academy peers didn't: that Hellzones were cosmic wounds in reality itself, places where the normal rules broke down and nightmares roamed free.

The Academy students treated this place like an obstacle course, a training ground where failure meant nothing worse than a poor grade. They'd never experienced the bone-deep terror of being truly alone in the dark, knowing that ancient horrors lurked just beyond their torchlight.

I caught the eye of an Institute fighter as he checked his sword's edge yet again. We shared a silent moment of understanding. Whatever challenges awaited us beyond those gates, his team at least would treat them with the gravity they deserved.

My companions arrived in a tight cluster, their new armor gleaming. Even from across the hall, I detected Eyarna's handiwork in the subtle enchantments woven through the leather and steel. Patter and Copelan flanked them in their Academy uniforms, here to offer support before we entered the Hellzone.

I pulled out the burlap-wrapped bundles I had been carrying in my tendrils. Before we begin. The packages felt warm against my mechanical fingers, the metal inside still holding traces of the forge's heat.

Annes unwrapped her longsword first, the golden blade catching torchlight. Her breath caught. "It's beautiful."

The others revealed their gifts: Yulios's battle axe, Loland's rapier, Genta's smallsword, Sven's matched daggers. Each weapon bore distinctive patterns in the auric steel, reflecting their wielder's fighting style.

"Show-offs." Lyman's voice cut through their exclamations. House Dragon's team had appeared nearby, their own weapons and armor radiating expensive enchantments. Only Bethani stood apart, half-hidden in shadow. Her once-pristine robes hung ragged, dark circles shadowing her eyes.

"Golden weapons?" Lyman's lip curled. "Planning to die pretty?"

Not gold. Auric steel. My tendrils shifted beneath my robes. Four times stronger than standard steel. Channels mana without need for coating.

"Gaudy trash." He adjusted his silver-chased armor, gemstones flickering across the surface.

Genta snorted. "Rich words coming from someone wearing a chandelier."

Laughter rippled through the gathered teams. Lyman's face darkened. "Watch your tongue, you little green vermin. Know your place."

His hand dropped to his sword hilt. My tendrils tensed, ready to intercept.

"Save it for the tournament." Langdon materialized between us, somehow moving with perfect silence despite his disheveled appearance. His sharp gaze cut through Lyman's bluster. "Unless you'd prefer disqualification?"

House Dragon retreated, Bethani drifting after them like a ghost. Only when they'd vanished down the corridor did Langdon turn to us, his drunken swagger now a focused intensity.

"A word." He beckoned us closer, voice dropping.

Our team gathered around Langdon, his usual alcoholic scent replaced by something sharper: concern.

"I'm proud of you lot." His eyes swept across our faces. "All of you have performed admirably in this tournament so far. But don't get cocky. This isn't like your... unofficial excursions."

We understand the risks. My tendrils shifted beneath my robes. The Academy Hellzone is still a Hellzone.

"Exactly." Langdon's voice dropped lower. "These places don't follow anyone's rules. Air could turn solid. Ground might disappear. Level 90 monsters could show up on floor one. Nature itself breaks down in these cosmic wounds."

Genta nodded, gripping her new smallsword. "We've taken precautions."

Allow me to introduce some friends. I gestured, and three scout spiders emerged from hiding spots in my chassis. Three, Eight, or Chonsey, and Thirteen. They'll scout ahead, and warn us of dangers.

Langdon studied the mechanical arachnids with surprising intensity. Chonsey, painted pink at Annes's insistence, waved a leg in greeting.

"Clever." He reached out, letting Three inspect his hand. "But remember, I'm your teacher. Worrying about you is my job."

"We'll be careful," Annes promised. "We promise. No unnecessary risks."

"See that you do." Langdon straightened as heavy footsteps approached. "Good luck."

He melted away just as Headmaster Reins appeared, his white armor gleaming. Principal Hilltuck followed, the shorter man's gold medals marking him as leader of the Adventurer's Guild Vocation Institute. Professors Shawe and Casper flanked both schools' leaders, Shawe in his usual scarlet robes and while Casper had donned a set of scholarly academic attire. His heavy greatsword was still strapped to his back, though.

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The scout spiders vanished back into their hiding spots as the two leaders and their entourage surveyed the gathered teams. My Mind Sight detected minute variations in their expressions. Reins's barely-concealed excitement for the upcoming event, and Hilltuck's careful assessment of our equipment.

Whatever challenges awaited us in the Hellzone's depths, we'd prepared as best we could. My tendrils flexed beneath my robes, ready for action. Three's sensors were already mapping the entrance to the tunnel, while Chonsey and Thirteen maintained surveillance of rival teams.

The time for preparation was over. Now we would see if it was enough.

The great black gates of the Hellzone loomed before us as Headmaster Reins stepped forward, his white armor catching the torchlight. A crystalline sphere, pulsing with azure light, hovered at his shoulder.

"Welcome, competitors and spectators." His voice carried through the chamber. "Today's challenge will be witnessed by all, thanks to this scrying eye."

The crystal sphere suddenly fractured, splitting into six identical orbs that drifted toward each team. One settled near my chassis, its glow reflecting off my auric steel tendrils.

Principal Hilltuck cleared his throat. "These magical sensors will transmit everything back to the southern arena and auditorium. Our audience will follow your progress through the Hellzone in real-time."

Everything? My tendrils twitched beneath my robes. Three, Chonsey, and Thirteen pressed closer to my frame, trying to stay hidden.

"This ensures both fair play and safety," Hilltuck continued. "Should anything unexpected occur, we can immediately dispatch assistance."

The crystal's light penetrated every shadow around us. I watched it track my movements, wondering if my scout spiders would be visible to the audience. But then, they were simply equipment; mechanical aids no different than enchanted compasses or magical mapping stones.

Genta must have sensed my concern. She leaned closer, whispering, "They're just tools, like my focusing crystal or Annes's enchanted bracers."

She was right. I relaxed slightly, letting Three peek out to examine the scrying eye. The mechanical spider's presence drew some murmurs from nearby teams, but no objections from either Reins or Hilltuck.

The crystal bobbed gently, recording everything. Somewhere in the arena, hundreds of spectators would be watching, analyzing our every move. My tendrils flexed beneath my robes. Let them watch. We'd show them what Gutter House could do.

The black gates groaned open on ancient hinges, and we followed the headmasters into the torch-lit corridor. My tendrils tensed beneath my robes when I spotted the teleportation circle ahead, its runes pulsing with a sickly purple glow. The mage manning the field stood straight, his Academy robes spotless and pristine.

"Each team will be transported to the fifth floor," Headmaster Reins announced. "There, you'll begin your search for the artifact. Return it to any teleportation field to advance to the final round. But beware, the dangers of the Hellzone are many."

My chassis locked up. Langdon's warning about his previous class echoed in my mind, of students lost forever due to Shawe's tampering. I glanced at my teammates. Annes gripped her new auric steel sword tight enough to whiten her knuckles. Genta's orange freckles stood out against her pale green skin. Even Loland's usual swagger had vanished.

House Dragon stepped onto the circle first. Purple light enveloped them, and they disappeared. House Swords followed, then the Institute teams. Each group vanished without incident, but my Mind Sight detected Shawe watching us intently from his place beside the headmaster.

When our turn came, we hesitated.

"What's the delay?" Reins asked, his white armor gleaming.

Annes stepped forward. "Sir, could we take the stairs instead?"

The headmaster's laugh bounced off the stone walls. "You intend to go by foot? By the time you reached the fifth floor, the artifact would be long gone."

Three pressed against my side while Chonsey and Thirteen huddled closer. The scrying eye hovered nearby, recording our reluctance for all to see.

"If you refuse," Principal Hilltuck said, "you'll forfeit the tournament."

I turned to my team. Shawe wouldn't dare try anything now. Too many witnesses, too much attention. My tendrils gestured at the floating crystal. The whole Academy is watching.

Annes nodded slowly. "Widow's right. He's a bastard, but he's not stupid."

"I suppose." Sven shifted his weight. "And we didn't come this far to quit."

Yulios and Genta exchanged looks before stepping toward the circle. Loland followed with an exaggerated sigh.

We're ready, Headmaster, I announced.

Reins smiled. "Good luck, Gutter House."

We crowded onto the platform. The mage began his incantation, and the runes flared to life. Purple energy crawled up my frame as the world dissolved around us. My last glimpse was of Shawe's face, twisted in a sneer.

The teleportation took hold, and we vanished into the void.

The teleportation field's light faded, and we found ourselves somewhere far deeper than the fifth floor. These tunnels stretched wider than any I'd seen before, their darkness absolute without the familiar glow of fungi.

"Light," Genta whispered, and a pale orb materialized above us.

My Mind Sight registered the thick black corruption coating every surface. It had eaten deep into the stone, leaving pockmarked walls that glistened wetly in Genta's light. The air carried the heavy scent of earth and sulfur, reminiscent of volcanic depths.

Loland's breathing came in short gasps. Annes gripped her new auric steel sword with white knuckles. Even Yulios, usually stoic, trembled slightly.

Stay calm, I said through Mind Speech. Three, Chonsey, Thirteen: spread out and search for any sign of the teleportation fields. The scout spiders scuttled away into different tunnels.

I gazed at the scrying sphere still drifting overhead, its crystalline surface reflecting Genta's pale light. It was still transmitting, so the teachers should have realized what had happened to us.

Could they use that to guide us back to the upper floors?

"No. The scryers only follow preset commands," Loland said, his copper scales dulled by the darkness. "They're not like your little ones; they can't be controlled remotely. Just image transmission."

Through my scouts' senses, the tunnels revealed themselves as a maze of interconnected passages. Three discovered a chamber filled with bones, their surfaces scarred by acid. Chonsey found traces of recent Cave Stalker activity, the claw marks still fresh. Thirteen encountered a dead end where the stone had melted and reformed into glassy sheets.

But no teleportation circles. No way back up.

We waited. Minutes crawled by like hours as my constructs explored the labyrinth around us. Their sensors transmitted nothing but more corruption-covered passages. No sign of the distinctive runes that marked teleportation fields.

After forty minutes, Sven broke. "There aren't any teleport circles down here," he choked out. "The only levels without them are past floor nineteen. These tunnels… we're in the deep reaches. They don't let anyone below level fifty come here. Even A-rank students can't-"

Scout Spider Three's alert cut him off. Its sensors had detected movement; a massive shape crawling along the ceiling fifty yards from our location. I activated Analyze, and gasped at the information I saw from Three's crystal sensors.

Lurking Horror

Level: 36

Species: Monster

Gender: Male

Age: 31

"Shawe," Annes whispered, her voice cracking. "He's killed us. He's actually killed us."

My auric steel tendrils coiled tighter around my frame. She wasn't wrong. Shawe had finally made his move. But I refused to let him win. I'd survived the Lodrik Hellzone. I'd protect my friends here too.

Form up, I commanded. Defensive formation beta. Genta, ready your ice magic. Annes, Loland, guard our flanks. Sven, Yulios, watch our rear. That thing hasn't spotted us yet. We're getting out of here alive.

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