"Widow!" Annes' voice echoed through the tunnel. "Where are you?"

I lifted my head from Langdon's body to see my companions racing toward me, accompanied by six strangers. Their gear showed the wear of seasoned adventurers: scuffed leather, patched armor, weapons marked by countless battles.

Genta reached us first, skidding to a halt. Her orange-spotted face crumpled at the sight of Langdon's lifeless form. Tears welled in her yellow eyes as she dropped to her knees beside me.

"No..." Sven's fist slammed against the tunnel wall. "Damn Shawe to the hells!"

One of the adventurers, a grizzled spearman whom Analyze revealed as level 33, stepped forward. "I'm sorry for your loss, but we need to move. That dragon's death will draw every predator within miles to investigate."

I nodded, rising on unsteady coils. When Yulios offered to carry Langdon, I shook my head.

I'll take him. My voice came out raw, mechanical. I reached down, activating Depository. Langdon's body shimmered, then vanished, now nothing more than materials in the system's cold calculation.

The massive dragon's corpse caught my eye. Even in death, it radiated power. Its metallic hide gleamed with patches of platinum, while pools of molten gold blood still steamed on the stone floor. Such resources shouldn't go to waste.

I approached the carcass, extending my awareness through Depository once more. The dragon's remains disappeared in sections, stored away for future use. A system notification appeared:

Congratulations! Depository has reached Rank C!

You can now store up to 4000 pounds of materials!

The message felt hollow compared to our loss. But I knew Langdon would want us to survive, to grow stronger. His sacrifice had bought us that chance. I wouldn't waste it.

Let's go, I said, turning back to the group. We've stayed here too long already.

The adventurers guided us through winding passages, their practiced movements revealing years of Hellzone experience. My scout spiders ranged ahead, scanning for threats as we retreated to safer ground.

Who are you? I asked the spearman leading our group.

"Institute instructors." He kept his eyes on the tunnel ahead. "Principal Hilltuck asked for volunteers when you disappeared."

I studied our rescuers with Analyze. Most hovered around levels 27 to 31, with the spearman being their highest at 33. Skilled veterans, but not the elite warriors I'd expected from a rescue party.

Where are the Academy instructors? The question slipped out before I could stop it.

The spearman's face twisted. "Reins forbade them from coming. Said if you were meant to be great warriors, you'd survive on your own."

"What?" Annes stumbled. "How could he… that's monstrous!"

"That's the Academy." The spearman spat on the ground. "Only Langdon had the spine to defy orders."

Genta wiped her eyes. "But how did you find us?"

"Principal Hilltuck wouldn't take no for answer." A scarred woman with twin daggers spoke up. "Reminded Reins we don't answer to the Academy. Six of us volunteered to join Langdon."

"We took the teleporter to floor nineteen." The spearman gestured upward. "Tracked you floor by floor these past six days using that."

I followed his pointing finger to the scrying sphere still hovering above us. In the chaos of battle, I'd completely forgotten about the magical sensor. It pulsed with a soft blue light, recording everything.

"At least someone cared enough to try," Sven muttered.

Loland touched the wall for support. "Six days... you searched for six days?"

"Langdon wouldn't stop." The dagger-wielder's voice cracked. "Even when we needed rest, he kept going. Said he wouldn't abandon his students."

My tendrils coiled tight. Langdon had thrown away everything, his position, and possibly his life, to save us. While Reins, who preached about warrior spirit and nobility, had left us to die.

He was worth ten of them, I said. All of them combined.

"That he was." The spearman's grip whitened on his weapon. "That he surely was."

We continued through the tunnels in silence, each lost in thoughts of the teacher who'd given everything to prove that not all of the Academy's supposed values were hollow words.

The contrast struck me like a physical blow. The Academy boasted dozens of warriors above level 50, yet they'd abandoned us without hesitation. Meanwhile these Institute veterans, none above level 33, had risked everything to save students who weren't even their own.

My tendrils traced patterns in the air as I processed this. The Academy's actions went beyond mere prejudice or elitism. Their willingness to sacrifice students spoke of something far more insidious.

The scrying orb recorded everything? I asked the spearman.

He nodded. "Every moment."

Good. I coiled my tendrils tight. The Headmaster will have some explaining to do.

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"Don't." The dagger-wielder grabbed my arm. "You'll only make things worse."

Worse than leaving students to die?

"Listen." She pulled me aside, voice low. "There's something wrong with that place. Has been for centuries."

My mechanical joints creaked as I turned to face her. What do you mean?

She glanced at the hovering scrying orb. "Just trust me on this. The War Academy has always been messed up. Institute's got former students from there, those that got fed up with the shite and left. They've told us stories. Cruel, insane stories."

I watched my companions trudging ahead through the tunnel. Annes with her haunted eyes, Genta's shoulders shaking with silent sobs, Sven clutching at his wounded side. We'd survived, but at what cost?

The Academy hadn't just failed us. They'd revealed their true nature. That of an institution that preached nobility while practicing calculated cruelty. The racism and classism were merely symptoms of a deeper corruption.

I need answers, I told the dagger-wielder.

"You do." She squeezed my arm. "But some questions get people killed."

I nodded, but my mind was already churning. I would find out what rotted at the Academy's core. I owed that much to Langdon. But first, I needed to ensure my companions' safety. After all, that's what he'd died for.

The scrying orb pulsed above us, broadcasting every step to the ones watching above.

After two grueling days of navigating the tunnels, we reached the nineteenth floor. My scout spiders detected no threats nearby, though the constant drip of water echoed through the darkness. The teleportation field cast soft blue light across the chamber's worn stone walls.

My companions froze at the sight. Memories of our last teleportation experience made even Loland's usual bravado falter.

"It's safe." The scarred dagger-wielder stepped forward. "Return fields only go one way, straight back to the entrance. No way to tamper with them."

"How can you be sure?" Genta's voice quavered.

"Institute's been using them for decades." The spearman planted his weapon. "They're hard-coded to the entrance. Either we take this, or it's another week climbing back up."

I studied the field with Mana Manipulation. Unlike the entrance portal's complex magical structure, this one showed a simple linear pattern. They're right. This leads directly to the surface.

My friends exchanged glances before nodding. Together with the adventurers, we stepped onto the glowing circle. Blue light flashed, and suddenly we stood before the massive black gates of the Academy Hellzone.

Headmaster Reins waited there, his white armor gleaming. Beside him, Principal Hilltuck's face showed clear relief at our return. Casper the Manslayer stood apart from them, expression unreadable. And there, wearing his usual scarlet robes, was Professor Shawe.

The sight of him ignited something in my chest. My tendrils uncoiled of their own accord.

"YOU!" Annes's sword cleared its sheath with a ring of auric steel. "You murdering bastard!"

Shawe's lips curled in a practiced smile. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

"Liar!" Annes's blade trembled. "Langdon told us everything. How you sabotaged the teleporter. How you murdered his first class the same way!"

"Such wild accusations." Shawe spread his hands. "Where is old Langdon, anyways?"

I withdrew Langdon's body from Depository, my tendrils trembling as I laid him before them. His broken form spoke volumes about their indifference to life, each of them culpable in his death.

Principal Hilltuck's hand flew to his mouth. Casper's face darkened with rage. Headmaster Reins maintained his stone-faced expression.

Then Shawe laughed.

The sound burst from him like a disease, sharp and uncontrolled. Though he stifled it quickly, the echo lingered in the chamber.

My tendrils shot forward, golden metal thirsting for his throat. But Reins' voice froze me in place.

"Your instructor's death was a regrettable incident." His words rang hollow against the stone walls. "But Langdon knew the risks when he chose to pursue you."

My chassis creaked as I fought to maintain control. Chose to pursue us? After YOU abandoned us to die?

"Regarding the teleportation malfunction." Reins continued as if I hadn't spoken. "We questioned the circle mage responsible. He admitted accepting bribes from an outside party."

"Outside party?" Sven's voice cracked. "We all know it was Shawe!"

"Do you have evidence of these accusations?" Reins' golden eyes fixed on us.

We stood silent. Only Langdon's words implicated Shawe, and dead men's testimony held little weight.

Let me speak with the mage, I demanded.

"I'm afraid that is impossible." Reins gestured toward the Hellzone's front gates. "His head now adorns our walls, a reminder that we do not tolerate treachery."

My Mind Sight registered the distant shape he indicated: a bloody trophy displayed like a badge of honor stuck to a spike at the gate's edge. They'd already eliminated their scapegoat, ensuring no one could contradict their version of events.

Shawe's smirk confirmed everything. He'd orchestrated not just our deaths, but the mage's as well. A clean sweep, with all evidence erased.

I stared at Langdon's body, at the teacher who'd believed in justice enough to die for it. The Academy preached honor while practicing murder, and we had no way to prove it.

Within me, something dark and molten ignited. The injustice before me wasn't merely unfair; it was obscene. My golden tendrils writhed with barely contained fury as I stared at Shawe's face, his lips twisted in that smug, self-satisfied smile.

I could forgive his petty insults. I could overlook his blatant prejudice. But this? He had orchestrated the deaths of students and murdered the only instructor who dared stand against him. Langdon's broken body lay at my feet, a testament to Shawe's true nature.

And he would continue. That realization crystallized within me like molten metal cooling into deadly purpose. Unless someone stopped him, Shawe would keep destroying lives with impunity.

"Something on your mind, Widow?" Headmaster Reins' voice cut through my thoughts, smooth and knowing.

I turned my masked face toward him. His golden eyes held no grief for Langdon, no outrage at the murder of a dedicated teacher. Instead, I saw anticipation, even approval.

He knew. The bastard understood exactly what I was contemplating, and he welcomed it.

Fine. If he wouldn't stop me, I would give him the spectacle he craved.

My serpentine tendrils propelled me forward across the stone floor. Shawe stiffened as my larger form approached, his confidence faltering for the first time. Reins made no move to intervene, merely watching with that calculating smile.

Shawe's smirk vanished as I loomed before him. His mouth opened, likely to demand what I thought I was doing, when my flesh hand lashed out.

The crack of my palm against his face echoed through the chamber. His head snapped sideways, his body staggering back from the force. Red bloomed across his cheek as he clutched at his face, eyes wide with shock.

I, Widow of the War Academy, officially challenge you to a duel, I announced, my Mind Speech reaching everyone present.

"This… this is absurd!" Shawe spluttered, spittle flying from his lips. "I am an instructor of this Academy! Students cannot challenge instructors!"

"Actually," Casper stepped forward, arms crossed, "there is precedent. Sixty years ago, student Hervan Miks challenged Professor Durnett over accusations of sabotage." His eyes narrowed. "Ended with the student's death, but the challenge was accepted."

"I refuse to lower myself to accepting a duel from a… a monster!" Shawe's voice rose to a shriek.

Reins' smile vanished. "You have no choice, Professor. Either accept the challenge, or leave the Academy in disgrace."

"This is nonsense!" Shawe turned to Reins, gesturing wildly. "It's just an angry, good-for-nothing creature seeking revenge because I treated it harshly!"

"Stop being so gutless, Shawe." Reins' voice hardened. "It's a mere student. What are you afraid of?"

The chamber fell silent. Shawe's face contorted through a series of emotions: rage, fear, calculation. It finally settled into cold hatred.

"Fine," he spat. "I accept your challenge, creature. Two days at noon in the southern arena." His eyes narrowed. "I'll teach you the price of raising your hand to a superior."

I nodded once, my tendrils coiling tight. Two days is all I will need.

As Shawe stormed away, Principal Hilltuck approached me. "Are you certain about this?" he whispered. "He's a level 40 Elementalist."

I looked down at Langdon's body, then at my companions: Annes, Genta, Sven, Loland, Yulios; all watching me with a mixture of fear and hope.

I'm certain, I replied. Someone has to stop him.

What I didn't say was that I intended to do far more than just stop him. I intended to kill him.

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