Three days passed in a blur of focused work. I barely registered the passing of time as I hunched over the damaged war frame, hands moving with precision that belied their delicate appearance. The cabin filled with the metallic sounds of grinding and tapping, as well as the occasional welding hisses when I applied focused heat through Assembly.

The interior components had suffered extensive damage. I extracted the hydraulic system first, spreading the crushed tubes and cylinders across the table. Each required individual attention, some needing complete replacement. The pneumatic pressure system had fared slightly better, though two of the main chambers had catastrophic ruptures.

"Interesting," Casper remarked, watching me repair a particularly complex mana conduit. "I've never seen anyone work metal like that before."

I didn't respond, lost in concentration as I sealed microscopic fractures in the conduit's surface. The temperature regulators proved more challenging. Kaldos had driven his fist directly through the primary cooling matrix. That alone took nearly a full day to rebuild.

By the second night, I faced a difficult decision. The structural frame, which was essentially the skeleton of my war form, was beyond salvage. Too many load-bearing components had been compromised.

I need to cannibalize my humanoid frame, I told Casper as dawn broke on the third day.

"You sure? Won't that leave you... vulnerable?"

Necessity dictates sacrifice. My auric steel reserves are insufficient.

I disassembled my humanoid frame methodically, harvesting the precious metal alloy. The frame had been my primary means of blending with humans, but survival took precedence over convenience. Without it, I'd be limited to my truncated form or the war frame once completed.

The tendrils posed the greatest challenge. Kaldos had destroyed three completely, the internal components crushed beyond recognition. Each tendril contained hundreds of cabling, mana channels, and sensory nodes. I set up a small smelting operation outside the cabin, refining my remaining auric steel reserves into new components.

Casper watched from the doorway, occasionally bringing me materials or tools as needed. "Where are we headed after this?" he asked as I carefully formed the intricate inner workings of a dragon head.

The Central Hellzone.

His eyebrows shot up. "Bold move. That's one of the largest Hellzones in the world. It covers nearly a quarter of the central continent." He nodded slowly. "Smart, though. Even the gods would struggle to find us there."

"We'd need to be extremely careful," he continued, leaning against the doorframe. "That place is a death trap for most. Supplies would be hard to come by, and shelter... well, you'd be lucky to find a cave that isn't home to something that wants to eat you."

We won't be alone, I replied, setting down my tools. There's a settlement of intelligent monsters hidden within.

Casper's face registered genuine surprise. "A settlement? In the Central Hellzone? How is that possible? Nothing survives there long, not even monsters."

I looked up from my work, the half-formed dragon head gleaming in the morning light. The monsters there have adapted. They've built a community hidden from human eyes. And from the gods.

"And they'll welcome us?" Skepticism colored his voice.

They'll welcome me, I corrected. You might be... more complicated.

Casper shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling beneath his light armor. "I can be persuasive when needed."

I ignored his comment, my fingers working meticulously over the intricate gears and joints of my creation. The metal clicked and whirred under my touch as I tightened a loose connection. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to violence.

On the fifth day, I was deep in concentration, carefully rebuilding the sensory matrix for the final dragon head tendril. The delicate work required absolute focus as I aligned the microscopic mana channels that would allow the construct to detect heat, movement, and magical signatures.

A sharp ping in my consciousness broke my concentration. One of my scout spiders had detected movement. Someone approaching the cabin from the southwest. I set down what I was working on and sent a mental command to the spider, ordering it to maintain surveillance while staying hidden.

Casper, I projected. We have company.

He was on his feet instantly, sword in hand, moving with the silent efficiency of a veteran warrior. "How many?" he whispered.

One, as far as I can tell. Moving deliberately, not trying to hide their approach.

Casper nodded and slipped outside, positioning himself behind a large oak where he could observe the path leading to the cabin. I dispatched two more scout spiders, directing them to circle around and get a clearer view of our visitor.

The images that flowed back to me through my connection with the spiders made me pause. The figure moving through the forest was unmistakable: tall, muscular, with the distinctive silhouette of a lizardman. More specifically, the seven-foot frame and characteristic gait belonged to Arctur.

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It's alright, I projected to Casper. It's Arctur, the lizardman from the Academy.

I watched through my spiders' eyes as Casper stepped from behind the tree, sword still ready but no longer in an offensive stance. Arctur spotted him immediately, raising his hands palm-outward in the universal gesture of peace. His collapsible spear remained secured at his back.

They exchanged words I couldn't hear at that distance. Casper's posture remained tense, but after a brief conversation, he nodded and gestured toward the cabin. I recalled my scout spiders as they approached.

The door swung open. Arctur had to duck to enter, his tall frame barely clearing the doorway. His yellow eyes swept the room before settling on me. My true form, truncated and broken, was perched awkwardly beside the partially reconstructed war frame.

Hello, Arctur, I projected pleasantly. This is unexpected.

The lizardman gave me a polite nod, his expression unreadable. His scales gleamed in the light filtering through the cabin windows.

I sighed mentally. What brings you here? How did you even find us?

"The Voiceless Prophet sent me," he said, his voice a deep rumble. "I am to escort you to the enclave in the Central Hellzone."

That caught my attention. The Voiceless Prophet?

"A holy being who speaks for the Twelve Ancestors. He has been searching for you."

And how exactly did this prophet contact you? I asked, suspicion growing.

Arctur tapped a clawed finger against his temple. "The same way you speak to me now. Through the mind."

A chill ran through me. The voice. The one that had been whispering to me since my awakening, urging me to grow stronger, to journey to the Central Hellzone; it wasn't just in my head.

Tell me more about this prophet, I pressed.

Arctur's shook his head. "He is a holy being who speaks for the Twelve Ancestors. That is all you need to know for now."

Casper stepped forward, his hand still resting on his sword hilt. "How do we know we can trust him?" he asked me. "This could be a trap."

It's not, I replied. There's a voice that speaks in our heads; both mine and Arctur's. He's telling the truth.

Casper's expression darkened. "A voice in your head? And that's supposed to be reassuring?"

… Yes?

Casper sighed in annoyance and left to go outside the cabin.

I gestured toward a wooden chair in the corner of the cabin. Make yourself comfortable, Arctur. We won't be leaving until my war frame is fully repaired.

The lizardman nodded, shrugging off the heavy pack he carried before lowering himself onto the floor instead, his back against the wall. The chair would have splintered under his massive frame anyway. His yellow eyes studied the intricate machinery spread across the workspace with obvious curiosity.

"This is your war body?" He pointed a clawed finger at the partially assembled construct. "The one that was damaged when you fought the human god?"

I paused my work, the tiny mana conduit I was manipulating hovering between my fingers. Yes. How did you hear about that?

Arctur's scaled lips pulled back in what might have been a smile. "Wild rumors spread through the Academy after you disappeared. Some claimed you had slain the human god Kaldos." His voice carried a hint of amusement. "The instructors tried to silence such talk, but it only made students whisper more fervently."

And do you believe these rumors? I asked, carefully resuming my delicate work on the tendril's sensory matrix.

He snorted, a puff of warm air escaping his nostrils. "No. You are not strong enough to defeat a god." His tail shifted slightly against the wooden floor. "But I wanted to believe it. The thought of a monster, especially one as strange and ugly as you, defeating one of the vaunted human gods..." His chest rumbled with a deep, hissing laugh. "It would be extremely funny."

I set down the components I had been working on and turned my full attention to him. Ugly? You think I'm ugly?

Arctur tilted his head, studying me with those unblinking reptilian eyes. "Yes," he said matter-of-factly. "You are indeed very ugly."

Well, I projected dryly, aren't you just charming.

I returned to my work, focusing on the delicate connections that would give the dragon-head tendril its sensory capabilities. The bluntness was refreshing in its way. Humans tended to dance around truths they found uncomfortable, but Arctur simply stated facts as he saw them. I was, objectively speaking, a grotesque being: half a torso, one arm, and a head with empty eye sockets. Not exactly the stuff of beauty ballads.

Through my connection with the scout spiders outside, I could sense Casper pacing the perimeter of the cabin, his thoughts churning with suspicion. He didn't trust Arctur, and he certainly didn't trust this "Voiceless Prophet" who spoke directly into minds.

I couldn't blame him. I wasn't sure I trusted this prophet either, but something about the voice felt... familiar. Like an echo of something I should remember but couldn't quite grasp.

Tell me more about the enclave, I projected to Arctur while continuing my repairs. What kind of intelligent monsters live there?

As he began to describe the various communities that had found sanctuary in the Central Hellzone, I split my attention between his words and my work. The war frame would be operational soon, and then we would face a decision: follow Arctur to this prophet who called to me across vast distances, or continue on our own path.

Either way, I needed to be prepared. The gods would be hunting me now, and I couldn't afford to be vulnerable again.

Three days later, I set the final component in place. My war frame, reborn from ruin, hummed with potential as I integrated into its systems.

This iteration was sleeker, born of necessity rather than design. With limited materials, I'd forgone the layered armor that had previously encased the torso, crafting instead a single sheet of auric steel; thin but resilient. The streamlined profile would also allow me to wear clothing over the frame without appearing conspicuously bulky.

I flexed the nine dragon-headed tendrils, my pride and masterwork. They responded instantly to my will, slithering through the air with fluid precision before anchoring against the floor and lifting my body to a standing position. Each serpentine appendage contained thousands of minute components working in perfect harmony: sensory matrices, pneumatic systems, and mana conduits all synchronized through my Assembly ability.

The new helmet was lighter than its predecessor, a concession to material constraints that had become a fortuitous improvement. The auric steel contoured perfectly to my skull, covering the upper half of my face and the ruined sockets where eyes once existed. I'd maintained certain aesthetic elements: decorative filigree etched into the metal and false vision slits that gave the impression of sight.

One tendril snaked across the room, its dragon maw delicately grasping my widow's dress. The fabric billowed as I pulled it over the mechanical frame. The garment settled around me, concealing the gleaming metal beneath layers of somber black cloth.

I swept the heavy cloak around my shoulders, securing it with a clasp at my throat before drawing the hood forward to shadow my helmet. The veil and boots I'd leave behind; they were unnecessary affectations now that I'd abandoned the pretense of human fragility.

My hand closed around the newly-forged sword-lance. The weapon was perfectly balanced, its blade inscribed with runes that would channel my power when needed. With a thought, I activated the Brace enchantment, and the weapon adhered to the belt at my hip, ready to be summoned instantly to my grasp.

I turned to face Arctur and Casper, my dragon tendrils swaying beneath the concealment of my skirt.

I am ready.

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