I sat cross-legged on the floor of my room, surrounded by failed experiments. Mechanical fingers lay scattered around me, their joints and gears exposed. Each represented hours of careful work at attempting to combine Assembly and Mana Manipulation, and each had failed.

My flesh hand traced patterns in the air, drawing mana from the atmosphere into delicate streams of power. The energy flowed smoothly through my remaining organic parts, responsive to my will. But the moment I tried to channel it into one of my mechanical creations, the mana dispersed like water on hot metal.

Why won't you work?

I picked up my latest attempt, a finger Assembly crafted with especially fine tolerances. The machinery was perfect, each component precisely shaped and fitted. I'd even managed to store a small amount of mana in the organic parts of my hand. But when I tried to extend that power into the mechanical finger, nothing.

The mana simply refused to flow through artificial materials. It was as if the very essence of the power recognized the difference between flesh and machine, and rejected anything that wasn't natural.

I closed my eyes and focused inward, directing the stored mana through what remained of my torso. The energy moved smoothly through my organic shoulder, but hit an invisible wall where flesh met machinery. Even with Integration letting me control my mechanical parts as naturally as my own body, the mana treated them as foreign objects.

I flexed my mechanical fingers, watching the precise movements of each joint. They responded instantly to my thoughts, an extension of myself in every way except this one crucial aspect. The mana's rejection felt personal, as if it knew these parts weren't originally mine.

I gathered another stream of ambient mana, pulling it in through my skin. This time I tried to force it through the mechanical components of my chest. The energy pooled at the boundary between flesh and metal, pressing against that invisible barrier. I pushed harder. The mana grew dense, compressed—then snapped back like a rubber band, sending painful feedback through my organic parts.

I slumped back against the wall, letting the failed component drop to the floor with a soft clink. My organic hand flexed, mana dancing between the fingers. My mechanical arm remained still, dead to the magical energy no matter how I tried to force it through.

The limitation was clear. I could only manipulate mana through what little remained of my original body. My pale flesh conducted the power perfectly, but everything else might as well have been made of rocks for all the magical conductivity it showed.

I gathered the scattered components, sorting them back into my storage. Hours wasted on a theory that proved impossible. At least the basic Assembly work wasn't a total loss since I could still use the pieces for regular maintenance.

My organic hand tingled with accumulated mana. I let the power dissipate back into the air, watching the faint blue glow fade from my skin. Such a small amount of flesh to work with. Such a small channel for magic.

I touched the ragged edge where machine met flesh at my shoulder. The border between what could and couldn't conduct mana. Another reminder of how incomplete I was, how much had been lost or destroyed.

The experiments had taught me one clear lesson: I would have to work within these constraints. No matter how much I wished otherwise, I couldn't force mana through metal and gears. I would have to find other ways to compensate, other applications for these limited abilities.

Which was unfortunate, since the entrance ceremony at the Academy was scheduled for tomorrow.

I descended the creaking stairs of the Dragon's Den, my mechanical legs moving silently beneath the black dress. The common room buzzed with the usual morning crowd, with a mix of goblins nursing bitter coffee and orcs hunched over bowls of porridge.

Barnus stood behind the bar, polishing mugs with a cloth that had seen better days. His tusks poked out from his ever-present smile as he spotted me.

"Ah, if it isn't my favorite quiet guest." He set down the mug. "Last night with us, isn't it? I'm going to miss having such a well-mannered tenant."

I approached the bar, inclining my head. The hospitality here has been excellent. My thought-voice carried clearly to him. Should I return to Monster Town, I'll seek lodging here again.

"Kind of you to say." He leaned forward, resting his massive forearms on the counter. "Where you headed off to, if you don't mind my asking? Not many widows pass through these parts."

I paused, weighing my options. Barnus had proven trustworthy this past month, showing me nothing but kindness despite my unusual nature. Perhaps he deserved the truth.

I'm going to the War Academy, I projected. The entrance ceremony is tomorrow.

Barnus's jaw dropped, then he threw back his head and roared with laughter. Several patrons jumped, a goblin nearly spilling his coffee.

"By the gods," he wiped tears from his eyes, "your dead husband must have been something special if you're following him up with the War Academy." He shook his head, still chuckling. "Switching from mourning clothes to training gear, eh?"

I frowned behind my porcelain mask. His joke wasn't nearly as amusing as he seemed to think.

I'm not actually a widow, I projected. The clothes are just a convenient disguise.

This set off another round of thunderous laughter from Barnus. The entire room turned to stare as he pounded the bar with one meaty fist, making the mugs rattle.

"Even better!" He wiped at his eyes. "Here I've been tiptoeing around your 'grief' for weeks. You're a crafty one, widow, I'll give you that." His expression softened. "I'll be praying for your safety at the Academy. Those humans can be right bastards to our kind."

The statement caught me off guard. You pray? I didn't think monsters followed the Holy Twelve.

Barnus's jovial demeanor vanished. His face darkened and his massive frame drew up to its full height, tusks bared in a scowl.

"The Holy Twelve?" He spat the words like a curse. "Those pretenders? I'd never waste a prayer on human gods." He leaned forward, voice dropping low. "We pray to the true creators: the Twelve Ancestors. They made us, shaped us from nothing. They watch over us still, even now, from the shadows."

The conviction in his voice was startling. I've never heard of these Ancestors.

"Well, that's no surprise. Most of our young ones haven't. The humans try to stamp out our old ways, make us worship their gods instead." He shook his head. "But we remember. Every monster race remembers who really made us, who really protects us."

I climbed the worn steps back to my room, Barnus's words echoing in my thoughts. Twelve Ancestors. The number stirred something in the fragments of memory that remained to me: twelve figures, twelve powers, twelve...something. The knowledge danced at the edge of consciousness, refusing to crystalize into anything concrete.

My mechanical fingers traced the edge of Kolin's sword, still wrapped in cloth and propped against the wall. The weapon would need to be properly displayed tomorrow at the ceremony. I unwrapped it carefully, the enchanted steel gleaming in the dim light filtering through my window.

The blade's magic pulsed against my senses, stronger now that I could properly detect mana. Such careful work in its creation, such precise channeling of power into metal. Perhaps there were lessons here I could apply to my own limitations.

But my thoughts kept circling back to what Barnus had said. Monsters remembering their creators, ancient beings who shaped them from nothing. Why did that concept feel so familiar? Like something I should know, something important that had been torn away along with my missing parts.

I shook my head, forcing the distracting thoughts aside. The ceremony demanded my focus. I had to prepare my mechanical body, ensure all its joints moved smoothly, that no wear or damage would betray my true nature at an inopportune moment.

I opened my storage and began laying out bare materials and spare parts on the floor. The mechanical components clinked softly against the wooden boards as I arranged them in precise rows. This, at least, was familiar territory. This I understood with absolute clarity.

My organic hand tingled with gathered mana as I worked, the power responding to my agitation despite my attempts to remain calm. The energy wanted to flow, to create, to build, but remained frustratingly confined to that small portion of living flesh.

The work helped settle my mind, push away the nagging questions about Ancestors and creation and half-remembered powers. Tomorrow would come soon enough. Tonight was for preparation, for ensuring every gear and spring was perfectly aligned.

I had to be ready. The Academy awaited me.

Morning light filtered through my window, casting long shadows across the wooden floor where I'd spent the night making final adjustments to my mechanical parts. I flexed my artificial fingers, feeling smooth, precise movement. Perfect.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

I wrapped Kolin's sword in fresh cloth and tucked it carefully under my cloak. I spent some time last night repairing the black mourning dress I was wearing, making sure it was clean and presentable for the entrance ceremony. It looked as good as ever, with no holes or tatters in the dark fabric.

The common room buzzed with early morning activity as I descended the stairs. The regulars hunched over steaming bowls of porridge, speaking in hushed tones. A few nodded in my direction, now used to my masked appearance.

Barnus stood behind the bar, kneading dough with his massive hands. Flour dusted his forearms up to the elbows. He looked up as I approached, a warm smile spreading across his face.

"Today's the day then?" He brushed his hands on his apron. "Got everything you need?"

I believe so, I projected. Thank you for your hospitality these past weeks.

"Bah, you've been a model guest. Quiet, paid on time, didn't break anything." He chuckled. "Unlike some of the riffraff we get through here."

I placed my room key on the counter. I may return, depending on how things go at the Academy.

"Your room will be waiting." He pushed the key back toward me. "Keep it. Consider it a good luck charm."

I couldn't possibly-

"Go forth and conquer, warrior!" He bellowed, cutting off my protest. The entire room turned to stare.

I couldn't help but laugh, the musical sound echoing strangely in my head. The absurdity of this massive orc innkeeper treating me, a broken thing of flesh and metal, with such casual warmth struck me deeply.

I tucked the key away and gave him a small bow before heading for the door. The morning air was crisp, carrying the mingled scents of Monster Town. The cooking fires, unwashed bodies, and beneath it all, the ever-present smell of hope struggling to survive in the shadows of poverty.

I left the familiar squalor of Monster Town behind, adjusting my veil and pulling my hood low. The cobblestones changed from cracked and worn to smooth and well-maintained as I crossed into the human districts. The buildings grew taller, their facades cleaned of grime and decorated with flowering window boxes.

Market stalls were just opening, merchants arranging their wares with practiced efficiency. A baker pulled fresh loaves from his oven, the scent making passersby pause. Workers hurried past with tools slung over shoulders, while servants carried baskets of fresh produce toward noble houses.

The Academy dominated the skyline ahead, its massive walls dwarfing even the grandest mansions. As I drew closer, the central ziggurat pierced the morning sky like a stone arrow aimed at the heavens. The structure defied conventional architecture, with each level smaller than the last, yet somehow appearing weightless despite the enormous stone blocks.

I counted the tiers as I walked. Seven levels, each with its own sweeping terraces and covered walkways. Warriors in training moved through combat forms on the lower levels, their weapons flashing in the early light. Mages gathered on higher terraces, practicing spells that sent colorful bursts of energy into the air.

My mechanical legs carried me steadily forward while my mind raced. How many students filled those halls? The size suggested thousands at least. Every terrace teemed with activity, every walkway hosted clusters of people moving with purpose. The sheer scale of the place made me feel smaller with each step.

Towering gates marked the Academy entrance, their dark metal etched with runes that pulsed with barely visible power. Guards stood at attention, their armor gleaming. A steady stream of people passed through: students, instructors, servants, merchants. Each person was checked, papers examined, questions asked.

I clutched Mallie's invitation tighter beneath my cloak. Would they truly accept a monster, even one bearing proper credentials? The thought of being turned away after coming so far made my remaining flesh crawl.

The guard's eyes narrowed as I approached. His hand rested on his sword hilt. "State your business."

I reached beneath my cloak, movements slow and deliberate. The invitation's parchment felt delicate between my mechanical fingers as I presented it. His eyes widened at the Academy seal.

"Entrance ceremony candidate." He scrutinized the document, then me. "Side courtyard, that way." He pointed past the main building. "Follow the path around. Can't miss it with the crowd."

I inclined my head in silent thanks and passed through the gates. The enormity of the Academy grounds struck me: pristine lawns stretched out in every direction, dotted with ancient trees whose branches swayed in the morning breeze. The paved walkway curved elegantly through the grounds, each stone fitted perfectly against its neighbors.

Three of Weath's farms could have fit in this front yard alone. My chest tightened at the memory of those simple fields, of Mallie's gap-toothed smile as she showed me around her family's plot. I pushed the thoughts away. Focus on the present.

The path wound past elaborate fountains and marble statues of famous warriors. Their poses captured moments of triumph, with their swords raised high, shields held firm. Plaques at their bases listed names and accomplishments I didn't recognize.

The sound of voices grew louder as I rounded the main building. The side courtyard opened up before me, filled with people gathered in loose clusters. Some wore elaborate robes marking them as mages, others carried weapons that marked them as warriors. A small minority bore the simple clothes of commoners, but held themselves with the confidence of experienced fighters.

I kept to the edges of the crowd, observing. Most appeared sapien, though I spotted a handful of elves and dwarves among them. No monsters that I could see. Not yet, at least.

I kept to the shadows of an ancient oak tree, observing the gathering of candidates. Youth dominated the courtyard, fresh faces full of ambition and privilege. Their fine silk tunics and embroidered cloaks marked them as nobility's children, clustered in the center like preening peacocks.

My Analyze ability revealed their levels: a girl in blue silk, level 9; a boy with an ornate sword, level 11; twins in matching green, both level 13. They carried themselves with practiced grace, every gesture and laugh carefully measured. Knights in polished armor stood at attention nearby, watching their noble charges with stern expressions.

The outer edges of the yard told a different story. Grizzled men and women in practical leathers and worn plate armor stood apart from the nobles. Their weapons showed use: nicks in sword blades, scratches across shield faces. These were true warriors who'd earned their strength through combat rather than training yards.

Movement caught my eye as I spotted a towering figure that made even the armored knights look small. At first glance, the basic shape suggested kobold, but this creature dwarfed any I'd seen in Monster Town. Seven feet of rippling muscle and scale, with teeth like daggers and claws that could tear through plate. Despite his fearsome appearance, he carried himself with quiet dignity, even in his rusted armor and threadbare clothes.

Analyze.

Arctur

Level 19

Lizardman (Monster)

Male

Age: 22

The nobles gave him a wide berth, their practiced smiles faltering when they glanced his way. But I noticed how the seasoned warriors treated him: with cautious respect rather than fear or disgust. A creature of his obvious power had likely earned that respect the hard way.

I shifted my attention as raised voices cut through the courtyard's general murmur. A cluster of students had formed around two men facing each other.

The first wore clothes that probably cost more than a farmer's yearly income, with deep purple silk and gold thread embroidery, topped with a cape lined in white fur. His boots gleamed, likely never having touched mud.

Analyze.

Antonius Souls III

Level 11 Swordsman

Sapien (Human)

Male

Age: 15

The second man stood silent, his weathered armor telling tales of hard battles. Dried mud caked his boots, and his sword belt showed wear from years of use.

Analyze.

Barkatus of Vokkheim

Level 25 Swordsman

Sapien (Human)

Male

Age: 32

"Look at this peasant," Antonius sneered, his voice carrying across the yard. "The Academy's standards must truly have fallen to let such filth through its gates."

Four soldiers in House Souls livery flanked their young master, while an aide in matching purple silk stood ready with a ledger. A dozen students in fine clothes clustered behind them, their laughter encouraging Antonius.

"Your armor's practically falling apart, old man. Did you pull it from a dung heap?" Antonius circled Barkatus like a preening rooster. "Or perhaps you stole it from a corpse?"

Barkatus remained still, his face impassive. His scarred hands stayed relaxed at his sides, though I noticed how his feet had shifted into a subtle fighting stance.

The noble youth's entourage laughed louder at each insult, their cruel mirth drawing more onlookers. Even some of the other wealthy students looked uncomfortable at the display, but none stepped forward to intervene.

I watched as Antonius continued his tirade, each insult more elaborate than the last. His audience had grown, their circle of fine clothes and jeweled weapons gleaming in the morning sun.

"Perhaps we should take up a collection," Antonius declared, pulling a silver coin from his pocket. "Help this beggar afford proper attire before he embarrasses himself further."

The coin rang as it hit the cobblestones at Barkatus's feet. More followed as Antonius's supporters joined in, the metal pieces scattering across the ground. Barkatus didn't move, didn't even blink. His stillness reminded me of a coiled serpent waiting to strike.

A deep boom echoed across the courtyard as the massive doors of the Academy's main hall swung open. The crowd's attention shifted, coins forgotten mid-throw. Three figures emerged onto the steps, their presence commanding immediate silence.

I raised my Analyze ability, focusing on each in turn.

The youngest of the three wore scarlet robes that seemed to shimmer with barely contained power, his blonde hair and sharp features set in an expression of perpetual disdain.

Analyze.

Malakin Shawe

Level 39 Elementalist

Sapien (Human)

Male

Age: 35

The eldest stood like a mountain given human form, his white armor gleaming despite his advanced age. A sword hung at his hip that radiated power even from this distance.

Analyze.

Kalder Reins

Level 84 White Knight

Sapien (Human)

Male

Age: 63

The third man drew my attention most sharply. He moved with fluid grace despite his age, the massive greatsword on his back seeming to weigh nothing. His neatly trimmed mustache and combed hair contrasted with the predatory awareness in his eyes.

Analyze.

Casper the Manslayer

Level 70 Berserker

Sapien (Human)

Male

Age: 52

The courtyard had gone deathly quiet. Even Antonius's supporters seemed to shrink in on themselves, their previous bravado evaporating under the weight of those three gazes.

I watched as Kalder Reins took another step forward, his white armor catching the morning light. The power radiating from him made my mechanical parts hum with an unfamiliar resonance. His presence dominated the courtyard, not just from his impressive level, but from the sheer weight of experience and authority he carried.

His silver eyes cut through the crowd like knives, dissecting each person they landed on. Noble children withered under his gaze. Battle-hardened veterans stiffened to attention. Even the lizardman Arctur lowered his head slightly when that penetrating stare passed over him.

When those eyes found me, I felt exposed despite my veils and cloaks. As if he could see through the fabric, past the porcelain mask, straight to the broken thing beneath. My remaining flesh crawled while my mechanical parts went still. Though his gaze moved on after only a moment, that brief contact left me deeply unsettled.

The silence stretched as he finished his inspection. No one dared move. Even the morning breeze seemed to hold its breath.

"Welcome to the Kaldos Academy of War." His voice carried effortlessly across the courtyard, deep and commanding. "My name is Kalder Reins. I am the proud servant of Kaldos, God of War and Change, and I serve at his behest as Headmaster of this institution. I thank all of you for making the journey here. I know some of you have traveled quite far.

"But enough of these pleasantries. This is a War Academy, not a ladies' prep school." The old man's lips suddenly curved into a smile that held no warmth. It was the kind of expression a wolf might wear before pouncing on prey. "It is time we take note of your worth."

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