I followed the group of successful candidates as the Headmaster and his two instructors led us into the Academy's main building. The entrance hall stretched before us, a cavernous space that dwarfed even the grandest rooms I'd seen in my fragmented memories.

Dark red paint covered the vaulted ceiling high above, while brass chandeliers cast dancing shadows across the walls. Bronze statues lined the hall, all depicting warriors frozen mid-strike, their weapons raised in eternal battle poses.

"Who are they?" A young noble woman asked, her voice echoing.

"The greatest warriors our world has ever known." Headmaster Reins swept his arm toward the statues. "The thirty-seven humans who reached Level 100."

"Thirty-seven?" Barkatus spoke up, his blood-stained clothes a stark contrast to the pristine hall. "Same as our number."

I looked around and counted; he was right. There were indeed 37 of us new students.

A deep laugh rumbled from Reins' chest. "Sharp eye, young man. I'll admit to being somewhat superstitious." He stroked his white beard. "Each year I limit our incoming classes to thirty-seven students. Perhaps one of you will become our thirty-eighth Level 100."

We followed the headmaster deeper into the hall, my mechanical joints whirring softly beneath the dress. The bronze statues' shadows seemed to move with us, their weapons forever poised to strike. I studied each face we passed, wondering what heights of power they'd achieved.

At the base of a sweeping marble staircase stood a group of servants in crisp black and white uniforms. The War Academy's crest, which was two crossed swords under a bull's head, decorated their left sleeves. They stood at perfect attention, hands clasped behind their backs.

Headmaster Reins paused before the first step. "I leave you in capable hands." He gestured to Professor Shawe and Casper the Manslayer. "These two will be your primary instructors for the year."

Shawe's lip curled as his gaze swept across our group, lingering with particular distaste on Arctur and myself. His scarlet robes rustled as he gripped his steel staff tighter.

Casper stood relaxed, one hand resting on the buckle of his belt. His neat mustache twitched as he studied each of us in turn, his eyes sharp and assessing. Unlike Shawe's obvious disdain, the berserker's expression revealed nothing of his thoughts.

The headmaster's white armor gleamed as he turned to ascend the stairs. "I expect great things from this class. Do not disappoint me."

"First order of business." Shawe's voice cut through the hall like a blade. "Uniforms."

"Is that necessary?" Barkatus's blood-flecked clothes rustled as he crossed his arms. Dried crimson still caked his forearms from his earlier display with the prince.

Shawe tapped his staff against the marble floor. "Very. In this Academy, everyone stands equal. That means no enchanted armor." His eyes narrowed at several nobles who shifted uncomfortably. "No magical jewelry." More fidgeting from the wealthy students. "You will all wear Academy-issued uniforms with basic cleaning and protection enchantments. Nothing more."

A smile crept across Barkatus's face. The mercenary seemed to approve of this leveling of the playing field.

I touched the mechanical components beneath my dress. The uniform requirement presented a problem. My Assembly-crafted body would be difficult to conceal in standard clothing. Should I inform them of my true nature? Yet before I could raise any concerns, the servants stepped forward with measuring tapes.

"Form three lines," Shawe commanded. "Men to the left, women to the right. Monsters in the middle."

My artificial joints whirred as I moved to the monster line with Arctur. The lizardman's tail swished against the floor as he took his place behind me. Only the two of us stood in this line, while the human lines stretched much longer.

A young servant approached me with a measuring tape, then hesitated upon seeing my hooded, veiled face. I pulled down my disguise, revealing my black hair, pale visage, and porcelain mask. Her hands trembled slightly upon seeing me.

I require... special accommodations, I said through my mind-speak ability. My body is not standard.

The maid gasped due to my telepathic speech, as did the other servants and students. Barkatus looked disgusted, as if he hated having me in his head. The instructors didn't show any outward signs of surprise, though the mage instructor did pause to stare at me.

The maid glanced uncertainly at Shawe, who strode over with his staff clicking against the floor.

His nostrils flared as he glared down at me. "Special accommodations? Do you think this is some common tailor's shop that caters to your every whim?"

His staff tapped against the marble floor with sharp clicks as he circled me. "First day and already demanding special treatment. Typical monster behavior."

The venom in his voice caught me off guard. During the entrance ceremony, he'd hidden his prejudice behind a mask of cold professionalism. Now that mask had cracked, revealing the ugliness beneath.

I remained still as he continued his circle. Other students watched the exchange with varying degrees of interest. The servant girl who'd approached me earlier backed away, clutching her measuring tape to her chest.

Professor, I spoke directly into his mind, keeping my mental voice steady. I meant no offense. My body truly is... unusual.

"Unusual?" He sneered. "What monster isn't?"

His open hostility puzzled me. The Academy supposedly accepted all races, yet here stood an instructor showing clear bias. Shouldn't there be consequences for such behavior? But looking at the other staff members, I saw only averted gazes.

I bowed low, my mechanical joints whirring softly beneath my dress. My deepest apologies for any misunderstanding. I simply wished to inform you that my form differs significantly from standard proportions.

The bow seemed to mollify him somewhat, though his grip on his staff remained white-knuckled. Perhaps he'd expected, even wanted, me to argue back, to give him excuse for harsher treatment.

Behind me, I heard Arctur's tail sweep across the floor in agitation. The lizardman had remained silent, but I could sense his tension.

"You'll need to show us exactly what we're working with," the mage instructor finally said. "In private."

I nodded, grateful for at least that small mercy. The last thing I needed was to reveal my mechanical nature to the entire class this early.

The rest of the students were being measured efficiently, the servants calling out numbers while scribes noted everything down. They worked quickly, professional and precise. I watched as Barkatus got measured, noting how he kept his stance relaxed but ready, a warrior's instinct never truly fading even in this peaceful setting.

The other students filed out behind Casper, their footsteps echoing down the marble halls. I remained behind with Professor Shawe and the maid, my mechanical joints whirring softly in the silence.

"This way," Shawe snapped, leading us to a small side chamber. Shelves lined the walls, filled with folded uniforms and measuring equipment. A full-length mirror stood in one corner.

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"Remove your clothing." His voice dripped with contempt.

I reached up and unfastened the mourning dress, letting the black fabric pool at my feet. My mechanical body gleamed in the room's magical lighting: the silver-white metal of my chassis, the intricate gears and pistons that served as my joints, the bronze plates covering the more delicate internal mechanisms.

Shawe's face twisted with revulsion. His knuckles whitened around his staff as he took an involuntary step back.

The maid gasped, but not in horror. Her brown eyes widened with fascination as she studied my form. She moved closer, measuring tape forgotten in her hands.

"Extraordinary," she breathed. "The articulation points, the material composition... I've never seen anything like it."

I used Analyze on her, curious about this unexpected reaction.

Lyta of Kaldos City

Level: 17 Scholar

Sapien (Human)

Female

Age: 17

"Girl, maintain your professionalism," Shawe barked.

Lyta straightened, but couldn't hide her continued interest. "Of course, Professor. My apologies." She raised her measuring tape. "May I?"

I nodded, and she began taking measurements with careful precision, occasionally pausing to examine how my joints moved. Her touch was gentle, respectful.

"The uniform will need significant alterations," she said. "The standard enchantments might interfere with some of these mechanical components. We'll need to modify the protective spells somewhat."

"The monster can wear the uniform as-is or leave," Shawe cut in.

"But Professor, the cleaning enchantments could-"

"I said, as-is or leave." His voice left no room for argument. "I will not have any student get special treatment, not under my watch."

Understood. I told him. I had come too far to just leave on the simple notion that the uniforms might not fit me right.

The door clicked shut behind Shawe as he stormed out of the room. Lyta's shoulders slumped as she released a long breath.

"I am so sorry about that." She shook her head. "He had no right to treat you that way."

Is he always like this? I projected the thought to her.

"Oh yes. Professor Shawe..." She resumed measuring my arm joints. "He's notorious for his treatment of monster students. And commoner humans too, actually. Anyone he considers beneath him."

That seems contrary to the Academy's principles. I thought this was a meritocracy, where strength and skill matter more than birth or species.

Lyta burst out laughing, though there was little humor in it. "That's what they want everyone to believe. The nobles who run this place?" She marked down another measurement. "They'll say whatever sounds good to keep their power. As long as they follow Lord Kaldos's decree about producing powerful warriors, they can do whatever they want behind closed doors."

She circled behind me, measuring across my bronze-plated back. "The entrance ceremony is really the only time you'll see true merit win out. After that?" She clicked her tongue. "Politics take over again."

I see. The revelation didn't surprise me, but it was disappointing nonetheless. Then why do monsters and commoners still come here?

"Because even with all the prejudice, it's still the best place to grow stronger." Lyta moved to measure my legs. "The training, the resources, the knowledge; you can't get it anywhere else. And sometimes..." She smiled. "Sometimes a monster or commoner graduates so powerful that even the nobles have to acknowledge them. Like Casper the Manslayer."

The name caught my attention. He wasn't noble-born?

"Born in Monster Town, actually. To human parents, but still. He's living proof that the system can be beaten at its own game."

I considered Lyta's words as she finished the last measurements. The Academy's facade of meritocracy masked the same prejudices I'd seen everywhere else. Yet if someone like Casper could rise from Monster Town to become an instructor, perhaps I too could gain the strength I needed here.

Thank you for your help, Lyta. I projected the thought as I retrieved my mourning dress. And for being honest about the Academy's true nature.

"Of course." She rolled up her measuring tape, tucking it into a pocket. "I grew up near Monster Town. Had lots of friends there. It's disgusting how people like Professor Shawe treat them."

I fastened the dress's clasps, ensuring my mechanical parts were fully concealed again. There was no reason for me to hide my true nature anymore, not now that I was at the Academy. Yet hiding myself away had become a habit, one I had yet to fully break.

But I had more important things I had to focus on. I needed what the Academy offered: training, knowledge, and most importantly, power. Power to protect Weath from Duke Redflight's inevitable retaliation. Power to ensure no other village suffered as Mallie's had.

Will the standard uniform truly cause problems with my mechanisms? I asked.

Lyta bit her lip. "The cleaning enchantments might interfere with some of your joints. And the protective spells could disrupt whatever magic keeps you moving." She glanced at the door Shawe had stormed through. "But I suppose you'll have to manage."

I've managed worse. The memory of the Snapper Dragon's claws almost tearing through through my chassis flashed through my mind. I can adapt.

"Still, it's not right." She frowned. "Maybe I could help you modify the uniform yourself? I'm studying enchantment theory, and if we're careful-"

No. I cut her off firmly. I appreciate the offer, but I won't risk your position here. Professor Shawe made his stance clear.

She nodded reluctantly. "You're probably right. But if you ever need help with anything else..."

Thank you. I meant it. Having an ally among the staff, even a junior one, could prove valuable. I should join the others.

Our footsteps echoed through the vast corridors as Lyta guided me up the main stairwell. Suits of armor lined our path, their polished surfaces reflecting the light from enchanted crystals overhead.

"The Academy isn't just for warriors," Lyta explained, her voice bouncing off the stone walls. "I'm actually studying logistics and war engine design myself."

You're not a combat student? I projected the thought as we passed a display of ancient halberds.

"Oh no." She laughed. "Most of us aren't. Combat students are actually the minority here. The rest of us learn everything else needed to wage war: supply chains, fortification design, siege equipment maintenance."

We turned down another hall where tapestries depicted famous battles. And you serve as attendants to the combat students?

"Part of our training." She adjusted her uniform's sleeve. "In real warfare, we'd be managing the warriors' needs such as equipment maintenance, tactical support, that sort of thing. So we practice by serving as their stewards and maids during their education."

A group of older students passed us, carrying books and engineering tools. They nodded respectfully to Lyta.

"We study battlefield medicine, troop movements, resource allocation." She pointed to a classroom we passed where students bent over detailed maps. "Everything that keeps an army running beyond the actual fighting."

It's more complex than I realized, I admitted. I assumed the Academy focused solely on combat training.

"That's what most outsiders think. But Lord Kaldos understood that wars aren't won by warriors alone." She smiled proudly. "The best sword in the world is useless without someone to forge it, maintain it, and make sure it reaches the right hands at the right time."

The wisdom in this approach struck me. Even my own Assembly ability relied on understanding how components worked together, not just raw power.

How many non-combat students are there compared to warriors? I asked as we climbed another flight of stairs.

"About five to one. For every combat student, there are five of us learning support roles." She gestured to another classroom filled with students practicing enchantments. "Some study magic enhancement, others focus on siege engineering or field medicine. I personally love studying war machine design."

Her eyes lit up at that last part, and I noticed her gaze flick briefly to my mechanical form beneath the mourning dress. Her earlier fascination with my construction made more sense now.

We continued through the halls as she explained the various non-combat specializations. The Academy was far more than a mere warrior school: it was a complete institution dedicated to every aspect of warfare.

I followed Lyta down another corridor, this one lined with heavy wooden doors. The dormitory halls branched out from a spacious common area where students lounged on plush sofas or hunched over books at sturdy tables.

"This will be your room," Lyta said, pushing open one of the doors.

The space was modest but efficient. A narrow bed occupied one wall, useless to me. A wooden desk and chair sat beneath a window that overlooked the Academy's northern courtyard. Several cabinets provided storage space, their brass handles gleaming in the afternoon light.

"Combat students get private rooms," Lyta explained, gesturing around the space. "You're lucky, I share my quarters with two other girls. Though I suppose having roommates makes late-night study sessions more entertaining."

I moved to the window, my mechanical joints whirring softly. The view encompassed training grounds where senior students practiced with real weapons. Beyond the Academy walls, I could see the ramshackle roofs of Monster Town.

"I should get going," Lyta said, straightening her uniform. "I have other duties to attend to. But please let me know if you need anything else."

Thank you for all your help, I projected the thought to her. You've been very kind.

She smiled and gave a small bow before departing, leaving me alone in my new quarters. The door clicked shut behind her.

I stood motionless for a moment, processing the day's events. The room was silent save for the subtle clicking of my internal mechanisms. Through the window, I heard the distant clash of weapons and students' shouts.

Moving to the cabinets, I began storing some of my few possessions: spare parts I'd crafted, my cloak and veil, and Kolin's wrapped sword. Each item found its place in the storage space, with the cloak folded neatly and placed near the bottom of the cabinet.

The room might be small, but it would serve my needs. I required no bed for sleep, no chair for rest. The desk would suffice for maintenance work, and the privacy would allow me to remove my disguise when necessary.

I placed my hand against the cool stone wall, feeling the ancient magic that thrummed through the Academy's very foundations. After weeks of travel and subterfuge, I had finally reached my destination. But as Lyta's earlier words reminded me, gaining entrance was only the first step. The real challenges, both in training and in navigating the Academy's complex social hierarchy, still lay ahead.

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