I trailed behind the flow of students exiting the classroom, but soon noticed I was wandering aimlessly through different training areas. The Academy sprawled across the grounds like a small city, with multiple courtyards and practice fields scattered throughout. Shawe had, of course, neglected to tell us which training ground to meet at.

The first training ground I found contained older students practicing archery. The second held what looked like a magical dueling circle. The third was empty save for practice dummies.

My mechanical legs carried me down another stone path when a voice called out behind me.

"Lost? You have that first-year look about you."

I turned to find a young man with neatly styled brown hair and an easy smile. He wore the Academy uniform with practiced grace, and I noticed a small metal pin on his collar marked with the number 4.

"I'm Konrad Vehger." He gave a slight bow. "Fourth year student. The first few days here can be confusing."

I used Analyze on him.

Konrad Vehger

Level: 21 Aeromancer

Sapien (Human)

Male

Age: 19

The information matched his claim. His level was impressive for his age, though not extraordinary for a fourth-year student.

I am looking for the combat evaluation grounds, I projected into his mind.

Konrad's eyes widened, then he broke into laughter. "Oh wow. Mental communication? That's pretty impressive. And yeah, Professor Piss-head loves doing this to first years. He never tells anyone where to actually go, then marks them as failures when they can't find it."

I tilted my head at the nickname.

"Oh, that's what we call Shawe behind his back. Man's always drunk by dinner." Konrad gestured down the path. "Combat evals are in the south training grounds. Follow this path, take a right at the statue of General Koras, then head straight until you see the big arena."

Thank you, I projected.

"You should keep working on those mental abilities. At higher ranks, it'll definitely prove to be amazing at combat. You might be able to coordinate with teammates without enemies hearing your plans." He flashed that easy smile again. "If you need anything else, come find me. Us students should help each other out."

I watched him walk away, analyzing his friendly demeanor. His offer seemed genuine, but experience had taught me to be wary of noble kindness. Something about his name nagged at my fractured memories. Vehger. I had heard it before, but couldn't place where or when.

The uncertainty made my mechanical fingers twitch. I pushed the feeling aside and headed toward the combat grounds. I had more immediate concerns than placing a familiar surname.

I found the southern training grounds exactly where Konrad had directed. The arena loomed before me, its massive walls stretching toward the sky. My mechanical legs stopped at the entrance as I took in the sheer scale of the structure.

The combat space dwarfed the entrance ceremony yard by double. Bare earth covered the arena floor, packed hard from countless battles. Above, walls rose in a perfect circle, adorned with murals that captured the eye with their detail.

I studied one painting that depicted a line of warriors charging across a field. The artist had captured every detail, from the determination in their faces to the way their armor caught the light. Another showed a lone swordsman facing down what appeared to be a dragon, the beast's scales gleaming with an almost lifelike quality.

My gaze traveled up to the viewing stands that crowned the walls. Row upon row of stone benches curved around the entire arena, enough space to seat thousands. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the empty seats.

A warm breeze stirred the dirt at my feet, carrying the metallic scent of old blood that had soaked into the ground over years of combat. This was no mere practice yard; this was where the Academy forged its warriors through real combat.

I flexed my porcelain fingers, feeling the mechanisms work smoothly after my recent maintenance. Whatever challenges awaited in this arena, my body was ready. The other option was the combat chassis I had hidden in pieces within my Depository; it was easily assembled and eager to be tested.

More students filed into the arena, their footsteps kicking up small clouds of dust. I kept to the shadows of the entrance, observing the gathering crowd.

"Did you hear? That's Queen Bethani of Morne." A student's whisper carried across the yard.

"The elf queen? She's so young."

Bethani stood in the center of an ever growing circle of admirers, her silver hair catching the sunlight. Despite her youth, she carried herself with the bearing of true royalty. Her sky-blue eyes sparkled as she spoke with the other students, but I caught the slight tension in her shoulders. A ruler playing the role expected of her.

Barkatus leaned against a wall several paces away, arms crossed. His dire scowl and scarred face kept the other students at a respectful distance. The former mercenary's eyes constantly scanned the arena, assessing threats even here within the Academy's walls.

"Headmaster Reins actually killed an Apocalyptic Dragon," one student said. "Can you imagine? Those things are like forces of nature."

"I heard the battle lasted three days," another added. "The dragon's death throes caused earthquakes felt hundreds of miles away."

"That's nothing. They say he once dueled fifty warriors at once during the Border Wars! He's truly a monster in human form."

The conversations swirled around me as I processed this information. I wasn't sure what an Apocalyptic Dragon was. Were they legendary creatures, their very existence a threat to entire kingdoms? It definitely sounded like it with the way the students were talking.

More of our classmates arrived, their chatter echoing off the arena walls. I noted how they naturally divided themselves, with the nobles clustering around Bethani, the common-born warriors forming their own groups, while those few of us who were different remained apart.

The sun climbed higher as we waited, its rays heating the packed earth beneath our feet. A warm breeze carried the sound of clashing weapons from distant training yards, a constant reminder of why we were all here.

Arctur burst through the entrance, his massive frame heaving with each breath. Sweat gleamed on his scaled skin as he stumbled to a stop. He had obviously run all the way here, probably searching all of the training grounds until he found us. I doubt anyone would have stopped to help him as Konrad had done for me.

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The lizardman's golden eyes swept across the arena before landing on me.

The intensity of his glare caught me off guard. His eyes narrowed, jaw clenched tight enough that I could see the muscles working beneath his scales. He stalked past, deliberately keeping distance between us.

I watched him find a spot against the far wall, confusion and irritation mixing in my chest. What had I done to earn such hostility? We'd barely exchanged two words during class.

The lizardman pulled out his strange red spear, the segments clicking together as he assembled it. Even from this distance, I could see the weapon's exotic craftsmanship. My Assembly ability itched to analyze its construction, to understand how it could collapse so smoothly while maintaining its deadly edge.

But Arctur's continued glares made it clear any attempt to approach him would be unwelcome. Fine. If he wanted to hold whatever grudge he had, let him. I had more important things to focus on than one angry lizardman's mysterious hatred.

I watched Professor Shawe stride into the arena, his scarlet robes a splash of color against the dusty ground. His steel staff tapped against the earth as he walked, marking each step with a metallic ring. He pulled out a sheet of parchment, eyes scanning the gathered students.

"Three missing." His lips curled into a sneer. "Sven, Patter, and Yulios. Automatic failures. They'll start in rank C, if they even bother showing up tomorrow."

The remaining students shifted uneasily. Already, before the assessment even began, three of our classmates had fallen.

Shawe's gaze settled on Arctur's red spear. "Two doors at the back. Women to the left, men to the right. Inside you'll find standard Academy weapons and armor. Choose what you need for the assessment." He raised his voice. "Your personal equipment is not permitted. That includes any enchanted items."

Arctur's grip tightened on his spear, scales bristling. Despite his obvious distaste for the rule, the lizardman obeyed. He flicked a mechanism on the spear's shaft, causing it to fold in on itself and collapse into its compact form.

The students began moving toward the doors. I followed the women, my porcelain hand catching the sun as I walked. Inside the preparation room, racks of weapons lined the walls: swords, spears, axes, and more exotic arms I didn't recognize. Armor stands held everything from light leather to heavy plate.

Bethani immediately went towards the rack holding mage weaponry, such as wooden staves and wands. Other students gravitated toward familiar weapons, their choices revealing their training.

I studied the available equipment, my Assembly ability cataloging materials and construction. These weren't cheap practice weapons; each piece showed quality craftsmanship, though none of them bore enchantments. The Academy spared no expense in arming its students.

I cursed the rule about not using our own equipment. If we could, I would have brought out my combat chassis, making this combat assessment so much easier. Instead I had to fight using my humanoid frame. I idly wondered if I should have entered the Academy while wearing my combat body; then they wouldn't have a choice but to let me use it during training. Had fitting in with the mainly human student body been more important to me at the time than scoring well on my combat assessments?

I suppose it didn't matter now.

Currently, I had to decide on what weapon would work best with my unique form. Standard armor should fit my current mechanical body, and as far as I was aware I was versed in using numerous types of weaponry. But I needed something that would complement my current abilities while meeting Shawe's requirements.

I scanned the weapon racks, my gaze settling on a simple saber. The blade's weight felt familiar in my metal hand, perfect for the quick strikes and fluid movements of Isparan Battlefield Fencing. The leather armor caught my eye next. While plate would offer more protection, it would only hinder the style's emphasis on mobility and rapid transitions.

Around me, the other female students began stripping off their uniforms to don their chosen armor. I followed suit, carefully unbuttoning my Academy attire to reveal the mechanical framework beneath. The whispers started immediately.

"Look at that thing."

"Is it even human?"

"Disgusting. Why would the Academy let something like that in?"

A noble girl with auburn hair didn't even try to hide her contempt. "They'll really accept anyone these days, won't they? Even broken dolls."

I kept my focus on the task at hand, sliding the leather armor over my mechanical parts. The pieces fit well enough, though some adjustments were needed around the joints. I stored my neatly folded uniform in one of the empty lockers, pointedly ignoring the continued stares and muttered comments.

The leather creaked as I tested my range of motion. Satisfied with the fit, I grabbed the saber and headed for the door. Let them stare and whisper. I hadn't come here to make friends. The sooner I could escape their judgmental gazes, the better.

The arena's open air was a welcome relief after the stifling atmosphere of the preparation room. I took my place near the wall, away from where other students were beginning to emerge. The sun warmed my porcelain mask as I waited, my mechanical fingers wrapped firmly around the saber's hilt.

I studied the other students as they filtered back into the arena. The differences in their equipment choices painted a clear picture of their combat experience and preferred styles.

I watched as more mages emerged from the preparation rooms, each one carrying wooden staves or copper-tipped wands. None wore steel armor, instead choosing lighter materials like bronze armor or simple cloth robes. Bethani had donned simple wool robes, the fabric rustling as she moved.

The pattern nagged at my mind. Fragments of memory surfaced, of mages in battles, their robes adorned with precious stones and golden thread, but never steel. Even in massive conflicts where armor meant survival, magic users avoided steel completely.

Professor Shawe stood out sharply against these memories. His steel staff seemed to mock the traditional choices of other mages. The metal gleamed as he paced the arena, a clear violation of what appeared to be an ancient practice.

My attention returned to Bethani as she tested her wooden staff's balance. The wood seemed to hum with potential energy, responding to her presence in a way I doubted steel ever could. Even the few mages wearing armor had chosen bronze or leather pieces, carefully avoiding any steel components.

Did steel interfere with magic in some way? Was that why my experiments in Mana Manipulation fail? Could the steel parts in my mechanical body be preventing the flow of mana in some way or form?

It made sense. Only Shawe broke this pattern. I wondered if his steel staff was a statement of some kind, or if he knew something the other mages didn't. The question itched at my mind, another mystery to add to the growing collection of things I couldn't quite remember.

I watched Arctur emerge from the men's preparation room, still wearing his Academy uniform. His massive frame dwarfed the spear he carried, a weapon that would have been adequately sized for a human but looked like a toy in his clawed hands.

He approached Shawe, his scaled shoulders tense. "Professor, none of the armor fits me." He held up the spear. "And this is the largest weapon available."

Shawe's lip curled into a familiar sneer. "The War Academy is a school for humans, not vermin." His voice dripped with contempt. "Of course none of our equipment would fit your freakish frame. You should be thankful we let you in at all."

My mechanical fingers tightened around my saber's hilt. The professor's words struck a nerve, reminding me of the whispers and stares I'd endured in the preparation room.

"How can I properly demonstrate my abilities with-"

"Make do with what you have," Shawe cut him off, "or fail and start in rank C. Your choice."

A low growl rumbled in Arctur's throat, his golden eyes narrowing dangerously. For a moment, I thought he might strike the professor. But then his shoulders slumped, and he stepped back, accepting the unfair situation.

The spear looked even more pathetic as he tested its weight, the weapon clearly unsuited for his fighting style. Yet he said nothing more, moving to take his place among the other students.

I turned at the sound of heavy footsteps entering the arena. Casper the Manslayer strode in, his greatsword strapped across his back. A woman walked beside him, her movements fluid and precise. My Analyze ability activated automatically.

Harmony of Vennelle

Level 50 Marksman

Sapien (Human)

Female

Age: 41

She carried an enormous bow that looked more like a siege weapon than something meant for personal use. The weapon's construction intrigued me as I could see complex mechanisms built into its frame that suggested it could collapse for easier transport.

Shawe's steel staff struck the packed earth three times, the sound ringing through the arena. "Pay attention," he barked. "I'll explain how these combat evaluations work."

A deep rumbling drew my gaze to the far wall. Hidden seams appeared in the stone as a concealed gate slowly opened. Through the widening gap marched a line of stone golems, each one perfectly identical to the last.

My mechanical fingers tightened on my saber's hilt as I counted them. Thirty-seven in total, one for each student in the class. (Minus the three who were still missing.) The constructs stood roughly human-sized, with basic proportions that mimicked the form. But where a face should be, there was only smooth stone. No features, no expressions, just blank surfaces covered in glowing enchantment runes.

The runes caught my attention. They weren't like any enchantments I'd observed in Erch's shop. These seemed older somehow, more primal. The patterns they formed spoke of complex spellwork far beyond simple enhancement or protection.

"Each of you will face one golem in single combat," Shawe announced. "Professors Harmony, Casper, and I will judge your performance. Your rank placement depends on how well you fight." His lips curved into that familiar sneer. "Try not to embarrass yourselves too badly."

The golems arranged themselves in a perfect line, their blank faces turned toward us. Despite their featureless appearance, I felt watched. The runes pulsed with stored power, waiting to be unleashed.

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