I sat in Basic Swordplay, watching Copelan practice the same basic strike against a training dummy for the hundredth time. My mind wandered to the night's upcoming delve.

The past two nights had proven educational. Not just in combat experience, but in understanding the layout of the Hellzone. The catacombs formed a maze-like network of tunnels and chambers, each level holding stronger creatures than the last.

My chassis had undergone significant improvements. The Cave Stalker chitin now reinforced my vital components, and I'd redesigned the hydraulics using observations from the monsters' own anatomy. The black ichor no longer seeped into my joints thanks to rubber seals crafted from processed cricket shells.

Last night I'd reached what appeared to be the third level of the catacombs. The Giant Cave Crickets there were a far cry from their smaller cousins upstairs. Level 19 brutes the size of horses, with mandibles that could snap a sword in half. But their attack patterns remained predictable, always leading with their right mandible, always favoring their stronger back legs for launching attacks.

Congratulations! You have defeated and have gained experience. You are now Level 15!

The system message had flashed during my last encounter with a particularly large Giant Cave Cricket. The fights were getting harder, but my combat chassis handled the strain much better after the upgrades. The creatures' chitin proved remarkably useful when properly processed and integrated into my frame.

"Widow!" Langdon's voice snapped me back to the present. He squinted at me through bloodshot eyes. "Since you find basic forms so boring, why don't you show the class proper technique?"

I rose smoothly, ignoring the weary looks from the other students. The training sword felt absurdly light compared to the weapons I wielded at night. I moved through the basic forms with deliberate imprecision, careful to maintain the appearance of a struggling C-rank student. The students looked at me strangely, probably wondering what I was doing, since they knew I was capable of so much better. But it wasn't them I was trying to fool.

Langdon grunted and turned away, already reaching for his hip flask. My thoughts drifted back to the Hellzone's depths. I'd mapped out three distinct levels so far, but could sense there were many more, both above and below. The monsters grew stronger with each level I descended; I had spotted a few Level 20 creatures in the distance but hadn't engaged them yet.

Tonight I planned to push deeper, test the limits of my improved chassis. The Academy's daylight hours felt increasingly pointless compared to the real combat experience waiting in those dark tunnels. Every night spent fighting made me stronger, brought me closer to my goal of confronting Duke Redflight.

I'd killed over a hundred monsters in just two nights. Each battle taught me something new about combat, about my own capabilities. The Academy might label me C-rank, but in those depths, rank meant nothing. Only survival mattered.

I dragged my damaged frame through the narrow passage, hydraulic fluid leaving a dark trail behind me. The Scorn Spider's final attack had nearly torn my right main arm clean off. Even now, the limb hung uselessly, connected by a few steel cables and a mangled shoulder joint.

My combat chassis was a wreck. Deep punctures from those monster fangs had pierced straight through the armor plating I'd so carefully crafted. The spider's venom had done nothing to my invulnerable flesh, but its physical strength had been devastating. Each bite had crushed metal and torn through reinforced joints like paper.

I reached the storage room entrance and collapsed against the wall. The fight replayed in my mind: that massive arachnid emerging from the darkness, each of its eight eyes glowing with murderous intent. Its armor had been incredible, layers of chitinous green plates that my blade could barely scratch. Even Kolin's enchanted estoc had struggled to find purchase between those overlapping sections.

I'd only won through desperation, managing to wedge my blade into its mouth during its final lunge. The sword had pierced up through its head, but not before those fangs had clamped down on my chassis's torso, crushing vital components.

Congratulations! You have defeated and have gained experience! You are now Level 16!

The victory notification felt hollow as I examined my ruined frame. This would take days to repair properly. The spider's chitin would make excellent armor plating, but I'd need to completely rebuild several sections of my combat chassis first. The structural damage was too severe for simple patches.

I began the arduous process of detaching myself from the combat frame. It took a bit of work, since the front latches keeping the entry hatch closed were damaged. Eventually, I managed to open the chest and remove myself from the wreck. Even that simple action sent sharp feedback through my damaged connection points. Perhaps I had pushed too far too quickly into the deeper levels. But I needed to grow stronger, and quickly. The monsters down there were teaching me harsh but valuable lessons about combat and survival.

I finally extracted myself from the mangled chassis, my organic parts aching from the feedback of the battle. My humanoid frame felt absurdly fragile after piloting the combat chassis. I'd need to be extra careful maintaining my disguise until repairs were complete.

I sat against the cold stone wall, examining the crushed remains of the combat frame. The design had served me well against the lower-level threats, but the Scorn Spider had exposed its fundamental flaws. I'd built this frame with human opponents in mind; it was quick, agile, perfect for dodging sword strikes and closing the distance. But monster combat was different.

The spider's legs had been able to grab and pin my chassis despite its speed. My lighter armor had crumpled under those powerful mandibles. Even the articulation points I'd so carefully crafted for fluid movement had become vulnerable spots for fangs to pierce.

I needed something new. Something built specifically for the Hellzone's dangers.

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Running my hand along the spider's broken fang, I considered the possibilities. The confined tunnels meant mobility was less crucial. A heavier frame wouldn't be a disadvantage in such tight quarters. I could focus on pure defensive capability and raw striking power.

The chitinous plates from the spider and other monsters I'd killed could form the basis of a new armor system. Overlapping segments, like the spider's own protection. Thicker structural supports underneath. No more exposed joints or hydraulic lines.

I pictured a wider, more stable frame. Six legs instead of two, planted firmly against cave floors. Heavy armor protecting vital systems. Arms designed for crushing force rather than speed. The whole chassis built to withstand the brutal physical attacks these insectoid creatures favored.

It would be slower, yes. But speed meant little in these narrow passages. Better to have a frame that could take punishment and keep fighting. Something that could stand its ground against whatever horrors lurked in the deeper levels.

This wouldn't be a duelist's frame anymore. This would be a monster-hunting machine.

I smiled, eager to get started on the work. I don't know what it was, but building anything from scratch always made me feel… content. I could be making a sword, a tool for farming, or an entire body; it didn't matter so long as I could craft it from nothing but bare ingredients. It was the simple, easy act of creation. Absolutely wonderful.

"…it's creations are what make it so deadly," Mulmin told me. "Do not, under any circumstances, ignore its machinery."

I flinched, and soon the memory vanished. What was that, just now? Who was this Mulmin? Why did his memory make my chest ache? And, most importantly… who had he been warning me about?

The basement storeroom had become my new workshop over the past few days. Scattered parts and materials covered the floor around me as I meticulously constructed my new combat chassis. I hadn't ventured into the Hellzone since the Scorn Spider battle as this build required my full attention.

I lifted the newly-forged right arm, testing its weight. The pneumatic systems inside would multiply the force of each strike exponentially. Where my previous chassis had relied on speed and precision, this one was built for raw crushing power. Perfect for smashing through chitinous armor.

The six legs sprawled out around me like a metallic spider's. Each one was a masterwork of engineering, with reinforced joints and redundant support systems. I'd studied the Cave Stalkers' movements carefully, incorporating elements of their natural design into my mechanical version. These legs would keep me stable on any terrain, spreading my weight evenly across unstable cave floors.

I ran my hand along the segmented torso plating. Layers of harvested monster chitin alternated with steel plates, creating an overlapping defense that could flex and shift without exposing vulnerable spots. The entire frame was a fair bit larger than my previous combat frame design, but it was simpler in form, with no unnecessary protrusions or weak points.

The "wings" were my proudest innovation. Two shield-like panels of chitin and steel mounted on rotating joints on my back, where the extra arms on my previous body used to be. I could spin them independently, creating instant cover from any angle. Against multiple opponents, they would let me protect my vital systems while still maintaining offensive capability.

My Assembly ability had grown more refined through this project. Each component fit together with microscopic precision. The materials blended seamlessly, organic chitin bonding with forged metal in ways that shouldn't have been possible. Something about working with both natural and manufactured materials felt... right. Like I was remembering skills I'd long forgotten.

I connected the final hydraulic line in one of the legs and sat back to admire my work. This wasn't just an improved version of my old chassis. This was something entirely new. A perfect fusion of biological and mechanical design principles. A machine built to hunt monsters, that looked like a monster itself. Once it was completed, I would be a force to be reckoned with.

I picked up the new helmet, turning it over in my hands. The smooth dome caught the dim light of my work area, the reinforced spider chitin giving off a subtle green sheen. Unlike my previous design with its asymmetrical angles, this one followed smoother lines. The visor stretched across the front in one unbroken sweep, giving the helmet a clean, minimalistic look without compromising structural integrity.

The lower half remained open, leaving my jaw exposed. I ran my tongue along my jagged teeth. They had saved my life more than once in both Hellzones I'd been in; no point in covering up such an effective weapon. The steel framework I'd integrated into the chitin added barely any weight but doubled the helmet's strength. I'd tested it thoroughly by dropping heavy weights on it. Not even a crack.

I traced the almost seamless joint between organic and metallic components. The spider's natural armor had fascinating properties. It was flexible yet incredibly dense. Great for protecting against heavy blows.

The inside was padded with softer tissue harvested from Cave Stalker undersides, treated and processed to prevent decay. It would cushion my head while wicking away moisture. More importantly, it would keep the harder materials from grinding against the sensitive red flesh where my eyes had been.

A soft chime echoed in my head, followed by a system message appearing in my vision:

Congratulations! You have gained 1 year in age.

I paused in my work, the helmet slipping from my fingers to clatter on the floor. Opening my status window, I saw the number for my age had changed from 0 to 1. One year. I had existed for one whole year.

Name: Widow

Level: 16

Species: Dirtborn [MONSTER]

Gender: N/A

Age: 1

Titles: Original, Vanquisher of Qordos, Defender of Weath, Dragon Slayer, Fugitive

Strength: 21

Endurance: 19

Dexterity: 26

Intelligence: 32

Wisdom: 24

Attributes: Ancestor Might, Invulnerable Flesh, Integration, Court Style Swordsmanship, Weath Defense

Abilities: Mind Speech D, Mind Sight C, Language Comprehension S, Assembly B, Analyze C, Depository C, Mana Manipulation D

My chest constricted with an unfamiliar weight. I pressed my hand against it, feeling the mix of flesh and metal beneath. Memories flooded through me: that first moment of consciousness, buried in the cold earth of the Lodrik Hellzone. The confusion, the fear, the desperate clawing through dirt and stone until I reached the surface.

I remembered fashioning my first crude body from scrap metal and dead wood, barely able to move but determined to survive. The slavers who found me, dragged me to Qordos. Meeting Harke, the nervous healer who became my first friend. Then Mallie... sweet Mallie with her gap-toothed smile and endless optimism.

The memories kept coming. Breaking free from Qordos. The long journey to Weath. Saying goodbye to Harke. Working in the fields, slowly earning the trust of people who initially feared me. For the first time, feeling like I belonged somewhere.

Then Kolin Redflight came and shattered it all. Mallie's death. The rage. The violence that followed.

The endless roads afterward. Orengaad. The caravan. Finally reaching this Academy, fighting in its dark underground passages.

My hand trembled against my chest. So much had happened. So much pain and loss, but also moments of unexpected kindness. Harke's friendship. The villagers' acceptance. Barnus and the monsters of Monster Town welcoming me as one of their own.

One year. Such a tiny span of time, yet filled with more life than I could have imagined possible. Despite everything, from the discrimination, to the hardship, to the constant struggle to survive; life was beautiful in its own harsh way.

I picked up the helmet, running my fingers along its surface. One year old, and already I had lived so much. What would the next year bring?

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