I climbed the worn stone steps of the southwestern tower, my footsteps echoing in the empty stairwell. Dust motes danced in shafts of afternoon light that filtered through narrow windows. The administrative offices on the lower floors had given way to abandoned storage rooms and empty chambers.

The deserted fourth floor corridor stretched before me, lined with closed doors. Their brass numbers had tarnished with age, but I could still make out 401 at the far end. My mechanical fingers rapped against the wooden door.

The door creaked open, revealing Genta's green face. Her yellow eyes widened upon seeing me. "You made it!"

She ushered me inside what appeared to be an old storage room. Stacks of furniture and crates created a maze-like path through the space. Chairs with broken legs leaned against each other while rolled carpets gathered dust in corners. Genta led me through the obstacle course of discarded items.

We emerged into a cleared area at the room's center. Two faded red sofas faced each other across a scratched wooden table. On one sofa sat a female orc with light gray skin, her muscular frame making the furniture seem small. Her Academy uniform strained at the shoulders, clearly not designed for her build.

Beside her lounged a male kobold, his copper-colored scales catching the light from a nearby window. His tail draped over the sofa's arm while his clawed feet rested on the table. Unlike the orc's tight uniform, his hung loose on his lean frame.

"Everyone, this is Widow." Genta gestured toward me. "Widow, meet Eyarna."

The orc girl raised her hand in a timid wave. Her round spectacles caught the light, giving her a bookish appearance that contrasted with her powerful frame. Her brown uniform marked her as a non-combatant student.

"And this is Loland-"

"The Twelfth," the kobold interjected, drawing himself up with dignity despite his lounging position.

Genta's eyes rolled skyward. "He's the son of his village chief, which makes him an insufferable snob."

"And you're a barbarous git from the western kingdoms," Loland shot back, his copper scales gleaming as he shifted. "Your opinion of me means less than nothing."

I reached out with Mind Speech to introduce myself, but Loland's raised hand cut me off.

"No need. We've all heard about you." His eyes narrowed. "Is it true what they say about Weath? That you killed innocent villagers?"

The kobold's tail twitched as he studied me. "Answer truthfully. I won't associate with anyone who murders innocents. Even if they were human."

I thought quickly about what to say to him. I had to keep up the story in order to protect the villagers, but I didn't want to antagonize anyone here. Joining this group would be an excellent chance at gaining more information, not only about the school, but the world at large.

Instead of laying out the truth or outwardly lying, I decided to go for a more measured approach.

I have never killed an innocent person, I projected firmly. The statement was true enough; those I'd killed had all been guilty of something.

"Whatever happened before," Genta interrupted, "I'm sure Widow had good reasons." She planted her hands on her hips. "Besides, that's not what matters now. What matters is survival. We monsters can't afford to fight among ourselves, not with how the Academy treats us."

Loland huffed. He crossed his thin arms across his chest, then sighed. "Fine. I shall believe your claims, for now. But if they prove false, know that I will not forgive you easily."

"First years always have it rough," Genta's voice hardened. "But for us monsters, it's worse." She paced between the sofas, her small frame taut with tension.

She listed off ways we could help each other: sharing class notes, practicing combat techniques together, studying for exams as a group. But her tone shifted as she moved to darker matters.

"The rules here are a joke," she spat. "Sure, they say violence outside duels is forbidden. But when humans attack us?" She threw up her hands. "Suddenly the instructors are blind."

My mechanical fingers tightened on my knee as she described being cornered after class, pushed down stairs, having her books destroyed. Each incident met with indifference from the faculty.

Eyarna hunched deeper into the sofa, her large frame seeming to shrink. When Genta mentioned her name, the orc adjusted her glasses nervously. "They... they ruined my enchanting project last week. Professor Shawe said I must have done it myself, to get attention."

"At least you weren't expelled," Loland cut in, his copper scales catching the light as he sat up straighter. "Three humans jumped me behind the library. I fought back, as any noble would." His tail lashed. "Next thing I know, I'm in front of the disciplinary board. The humans claimed I attacked them first." His laugh held no humor. "Naturally, they believed the humans. I only avoided expulsion because my father had business connections with members of House Swords."

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

I absorbed their stories, noting how their experiences echoed the institutional prejudice I'd already witnessed. Professor Shawe's unfair combat assessment. The snide comments in the halls. The way human students cleared entire tables when I entered the library.

How often do these attacks happen? I projected. Frankly, I was surprised that I hadn't been attacked yet. I suppose rumors of my combat prowess during the entrance ceremony and the combat assessment had gotten around.

"Too often," Genta replied. "That's why we need to stick together. Watch each other's backs."

I thought of my nightly excursions to the Hellzone. Of my upcoming duel with Lyman Redflight. Having allies could prove useful, but sharing too much might put them at risk.

What exactly are you proposing? I asked.

"We should learn from our cousins," Genta declared, her small frame radiating intensity. "Regular monsters never hunt alone, they work in packs. That's how they survive."

She planted her feet, gesturing at each of us in turn. "We need to do the same. Travel together, be seen together. Make it clear we're not easy targets."

Loland's copper scales gleamed as he straightened, fingering the pin on his collar. "How exactly would that work? I'm a fourth year." He pointed at the others. "You're second year, Eyarna's third, and Widow's first. Our schedules barely overlap."

"Of course we can't be together all the time," Genta conceded, crossing her arms. "But whenever possible, we should move as a group. It shows unity. More importantly, it keeps us safer."

Her yellow eyes narrowed in frustration. "If only Arctur hadn't refused to join us. His size alone would've kept most of the bullies away."

Did he give a reason for refusing? I projected, curious about the lizardman's absence.

"No direct reason." Genta shrugged. "But I'd bet it's because House Swords inducted him."

That caught me by surprise. They accepted a monster into their chapter house?

"Arctur's different," she explained. "Despite all the garbage the instructors put him through, he's an exceptional fighter. Being B-rank doesn't hurt either, unlike the rest of us." Her tone turned bitter at the end. "The houses might be prejudiced, but they're not stupid. They'll take talent where they can find it, even from a monster."

"Makes sense," Loland said, his tail curling thoughtfully. "Swords House probably recruited him to keep others from getting him. Even if they don't like monsters, they wouldn't want a warrior of his caliber falling into rival hands."

Genta nodded vigorously. "Speaking of recruitment, did you know Dragon House took both Bethani Morne and Barkatus?"

No, I hadn't heard, I projected. The news surprised me, though perhaps it shouldn't have. Both were exceptional fighters who had earned A-rank.

"Having two A-ranks join Dragon likely pushed Swords to act," Loland mused, his copper scales catching the light as he shifted position. "They couldn't let Dragon gain too much advantage." His gaze fixed on me. "If Shawe hadn't ranked you C, you might have received an invitation yourself."

Actually, I projected, Konrad Vehger approached me about House Lance.

Eyarna's eyes widened behind her spectacles. "The fourth-year student?"

He said he was their recruitment officer. But after Shawe's ranking... I let the thought trail off. No need to explain how quickly that opportunity had vanished.

"House Lance?" Loland's tail twitched with interest. "They're the smallest house, but well-connected. Especially with merchant guilds." He studied me. "Vehger must have been impressed by your entrance ceremony duel."

Genta snorted. "Fat lot of good that does now. No house will touch a C-rank, no matter how skilled they really are."

A soft mutter caught my attention. Eyarna had spoken something under her breath, her shoulders shaking slightly. The shaking grew until she burst into giggles, one large hand covering her mouth.

We all turned to stare at her. The orc's gray skin flushed a deeper shade as she noticed our attention.

"What's so funny?" Genta asked, her orange-spotted nose wrinkling in confusion.

Eyarna's giggles died. She adjusted her round spectacles, shoulders hunching. "I... I just thought..." Her voice grew quieter with each word. "Well, they say Gutter House takes all C-ranks, so..." She trailed off, looking more distressed by the second.

Her eyes darted between us, seeking understanding. When none came, she seemed to shrink further into herself, despite her impressive size. "It was supposed to be a joke. Because... because they call C-ranks Gutter House already, so..."

I processed her attempt at humor. The derogatory term for C-rank students did mirror the chapter house naming convention. A chime-like sound emerged from my vocal apparatus, my version of laughter.

I understood that reference, I projected.

Eyarna's blush deepened further, the gray of her skin now almost purple. She buried her face in her hands, her spectacles going askew.

Loland's tail swished as he cleared his throat. "Well, enough about houses and rankings. If we're going to do this properly, we need to coordinate our schedules."

The copper-scaled kobold straightened from his lounging position. "No point talking about traveling together if we don't know where each other will be."

"Good idea." Genta pulled several sheets of paper from her satchel and spread them across the scratched wooden table. Her small green fingers worked quickly as she drew neat columns. "Everyone list out your classes and times."

As they began sharing their schedules, I observed my newfound allies. Eyarna's large frame still seemed to curl inward, but her eyes lit up when discussing her advanced enchanting courses. Loland maintained his aristocratic bearing even while debating the merits of different combat training slots. Genta's organizational skills impressed me as she efficiently mapped out our overlapping free periods.

A peculiar warmth spread through my organic parts as I watched them work. These three had offered me something I hadn't experienced since leaving Weath: belonging. Though our alliance stemmed from necessity rather than choice, I found myself hoping it could grow into true friendship.

Yet I couldn't forget my primary mission. Every decision, every action had to serve my ultimate goal: becoming powerful enough to protect Weath from threats like Duke Redflight. My nightly excursions into the Hellzone needed to remain secret, even from these potential friends.

I could help them succeed, watch over their safety, but I couldn't let their needs supersede my mission. Still, as Genta detailed plans for shared study sessions and Loland suggested optimal routes between buildings, I felt that familiar sense of community I'd known in Weath.

I have Basic Swordplay in the morning, I projected, leaning forward to point at Genta's schedule. Then Elementary Magic Theory before lunch.

"Perfect!" Genta's orange-spotted nose crinkled as she smiled. "That matches my free period. I can walk with you between those classes."

I nodded. It seems as if the monster students of the War Academy were now united.

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