Students parted like waves as Arctur dragged me through the Academy halls, my damaged frame scraping against the polished stone floor. Their faces ranged from horror to disgust to morbid fascination at the sight of my battered mechanical body. Sven hurried alongside us, wringing his hands with nervous energy.

My gaze fixed on the collapsed spear at Arctur's belt. Despite my current predicament, I couldn't help but admire its ingenious design. The way it transformed from a compact form to a full-length weapon showed remarkable engineering.

That's quite clever, I projected into Arctur's mind. The collapsible mechanism on your spear. Did you craft it yourself?

Arctur's grip on my hair tightened slightly. "No." His deep voice rumbled with an edge of warning.

But my curiosity got the better of me. The engineering is fascinating. The way it extends-

"The Voiceless Prophet gave it to me," he cut me off sharply. "A gift when I left."

I wanted to ask more about this prophet, about the settlement he came from. The Central Hellzone held so many mysteries. But Sven walked beside us, and I remembered Arctur's earlier anger about my revealing the monster enclave's existence. Better to stay quiet than risk exposing more of his secrets.

Thank you, I projected instead. For saving me.

Arctur grunted. "You're a monster. We look after our own." He glanced down at me, yellow eyes narrowing. "Even strange ones like you."

We soon reached the stairwell that would take us up to my dormitory. The stairs echoed with metallic clangs as Arctur hauled my damaged frame upward. Each impact sent jolts through my remaining systems, though most had gone mercifully dark after the attack.

We reached my dormitory's common room where several girls lounged on cushioned chairs. Their casual chatter died instantly.

"Boys aren't allowed in here!" someone shrieked. "Get out!"

Arctur's response was a low, rumbling growl that reverberated through the room. The complaints ceased immediately, replaced by nervous silence.

"Which room?" he asked gruffly.

Third door on the right, I projected.

He strode forward, kicked open my door, and unceremoniously tossed me inside. I landed with a crash in the center of the floor, staring up at the ceiling's wooden beams. Without another word, Arctur turned and left.

He's such a charmer, I projected to Sven as he slipped in and closed the door behind him.

"He's rough around the edges," Sven shrugged. "But he's a good person."

Thank you, too, I told him. For coming back for me.

"Don't!" Sven's fists clenched. "Don't thank me. This was my fault. I led you right to them!"

You had no choice, I assured him. Those upper years would have hurt you badly if you hadn't complied. And you made it right by getting help. That counts for something.

The tension eased from his shoulders slightly. "You really think so?"

I know so.

"Do you... need help getting fixed up?"

No, I projected as the fingers of my left hand moved to unbutton my ruined uniform. I can handle the repairs myself.

Sven's face flushed bright red. He spun around quickly. "Right! I better go then!"

He practically ran from the room, slamming the door in his haste to escape.

I pulled open my blouse and inspected the damage to my torso using Mind Sight. It did not look good. The chest was all but caved in, with several structural braces torn or dented. Damaged internal components had fallen out of various holes in the outer armor and were probably littering the streets of Kaldos City due to Arctur dragging me here. I sighed, then activated Assembly to begin repairs.

My fingers moved methodically across the damaged sections, carefully pulling apart bent metal and extracting broken components. Each piece I removed revealed more extensive damage underneath. The main support frame had nearly snapped in two places, and the delicate mechanical musculature that allowed fluid movement was shredded beyond repair in several spots.

The work required to fix my humanoid form would be extensive, and would likely take the entire night just to get it serviceable. Using Assembly, I began reconstructing the internal framework piece by piece, occasionally referencing my original designs stored within my mind. The metal responded to my touch, bending and reshaping according to my will.

One good thing about this entire mess was that I didn't have to disassemble this chassis to apply the alchemical coating I had bought into my internal components. I could get it done at the same time I did repairs. The silvery liquid would seep into the newly formed parts as I created them, hopefully allowing me to channel mana through my mechanical body more effectively. I suppose that was the silver lining in my cloudy day.

I worked through the afternoon and into the evening, my fingers moving in precise patterns as I reconstructed my damaged frame. The alchemical coating seeped into each new component I crafted, leaving behind a faint silvery sheen. My Mind Sight tracked the liquid's progress through the intricate machinery, ensuring complete coverage.

The chest cavity took the longest to repair. Beyond the obvious external damage, several key mechanisms had been crushed or torn loose. I carefully rebuilt the delicate mechanical musculature, layer by layer, testing each section's range of motion before moving to the next.

Status, I commanded silently.

Name: Widow

Level: 17

Species: Dirtborn [MONSTER]

Gender: N/A

Age: 1

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

Strength: 17

Endurance: 15

Dexterity: 22

Intelligence: 33

Wisdom: 25

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, Blade Skill E

I then focused on the entry for Assembly.

Assembly Rank B

Due to your enhanced understanding of biological anatomy, this ability now allows for the superior incorporation of material taken from living matter into assembled constructions.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

The familiar text appeared in my mind. I'd grown significantly more efficient with the ability since arriving at the Academy. What once took hours now only required minutes. Still, even with my improved skills, completely rebuilding damaged sections took considerable time.

A knock at my door interrupted my work. I quickly pulled my torn uniform closed.

"Widow?" Genta's voice called out. "We missed you at dinner. Are you alright?"

I'm fine, I projected. Just tired.

"Well... okay. Let us know if you need anything."

I waited until her footsteps faded before returning to my repairs. The sun had set, casting my room in shadow, but my Mind Sight allowed me to work unimpeded in the darkness.

With my humanoid chassis nearly operational again, my thoughts turned to my combat frame. It still lay hidden in the storage room along with my defensive chassis, requiring significant upgrades before I could face Lyman. The two secondary arms needed reinforcement, and the leg joints required better shock absorption. Most importantly, I needed to integrate the alchemical coating throughout its systems.

There were only three days left until my scheduled duel with the second son of Duke Redflight.

Three days wasn't much time. Lyman was five levels above me, and his reputation as a skilled fighter was well-earned. I'd watched him train in the courtyard and his movements were precise, efficient, deadly. My only advantage would be surprise. He expected to face a crippled monster in a humanoid doll's body, not a four-armed war machine.

I finished connecting the last set of support struts in my chest cavity. Testing my range of motion, I found everything working within acceptable parameters. Not perfect, but good enough for maintaining my cover during classes. Now I could focus on preparing my combat chassis for the duel.

Standing carefully, I moved over to my window. The moon hung low over Kaldos City, its light reflecting off the Academy's towers. Soon I would make my way down to the storage room and begin work on my combat frame. Every moment counted now.

Three days later, I stood in my room while wearing the completed combat chassis, flexing each mechanical arm in turn and testing their range of motion. The silvery coating gleamed beneath the surface of the metal, pulsing faintly with stored mana. My modifications had increased the frame's overall strength while maintaining its agility. The reinforced joints moved smoothly, without the slight grinding I'd noticed during my last excursion with it into the Hellzone.

The four arms responded perfectly to my commands, moving in precise patterns I'd practiced countless times. My organic flesh merged seamlessly with the mechanical components at my shoulder, chest, and back connection points. Through these contact areas, I could channel the mana I'd been absorbing since dawn.

I'd discovered that while I couldn't generate mana internally like humans did, I could store significant amounts within what remained of my organic body. The morning air had been thick with ambient mana, and I'd drawn it in steadily over several hours. Now that energy thrummed through my flesh, ready to be channeled through the alchemically-treated pathways I'd integrated into the combat chassis.

The frame felt different with these upgrades. More responsive. More alive. The mana flowing through its systems seemed to enhance every movement, adding a fluid grace that pure mechanics couldn't achieve. Even the defensive plates along the back and shoulders shifted more naturally.

I checked the position of the sun outside the window. Around two hours remained until the scheduled duel. Enough time to make my way to the southern arena. The early morning halls would be mostly empty, and I'd mapped out a route through the lesser-used corridors.

I made the final adjustments to my combat chassis, ensuring each piece fit perfectly. Last night, I'd carefully stored the dismantled frame within Depository, sneaking the components up from the basement piece by piece. Better to let them think I kept this body in my room than risk anyone discovering my hidden workspace below.

Taking a deep breath I didn't need, I opened my door and stepped into the common room. Two students sat hunched over their books, likely cramming for morning classes. Their heads snapped up at my entrance, eyes widening in shock. One nearly dropped her tome, mouth falling open as she took in my mechanical form. I paid them no mind, my four arms moving in perfect synchronization as I crossed to the stairs.

The early morning halls held more traffic than expected. Students froze mid-step as I passed, conversations dying instantly. Their stares followed my progress, but I kept my head high, almost enjoying their reactions. Let them look. Let them see what I truly was.

Kolin's estoc felt familiar in my organic hand, its weight a reminder of past battles. My other limbs carried newly forged weapons I'd crafted specifically for this duel. The longsword in my main right hand gleamed with fresh-applied alchemical coating. My secondary right gripped a spear I'd modeled after Arctur's weapon, though I'd opted for a solid construction rather than his collapsible design. The tower shield in my secondary left completed my loadout, its thick steel reinforced with monster chitin.

My mechanical feet made barely a whisper against the stone floors as I walked. Each step was measured, deliberate. More students appeared as I neared the main halls, some pressing themselves against walls to let me pass, others simply stopping to stare. Their whispers followed in my wake, but I kept moving forward, my weapons catching the morning light streaming through the high windows.

I arrived at the southern arena with time to spare, yet crowds already packed the viewing platforms. Hundreds of faces peered down, most wearing expressions of anticipation or barely concealed hostility. These students hadn't come to see a fair fight; they'd come to watch Lyman exact his revenge.

Through the sea of faces, I spotted Konrad standing near the front rail. He met my gaze and gave a slight nod, his face carefully neutral. Not far from him stood Lyta, but when I tried to catch her eye, she turned away sharply. The rejection stung more than I expected.

"By the gods, is that really you?" Genta's voice cut through the murmuring crowd. She rushed toward me with Eyarna and Loland close behind, their eyes wide as they took in my transformed appearance.

"I had no idea you could change your body like this!" Eyarna circled me, examining my mechanical arms with undisguised fascination. Her enchanter's training showed in how she studied the alchemical coating that gleamed across my frame.

"Oh, I knew all along." Loland puffed up his chest. "It was obvious from the way you moved in class that you weren't showing your true form."

Genta elbowed him sharply. "Sure you did." She turned back to me, her yellow eyes serious. "Good luck out there. Show them what you can really do."

They joined the crowd filtering up to the viewing platforms, leaving me to face the center of the arena alone. Lyman stood waiting, surrounded by his usual group of sycophants. His eyes narrowed as I approached.

Three instructors stood off to one side: Shawe with his perpetual scowl, Harmony watching everything with sharp focus, and Casper the Manslayer studying my mechanical form with professional interest. The legendary warrior's presence suggested this duel had drawn more attention than I'd anticipated.

Professor Shawe's face turned an alarming shade of red as he stormed toward me. "What is the meaning of this?" His voice cracked with outrage. "You can't possibly expect to participate in a formal duel looking like... like that!"

The rules state I may use my own equipment. I kept my mental voice calm and level. This is my equipment.

"Equipment?" Shawe jabbed a finger at my chassis. "This is an entirely different body! You can't just swap forms whenever you please. This is a complete mockery of Academy tradition."

His hand gripped his staff so tightly his knuckles went white. "I order you to return to your previous form immediately."

"That won't be necessary." Casper the Manslayer's deep voice cut through Shawe's tirade. The legendary warrior stepped forward, his weathered face set in stern lines. "You seem to have forgotten, Professor Shawe, that you are merely here as a witness. I am the presiding judge for this duel."

Shawe whirled to face him. "But surely you can't allow-"

"I can and I will." Casper's eyes narrowed dangerously. "The armor, or whatever it is, stays."

"This is completely unprecedented! We can't just let students-"

The glare Casper leveled at Shawe could have frozen Hell itself. The younger instructor's mouth snapped shut mid-sentence. He took an involuntary step back, though his face still burned with barely contained fury.

"Unless you wish to challenge my authority as judge?" Casper's hand drifted to the hilt of his greatsword.

Shawe's face went from red to pale in an instant. He shook his head sharply and retreated to the sidelines, though I could feel his hateful gaze boring into my back.

Casper rejoined the other instructors, leaving the arena floor to Lyman and his group. His friends surrounded him like a well-practiced team, helping him prepare for combat. He wore simple leather leggings and a cotton undershirt, standing still as they methodically attached his armor.

The enchanted plate armor caught my attention immediately. Thin sheets of steel covered his chest, shoulders, arms, and legs in an elegant display of craftsmanship. Through my newly developed Mana Manipulation, I sensed the power radiating from the enchantments woven into the metal. The magical enhancements felt complex, layered; it was clearly expensive work.

Lyman caught me studying his armor and sneered. "You won't win, no matter what monstrous form you choose to wear."

Since he seemed talkative, I seized the opportunity. How did you find me?

He barked out a laugh. "Are you stupid?" He adjusted one of his gauntlets as his friends continued securing his armor. "The adventurer Marshes gave us quite a thorough description before you killed him. How many pale, porcelain-faced monsters with long black hair do you think are wandering around?"

One of his companions tightened a strap at his shoulder. Lyman rolled the joint, testing its mobility.

"I even had one of my Dragon House mates check your status, a mage with Rank A Analyze, just to be doubly sure." His smile turned cruel. "The moment I heard you had both the 'Fugitive' and 'Defender of Weath' titles, I knew it was you."

A tall girl with a year seven pin on her collar approached Lyman, carrying a sheathed basket-hilt broadsword with reverence. She presented it to him with a small bow, and he drew the weapon in one fluid motion. The blade caught the morning light, its steel surface rippling with a distinct blue glow that marked it as enchanted. The magical aura surrounding it felt different from his armor; it was more focused, more deadly.

Lyman tested the sword's weight with a few practice swings, then his eyes locked onto my mask. The hatred in his gaze burned hot enough to melt steel.

"You didn't just murder my brother." His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "You tortured him. The adventurers who found his body told us everything. His fingers were crushed. His legs were broken. You made him suffer before finally ending his life."

He advanced a step, the blue glow of his sword reflecting off his polished armor. "Such an act of atrocity is unforgivable."

A cold smile spread across his face. "But don't think you'll escape justice forever. I've already informed my father that you're here at the Academy. Even if I fail to kill you today, there will be others. Hunters. Assassins. Mercenaries. The moment you step outside these hallowed grounds, you'll be fair game."

His fingers tightened around the sword's grip. "The Academy's protection only extends so far. And you can't hide behind these walls forever."

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