I watched as Lyman's companions lifted his unconscious form from the sand. Blood still dripped from his nose as they rushed him toward the infirmary wing. The crowd's mixed reactions died down, replaced by the excited chatter of students discussing the fight.

Footsteps pounded down the stone steps as Genta, Eyarna, and Loland rushed to meet me. Their faces beamed with excitement.

"That was amazing!" Genta's yellow eyes sparkled. "The way you moved with those four arms, I've never seen anything like it!"

Eyarna nodded enthusiastically, her long braid swaying. "The precision of your strikes was incredible."

"I wasn't that impressed." Loland crossed his scaled arms, but a smile tugged at his copper-colored snout. "Though I must say, watching those stuck-up nobles' faces when you took down one of their precious elite students! Now that was entertaining."

"This will definitely send a message." Genta's expression grew serious. "Maybe now they'll think twice before harassing any of us monsters."

Konrad's tall form approached our group, his usual easy smile in place. "I believe you're right about that. After this display, I expect the student body will show more respect to our non-human peers."

His gaze swept over our small gathering. "In fact, if any of you manage to raise your rank, I wouldn't be surprised if some chapter houses extended invitations."

Loland's eyes widened, his previous attempt at aloofness forgotten. A small trail of drool escaped the corner of his mouth at the prospect of joining one of the prestigious houses.

Genta remained more reserved, her freckled nose wrinkling slightly in skepticism.

"That was quite a fight." Konrad turned to me. "Though I must warn you, letting Lyman live might prove problematic. Now that you've shown he can't beat you in a fair duel, he's likely to try... less honorable methods of revenge."

I am prepared for such possibilities, I projected into his mind.

He shook his head. "I hope you are. But men like Lyman, when backed into a corner, can be remarkably resourceful in their vindictiveness."

Genta stepped forward, her small form radiating fierce determination. "No need to worry about Widow. We've got her back now." She gestured to our little group. "Anyone who wants to mess with one of us has to deal with all of us."

"Glad to hear it." Konrad's smile widened. "I was starting to worry you'd keep playing the quiet, stoic loner type and never make any friends here at the Academy."

I am not a stoic loner, I projected, an unfamiliar sensation of offense rising within my damaged chest. The accusation struck closer to home than I cared to admit.

"Oh, Widow's not like that at all." Eyarna adjusted her round spectacles, her tusks visible in a gentle smile. "She's just shy."

I turned my helmeted head towards her, unsure which assessment was more damaging to my carefully cultivated image: being labeled a brooding loner or branded as shy. The mechanical fingers of my combat chassis flexed unconsciously as I processed this new perspective on my behavior.

Loland snorted, a puff of steam escaping his nostrils. "Shy? The person who just dismantled a level twenty-two noble in front of half the school?"

"Being good at fighting doesn't mean you can't be shy," Eyarna insisted, her voice growing stronger as she defended her position. "I've seen how Widow acts in class, always sitting in the back, never volunteering answers even though I know she knows them."

I simply prefer to observe, I projected, though even to myself the defense sounded weak.

"That's exactly what a shy person would say," Genta teased, her orange-spotted nose crinkling with amusement.

I felt the familiar tingle of someone using Analyze on me. Turning around, I saw Professor Shawe standing with Casper and Harmony, his face contorted with rage as he stared at me.

"This is impossible!" Shawe's voice echoed across the arena. He stormed toward our group, his scarlet robes billowing behind him.

"Here we go again," Konrad muttered beside me. "Another Shawe performance."

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"You're a cheat!" Shawe jabbed a finger at my chest plate. "My Analyze shows you at level seventeen. Seventeen! You were level 12 at your last assessment. That sort of growth is impossible for a C-rank student in remedial classes!"

My mechanical fingers tightened around my weapons. I remained silent as he continued his tirade.

"C-rank students are forbidden from entering the Hellzone. Yet somehow you've gained over five levels since your last assessment." His face had turned as red as his robes. "You must be cheating. Either you've found some way to hide your true level, or you're sneaking into the Hellzone."

"That's ridiculous, Malakin." Harmony stepped forward, her sharp eyes narrowing. "There are no known methods to fool Analyze. The ability reads information directly from the System itself.

"And the Hellzone entrance is guarded around the clock," she continued. "There are wards and enchantments preventing unauthorized entry. You know this."

"Then how do you explain this?" Shawe whirled on her. "How else could this... creature have gained so much power? What other explanation could there possibly be for such a dramatic increase in strength?"

I stood motionless as they argued, my helmeted face betraying nothing. Inside, though, my thoughts raced. Had I grown careless in my nightly excursions? Should I have intentionally performed worse in the duel to maintain my cover?

Genta pressed closer to my side, while Eyarna and Loland moved to flank me. Their presence was oddly reassuring, even as Shawe's accusations hung in the air.

"Actually, that would be my doing." A familiar drawling voice cut through the tension.

I turned to see Professor Langdon Hassel sauntering toward our group, his clothing as disheveled as ever. The smell of cheap ale clung to him like a second skin.

Professor Hassel, I projected, surprised by his intervention.

"Been giving the kid some extra training sessions," Langdon announced, scratching his unshaven chin. "Saw potential there, thought I'd help out."

Shawe's face twisted. "You? You're a remedial instructor. Your job is to teach basic forms to those who can barely hold a sword."

"Funny thing about that." Langdon's lips curled into a knowing smirk. "Seems to me you of all people shouldn't be telling other teachers how to do their jobs, eh Malakin?"

Shawe's face flushed an even deeper shade of red. "You drunken buffoon! You expect us to believe this... this thing gained five levels from your training alone? Impossible!"

Langdon threw back his head and laughed, the sound echoing across the arena. "Thing? Oh, that's right! Widow here's a monster, isn't she? And monsters..." He wagged a finger at Shawe. "Well, they gain levels much faster than humans do. Isn't that what you're always saying? That we shouldn't lump their kind in with regular folk?"

I watched Shawe's mouth open and close, no words emerging.

"He has a point," Harmony said. "Several monster species are known to level significantly faster than humans."

"Indeed." Casper nodded. "That would seem to settle the matter."

"This is outrageous!" Shawe spluttered. "You should stick to teaching remedial classes, Hassel. Nothing more!"

"If you've got such a knot in your knickers about it," Langdon's grin widened, "take it up with the headmaster."

"Perhaps I will!" Shawe spun on his heel and stormed away, his scarlet robes billowing behind him.

Harmony's sharp eyes fixed on Langdon. "Be careful. Shawe has powerful friends backing him."

After she and Casper departed, we students were left alone with our supposedly drunken instructor.

Why did you help me? I projected the thought toward Langdon's back.

He paused, swaying slightly. "Honestly? Pretty hung over right now." He scratched his stubbled chin. "Not thinking too straight, you know?"

Without another word, he stumbled toward the arena exit. "Need to piss."

We watched him weave his way across the sand, nearly tripping over his own feet.

"What's his deal?" Genta's brow furrowed. "I've been here two years, and everyone knows Langdon as this drunk lunatic who can barely teach basic sword forms. Never seen him stick his neck out for anyone before."

"Ah." Konrad's expression grew thoughtful. "He was hired the same year I first entered the Academy. He was like a different person back then, really passionate and driven. Really cared about his students, especially the ones struggling to keep up."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Then... well, year after year, you could see it happening. Started showing up to class late. Smell of ale on his breath got stronger. Stopped caring so much about proper form, proper technique."

"What happened to him?" Eyarna asked softly.

"The Academy happened." Konrad shrugged. "This place... it changes people who aren't ready for it. Some get harder, some get broken. Professor Hassel? He just sort of... faded."

His easy smile returned, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Take care not to follow his example, eh?"

With a casual wave, Konrad turned and walked away, leaving us to ponder his words.

"So what are you going to do now?" Genta bounced on her heels, her orange-spotted nose twitching with excitement. "I thought about inviting you out to dinner to celebrate, but since you don't eat..." She trailed off, looking uncertain.

"We should have a party!" Eyarna clapped her hands together. "We don't need food to celebrate and have fun."

I shifted my combat chassis, the mechanical joints whirring softly. I need to repair this frame, and my humanoid body still isn't completely fixed from the attack.

"Don't be such a stick in the mud." Genta poked one of my armor plates. "Come have fun with us."

"You don't need to be shy with us," Eyarna added, her tusks visible in a gentle smile.

Her words sparked an unfamiliar sensation in my damaged chest, something between irritation and defensiveness. I was not shy. I simply had priorities.

Very well, I projected. I need to stop by my dorm room first to change into my humanoid body.

"We'll come with you!" Genta linked arms with Eyarna.

As we entered the dormitory, something felt wrong. The common room was packed with female students, many more than usual for this time of day. They huddled in small groups, smirking and giggling behind their hands as we passed.

The wrongness crystallized into understanding when we reached my door. There, sprawled across the wood in garish yellow paint, were the words "GUTTER TRASH CHEAT".

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