I stood among my classmates in the southern arena, my mechanical frame concealed beneath a layer of borrowed leather armor. Weeks of nightly Hellzone expeditions had pushed me to level 22, though I'd maintained the appearance of mediocre progress during daylight hours.

Three whole months had passed since the combat assessments took place, and now we were back in the southern arena to take the rank reassessments. Today we would be judged on our progress, or lack thereof.

The familiar stone golems lumbered into position, their crystalline cores glowing with stored mana. Professor Shawe paced before them, his scarlet robes swishing against the packed dirt. Behind him, Harmony adjusted her bow while Casper leaned against a pillar, both witnesses to the evaluation of our performances.

Shawe's voice cut through the murmuring crowd. "Same rules as before. Defeat your assigned golem using Academy-issued weapons only. No personal equipment."

My gaze swept across my fellow students. Barkatus stood ready, muscles coiled beneath his worn leather armor. Bethani's fingers crackled with barely contained lightning. Even Copelan and Yulios showed marked improvement in their stances after our secret training sessions over the last few weeks.

Arctur caught my eye from across the arena and I gave him a slight nod. He ignored me.

The lizardman was dressed in actual armor this time. Someone had managed to get pieces of plate and mail in his size, as well as a massive spear that fit comfortably in his hands. Either Professor Harmony or Casper must have arranged it, likely after seeing how unjust the last evaluation had been. My money was on the female instructor as Casper the Manslayer seemed quite incapable of giving a damn about much of anything.

I watched from my position among the C-ranks as Professor Shawe called up the A-ranked students first. Only two had achieved that distinction in our initial assessment: Bethani Morne and Barkatus.

Bethani stepped forward, her silver hair gleaming in the morning light. The stone golem she faced was larger than the ones from three months ago, its crystalline core pulsing with stored magical energy. She raised her focus, a simple wooden wand made of oak, and lightning arced between her fingers.

The golem charged. Bethani sidestepped, her movements fluid and precise. Three bolts of chained lightning struck the construct's joints in rapid succession. As it stumbled, she followed up with a concentrated blast that shattered its core. The whole fight lasted less than thirty seconds.

"Pass," Shawe announced. "Rank A maintained."

Barkatus took his place next. His golem was even larger, its stone fists crackling with magical energy. The former mercenary didn't wait for it to attack. He burst forward, his Academy-issued blade striking with brutal efficiency. Each blow targeted structural weaknesses, sending chunks of animated stone flying. When the golem tried to counter-attack, Barkatus slipped inside its guard and drove his sword through the crystal core.

"Pass. Rank A maintained."

The rank B students followed, a longer procession of competent fighters. I recognized faces from my classes, warriors who'd shown promise but hadn't quite reached the elite tier. Most performed better than their first assessment, having learned from that experience. Their movements were more measured, their attacks more precise.

Yet none managed to demonstrate the overwhelming skill needed to advance to rank A. Some came close. A spearman nearly matched Barkatus's speed. An archer picked apart her golem's weak points with careful shots. But Shawe's standards for advancement remained impossibly high.

"Pass, rank B maintained," became the blond man's refrain.

By the time the last B-rank student finished, the morning sun had climbed high overhead. Sweat dripped down faces in the arena's heat. The remaining C-rank students shifted nervously beside me, knowing our turn approached.

I felt the weight of my borrowed sword, deliberately chosen to be slightly too heavy. My mechanical fingers flexed beneath my glove. After months of night battles in the Hellzone, this evaluation seemed almost trivial.

Professor Shawe's thin lips curved into a cruel smile as he turned to face the C-rank students. "And now, we're in for quite the show." His gaze fixed on me. "Widow. You're first."

I stepped forward, the borrowed sword heavy in my porcelain hand. Of course he'd call me first, he wanted to set the tone by failing the monster student immediately. Still, some foolish part of me clung to hope that merit might actually matter in this supposed meritocracy.

The golem that lumbered forward was smaller than those faced by the A and B ranks. An intentional slight, no doubt. Its crystalline core pulsed with stored mana as it raised its stone fists.

I didn't hesitate. Months of night battles had honed my reactions far beyond what this construct could match. I burst forward, channeling mana through the alchemically-coated blade. The golem's swing passed through empty air as I ducked beneath its guard.

Blade Skill activated, my sword blazing with power as it struck the golem's knee joint. Stone cracked and splintered. Before the construct could recover, I spun inside its reach and hammered three more precise strikes against its weak points. Each blow landed exactly where I intended, shattering stone and exposing vital mechanisms.

The golem tried to counter, but I was already moving. One final slash cleaved through its core. The construct collapsed, its limbs scattering across the arena floor. The whole fight had lasted perhaps fifteen seconds; as quick and clean as Bethani's or Barkatus's victories.

"Fail." Shawe's voice dripped with satisfaction.

Gasps erupted from the gathered students. Even some of the nobles who normally sneered at monsters looked shocked by the blatant unfairness. I stood motionless, disappointment burning in my chest despite having expected exactly this outcome.

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"Seriously?" Casper pushed off from his pillar, disgust clear in his voice.

Shawe turned to him with a smirk. "You seem to have forgotten, Professor Casper, that you are merely here as a witness. I am the presiding instructor for this assessment." They were the same words Casper had said to him during my duel.

Casper's face darkened, but he said nothing more. He simply crossed his arms and glared at his fellow instructor.

I kept my face impassive as I stepped back to rejoin the C-rank students. My mechanical fingers gripped the borrowed sword with deliberate calm.

"How can you just take that?" Annes hissed, her face flushed with anger. "That was complete bullshit!"

I turned my head slightly. What else did you expect? Shawe was always going to fail me, no matter how well I performed.

"Next up, Annes of Roland." Shawe's voice carried across the arena, dripping with smug authority.

Annes grabbed her borrowed sword from the ground, then stopped. Her shoulders tensed, then relaxed. With deliberate force, she flung the weapon down into the dirt.

"Fuck this!" She spun toward the changing rooms, short red hair whipping around her face.

"Miss Roland!" Shawe's voice cracked like a whip. "If you leave now, you fail this assessment!"

Annes didn't break stride. "I'm already rank C, you pompous ass. Go ahead and fail me again!"

Shawe's face turned a fascinating shade of crimson. I found myself smiling at the sight.

Copelan was next to move. Without a word, he dropped his sword and followed Annes. Yulios and Patter exchanged glances, then tossed their weapons aside as well. Sven hesitated only a moment before joining the exodus.

"This-this is unacceptable!" Shawe spluttered. "This level of disrespect will not be tolerated! None of you will ever advance beyond C-rank! Do you hear me? Never!"

His tirade echoed off the arena walls as I watched my fellow C-rank students file out. These past months of training together, sharing techniques, watching each other's backs. Somewhere along the way they had become more than just classmates.

I shook my head at Shawe's continuing rant and turned away. My boots clicked against the stone floor as I followed my friends to the changing room, leaving the professor's impotent threats behind.

The morning sun warmed my porcelain mask as I sat with the others in the Academy courtyard. My mechanical fingers traced patterns in the grass while Annes paced, her boots wearing a path in the dirt.

"That absolute shit!" She kicked a stone, sending it skittering across the cobbles. "Did you see his face when I walked out? Like he'd swallowed a lemon!"

Copelan leaned back against the courtyard wall, his usually stern expression softened by a faint smile. "Shawe may be shit, but he's dangerous shit. His brother's a Margrave, and he's got his fingers deep in both Dragon and Swords House."

"How so?" Patter asked, stretching her long legs out in the grass.

"He's a leech." Copelan's lip curled. "Always hanging around the highest-ranked students, doing favors, making connections. Building his little web of influence."

"Doesn't make him any less of a shit though," Patter said.

Copelan's laugh startled a few birds from a nearby tree. "No argument there. He's definitely shit."

We all joined in the laughter, but I could sense the tension underneath. None of us wanted to stay trapped in C-rank forever. These were skilled warriors. Annes with her years of adventuring experience, Copelan with his tactical mind, Patter with her spear work. They deserved better.

I'm sorry, I projected to the group. You didn't have to walk out just because of me.

"Don't even start with that." Annes stopped pacing to point an accusing finger at me. "I don't regret it for a second."

The others nodded firmly. Yulios gripped his fist tight. "We stick together."

"Besides," Sven added with a grin, "did you see how purple his face got? Worth it just for that."

"Well, well, well. If it isn't my cute little students feeling so proud of themselves. So proud that it seems they want to stay my students for a bit longer than they should."

I tensed at the sound of that familiar slurred voice. Professor Hassel's boots scuffed against the courtyard stones as he approached, his hair even more disheveled than usual.

My companions shifted uneasily. Even Copelan's practiced noble mask cracked slightly as our perpetually drunk instructor drew near, hands stuffed casually in his pockets.

Langdon's grin widened at our wary stares. "Stop glaring at me so hard. I'll get the wrong idea and think you don't like me."

"What do you want?" Annes' voice dripped with contempt.

He shrugged, swaying slightly. "Just wanted to see the group that threw their futures away so easily."

Annes opened her mouth, face reddening, but Langdon cut her off with a sharp wave.

"You're all idiots." The slur vanished from his voice, replaced by something harder. "Should've just played the game. Let Shawe have his dumb little power games until he grew bored and let you advance to B rank where you could actually learn something." He fixed each of us with a surprisingly steady gaze. "Instead, you had to antagonize him. Now the man's out for blood, and he's going to make your lives in the Academy a living hell."

"Our lives in this stupid Academy are already hell," Annes spat, fists clenched at her sides.

Langdon's laugh held no humor. "You have no idea how bad it can get, girl." His bloodshot eyes fixed on her. "Shawe has connections. He'll tear down everything around you, piece by piece. Isolate you from your peers. Tank your grades. Manipulate your schedules until none of your classes actually help you advance." His voice dropped. "He can even get to those you care about most."

I studied his face, noting the way pain crept into his slurred words. You're speaking from experience, aren't you?

He barked out another harsh laugh. "For a monster, you're really, really good at reading humans." He swayed, catching himself against a pillar. "Shawe may not look it, but he's a dangerous man. A petty, dangerous man."

Copelan's usual scowl deepened. "Why are you telling us this?"

"Because you're all idiots." Langdon pushed off from the pillar. "Watch your backs." He shuffled toward the courtyard gate, muttering, "Need a drink."

We watched him stumble away in stunned silence. I'd never heard our perpetually drunk instructor speak with such clarity, or warning. The others exchanged worried glances, the weight of his words settling over us like a heavy shroud.

"Well," Sven said quietly, "that was..."

"Terrifying?" Patter offered.

"I was going to say enlightening, but terrifying works, too."

I watched Langdon's unsteady form disappear through the Academy gates, his warning echoing in my mind. The others continued their heated discussion, but my thoughts drifted to what Konrad had told me about our instructor.

Four years ago, Langdon had been different. Passionate. Dedicated. A teacher who truly cared about developing young warriors. What had transformed him into this shell of a man who could barely stand straight most days?

My mechanical fingers clenched as I considered Shawe's involvement. The professor seemed so... insignificant. A small-minded bureaucrat who derived pleasure from wielding what little authority he had over his students. How could someone so pathetic be truly dangerous?

But then memories of Kolin surfaced; his sneering face, his entitled attitude. Another petty noble who thought the world revolved around him. I remembered his men killing Mallie, remembered her blood staining the grass. All because one self-important fool had power he didn't deserve.

The realization hit like a physical blow. I'd underestimated Kolin's capacity for harm, and Mallie had paid the price. I wouldn't make the same mistake with Shawe.

My gaze swept over my companions: Annes still fuming, Copelan lost in thought, Patter and Yulios whispering together, Sven cleaning his daggers. They'd stood with me despite the consequences. I couldn't let them face Shawe's retribution unprepared.

I straightened, my joints whirring softly. Whatever schemes that petty professor had planned, I would be ready. I had to protect these humans who'd chosen to align themselves with a monster. I wouldn't lose anyone else to the machinations of small men with too much power.

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