Dawn crept through the arena's high windows as I tested each joint of my defensive frame for the hundredth time. The six legs moved in perfect synchronization, hydraulics humming quietly. I'd spent half the night reinforcing weak points and upgrading the armor with salvaged Scorn Spider chitin.

My original combat chassis would have been faster, more agile. But against someone like Barkatus, speed wouldn't matter. He'd tear through the lighter armor like paper. This frame was built to withstand punishment, with layers of steel and monster chitin forming an interlocking shell around my vital components.

I'd snuck up from the basement storage room hours ago, before even the earliest risers were awake. There was no point trying to hide this massive frame in my tiny dormitory room. The secret basement entrance had served me well again, letting me prepare in private.

The rotating shield panels on my back shifted smoothly as I cycled through their positions. Each movement was precise, deliberate. I couldn't afford any mechanical failures during the duel. A single stuck joint or delayed response could mean a loss against an opponent of Barkatus's caliber.

The sword-lance held in my primary right arm balanced perfectly with the long metal spear in my left. I'd coated each weapon with the last of my alchemical solution, hoping to channel at least some mana through them.

Sunlight gradually filled the empty arena as I worked. No spectators yet, no instructors. Just me and the echoing sound of mechanical parts moving in concert. Every system checked and double-checked. Every weapon tested and positioned for quick access.

The waiting was always the hardest part. But I needed these quiet hours to ensure everything was perfect. Against a level 27 opponent, even the smallest flaw could be fatal.

The first students trickled into the arena as the sun climbed higher. A group of first-years stopped dead in their tracks, mouths hanging open at the sight of my towering frame. The six legs and rotating shield panels drew gasps and pointed fingers.

"That can't be allowed," a noble boy whispered to his companion. "Switching bodies whenever convenient? It's clearly cheating."

"But look at the craftsmanship," another student countered. "Those shield panels are incredible. And is that monster chitin integrated with the steel?"

More spectators filed in, their reactions split between admiration and scorn. Some studied my mechanical form with genuine interest, while others turned away in disgust. I caught fragments of their discussions, debates about the ethics of my modular nature, speculation about my chances against Barkatus, arguments over whether my abilities were "fair."

The crowd parted as three familiar figures entered: Professors Shawe, Harmony, and Casper. Shawe's face twisted into a grimace the moment he saw me, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

"This is completely inappropriate," he spat, gesturing at my combat chassis. "The creature should be required to fight in its standard form."

Harmony raised an eyebrow. "The rules place no restrictions on equipment or magical augmentation. This appears to fall within acceptable parameters."

"It's not equipment, it's an entirely different body!" Shawe's voice rose sharply.

Casper stepped forward, his weathered face impassive. "As judge of all Academy duels, I've reviewed the regulations thoroughly. There are no grounds for disqualification based on physical form or mechanical enhancement. The duel will proceed as scheduled."

Shawe's mouth worked soundlessly for a moment before he stormed off to the instructor's section. I felt a wave of relief wash through my systems. If Shawe had been judge instead of Casper, he would have found some excuse to force me into a more vulnerable form. His hatred of monsters ran too deep to allow any advantage, no matter how legitimate.

The arena doors swung open again, and Barkatus strode in with purpose. My mental sight immediately detected the difference in his equipment. Gone were the worn leather and scratched steel. Instead, he wore pristine plate armor that gleamed with magical enhancement. Each piece fit together perfectly, clearly custom-made. The sword at his hip pulsed with layered enchantments, far more sophisticated than the battered blade he'd carried before.

I shifted my chassis, the six legs adjusting my stance as I faced him. New gear? The words emerged through my telepathic link, dripping with disdain. Your benefactor must be quite generous.

Barkatus threw back his head and laughed, the sound echoing off the arena walls. He drew the glowing sword, letting its light play across the polished surface of his armor.

"Lyman Redflight takes care of those who serve his interests," he said, grinning wide enough to show teeth. "And that boy really wants you dead. Thankfully, he's got very deep pockets. This?" He gestured at his gleaming equipment. "It's just a small sample of what House Redflight can provide."

The casual admission of being bought didn't seem to bother him at all. If anything, he appeared proud of the arrangement. The mercenary I'd observed during the entrance trials hadn't changed; he was still just a sword for hire, albeit one with better equipment now.

Barkatus swept his arm toward my defensive chassis. "Not that you have room to complain about new equipment. This form, though; now this is more honest. More true to what you really are."

I shifted my weight between the six legs, shield panels rotating slightly. What do you mean by that?

"Stop with the pretense." He tapped his sword against his armored thigh. "This mechanical monster suit, it suits you better than playing at being human. You're a beast, be proud of it."

The words caught me off guard. I'd expected disgust, hatred of my monster nature. But his tone held something else. Almost... approval?

You speak as if we're the same, I sent through the mental link.

He snorted, a harsh laugh escaping. "Of course we are. I can taste the blood on you, see it in every move you make. You're a killer." His eyes gleamed. "And you enjoy it."

No. The denial came instantly, forcefully. I don't-

"There you go again." His face twisted into a frown. "Denying what you are. I don't understand you, this constant pretending to be human." He gestured at the crowd. "You're a beast, like me. Denying it will only make you miserable."

The comparison disturbed me more than any insult could have. Was that how he saw himself? How he saw me? Just mindless creatures reveling in violence?

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"Though I suppose it doesn't matter now." He raised his enchanted blade, settling into a fighting stance. "You'll be dead soon enough."

The arena fell silent as Casper stepped forward, his weathered face stern. "This is an official Academy duel between Barkatus of Vokkheim and the student known as Widow. Standard rules apply: the duel ends with surrender, incapacitation, or death. Begin."

The last syllable had barely left his lips when Barkatus exploded into motion. I'd studied his previous fights carefully; this immediate assault was his signature opening move. My shield panels whirred into defensive formation just as his enchanted blade crashed against them. The impact reverberated through my frame, but the reinforced panels held firm.

He didn't let up, hammering the shields with precise, brutal strikes. Each blow tested a different section, probing for weak points in the overlapping plates. The spider chitin and steel composite absorbed the punishment, though I could feel the strain in my hydraulic systems.

I waited for a brief pause in his assault, then thrust my sword-lance through a gap between the shield panels. Barkatus leaped backward with surprising agility despite his heavy armor, putting several meters between us.

The hollow barrel concealed within my sword-lance could have launched a projectile at him, but I held back. At this range, the mana-enhanced shot would likely dissipate before penetrating his enchanted plate armor. I needed him much closer for the weapon to be truly effective.

The gap between us stretched as Barkatus circled, studying my defensive posture. My six legs shifted in response, keeping him centered in my field of view while the shield panels maintained their protective formation.

"Tough shell," he said, eyes fixed on my rotating shields. "Good thing I got the perfect nut-cracker right here."

The moment his blade began to glow, I knew my defensive strategy needed adjustment. The red light cast eerie shadows across Barkatus's face as flames licked along the sword's edge.

He charged forward, the enchanted weapon blazing bright as a forge. My shield panels intercepted the strike, but this time the impact felt different. The superheated blade carved into the reinforced chitin like it was butter, leaving deep gouges where before it had merely scratched. Even the steel components weren't immune as chunks of metal peeled away under the burning edge.

My hydraulics whined as I pushed with all six legs, forcing distance between us. The movement was clumsy, inelegant, but necessary. I couldn't let him maintain sustained contact with those shields. A few more hits like that and he'd burn right through to my vital systems.

I swung my sword-lance in a wide arc, trying to keep him at bay. But Barkatus was too quick, too practiced. He slipped under the slow attack with practiced ease, making my massive frame feel sluggish and unwieldy by comparison.

The damaged shield panels rotated, trying to present undamaged sections to his next assault. But the smell of scorched chitin and melted steel filled the air. This chassis wasn't designed to withstand that kind of heat. I needed a new approach, and quickly.

I thrust the sword-lance forward as Barkatus charged, but he twisted aside with fluid grace. The blade cut empty air where his chest had been a heartbeat before. His enchanted sword arced toward my exposed flank, but I'd anticipated the counter. The spear in my left hand shot out, its steel tip ringing against his breastplate.

The blow didn't penetrate his expensive armor, but it interrupted his attack. That split-second opening was all I needed. I slammed one of my rotating shield panels into his side, catching him mid-stride. The impact lifted him off his feet and sent him tumbling across the arena's sandy floor.

Blood dripped from his split lip as he rolled smoothly back to his feet, but Barkatus was grinning wider than ever. A laugh boomed from his chest, echoing off the arena walls.

"Now that's more like it!" He wiped the blood away with the back of his gauntlet. "Show them what you really are!"

The crowd's reaction was as divided as their loyalties. Cheers and applause mixed with angry shouts and jeers. I caught glimpses of familiar faces in the stands: Genta and the other monster students whooping and pumping their fists, while clusters of noble-born students called for my disqualification.

"Death to the mechanical abomination!"

"Take that noble lapdog down!"

"Show that monster what real warriors can do!"

"Crush the mercenary!"

The cacophony of competing voices filled the arena, but I kept my focus locked on Barkatus. He was still grinning, seemingly energized by both the blow and the crowd's mixed response. Their division only seemed to fuel his bloodlust.

My spear thrust met empty air as Barkatus knocked it aside with practiced ease. The sword-lance followed, but my heavy frame made the attack painfully slow. He slipped beneath the swing like water through fingers, and I felt the burning bite of his enchanted blade tear into my chassis' side. The metal screamed as it parted, though thankfully I didn't feel anything vital damaged.

Acting on instinct, I brought one of my mechanical legs down where he stood. But Barkatus was already moving, rolling away from the crushing strike with fluid grace. Before I could retract the limb, he lunged forward. His blazing sword pierced straight through the leg's armored plating, the superheated metal melting through layers of reinforcement.

The leg's hydraulics still functioned, but barely. The structural integrity was compromised, and each movement sent jolts of feedback through my systems. I swung the sword-lance in a wide arc, forcing him to retreat before he could wrench his blade free and do more damage.

The crowd's shouts grew louder, but I filtered them out. All that mattered was Barkatus; his stance, his movements, the way his eyes tracked my damaged sections. The grin never left his face, even as sweat ran down his temples from the heat of his own weapon.

Heat. The thought sparked through my mind. His enchanted blade was powerful, but maintaining that temperature had to be draining his mana reserves. The question was whether I could last long enough for that drain to matter.

I watched Barkatus dash in, his burning blade aimed at my damaged sections. My sword-lance swung to intercept, and as expected, he moved to dodge the slow attack. But this time I was ready.

Mana surged through the alchemical coating on my weapon as I activated Blade Skill. The sword-lance's arc accelerated sharply, catching Barkatus mid-dodge. His eyes widened in surprise as the massive blade slammed into his chest plate. The impact rang through the arena like a bell, metal screaming against metal.

The force sent him skidding across the sand, though he managed to keep his footing. His left hand clutched at the deep dent in his breastplate, breath coming in short gasps. The expensive armor had saved him from being crushed, but the blow had clearly hurt.

I pressed my advantage, all six legs propelling me forward across the arena floor. The sword-lance thrust straight at him as I channeled mana through it once again. Blade Skill enhanced the strike with supernatural speed and power.

Barkatus brought his weapon up to parry, but the enhanced force of my attack smashed through his guard. The sword-lance's tip found the gap beneath his pauldron, piercing deep into his shoulder. Blood sprayed from the wound, staining the sand crimson.

He threw himself backward, putting distance between us. That manic grin still split his face, though pain tightened the corners of his eyes. His right hand dipped into a pouch at his belt, emerging with a small vial.

I recognized the yellow liquid inside even before he uncorked it and poured it over his bleeding shoulder. The knitting potion took effect immediately, magical energy wrapping around the wound in glowing bands. Within seconds, the gash sealed itself closed.

A temporary fix, I knew. Knitting potions could close wounds, but they wouldn't last. The injury would reopen once the magic wore off, likely worse than before.

I tracked Barkatus's movements as he tested his magically-healed shoulder. The knitting potion had closed the wound, but his movements were stiffer, more cautious. His enchanted blade still burned bright, though the flames seemed to flicker and waver more than before.

My damaged leg creaked as I shifted position, hydraulics straining to maintain balance. The chassis' shield panels rotated slowly, compensating for weakened sections.

Barkatus charged again, but his pattern had changed. Instead of testing my defenses methodically, he now focused entirely on the damaged areas. His burning sword carved through what remained of my shield panels with terrifying efficiency. I could smell my own components melting under the assault.

I thrust the sword-lance forward, channeling mana through the alchemical coating. Blade Skill enhanced the strike, but Barkatus was ready this time. He deflected the enhanced attack with a precise parry, though the effort made him grimace.

"Getting tired?" His voice carried a hint of strain beneath the mockery. "Your fancy machine body can't keep up forever."

I don't get tired, I told him as I rushed forwards, jabbing at him with the spear in my left hand. He quickly dodged the strike, then countered with his own.

For the next few minutes we exchanged blows, each of our strikes devastating and dealing damage. Barkatus's superior speed helped him dodge most of my blows, but due to my superior strength, when they did hit the strikes caused him significant injury.

The sands of the arena became covered with both mechanical detritus and droplets of scarlet blood.

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