It took a while to calm him down. Langdon kept apologizing, his hands shaking as he alternated between reaching for my severed appendage and pulling back as if afraid to cause more damage.

"I'm truly sorry," he repeated for the fifth time. "I haven't... I mean, it's been years since I..."

It's fine, I projected again, sitting cross-legged on the training ground.

I laid my mechanical hand beside me and began repairing it with Assembly. The other students gathered around, watching with fascination as I reconnected wires, sealed hydraulic lines, and realigned the delicate finger mechanisms. The clean cut made the repair relatively simple. It was far easier than fixing battle damage from the Hellzone.

Copelan leaned in closer. "That's remarkable craftsmanship," he whispered.

Langdon's breathing gradually slowed as he watched me work. His eyes followed my movements with growing curiosity rather than panic.

"You're quite... adaptable," he finally said, his voice steadier.

I flexed my newly repaired fingers, testing their responsiveness. Necessity breeds innovation.

Langdon nodded, then straightened his posture. The transformation was subtle but unmistakable; the slouch disappeared, his eyes sharpened, and for a brief moment, I glimpsed the warrior beneath the disheveled exterior.

"Your style is impressive," he said, addressing our entire group. "The coordination, the formations; all of it excellent for battlefield scenarios."

He paced in front of us, his movements suddenly purposeful and precise.

"But it has a significant weakness. Your style seems to be designed for facing multiple opponents simultaneously. Against a single, powerful opponent, especially one of a higher level, it falls dangerously short."

I tilted my head, considering his assessment. He wasn't wrong. The style emphasized creating space, managing multiple threats, and coordinating with allies. Against Barkatus or Lyman one-on-one, I'd relied on my mechanical advantages rather than the technique itself.

"That's why you lost just now," Langdon continued, pointing at my newly repaired hand. "Your style couldn't counter a focused attack from a superior opponent."

Annes crossed her arms. "So what's your solution, Professor? More basic sword drills?"

For the first time since I'd known him, Langdon smiled; not his usual cynical smirk, but something genuine, though tinged with sadness.

"No," he said quietly. "This time, I'm going to teach you something different."

He moved to the center of the training yard, his posture transforming further. His feet shifted into an unusual stance: weight centered, knees slightly bent, sword held at an angle I'd never seen before.

"Line up," he commanded, his voice carrying unexpected authority.

We exchanged glances but complied, forming a row before him.

"What you're about to learn isn't taught at the Academy. In fact, it's technically illegal in most human kingdoms."

Sven groaned. "Great. More basic sword forms with a fancy name?"

Langdon's smile turned sharp. "No. This time, I'm teaching you the Titan Slaying style."

"Titan Slaying?" Copelan whispered. "But that's..."

"Forbidden," Langdon finished for him. "Yes. The human kingdoms outlawed its teaching years ago. They feared peasants might use it against nobles or soldiers during uprisings."

He drew his practice sword, demonstrating a fluid stance. "It's specifically designed for fighting opponents who outclass you in level, strength, or both. The core principle is simple: use your enemy's power against them."

I watched his movements, my mechanical mind cataloging each subtle shift in weight and balance. This wasn't just another combat style—this was something potentially revolutionary for our group of C-ranked students constantly facing stronger opponents.

"Why would you teach us this?" Patter asked, voicing what we were all thinking.

Langdon's expression lightened. "Because… I don't know. I just feel like it."

Langdon brought us through the basic motions of Titan Slaying style. Unlike the rigid stances of traditional swordplay, these movements flowed like water. My mechanical limbs struggled initially with the fluid transitions. I was built for precision and power, not the graceful redirection this style demanded.

"The fundamental principle," Langdon explained, demonstrating a sweeping circular motion with his blade, "is to never meet force with force. A higher-level opponent will always overpower you in direct confrontation."

I watched him closely, my analytical mind breaking down each movement into component parts. The style was ingenious in its simplicity. Rather than blocking or parrying, it emphasized continuous circular motions that captured an opponent's momentum and redirected it against them.

It's like a gear system, I realized. Taking input force and converting it to a different output direction.

"Widow, step forward," Langdon called.

I approached, my repaired hand now functioning perfectly.

"Strike at me. Full speed."

I hesitated. Are you certain?

He nodded, holding his practice sword loosely. I launched a precise thrust toward his chest, applying enough force to stop just before contact. But my blade never reached him. With a subtle circular motion, Langdon's sword caught mine mid-thrust and redirected it harmlessly past his body. The momentum carried me forward, off-balance.

"See?" he said to the class. "I didn't block or parry. I simply guided her force away from me and let it continue. Now she's vulnerable."

He tapped my back lightly with his sword, demonstrating where a killing blow would land.

"Again," he instructed.

This time I attempted a diagonal slash. Again, his blade met mine in a rolling motion that swept my attack aside while simultaneously bringing his weapon toward my neck.

"The higher your opponent's level, the harder they hit," Langdon explained. "In Titan Slaying style, that becomes their weakness, not their strength. Their own power creates openings when properly redirected."

For the next hour, we practiced the basic circular redirections. My mechanical body gradually adapted to the flowing movements, though I still lacked the natural fluidity of my human classmates.

Annes proved particularly adept, her experience as a former adventurer giving her an intuitive grasp of the principles.

Copelan struggled the most, his rigid noble training fighting against the style's fluid nature. "It feels wrong," he complained. "Like I'm not controlling the blade."

"That's exactly right," Langdon replied. "You're not controlling it, you're guiding it. There's a difference."

As we practiced, I began integrating the movements into my mechanical understanding. My Assembly ability helped me reconfigure joint tensions and hydraulic pressures to better accommodate the circular motions.

This style perfectly complements my limitations, I realized. Against opponents like Barkatus, whose raw power had far exceeded mine, redirecting their force would be far more effective than attempting to match it.

"One final demonstration," Langdon announced as our session neared its end. "Widow, attack me with everything you have. Don't hold back."

I hesitated. As you wish.

I launched forward with full mechanical speed, executing a perfect thrust with all my strength behind it. Langdon's movement was so subtle I barely perceived it (a quarter-turn of his wrist, a slight shift of weight) and suddenly my own momentum sent me flying past him. Before I could recover, his practice sword rested against the back of my neck.

"And that," he said quietly, "is how you defeat someone stronger than yourself."

But I'm not stronger than you, I told him, feeling slightly annoyed. You're twenty levels above me.

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"Semantics," he said, following with what he probably hoped was a sage-like nod.

"That's not what that word means," Copelan spoke out.

After the training session ended, I made my way toward our basement hideaway. Genta and Eyarna would already be there, working through their magical exercises while waiting for the rest of us to arrive. My boots clicked loudly against the stone steps as I descended into the Academy's underbelly.

While walking, I accessed my status information, curious about what I might have gained from Langdon's unexpected lesson. The familiar blue glow of my status screen appeared in my vision, and there it was; a new attribute had manifested: Titan Slaying Style.

Interesting.

Name: Widow

Level: 27

Species: Dirtborn [MONSTER]

Gender: N/A

Age: 1

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

Strength: 64

Endurance: 62

Dexterity: 69

Intelligence: 75

Wisdom: 67

Attributes: Ancestor Might (Descendants: 32), Invulnerable Flesh, Integration, Court Style Swordsmanship, Weath Defense, Enchantment, Titan Slaying Style

Abilities: Mind Speech D, Mind Sight C, Language Comprehension S, Assembly B, Analyze B, Depository C, Mana Manipulation B, Blade Skill E, Brace E, Momentum Redirection E

Beneath it, a new ability had also appeared: Momentum Redirection. The system description was simple but promising.

Momentum Redirection Rank E

You can redirect the momentum of another object so that it flows away from you. This is a main technique of the Titan Slaying combat style.

This matched perfectly with what Langdon had demonstrated. Not blocking attacks, but guiding them away, using an opponent's own force against them. For a being like me with limited mobility compared to flesh-and-blood fighters, this could prove invaluable.

I analyzed the potential applications as I continued down the corridor. Against opponents like Barkatus or even Lyman, whose raw physical power had once exceeded my own, this technique would allow me to fight efficiently without relying solely on my mechanical strength. Even more promising was how it might work against higher-level monsters in the Hellzone.

The ability seemed deceptively simple, but I understood its profound implications. In a world governed by the System, where levels and stats determined so much of one's combat potential, Titan Slaying style offered a method to overcome those limitations. No wonder the kingdoms had outlawed its teaching; it was a direct threat to the power hierarchy they maintained.

I reached the bottom of the stairs, pausing momentarily to consider how best to incorporate this new ability into my combat chassis design. Perhaps I could modify the joint mechanisms to better facilitate the circular motions? Or adjust the weight distribution in my limbs to enhance the redirecting effect?

The possibilities were numerous, and I was eager to share this development with my friends. With a mechanical adjustment that approximated a human's satisfied sigh, I continued toward the storeroom where Genta and Eyarna awaited.

The two monster girls greeted me when I entered the storeroom. Genta sat cross-legged on a wooden crate, a small flame dancing above her palm as she practiced her control. Eyarna hunched over a worn cloth spread across the floor, various containers arranged in a precise pattern around her.

"You're late," Genta said, not looking up from her flame. "Did sword practice run long?"

Something like that, I replied, settling down next to Eyarna.

She acknowledged me with a quick nod but maintained her focus on the materials before her. Various powders, dried herbs, and crystalline substances formed a colorful array across her workspace. She was practicing her alchemy this time rather than enchanting, carefully measuring tiny portions of different substances.

I watched her work, fascinated by the precision of her movements. My Assembly ability provided insights into how these components might interact, though alchemy remained somewhat mysterious compared to the straightforward mechanics I was accustomed to.

Then I noticed one of the materials she was working with: a fine black sand contained in a small glass vial. At first glance, I thought it was merely crushed iron, but upon closer inspection, I realized its composition was different. The particles had an unusual luster, almost bluish when caught in the right light.

My Assembly ability practically screamed information at me about the material, recognizing properties that seemed oddly familiar yet entirely new. The composition, the potential applications, my mind raced with possibilities.

What is that? I asked, pointing to the black sand.

Eyarna looked up, adjusting her spectacles. "This? It's menachanite."

Menachanite, I repeated, the word triggering something deep within my fragmented memories.

"It's a pretty common substance," she continued, carefully recapping the vial. "I found a lot of it in the Academy's supply room. They don't even know what they have; it was mislabeled as 'black sand reagent.'"

I reached toward the vial, and Eyarna handed it to me without hesitation. The moment the container touched my fingers, I felt a strange resonance, as if the material recognized me somehow.

"What's it used for?" I asked, examining the vial.

Eyarna shrugged, returning to her measurements. "Not much, really. It's mostly used as coloring for alchemical powders. The substance is neutral and doesn't react with most alchemical compounds."

I uncapped the vial and poured a small amount of the black sand onto my palm. The moment the particles touched my organic flesh, my mind went blank. Foreign formulas and procedures surged through my consciousness, ancient knowledge pushing aside all other thoughts. Assembly activated without my conscious direction.

The black sand lifted from my palm, hovering in the air before me. Eyarna gasped, her hands freezing mid-motion as she watched the spectacle unfold.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

I couldn't answer. My focus had narrowed to the floating particles, my body moving with mechanical precision. I reached for Eyarna's salt container, drawing a portion of it into the air to join the menachanite. Water from a nearby flask rose in droplets, merging with the salt.

Assembly directed electrical currents through the mixture, separating elements with practiced efficiency. Sodium hydroxide, hydrogen gas, and chlorine gas formed distinct components, each contained within an invisible sphere of my making that prevented their escape.

The menachanite particles gravitated toward the chlorine gas, forming a new compound. I applied intense heat to the mixture, causing a white flare that illuminated the storeroom with blinding intensity. Genta yelped in surprise, her own flame extinguished as she shielded her eyes.

"By the gods, what is happening?" she demanded.

The heat dissipated after several minutes, leaving a light yellow liquid floating where the menachanite and chlorine had been. Without pausing, I reached for Eyarna's magnesium shavings, drawing them into the process. The magnesium joined the yellow liquid within a sphere of argon gas that I extracted from the surrounding air.

I superheated this new mixture, watching as it transformed into a sponge-like amalgamation of metal and salts. Assembly then crushed this sponge, separating the salt components from the metal. The purified metal condensed under pressure until it solidified into a small chunk that gently floated down to rest in my palm.

A coin-sized disc of silvery metal gleamed against my pale skin. It felt warm and strangely familiar, as if I had held this exact material countless times before.

The trance-like state receded, leaving me aware of Genta and Eyarna staring at me with wide eyes.

"What just happened?" Eyarna asked, adjusting her spectacles as she leaned closer to examine the metal disc in my hand.

I... don't know, I admitted, studying the silvery substance. It was lightweight yet possessed an unusual density that suggested tremendous strength. It was like Assembly just took over. It's only happened once before, when I learned how to make alloys.

A system prompt suddenly appeared before me.

Congratulations! Assembly has reached Rank A!

You may now use Assembly to create complex chemical and metallurgic mixtures!

Assembly has increased to Rank A, I announced, examining the gleaming disc in my palm.

Only then did I notice the other substances still suspended in the air around us: chlorine gas, sodium hydroxide, and various other compounds, all contained within invisible spheres of my making. Dangerous if released carelessly.

"Um, Widow?" Eyarna pointed nervously at the floating chemicals.

I quickly scanned the area and spotted several empty glass bottles on Eyarna's workspace. With careful precision, I guided each substance into separate containers, sealing them tightly for safety and potential future use.

"That was... impressive," Genta said, her voice betraying a mixture of awe and unease.

Eyarna leaned over my shoulder, adjusting her spectacles as she studied the silver-gray metal disc still resting in my palm. "What exactly did you make? I've never seen anything like that process before."

I separated this metal from the menachanite, I explained, turning the disc to catch the light. It appears to be the primary elemental component.

I tested the metal between my fingers, surprised by its properties. Despite its solid appearance, it felt remarkably lightweight, perhaps a third the weight of steel. Yet when I applied pressure, it resisted deformation completely. I channeled a small amount of mana toward it, expecting the usual resistance that metals displayed.

The mana encountered resistance, yes, but unlike steel which caused mana to dissipate entirely due to its iron content, this metal merely slowed its flow. With sufficient pressure, the mana could potentially pass through it.

A revelation struck me. I believe I've discovered a new metal, I said, unable to keep a note of excitement from my mental voice.

Genta crossed her arms, looking skeptical. "New metals don't just get 'discovered' like that. Scholars and alchemists have been studying materials for thousands of years."

Eyarna, however, was practically vibrating with excitement. "What will you call it?" she asked, eyes wide behind her thick lenses.

I considered the question. The metal felt familiar somehow, as if I had known about it in some forgotten past. Yet it was a recent name that surfaced to my mind, one I had gotten after countless hours reading through enchanting text books.

Mythril, I decided.

Eyarna burst into laughter, while Genta looked between us in confusion.

"What's so funny about that?" Genta asked.

"Mythril is a legend among enchanters," Eyarna explained, wiping tears from behind her glasses. "It's a mythical metal, hence the name, that supposedly has the strength of steel but doesn't nullify magical energy. Enchanters have dreamed about finding such a material for centuries."

She reached out hesitantly toward the disc. "May I?"

I placed the mythril in her palm, and she weighed it carefully.

"It's so light," she marveled. "And you made this from common menachanite? That's... that's revolutionary, Widow."

I don't think I created it so much as separated it, I clarified. The process seemed to extract the metal from its ore form.

"Still," Eyarna said, reluctantly returning the disc to me, "if this truly doesn't block mana flow like other metals, do you understand what this means for enchanting? For magical devices?"

I did understand. The implications were profound. With a metal that could both withstand physical stress and channel magical energy, entirely new categories of magical instruments and weapons became possible. And for me personally, it meant I might finally be able to create mechanical components that could properly channel mana.

I need to test this further, I said, already planning modifications to my combat chassis. And I'll need more menachanite.

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