Oz woke up from a short nap feeling more refreshed than he’d expected. Maybe it was his attributes. After completing the blade he’d collapsed in bed. Crafting runes consumed his Will and exhausted the mind like nothing else. Perhaps nothing other than naming the otherworldly being that had infected his thoughts.

  Waking up to the thought that he couldn’t wait to start reading the books stacked on his desk didn’t feel quite so alien as it had yesterday. Now, with the thought of the Ozzer, he could accept them a bit more.

  The decision to name it the Ozzer also meant he could curse it out. When he went out to the common area and found Angie in shorts and a T-shirt, he had something to target the litany of dwarven insults at while he focused on making sure he wasn’t looking anywhere he shouldn’t.

  Angie was practically bouncing off the walls. She’d returned to the house a few hours after he’d last seen her with confirmation that she would be getting her class today. It seemed that between Lily and Oxley the injustice had been corrected. The beastkin kept listing all the possible classes she imagined getting. He knew she was aiming for something in battlefield control, the kind of role where you gave buffs and debuffs and monitored the flow of combat, but getting the exact class you wanted wasn’t guaranteed. As her discussions about possible classes got increasingly frantic, Oz belatedly realised she might actually be worried about it.

  "You’ll do fine. You’ve got your head screwed on right, and I’m sure you’ll find a way to make any class work."

  "You seem awfully confident in someone you just met."

  "You’ve more energy than a sparkrat that got hit by lightning and you know about all the possible courses you could take this year. You’ll do fine. Better than getting the Delinquent class," Oz grumbled.

  "No one’s getting a class called Delinquent!" Angie laughed.

  Oz remained silent and started to cook breakfast, grabbing some bacon from the cool box. Lily had dropped off a load of basics for him yesterday, including some food.

  "You didn’t actually?"

  Oz aggressively fried the bacon.

  "Well that’s... I mean, I didn’t know that was an option. I..." The Ozzer kicked him and pointed out that Angie was looking terrified. The peppy scholar now had a fresh source of dread. Oz didn’t know Angie well, but even he could sense that such a class was a fate worse than death in her eyes.

  He sighed and scratched the back of his neck.

  "I didn’t say that to make you worry. I’m sure you won’t get a class called Delinquent, not unless you secretly got into loads of fights and had to go chop wood as a punishment on a daily basis. Besides, all things considered, it’s worked out for me so far. If Delinquent can get me here, I’m sure whatever you get will be better."

  "I’m sure you’ll be able to evolve it into something when you class up. You should look into different ways to guide your evolution. I’ve heard the skills you absorb, and how you develop your enhancements, play a big part. I could recommend you a few books!"

  Oz learned something that day. The best way to divert Angie was to give her a new focus for her relentless mind. He finished making them bacon sandwiches, sneaking a rasher split between Chops’ heads.

  Then it was time to get kitted up and head back to the main building. Angie needed her class. Oz was due a proper explanation of the Delinquent.

  The central building loomed over them. The main body of Noxarcer had the design that came from the kind of castles that started off as defensive fortifications before retirement caused them to bloat and put their feet up. Yet they never lost that central purpose: to intimidate all whose shadow they fell upon.

  Among the gothic architecture that rose above the imposing walls, Oz saw stained glass depicting scenes he was certain had some greater purpose, but they were far more gory than even the most old-school ones from the churches in the dustbowl. Dotted around were gargoyles and grotesques, and he couldn’t help but notice that most had remarkably well-crafted features, as if transfixed from life.

  He was certain their eyes were following him.

  Oz turned to Angie, who looked refined and polished in her Noxarcer uniform. Angie was a classic Noxarcer scholar, the kind of brainy, motivated academic that was a must for anyone aiming for a merit-based scholarship, and thanks in part to her werewolf blood she had that level of hidden threat and danger that made her uniquely suited to the hallowed halls of the ancient institution.

  Standing beside her in his rumpled uniform, Oz looked more like the jaded dynasty students who were forced through the cracks by a mixture of natural talent, parental expectations, and lashings of nepotism.

  It wasn’t his fault though. He was certain he’d put on the uniform properly, but before they were out of the woods that hid the special dorms, his shirt was creased, his cravat wonky, and even his hair refused to co-operate.

  Standing before the central building, Oz couldn’t help but feel like he was being watched, and not just by the gargoyles. It was as if the whole building was staring down at him in judgement, checking his worth. It said a lot for Oz’s newly formed magical senses that he was in fact correct, but thankfully for his sanity he dismissed it as just a case of nerves. No young growing man should be cursed with knowledge that an all-but-timeless eldritch entity had singled him out for special attention. It was the kind of thing that could give one a complex.

  Oz shrugged off the sensation and found a couple of benches in a small garden area whose main water feature was a large pond with tentacles that either rose up like they were ready to attack or coiled over the edges of the pond. It was like a giant octopus had been petrified. The Ozzer wondered if that was possible, and Oz begrudgingly had to admit it was.

  Needless to say, they didn’t sit too close to the fountain’s edge.

  This was where they’d been told to wait for Professor Oxley. They were a bit early, as due to the changing nature of the woods they weren’t sure how long the trip would be. According to rumours Angie had heard, Noxarcer tended not to make students late with its shenanigans, but neither of them wanted to tempt the eldritch being.

  Noxarcer, of course, appreciated their dedication to promptness.

  Putting such thoughts out of his mind, Oz took his seat and tried to straighten his cravat to get rid of the annoying notification that popped up while he was walking.

  [Hoodlum conductivity with ‘Poorly tied cravat’ is minimal]

  "Grit my gears, it’s just getting worse," he cursed.

  Chops, who’d been preparing to sit beside them, sticking close this time, whipped his heads up to check on his master. He had collars on now, the thick black leather had been waiting in the kitchen for him this morning. The black leather was studded with shining brass studs, and each one bore a tag that proclaimed him ‘CHOPS, FAMILIAR TO OZREN GRIMBROW’. The tag was on both, so presumably you had a chance to know who was responsible for your mauling no matter which head it was.

  "I could tie it for you?" Angie offered, flashing her perfectly arranged cravat at him. She’d already given him a crash course in tying the hated silk noose that morning, which was the only reason Oz even had a chance at getting it right.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  "Nah, I appreciate it, but I get the feeling it’s pointless. Pretty sure my class is actively making it come undone."

  "How would that work?"

  "I mentioned the style thing."

  "You mean the style armament variant you have? I’ve always found them so fascinating, they’re really powerful but come with a lot of limitations. Why would it be undoing your cravat though?"

  "The style is called [Hoodlum]. It er… wants me to look a certain way. It doesn’t work at all when the cravat is properly tied," Oz replied. He didn’t mind telling Angie about that element of his class, it’d be fairly obvious.

  "I’m pretty certain that it’s undoing itself. Whenever it becomes a bit untied my enhancement gets happy, and from that point onwards it’s all downhill. I think it’s also why my shirt is developing wrinkles as we walk. My shirt is becoming more like armour and less like a shirt, and armour beats shirt, so it doesn’t fix itself." He continued while trying to wrestle the cravat back into shape. He groaned as a new message popped up.

  [Hoodlum conductivity with ‘Wonky cravat’ is low]

  "That makes sense! I’d not have thought of it, but now you point it out, the empowerment only activates as you move closer to being a ‘hoodlum’. In that state it’s more sturdy and magically empowered, so it can’t return to its less empowered base state. Anything that tries to fix it is fought by the skill, anything that would make it fit the ‘style’ is accepted. Even your adjustments are more likely to... The empowerment just got stronger, didn’t it?" Angie didn’t laugh, but he could feel her holding back.

  "Well, it was smart of you to notice that. I never would’ve thought of that." Angie said, and Oz found himself scratching the back of his head at the unexpected compliment.

  "But you just put it into clearer words than I could."

  "Yes, but it doesn’t change that you understood something intrinsically about your class. A lot of the books talk about the importance of understanding your powers beyond what a reading or your intuition tells you. You have to explore the magic, map out the processes, the exceptions. That’s how you find synergy, how you expand a simple attack skill into something bigger."

  "I’m pretty good at understanding systems, mechanisms and such. I used to make money fixing runes on farm stuff in my home town. That’s always difficult because with dwarf work you have to understand what the maker’s intent was, and the way it all works together. I mean, this is just logic."

  "You said you were worrying that you didn’t have the brains for this place, but I think you’re underselling yourself, Oz."

  "I got some smarts, not book learning like you, and this is the kind of place where book learning is king."

  "Not as much as you might expect, Mr Grimbrow," a familiar voice called out behind them.

  They both turned to see Professor Oxley walking up, the sound of his hooves clicking on the flagstones. The minotaur was in long black professor’s robes lined with purple trim, draped over his shoulders. Beneath that he wore a tweed suit over his muscular form. The man’s buttons looked to be struggling to contain him.

  "Professor, thanks so much for your help yesterday!" Angie smiled.

  "It’s my job, Miss Goodweather! And I’m pleased to see that my petition was heard and that the injustice done to you has been corrected. I understand you’ll be going through the classing process today."

  "Yes, my appointment is in half an hour. I can’t tell you how excited I am."

  Angie buzzed. Neither Oz nor Oxley felt it worth mentioning that her excitement was obvious, given how she was bouncing from foot to foot with a grin plastered on her face.

  They all started to walk together towards the front door.

  "Well then, why don’t I lead you up there, and then I have an appointment with Mr Grimbrow."

  "Wait, is this the meeting I’m meant to be—" Oz was cut off by a cough from the minotaur, who shot him a sharp look.

  "Yes, but let’s not discuss this here, Mr Grimbrow," Oxley said, casting a look around the few other students who bustled towards the black wood doors and the pair of brass knockers so impressive that even the Ozzer was distracted.

  Oxley led them through the doors into wooden-panelled halls. The carpet was red and deep, absorbing noise. Oz found it difficult to track their path as he was led through the labyrinthine institution. After heading down a corridor with windows overlooking a manicured square, only to turn left and find himself with windows on his right showing that same square, Oz got the distinct sense that the inside of the Academy didn’t seem to match up with the outside.

  If anything, the walk to the Classing Hall was longer than the one between the main building and their accommodation. He put it down to dungeon shenanigans, which, when the Ozzer flared up, he begrudgingly accepted he would have to investigate rather than ignore, as he was used to doing.

  Oz spent most of the walk silent, appreciating the art on the walls. Angie was chattering with the professor, her nerves spinning her speech up to a fever pitch. Oxley took it in his stride, which raised his stock in Oz’s mind. He didn’t have the greatest trust in teachers, but so far Noxarcer seemed promising.

  Eventually they arrived at a set of ornate doors and left Angie with another staff member, a craggy-looking troll, who Oxley briefly joked with.

  "Best of luck, but I’m sure you’ll do great."

  "I’m so excited! We’re still on for going out to celebrate tonight, right?"

  "Like I said, I’ll check, but that’d be good. I need to get some things from town." Oz nodded. Angie had suggested they head into town, and while Oz was more social pupa than butterfly, he knew he needed to get some things sorted.

  Like clothes.

  He planned to check about heading out, the threat of the Ambrosia Assassins hanging over him. Chatting with Venna, she’d said he should be safe as it was likely whoever was targeting him had no idea where he was, and that Noxarcer’s protections were strong even in town. But he still wanted to check with someone.

  Not just for his sake, but Angie’s.

  With a few conflicted feelings, Oz waved her goodbye and then followed Oxley through more sets of corridors until they reached a room where the air had the cool feel of a basement, a sense added to by the windowless dungeonstone walls that gave him flashbacks to the Gauntlet. In the centre there was a fighting ring, and round the edge a collection of equipment that looked like the school gym had been left unattended with a crazed gnomish inventor.

  "We’re definitely in a basement, but we didn’t go down any stairs?" Oz had to ask. The dwarven part of him was unsettled. It could tell it was underground but had no idea how it had got there. Given the lack of alcohol involved, this was an unacceptable situation.

  "Ah yes, you wouldn’t know, but Noxarcer’s a rare dimensional variant dungeon," Oxley supplied.

  "I thought all dungeons were dimensional," Oz grimaced. Was his general knowledge that bad?

  "Oh, they are, but where others create a miniature pocket dimension using the anchor in our realm as the basis, they cannot make use of this dimensionality within our realm, leaving them bound by all the physical laws you might expect. However, for dimensional variants, they are able to manipulate their dimensionality in our realm, so while Noxarcer still requires things to be built, it can rearrange its components in any manner that suits it."

  "And it uses that to mess with us," Oz grumbled.

  "Of course not, it’s for entirely sane, respectable reasons. It is a very serious academy."

  Oxley and Oz shared a look. Oxley clearly shared the same opinion, but the conspiratorial way he looked around reminded Oz he was now in a dungeon, and it could be listening to anything he said.

  "Now, onto the reason we’re here. I understand you ran the Gauntlet?"

  "I’m not sure what you mean." Oz felt his ‘talking to authority’ face snap into place.

  "Too late for that, you gave yourself away yesterday. You clearly didn’t know about the health exemption, and you weren’t on the participants list. Brackham told me all about it. Said you beat the boss to death with a door?" Oxley smiled.

  "In that case, yes, I completed the Gauntlet. I thought this was going to be about tutoring." Oz relaxed a bit, even as he cursed himself for yesterday.

  "Don’t beat yourself up. As I understand it, you’ve been thrown into this at the deep end. I’ll cover some basics today for you to be aware of so no one else notices."

  "Angie noticed as well, but she seems trustworthy."

  "I agree. A true scholar, that one. Let’s get through to what you’ll be doing here. First, we need to do some testing. This is the exact process your friend Angeline will be going through, though she’ll likely be doing a few more tests to check her issues with transforming have been resolved. We can just talk about the skills that you already understand, but I might ask you to try some things out here and there, experiment to check that you’re not missing anything."

  "That makes sense."

  "Then we’ll start making a plan to get you up to speed for when classes begin. How does that sound?"

  "Alright then, where do we get started?"

  "Well, first I want to see how strong you are. I have your stats, but they only tell part of the story. These machines are meant to test your fitness in a number of ways. They’re also the machines that you’ll use to train your enhanced physique from here on out. Sound good?"

  "That’s the best thing I’ve heard since I got here," Oz grinned, looking over at what looked like a rowing machine for people who wanted to move cruise liners.