Fate Alchemist - A Regression Academy LitRPG

The Rex Basileus stood a mile offshore, wading hip-deep in the waters of the Centralis Strait. With each wheezing breath King Athem took, the beast shuddered, and whenever he coughed, he nearly threw off his Ranger and Artificer with how violent the shudders became. He resisted the urge to cover his mouth, knowing that the entire Oronith would move. Because of it, he'd surely coughed mucus and blood onto the inside of his helmet.

This would be his last time piloting the Rex, and was possibly the last time he would ever use his Ruby-Tier Oronith.

It wasn't very good in his hands, being only a High-Gold.

[It has been a wonderful ride, my lord.]

It wasn't quite a voice, but a thought barged into his head. It wasn't his own, and it had a voice, a presence. It was the Rex's spirit speaking to him, linking with his thoughts and communicating back through the dream-link.

[Zelma would be proud of you.]

"I'm sure she would," King Athem grunted, glancing to the side. The mage harness, where Queen Zelma would have stood, was empty. She'd died a few years back, from the same sickness that was about to claim him. First, the mana channels withered, then the muscles, then the bones, then the lungs. No one knew why, and they didn't even have a name for it—except to call it a horrible sickness. It often passed between lovers.

Being a High-Gold, he was supposed to live four hundred, maybe five hundred years. He'd only made it seventy.

King Athem the Sick, King Athem the Pathetic. Once word got out, the papers would have a field day with it. Worse, his son wasn't ready for the throne. None of his children were. Too young, too weak.

And it couldn't come at a worse time.

The best he could do was hold his chin high, look onto the world ahead, and meet his death with some sense of pride. The demons were approaching. Nine Fiends emerged from the ocean. They started four miles out, and quickly closed to three. They'd clumped up on the advanced Oronith and destroyed three in the blink of an eye, pushing them underwater or tearing them to shreds.

The defenses at two miles had fared better, and they had bought time for King Athem to activate the Rex and scrounge a crew. He didn't even know their names, but the Ranger and Artificer had been members of his guard squadron. Young, inexperienced, but his old crew from his academy days…well, Marius and Kent were always meant to die young. They'd gone out in a blaze of glory during the first wave of demon attacks a year ago.

Ahead, the demons plowed through Hellstriker and Peiku Ranata, two High-Iron Oroniths. Hellstriker stabbed with its spear, trying to keep the beasts at bay, and Peiku fired bolts from an enormous crossbow, but the fiends were skilled. They pushed aside the spear, and though Peiku nailed one in the forehead, it didn't stop it.

The Rex was supposed to maintain the Perimeter Mile, along with a spread-out, thin line of Oroniths. No one knew where more fiends were going to emerge, and they had to protect the city.

Athem spun his glaive, then whispered, "What do you say we give these fiends a…a good beating?"

He held out his arm and assessed the approaching beasts. The sheets inside the cockpit flared up in warning, ink diffusing through them:

[Warning: Unknown enemy with Middle-Iron equivalent mana.]

[Warning: Accounting for enemy size.]

[Warning: Massive enemy. Estimated tier: Low-Gold.]

Athem shut his eyes. Hellstriker and Peiku were going to fail. All nine of them were going to overwhelm the two Oroniths.

[We will be overwhelmed too, my lord,] Rex replied. [There are too many of them, too concentrated.]

"Close ranks!" Athem called through the communications construct. "I don't see any others, and we need all the hands we can get! Form up around me, and we'll split them, then encircle the two. Tilnius' Pattern!"

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A chorus of "Affirmatives" and "Yes, my lords" replied through the construct, and Athem thanked them, then broke into a fit of coughing.

[This is unwise,] Rex warned. [You should retreat. You may live a few more months if you retreat, my lord. We do not have time to make a defensive formation.]

"Understood. But I decline."

Rex Basileus. King of the emperors. He didn't go out wheezing on his deathbed, and he didn't go out with his back to the enemy.

But Rex was right. There was no time. A fiend gripped Peiku's head in its claws and crushed, shattering the stone and instantly killing the crew. Another ripped Hellstriker's head off, before pushing it back into the cluster of nine fiends, where they bashed it into dust, killing or drowning the crew.

Rain sheeted down, catching in the Oroniths' mana-lights. After a few seconds, the lights went dark, leaving only a nighttime ocean and the distant city lights of Centralis.

"Rex, turn on our mana-lights," Athem commanded.

[Sir—]

"Do it, Rex!"

[Sir, look.]

A pale white glow shone across the water, growing brighter by the second, and the thrum of a team of thrustwings roared behind him. He shifted, turning to face the noise.

A new Oronith flew over the city, borne by a flock of thrustwings, carrying themselves and the enormous beast with the help of the Field. It swayed, hanging limply, almost looking dejected. But mana-lights shone brightly on its shoulders, illuminating the water ahead of it. The cracks in its stone armour glowed magenta, and it held two obsidian short swords in a reverse grip in its hands. Atop its head was a regal plume of glassy obsidian.

So the Academy had finally come to help.

With a clack and a twang, the thrustwings released their cargo. The Silent Wraith, the Academy's newest toy, plummeted to the waves. It landed in a crouch, then whirled its blades up into a fighting position. Someone had trained to use it, even if the dream-link was strained to the limit.

Tidal waves of water racing away from it, Wraith rose up to its full height. Water streaked off its body and rolled off its shoulders, and it groaned.

A voice cracked through the communications construct. Young. Had the Academy sent students into battle?

"Good evening, my lord!" the voice called. "I heard you're setting up a defensive formation."

"Who is this?" Athem replied.

"That's not important. I can buy you time. These are the only fiends out there, and they're making a push inland. Together, we can stop their advance, but you need to close ranks."

"Do it. And good luck."

~ ~ ~

"Wulf, what the hell are you thinking?" Kalee exclaimed. "We're going to get killed!"

"Something's wrong," Wulf said. He made sure his communication construct was off before he said, "Fiends don't act like this, so coordinated, and Centralis was never destroyed this early."

"If we get killed…"

"I have an idea," he said. "How're your spell Skills?"

"Stronger. I'm a High-Copper, too, and I've got better constructs to consume to activate them."

"Wonderful. We're going to split the group. We'll draw one off, break up the formation, confuse them, and knock them out of whatever this…meddling is. And maybe draw a few off."

"They're Low-Gold!"

"And we're in a Low-Silver Oronith. Only one tier below. If we can get them to a one-on-one, we can take them out." He turned to the side to glance at her, and the entire Wraith's head swivelled. "You're ready to fight? You want to show your family what it means to be on an Oronith crew, what good you can do."

"Yeah."

"Then let's do this."

"I don't mean to interrupt the heart-to-heart," Irmond said, his voice crackling through the communication construct. "But, like, the fiends are coming!"

Wulf turned so he could face the King's Oronith. It was hard to miss. The beast was made of a beige stone, designed as if it was wearing a lamellar chestpiece, a long, robe-like skirt, and a regal helmet with swooping ornaments out its sides. Red crystal clung to its surface in veins, conducting energy, and its glaive—with an enormous wooden haft and a red crystal blade—was raised in an upright position.

"We're not in place with the Lions yet," Wulf said. "The king can't die now."

"He just pushed our schedule up, didn't he?" Seith called, speaking through the communication construct.

"Yeah. How're we doing after that flight? Any damage I should know about?"

"Nothing yet."

"Then hold on. We're going in." Wulf turned forward again, then flexed his fingers. He'd still need more practice with the dual blades, but at least he could control the fingers. He spun the blade in his right hand around to an upright position. This way, he could use it more like a proper sword. He did have a little practice with a sword in his last life.

But probably more than anyone his age would have, even with a sword as a main weapon.

Bracing himself, he strode through the water, wading toward the clump of approaching fiends.