Fate Alchemist - A Regression Academy LitRPG

"Alright, everyone," Wulf said. "Check your statuses. Look for any sign of a Mark. Our goal is to accumulate as many as we can before we get a Grand Mark. That way, they'll nest beneath your Grand Mark, and you can enhance them all at once upon advancing."

"You're aiming to get Grand Marks?" Prince Athllas exclaimed.

"Indeed," Wulf replied. "Best way to gain strength."

"I…" The prince's eyes widened. "I had a suspicion you were reckless, having heard what I had about the transfers from Istalis, but this? It's incredibly risky to gain Grand Marks, and you'd have to be—"

"We have two," Kalee said. "Both me and him. And Seith and Irmond already have one each."

Athllas looked at them blankly and blinked. "What kind of feral beasts are they raising across the sea?"

"The kind that will help defeat the demons," Wulf said. "No half measures."

"Unless you die."

Wulf chuckled softly, and he didn't respond to that. He looked down at his arm, and willed his golem's gauntlet to shift away from his sheet of enchanted parchment. A new Mark had appeared for him:

[Mark unlocked: Stubborn Fists]

[Stubborn Fists] You have consistently forgotten to use your Oronith for its designed purpose. Your resistance to poisons has increased.]

Wulf sighed at the veiled insult. He'd gotten a lot of those from the Field lately, but he also needed to heed its warning. He could end up muddling his way, and getting Marks that weren't necessarily compatible.

For him, his trip in the dungeon also had to be learning to use Wraith in a way that aligned with his new Class.

While the others checked their statuses, Wulf bent down over the widowlob. He didn't want to deactivate Wraith just yet, and he needed to claim his reward for the fight. He ripped the fangs off the widowlob. They were enormous, and they would've been much too big to carry himself, anyway.

"Seith, do we have much storage capacity?" he asked. Most modern Oroniths, including Fiendhammer, had boasted a little storage capacity in their flanks, which was helpful in battle, but also helpful in dungeons.

And sure, the Academy would notice that they'd accumulated some loot when they returned, but according to Dr. McGemild, the rules were that you got to keep everything you killed in the dungeons, even during your classes. The same had to apply here.

"Not as much as you're probably used to," Seith said. "But we have a thin storage space on both sides, right under your ribs."

"Got it," Wulf said. He extended his perception throughout Wraith's body, hunting for the compartments, and found the panels where Seith suggested. He didn't have perfect control, but he relied on the dream-link with his own golem. With [Arm of the Alchemist], he shifted the panels on his own golem off to the side. It wasn't a one-to-one replica of Wraith, so it didn't work perfectly, but a compartment still opened.

He stored the widowlob fangs safely inside, then sealed it up, and muttered, "I'm going to need to make some changes to this little jade golem." It would work better if he could make it an exact replica of Wraith, at least when it came to the outer shaping.

"What do you mean 'used to'?" Athllas asked.

"Uh…just in the Oronith I stole from the Istalis Academy. Before we found Wraith." Wulf shut his eyes, hating how quickly the lie slipped out. He was getting better at this.

As soon as he had the fangs safely stored, he continued on through the hallways. He ducked under a thick spiderweb, then, as planned, headed west. They needed to keep moving before the academy started hunting for them.

Kalee was the first to call out her new upgrades. She said, "I'm a Low-Bronze now, too. I didn't get a Mark, though. I'm going to be upgrading a Mark and picking an aspect ability now, so…shout if you need me."

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Next, Irmond said, "That was a lot of mana…wow. Alright, I like this plan now. I, in fact, did get a Mark. It was basic, and it only enhances my aim and firing speed, but I'll take it."

"Don't get cocky," Seith said. "I got a Mark as well."

"What? How?" Irmond exclaimed. "Not fair, you didn't even fight the spider."

"It says here that me doing a quick repair job on the knee joints was critical for our mobility in the fight. Huh…it says I've increased my creativity. How can that even…work?"

"Your ability to solve artificing problems and make repairs with the tools we've got on hand?" Wulf suggested. He descended down another flight of stairs, then went left at an intersection. "Sounds helpful as an Artificer."

"I want to help," Athllas said, first in an insisting tone. Then, he said, in a more polite manner, "How can I help?"

"I assume you'd like to advance, too?" Wulf said. "Don't worry, I won't say no. Did you bring a golem?"

"Sadly, no," Athllas said. "I wasn't expecting any of this."

"Understandable." Wulf wracked his brain, trying to think of anything they could get the prince to help with, until he said, "What if you helped clean up some of the old crystal shard debris? We still haven't cleaned off all the chunks, and we could use a Pilot's help to get the Wraith cleaned up. Can you climb?"

"I'll take things slow," Athllas said, then flexed the fingers of his stone hand. "This has a good grip, and I should manage."

"Wonderful," Wulf said. He went silent when they reached a thin bridge over a massive underground chasm. It was much too thin to support the weight of an Oronith, and he didn't want to know what was causing the orange light at the bottom, so instead, he jumped over. Unlike before, Wraith's legs responded well to the impulse.

Wulf was stronger. Physically, and with a higher tier to compensate. He soared across the chasm and landed in a crouch on the other side, then rose up to his full height. After a short moment to catch his breath, he continued on through the hallway on the other side.

As Wulf had picked up in delving class, the massive dungeons like these were arranged in multiple levels. There was the lesser level, which you dealt with first, and usually it was lower than the average rating of the dungeon. Then there was the middle level, which was usually spot-on for the rating.

And then there was the lower level, which was almost always a little higher than the recommended level. Most skilled Ascendants would punch above their weight anyway, and the Field had to compensate for it. But that was where the dungeon's core was, and where you'd always find the best loot and mana.

To cross between the levels, you didn't just descend a staircase. You had to find another chamber, much like the dungeon entrance and descend a long, rocky cave to get to the next set of floors.

For this expedition, Wulf only planned on staying on the upper level. There would be plenty of room to escape the Academy staff who came looking for them. By his estimates, they'd already travelled far enough that they weren't beneath Centralis City anymore, and were instead below the open countryside.

When they reached their next room, Wulf thought it was empty at first, until he registered the tiny (in comparison) trolls swarming the floor of the room. They were still at least ten feet tall, with all sorts of different armament in their hands. Nothing, however, that could do lasting damage to the Wraith.

And since they all were on the Oronith, they all technically counted as its crew, in the eyes of the Field. If there wasn't a colossal monster to deal with, then it would count the challenge of the trolls as very low. It was a waste of time to go after them.

Instead, Wulf simply ran through the room, took an exit, and kept moving. Wraith's feet probably crushed a few trolls, but he didn't notice, and the Field didn't reward them.

After another set of winding hallways, the next room they encountered was a long chamber with pillars along its sides. In the very center was a creature that looked like a dragon, but was made of bone. It had four legs, massive wings, and came up just slightly taller than the Wraith. Bones all molded and blended together, forming a body, a bulging chest, and empty eye sockets.

It wasn't a true dragon. A dragon wasn't a monster, and couldn't be found in dungeons unless it willingly went in—the Field wouldn't put one there. Dragons were native to the Litterlands, a northern wasteland on the Centralis contient.

This was more likely a bone-mimic. It could take the shape of the last creature it killed, which the Field decided was a dragon (and with one restriction—it had to be made of bone).

"What's the plan?" Kalee asked.

"Probe its defenses," Wulf said. "I've fought smaller ones of these guys before, but not…" He checked the readouts that Wraith was giving—it agreed, this was a bone-mimic, and it was Middle-Silver. "They all are different. Different styles of fighting, mimicking the thing whose form they stole."

"So you wouldn't happen to have fought a dragon?" Seith asked.

"Sadly, no," Wulf replied.

He didn't want to let the monster get the jump on him this time. He charged forward, holding his fists out in a fighting stance. The mimic raised its wing, trying to swing at his head. At the same time, it was eerily quiet. It didn't make a noise on purpose, but the enamel-white form of its wings rattled as it swung.

Wulf bent backward, and Wraith obeyed surprisingly well. Its form held him up, and the strength in the stone cooperated, keeping him from toppling backward. His feet skidded on the stone, but once he was behind the dragon, he rose back up to his full height, then struck it in the back with a heavy punch.

The dragon stumbled, and Wulf had freed a few bones from its form, but more shifted. It adjusted to compensate for the loss, covering itself and rebuilding what it had lost.

It was like he hadn't even hit it in the first place.

This was going to be a long evening.