Fate Alchemist - A Regression Academy LitRPG

The week passed as normally as a dungeon expedition could. Wulf hadn't expected to be worried about his classes or whether he'd be behind, but there was a little nagging doubt in the back of his mind the whole time. Maybe he was missing something important.

No, scratch that. He definitely was missing something that would be on the tests. Whether it would be important or not was another question.

But the dungeon was more important for all of them. He could say that with certainty.

They passed through hallways and darted between rooms, fighting the resident monsters they found and gathering any ingredients they acquired. They were probably hunting a little too much, a little more than usual but then again, the Academy were the ones who'd forced their hand in the first place.

If Azanthius stuck up for his students, maybe they wouldn't be here.

Then again, Wulf did need a reason to keep pushing Seith and Irmond higher.

They had acquired three different types of venom, a couple poison glands from a treegiant (an overgrown frog—the breed was giant in the wild, but they'd only become Oronith-scale with the power and help of the dungeon's mana), magmamarrow from an Igniite's bones, and the eye humours of a great rot-wolf.

Though there were many massive wild monsters, and some naturally as titanic as an Oronith, most of them had received enhancements from the dungeon—even if, up here, they only ranged from Low-Iron to Low-Silver.

Wulf didn't gain any mana. Not from killing the monsters, at least. He did practice a few transmutations when Prince Athllas wasn't looking, though they still hadn't told the boy about their unique classes yet. He probably had some suspicions, though, and he'd have to be finding out soon. He made it to twenty-five percent advancement progress by the end of the week, which wasn't the best he could do, but at the moment, they didn't need to worry about his speed.

Besides, he'd earned two new Marks:

[Honourary Pilot] You gain a small amount of mana when anyone who considers themselves part of your crew gains mana.

[Wolf-Slayer] Your senses have improved slightly.

He was getting lots of basic Marks. Having a larger Grand Mark to condense it into was going to be nice, but that would come when it came. As for the others?

Kalee gained a few Marks, and aside from her two previous spell Skills—the ability to increase gravity in a patch, and the ability to turn gravity into a wedge—her aspect Skill was to put gravity on an angle, redirecting weapons or enemies. And, of course, she gained some mana. Not enough to push her over the edge of the next tier, but enough to keep her moving.

Irmond gained the most mana of anyone there, and in the first few days, he pushed to High-Coal—where he gained a levitation Skill. Another few days, and, with the crew's help, he pushed to Low-Copper, which let him take on an aspect. It'd given him a wind-aspect, which was to be expected, and somewhat common for rangers.

The speed he advanced would've been a miracle, and Wulf would've said so in his past life. But they were in one of the world's best dungeons, and he was participating in fights against beasts much higher than his tier. Of course the Field would reward his efforts handsomely.

It wouldn't last forever, but while they had it, they needed to make use of it.

Athllas, who didn't have a major role, only ended up with a single new Mark and a little mana, though he seemed satisfied. He'd probably had slow but steady growth his whole life, having all the resources and instruction necessary from the world's best tutors, but he still seemed satisfied. This must've been a good enough leap for him.

The best part was that, so far, he'd forgotten to gather any hallucinogenic plants altogether. His heart probably wasn't in it very much, but Varl would be mad.

Oh well. The more Wulf could separate Athllas and Varl, the better.

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Finally, there was Seith. She'd gained a single tier from repairing the Wraith, putting her at High-Coal, but the true source of her advancement was yet to come. They'd gathered the fur of a dire-bear, and with careful packing, Wraith now carried it as a bundle on its back. It brimmed with mana, and once they'd prepared it properly, it would make an excellent cloak for the Wraith.

Then came the armour: they'd gathered hardvellar bronze (an arcane variant of bronze, known for its toughness) from a fallen scrap spirit. There was enough of it to make shoulder pauldrons, a light cuirass, and greaves, so they bundled it up in the pelt of the dire-bear to carry it. It was heavy, and it weighed down on Wraith's back—and in turn, Wulf's golem.

But he would survive, and to get proper artificing materials for Seith to use, allowing her to create items for the Wraith, was going to help them all.

When they were five days into the week, Wulf began making his way back to the entrance. They'd still need to rendezvous with Dr. Arnau, and hope that they didn't encounter anyone else from the Academy along the way.

And he had to admit, he was a little disappointed when he didn't find anything for a weapon. Sure, they could use the hardvellar, but its purpose, Wulf felt, was to be armour. That was what the Field saw for it in fate.

So, when he found a rogue obsidian golem in a hallway, he was both very pleased and confused at the same time.

Pleased, because its arms were covered in blades, and there had to be something that was workable there.

Confused because this was a hallway, not a room. There was no reason a monster should have been here, least of all a giant golem. Golems were protectors, not hunters. They were technically monsters, but they always guarded a room.

Unless they had no room left to protect.

The sheets of enchanted parchment flared up in warning, displaying a message:

[Viridian Golem – Low-Gold]

"Uh…Wulf?" Irmond asked. "You're seeing this, right? That's a gold. I thought we weren't supposed to be getting those up here!"

"Me neither," he muttered. "That's never happened before. Athllas, you might want to get back to the cockpit."

"I can help out here!" he called. He'd taken to helping Seith with repair tasks, and his Skills—which allowed him to manipulate deepstone—were somewhat helpful for making repairs, especially when Seith was only High-Coal. Eventually, she wouldn't need a Pilot's assistance, but for now, Athllas was being helpful.

"Don't get yourself hurt," Wulf said.

"I won't!"

"Seith, how are we doing after those last few skirmishes?" Wulf asked.

"We're still in working condition," she replied. "But be careful of your elbow joint. If you lose your hand, we'll be in trouble. And I don't want to make a new one."

"You don't know how," Irmond teased.

"Not yet!" Seith said, still good-naturedly, though with a little exasperation. "And Artificers aren't supposed to put whole hands together alone, anyway."

"Right, you did say that before…"

"I did!"

"Guys, focus up," Wulf said. He lowered into a fighting stance, then released the bear-pelt full of loot. He couldn't fight with such an awkward pouch.

The golem was only about a head shorter than them, but being a wild golem, it was much wider and stockier. And it was made entirely of obsidian shards. Its arms were home to the largest of the shards, being the blade-like, sword-like shards. They were wide, thick, and especially sharp.

But, more accurately, he was looking at a variant of obsidian called viridian—not to be confused with the pigment of the same name. It had a faint green sheen, much more visible at the sharp, translucent edges. That much viridian would've taken him years to make with just transmutation, just knowing how much chaos and order it would take.

Wulf didn't make the first move. If the golem was still protecting something, and had just left its room, it wouldn't attack unless Wulf drew closer. He didn't exactly want to fight in a hallway. It was only slightly wider than Wraith's armspan, and though it was twice as tall, vines and glowing bulbs hung far enough to brush his head.

The golem lunged forward, its stoney joints creaking. Its black hands were permanently sealed in fists, and they were out of proportion for the golem.

But they'd make excellent hammers, if Wraith wasn't sliced with one of the wrist blades first.

Wulf leaned back, relying on Wraith's nimbleness, and the Oronith responded. A blade swished past the visor, creating a rush of wind.

But the golem kept charging. Its spiked shoulder impacted Wraith's gut. Stone shards shattered, and a panel caved inward. Wulf's own golem did the same, and he felt a penetrating, dull pressure in his gut, before the pain came. There was a horrible sting, and he realized that his own golem had broken his skin.

But he'd been injured before. He could take a little discomfort.

Clenching his teeth, he ripped himself free, then kicked off the golem's shoulder. His head brushed through the vines, and the glowing bulbs obscured his vision, but he knew generally where he was supposed to land. With one leg, he kicked off the wall, building momentum, and he drove the other into the back of the golem's neck, sending it stumbling forward.

He landed in a crouch, panting. He coughed a couple times, but he'd live. At least, he'd survive to the end of the fight.

"You good?" Kalee asked.

"I'll live," he replied. "But we need to end this quickly, or we're all going to die."