Fate Alchemist - A Regression Academy LitRPG

Dr. Arnau climbed up over Wraith's head, then pulled open the hatch on the back and slid in. "You took a beating, Mr. Hrothen."

"Could've been worse," Wulf said, not concentrating too much on the conversation. "Are you alright, ma—?"

He was about to say 'master,' but he quickly saved it and said, "Ma'am."

"I'm fine. I found myself in a spot of trouble a few times, but I could've used the mana." Bending her knees, she crossed the cockpit without holding onto anything. With each impact and heavy, jarring footfall, she barely swayed. If Wulf recalled correctly, she had a Skill that kept her upright on stone surfaces, no matter how shaky the stone was.

Despite her assurances, she had a few bruises, her robe was tattered, she had a black eye, and blood crusted in her nostrils from a stanched nosebleed. At least she looked the part of someone who'd ended up in the dungeon by accident.

At first, Wulf hadn't been sure if it was going to work, what with Dr. Arnau being the one to fall and need help, considering she was a Gold herself, but considering the size and quantity of the average monster, it'd probably be considered a miracle that she hadn't died. Entering an ancient dungeon like this without an Oronith would be almost a death sentence for anyone under Ruby.

"Are we still going with the same plan?" Wulf asked. "Or same excuse?"

"That an agitated widowlob attacked me and dragged me down, and you guys followed it to its room?"

"Yeah."

"They might not buy that it left its room," Dr. Arnau warned.

"Oh, I think they will now," Wulf replied. "Other monsters were leaving their rooms. We specifically encountered a viridian golem, which had left its room."

"Why?"

"I'll tell you more when we get out." He stopped in the doorway to the entrance room and looked in. Four Oroniths were waiting for him.

Without speaking, they converged. They were all Silver-Tier too—weaker Oroniths, but stronger crews—but Wraith was in no condition to resist. When they saw him, they converged. Two (including the Fist of Bellar, which he recognized from last year) grabbed his arms, and the other two, which wielded spears, pointed them at him.

No one spoke. They hauled him to the center of the room, where a flight of thrustwings were waiting. Ground crews hooked up Wraith's stable shoulder panels to ropes, and then the enormous, field-powered birds, piloted by Rangers, took off. Wraith lifted off, its feet swaying below the ground.

They rose back to the main hangar level, where two more Oroniths were waiting for him. One was a Ruby-Tier Oronith carved entirely out of white marble, made to look like an old wise man. Perhaps like the pre-Field wizards, with their long robes. It had a face with a long beard, and instead of a visor, its eyes were the only glass viewport for the crew.

That had to be Dr. Azanthius. Or, chances were, he was inside that Oronith, considering the man was a Mage.

The second Oronith was the Rex Basileus—the king's Oronith. He must've heard that his son had ended up on an unscheduled dungeon delve.

The thrustwings released Wraith, and Wulf landed on the hangar level in a crouch. He didn't get back up again that evening.

"Well," Wulf said. "I think we have some explaining to do."

~ ~ ~

As soon as they were out on the ground, Wulf, Kalee, Seith, Irmond, Dr. Arnau, and Prince Athllas were escorted across the hangar floor by a cluster of Academy guards. They walked directly toward a waiting cluster of professors, the headmaster, and most importantly, King Athem and his red-coated guards.

The king probably looked older than he was. He walked with a wooden cane, and his olive skin was yellowing. Large bags hung under his eyes, and his gray hair was falling out in clumps.

The Academy guards held out their spears, stopping Wulf and the others nearly ten paces from the king. Wulf wasn't exactly sure what to do, but when Athllas knelt, Wulf did too.

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He looked over at the prince. The boy had a cut on his forehead, and he was swaying a little with each step—not to mention blinking very quickly. Wulf whispered, "Are you alright."

"I'm fine. It wasn't a bad hit." Athllas rubbed his forehead, wiping away a streak of blood from his eyes.

"It was my fault," Dr. Arnau proclaimed, stepping forward. "I shouldn't have lost focus so close to the dungeon entrance. I was…overwhelmed by the events of the previous days. But your students, headmaster, leapt in to save me. Their bravery is to be commended, not punished." She then gave the story they had all agreed on.

"I am more curious, Lidia, why they were in the hangar in the first place, especially so late at night—and with Prince Thyo-Athllas, no less," Dr. Azanthius said, walking forward. He gave King Athem a nod as he passed.

Wulf grimaced, then said, "Apologies, sir, but we had stayed up late to keep making repairs to our Oronith, even once the other Artificers' shifts had ended. We just happened to be in the right place to help, so we did."

"And you, my son?" King Athem demanded. He broke into a fit of coughing, then added, "Why were you with them?"

"I was out for a walk, Father, when I heard the commotion." Athllas rose up to his feet. "It was my fault—I demanded that they take me with them. Do not blame them for anything."

"Get our physician," Athem ordered. One of his guards nodded, then stepped away.

"Wulf needs Dr. Hong more," Athllas insisted. "He's injured, and—"

Before the prince could finish, he collapsed, first falling to his knees, then to his side. Kalee rushed forward and rolled him onto his back. "He's just unconscious."

"He took a hit on the way out," Seith admitted. "He was helping me with repairs, but when the viridian golem collapsed, some debris hit him in the head. I—I—he insisted he was fine."

"He always does," Athem said. "I will discuss this more behind closed doors. "Get your students to the infirmary, headmaster, and we will deal with our son later."

~ ~ ~

The Academy's infirmary was larger than Wulf was expecting. It was a long hall on the north wing, near the top of the building, with a low ceiling and many windows. At the moment, it was late at night, but there were still a few Healers on duty, tending to a boy who'd been injured badly in an arena fight.

They rushed over to help as soon as Wulf staggered in. Healers weren't part of an Oronith crew, because for one thing, they were quite rare, and usually, when something went wrong on an Oronith, it was an instant death. Not much a Healer could do about that. Mages and Pilots were more likely to have injuries that didn't result in immediate deaths, but when it came to important repairs, Artificers were far more important.

That said, Healers could almost always find good paying work, even if they were only Bronzes and Irons. Even these Healers, who were probably Academy-age themselves, found work in the infirmary.

They directed Wulf to lay down on a spongy cot, and he carefully unbuttoned his shirt. He'd ruined the uniform, which was going to cost him. At least he had another tournament fight coming up.

And then there was the injury. It wasn't as bad as it could've been, but it wasn't exactly pleasant either. A puncture in his gut, a few inches deep. Seith averted her eyes at the sight, Irmond shuddered, and Kalee chewed her clawed fingertips. Dr. Azanthius and Dr. Arnau stood behind them, both in almost an identical pose—arms crossed, tapping their feet impatiently. It was like Wulf was looking at a father and daughter pair.

"Seriously?" Wulf whispered to Kalee. "I'm sure you've seen worse."

"Yeah, but on people I was beating up," she whispered. "Not on a friend."

Two Healers both used a Skill, and a faint heat built in Wulf's gut. It was pleasant, and though the pain didn't go away, he could almost feel his muscles and flesh knitting back together.

The third Healer turned to the others and said, "He will be fine."

"Thank the Field," Kalee breathed.

Dr. Azanthius stepped forward, putting himself between Dr. Arnau and the Wulf, then stepping back so he could face them all. "This was very foolish of you. Of all of you. Don't think I don't know what you did."

He paused for a second and shook his head, then looked at Dr. Arnau. "Lidia, you do not want to make a proper enemy of Lord Umoch. You have no idea what he could make up about. He once threatened to try to have you convicted of plagiarizing your thesis, just to get you out of school. He still wants your hand."

"He can pound dirt," she said.

Wulf only swallowed. He didn't exactly know what had happened last life, but if this was any indicator, the accusations that got her exiled were probably from Lord Umoch.

It only made Wulf want to win more. The unfairness of it grated on him.

"For now," Azanthius said, looking at them all, "rest, recover, and manage your statuses. As per our rules, you get to keep your loot, so use it well." He stepped toward the infirmary door, then paused in the doorway. "I do not want to see you lose your Oronith, but I would rather that than see you dead. There is much to live for."

"Wait, Headmaster," Wulf said, stopping Azanthius mid-step. "There's something going on in the dungeons. I don't know what, but you have to listen."

"I'm listening," Azanthius said.

"There are Fiends down there. I don't know where they came from, but I saw a flash of one on the second level. It was only a second, but I know what I saw. It had pushed a Low-Gold viridian golem out of its room." That part, at the very least, was true, but he didn't say it aloud. Didn't need the Healers overhearing and spreading the word, for what their word would do.

Azanthius sighed. "You've been right about many things. I will send an expedition in the coming weeks to investigate."

"Thank you, sir."

"Now, have a good night, all of you."