Fate Alchemist - A Regression Academy LitRPG

Wulf couldn't do anything but watch. This was up to Irmond now. It didn't make it feel any better, knowing that Irmond's fate was out of his hands now.

Irmond approached the nearest bird, holding his hands in front of him cautiously, and the bird responded. It stood up, took a few steps toward him, then shook out its feathers. It raised its beak as it was sniffing the air, and then with a booming thrum of its wings, it took flight. It shot off into the distance.

At least it hadn't started the bond. It'd just run away.

Irmond placed a hand on his bracer and spoke something. Wulf couldn't hear it over the rushing wind and the distance between them. But he was pretty sure Irmond was setting up the conditions of the Field Pact between him and a thrustwing.

The next bird had a similar reaction. It took off, rushing away from Irmond. With a single push of its wings, wind scoured the side of the mountain, making Wulf thankful he was laying on his stomach.

"Come on, Irmond," he hissed. "One more chance."

That time, Irmond winced. He reached over and clutched his wrist, then raised a hand to his forehead. The bond had been severed halfway through, and there were consequences to that. If Irmond didn't succeed the next time, that would've left a little permanent damage.

What if Irmond did fail? Could Wulf live with that? What if his assessment of the situation had just been wrong?

Maybe he wasn't as good at reading people as he thought. If he lost Irmond like he lost Ján…this time, it'd be even worse, because there was nothing he could've done to help Ján. This time, he but Irmond up to this.

Irmond clenched his fists, then staggered toward the last thrustwing. It approached him with a limp, sniffed the air, then dipped its head. It dragged one of its taloned feet behind it, trailing dark red blood across the ledge.

It didn't fly away. Irmond hoisted his arm up, and Wulf heard him shouting something faintly. He couldn't make out the words. He didn't need to.

For a brief moment, the thrustwing's eyes flared gold, and Wulf felt a residual thrum in the Field from all the way back here. The thrustwing lowered its head and pressed the smooth upper curve of its beak into Irmond's hand.

Cautiously, Irmond walked around the side of the beast. It watched him, but it didn't flinch. The bond was already made. The pact sealed. If either of them broke it, there would be consequences.

The thrustwing tilted to the side slightly. That was a good sign. It was willing to let Irmond ride it. Irmond scrambled up its side and swung up onto its back, straddling its body just above the top of the wings and still giving it the maneuverability to fly.

Without waiting for a command, it leapt off the ledge. Wulf only caught a fading scream as it rushed past the overlook. Irmond clung on for his life.

The pair swooped down into the valley below, disappearing beneath a swell of fog. For a few seconds, everything went quiet, then the fog parted.

Irmond and the thrustwing blasted upward, parting the clouds. Irmond had adjusted his position to be laying on the bird's back, and he was no longer screaming in fear.

"Down!" he shouted, pointing to the outlook. "Down, down! Land!"

The thrustwing…almost listened. It swooped toward the viewing outlook and spread its wings, slowing its descent and kicking up a massive gale of wind. Wulf and the Nee leapt away from the edge, then pressed their backs against the rock wall behind them.

The thrustwing landed on the very brink of the outlook. It staggered slightly, favouring its non-injured leg, and it let out a shrill cry.

Irmond took a deep breath. His eyes were wide, and he seemed very desperate to stay alive.

He'd get used to it.

"I'll see you back at the Academy!" Wulf yelled. "Can you steer it yet?"

Wild thrustwings weren't terribly obedient. They needed a bit of training, and they needed to deepen the Pact with their rider. But they were still bound to bear the rider where he wanted, so long as the rider held up his end of the pact and helped the bird advance.

And then usually, they had a relationship of mutual respect. Once the bird gained intelligence, and the conditions of the pact were fulfilled, they rarely parted each other.

"I…I think I can get back to the academy!" Irmond said. "I'll see you there!"

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"You'll be back before me!" Wulf called. "Take it to the hangar! Someone will be there to help you!"

"Got it!" Irmond said. His eyes lit up with pride and gratitude. "Thank you so much, Wulf! I…don't think I've had anyone really believe in me before."

"You're welcome! Now get back without dying!"

~ ~ ~

When Wulf returned to the Academy, he rode into the Oronith hangar. The ground was swarming with activity, but no more than usual. He navigated around the wagons and the workers, then brought his horse to the comparatively small stable at the end, where the workhorses who weren't on duty were kept.

Wulf dismounted, and the stablemaster checked to make sure the horse had been well-kept.

"Better than I was expecting, son," the stablemaster muttered. "Thank you for looking after him."

"No worries."

The stablemaster, being a non-Ascendant, wouldn't have been in any position to refuse an Ascendant student of the Academy, but he'd probably been fearing the worst of how Wulf might have treated the horse.

Then, Wulf immediately ran to a set of stairs and ascended to a room much higher in the hangar. Rather than a stable, it was a hangar of its own, though much smaller. It still had an open wall, facing the main Oronith hangar, and massive spools of rope and harnesses to help carry the stone giants.

The first thing he noticed was that it smelled like birds—and it smelled bad. It was only about four storeys high, with clay and twig nests all along the wall, like massive barnacles. Or…like how swallows nested.

Non-Ascendant birdkeepers rolled barrels of birdseed along the ground and filled troughs, and identical-looking thrustwings ran over to eat.

There were a few Rangers in the small hangar. They wore academy uniforms, but they were fourth-years, and they wore High-Iron or Silver badges.

All except an elven boy at the center of their cluster, who stood next to a thrustwing, bandaging its leg and brushing its feathery back. The other Rangers congratulated Irmond, asked how he did it, and if he was alright.

"...passed out for a few days when I got back," Irmond said. Wulf caught the tail end of Irmond's commentary as he approached. "Spent a few days in the infirmary. I've still been getting some nasty nosebleeds, and I think I'm going to have some permanent scars on my hand where the Field…I dunno, it like, burned through my bracer."

Irmond pulled back his sleeve, revealing a set of angular red lines down his left arm. They reminded Wulf of the brickwork in the dungeon.

"But I lived!" Irmond raised a hand animatedly and smiled.

A couple of the fourth-years patted him on the back, and a birdkeeper told him to pay attention to his bandaging.

Wulf waited for the crowd to clear off before he approached.

"Ah, Wulf!" Irmond exclaimed. "You made it! I got in three days ago! It was…fast."

"You're shaping up into a proper Ranger," Wulf said, crossing his arms.

"I'm…starting to feel like one, too."

"Don't let it go to your head. You smell like bird now."

"And you smell like horse." Irmond smirked. "I'm Low-Bronze now. Thought I was going to catch up with Kalee, but…"

But Kalee had made it to Middle Bronze too, apparently. Something had happened while Wulf was away—she and Seith had gotten into a skirmish with some other Guild kids in the girls' dorm. An unresolved feud with the Perfumer's Guild, it sounded like, though Wulf didn't have all the details on that.

"I'm sure Seith was pleased," Wulf said softly.

"She'll make it, as long as you can work with all the dungeon loot in time. And we still have a whole 'nother semester. I…I think we can do it!"

"Do you have a name for your thrustwing yet?"

"Speckles."

"They all have speckles."

"Yeah, but none are named Speckles."

Wulf laughed softly, then said, "Just remember, they'll live basically as long as you do."

"Grandpa Irmond will be good with that name, too," Irmond proclaimed.

"If you say so…" Wulf turned around, about to leave, when he spotted Dr. Azanthius marching through the bird hangar. "Oh, by the Field, he can't give us a single moment to celebrate?"

Azanthius stopped right in front of them. He stared at them for a few seconds, then glanced around, as if checking for anyone listening in on their conversation. Finally, he asked, "How? How did you do it?"

"I picked the right elf for the job," Wulf said.

Azanthius narrowed his eyes and stayed silent for a few more seconds. Finally, he asked, "And how, Mr. Hrothen, did you know who the right elf was?"

"Just a gut feeling, sir. Instinct. Experience."

"Experience, you say?" The Headmaster narrowed his eyes. "I like you, Mr. Hrothen, but I get the sense that there is something you aren't telling me. Dr. Arnau has that sense, too. If you need to talk, we—"

"Is that why Dr. Arnau wanted to be our sponsor?" Wulf asked.

"See, there it is," Azanthius said. "That suspicion, the assumption that everyone is after your head."

"Have I been wrong yet?"

"I am not, and neither is Dr. Arnau." Azanthius gave a sad smile. "Mr. Hrothen—Wulf, if I may—Dr. Arnau believes in you. She thinks you are an incredible student. As for me? I remember what you told me in Istalis, when we didn't believe you about the upcoming demon attack. Something about us not being ready for what's coming."

Wulf didn't say anything. He glanced at Irmond, and Irmond kept his lips sealed, too.

Dr. Azanthius sighed. "You have a great many enemies over here. Don't imagine them where they aren't. I'm pragmatic and practical, but I wish you the very best. And if you need to talk to someone, Wulf, I will listen."

"Thank you for your concern, professor," Wulf said. "We have…a lot on our plate, and we really don't want to lose Wraith. We're pushing ourselves, and we're not going to stop."