Fate Alchemist - A Regression Academy LitRPG

Winter break passed in a blur. Wulf spent lots of time tending to his garden. He fertilized his plants with the bone-mimic shavings, ensuring that his plants stayed fresh. So they didn't wither and die without his attention, he left the storm core and the main void pendant detached from one another.

Then the next semester began. From a proclamation from Dr. Azanthius, their first dungeon delving expedition was delayed until the end of the semester—first official delve, that was. Wulf was tempted to go again, but they had more important matters to deal with.

And they could get their mana and Marks in other ways.

For the first few weeks of the semester, though, they were busy settling into their classes. Dungeon Delving continued, of course, and he had to take the second half of "Pilot Literature—this time from 2500 ADW to the present day. It was a slog, and he wasn't used to writing papers. Both his old soul (which hadn't written a paper in at least forty years) and his young wrists, which weren't used to it.

And that was assuming he didn't lose too many points for his messy handwriting. "Unbecoming of a representative of the Academy" was the comment on his first paper, where he lost the most grades on neatness.

But then again, his other classes were going to balance the grade out anyway. He just had to pass.

He was especially interested in the next part of his Codex Creation option: Codex Setup and Management. When he was interested in a class, he got good grades, that much was easy to wrap his head around.

Their first assignment in the class was on the use of cats. Why did the Field even use cats as Messengers, which Wulf was incredibly curious about. They had to use the Academy's library and research it on their own, not necessarily for the accuracy of their results, but probably to teach them a lesson about how difficult information was to find and how much codexes helped with that.

Wulf couldn't help but agree, especially when he had access to the King's library as well. So much information, and there were texts on alchemy there, too, but he just didn't have time to find, access, and memorize all the information. But if he had a codex that could answer his questions whenever…

But for the task at hand: why did the Field use cats?

Wulf hadn't been able to find a terribly satisfying answer, but that was why he was here. This was information that he needed the Academy for.

The best explanation he could come up with was that, upon the Field's creation, the ancient arch-wizard who'd made it had…well, been fond of cats, and picked up a great many strays. Since the effort it took to finish the Field killed said unnamed arch-wizard, he wanted some place for his cats to live and be taken care of afterward.

The more pragmatic answer was that they were very attuned to the 'ring of the cords,' and they could live long lives in an alternate plane. Wulf…never found a good explanation for what either of those things actually meant, but he wrote it down anyway.

"You are close, Mr. Hrothen," said Dr. Tallari. "It is also important to note that the Messengers are not normal cats, but more akin to thrustwings. They gain intelligence over time, and are created by the Field now for the express purpose of bearing its messages. The Field knows that a message delivered in-person, or by a living creature, provides a greater impact on the one who receives it. Ultimately, the Field strives for advancement, and it wants those under its influence to succeed."

(Dr. Tallari, of course, the resident Codex expert, took on the lectures for most of the classes in the topic.)

Then came Oronith Formations 4-6, the second half of the class. It was dull, but ultimately, necessary. He survived the class, and from the looks of it, he'd do moderately well on the exams.

His fifth class was of more interest to him: Geology For Pilots. They studied rocks, how the formed, their special properties, and how the different stones and minerals affected the Oroniths.

For his purposes, understanding more about the stone, how it worked, and how it functioned was of utmost importance to his alchemical processes. Transmutations were nice, but if he didn't understand what he was actually trying to make and what its purpose was, he was just flailing in the dark.

If he could make stones with a specific purpose in mind, and without relying on luck…

Lastly, there was combat training, which continued with Dr. Hanja. For this semester, there was an exceptional focus on weapons. They were supposed to start picking weapons that they planned on using in their Oroniths.

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For Wulf, he trained with two wooden short swords. It would take some getting used to, as they weren't the exact same size as his scissors, but they had a similar heft, which was odd. He'd have thought that xerion, which felt like stone, would have been just as heavy as stone, but evidently not.

Then came their next fights of the tournament. It began almost immediately, dropping them in the high bracket. Dr. Azanthius announced that there would be a slight delay on the fights for the second semester, due to 'unforeseen mana expenditures'—meaning they couldn't afford to operate the lights and speakers as much. At least, that was what Wulf intuited.

Whether that was due to trouble with the dungeons, or because they were spending more and sending more Oroniths out into the countryside to deal with demon attacks, Wulf couldn't say.

At least nothing more had landed on the city. Nothing more yet.

The bigger problem was what was coming from below. It didn't sound like nearly as many higher-level expeditions were entering the dungeons, which could've also been putting a strain on the Academy's supply of mana.

Needless to say, only having one arena fight the entire second semester, and at that, a fight in the bottom of the High-Bracket, wasn't exactly Wulf's idea of a good time. It put a damper on Irmond and Kalee's projected mana intake from winning the fights.

They did, of course, win their first fights of the bracket. Wulf's fight gave him a little trouble—he was pitted against a Ranger who used arrows on a rope to strike and pull them away, and then, eventually, to bind his opponent and drag him around.

Wulf didn't really like being dragged around, but in time, he beat the Bronze-Tier boy by attrition. He simply landed more hits before the fight timer was up.

A month into the semester, on the first day of Secondmonth, Kalee found Wulf in the middle of her prince-watching shift. She was out of breath, and nearly a half-hour before they were planning on switching out.

"What's wrong?" Wulf asked hurriedly.

"It happened," Kalee whispered, catching her breath. She must have sprinted the entire way across the campus. "Bad news."

"Is he hurt? What—"

"King Athem is dead."

Even though it was nearly midnight, the distant chime of bells began piercing through the walls of the Academy. Wulf and Kalee sprinted back through the hallways, racing to Prince Athllas' dormitory.

Wulf hesitated for a few seconds, then inhaled sharply and tapped the boy's door. There was no response. The door swayed slightly.

Wulf narrowed his eyes, then pushed it open a crack. He asked, "Prince Athllas? You remember us, right? Are you alright?"

"You…came?" a shaky voice whispered from within the room. "You were the first ones…I haven't even seen one of my father's servants yet…"

Wulf was about to ask how he knew, but out the prince's dorm window, there was a view over the city—and a direct line of sight to the royal palace. A column of pitch black smoke rose from the palace's chimneys, blocking out the stars and carving one of the moons in half. And the bells, they couldn't have helped.

"I'm sorry, Athllas," Wulf said.

The prince was sitting on the edge of his bed. His eyes were glassy.

"Do you…need help?" Wulf asked. "Or do you want us to leave you alone?"

"No, please," Athllas said. "Come in."

Wulf nodded, then stepped inside. Kalee followed. They closed the door behind them, shutting it as softly as they could.

"Athllas…" Wulf breathed. "I know I admitted I had, uh, well, not had completely organic intentions when it came to trying to get on your inner-circle, but—"

"But you came running, now," Athllas said. "I get it. You need my station because you want to destroy demons, and I…I see your point of view." He leaned back, then flopped down on the bed and looked up at the ceiling. "I respect that you were candid and honest about it, at least, but more than that, I respect the effort."

"Athllas, you helped us," Kalee said. "You stuck your neck for us and lied—which I know you hate—to help us in the eyes of Varl and your father."

"I have responsibilities, now. I'm going to be the King of Centralis Byrante. I'm not sure if I can stick to being the perfect, honest golden boy."

Wulf shrugged. "Your actions are important. If you have to lie to a Guild to get your way, to help the people below you, then so be it." He wasn't sure exactly what he was advocating for, but he knew they needed someone like Athllas on their side if they were going to move mountains and coordinate a defense against the demons. "We're here to win. If that takes a little massaging of the truth, then I'm for it."

"But then how can I trust you?" Athllas asked.

Wulf sighed. "That's the problem, isn't it?" He sighed, then held out his arm. With a push of effort, he triggered an open Field pact. "I swear on the Field that I'm telling the truth if you tell the truth as well."

"Accepted," Athllas said. "What is your intention?"

"I want to destroy the demons," Wulf said with ease. "I want to save the world, so that one day, I can experience all it has to offer." He didn't hesitate, or strain against the Field.

Athllas nodded. "I will help you with that goal, as the king, even if it means…bending the truth a little. I'm a politician now, after all."

He'd been bound under a Field Pact as well. Athllas at least thought he was telling the truth, and that was the best Wulf could ask for.

"Excellent," Wulf said. "Now…I hate to say this, but we're here. I know you probably need some time to process everything."

"Yeah," Athllas whispered. "Thanks for coming."

"You're very welcome."