Fate Alchemist - A Regression Academy LitRPG

"Coming…with you?" Wulf asked. "Why us?"

He couldn't look too eager to meet the supplier, but he had to admit, this was going to be a productive night.

They weren't going to get much sleep, but that, he could lie without.

"Backup," Varl said, as if that explained everything. Wulf got the feeling there was something slightly more going on. Perhaps this was a chance to test what Varl truly was.

"We'll come. How much time do we have?" Wulf asked.

"Now."

He patted himself down. He still had his haversack and his storage pendants, plus his scissors. If he needed some time to make potions on the go, he could always use his time-altering pendant and buy himself a lot more time.

He glanced at Seith. She had all her tools, and though she was probably tired, she wasn't missing anything. Then at Irmond. He still had his bow slung over his shoulder and a quiver full of arrows at his hip.

"I think we should leave Speckles back home," Wulf whispered.

"Agreed," Irmond replied.

Finally, there was Kalee. She had her staff, and Wulf was almost certain she was decked out with constructs. He hadn't seen her sacrifice one in a while.

"Alright, we're coming," Wulf said, then walked quickly down the hangar floor. At the mouth of the hangar, they found a clump of carriages waiting for them. Cargo wagons streamed past, carrying materials for the Oroniths, and a few other carriages carried important engineers in and out of the city. No one was paying attention to the couple extra vehicles waiting for the Lions.

Wulf and the others boarded the last wagon in the row. There was room for six passengers inside, but only Athllas joined them.

"You're still riding with these guys?" Wulf asked softly once the prince—now king—sat down. "That doesn't seem…very fitting for your station."

Athllas nodded. "Until the end of the semester. Still trying to work out that deal, and I'm still going to finish my four years at the Academy." Athllas tightened his prosthetic fist. "I must do better. The nation needs someone better than me. If you guys can strive the way you do, work as hard as you do, no matter your humble backgrounds, then so can I. I have to, for the people of Centralis."

Wulf nodded. He wasn't sure if they'd changed Athllas' fate yet, but he seemed more willing, more motivated, which was always a good thing.

"If nothing else, I'll do it for my friends," Athllas continued. "My father may not be around to judge me, but I'll prove myself regardless."

The Lions' carriages set off, rumbling along the roadway. As soon as they left the hangar, they dipped off into the city, heading toward the harbour. There were four carriages in total, and they caused quite the ruckus so late in the evening. Wheels thundered on the cobblestone streets, and the sound echoed off the narrow buildings of the side streets.

As they drove, Kalee asked, "Athllas, what about the…alliance with the dark elves?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"Now that you're king, can't you just…work on the alliance yourself?"

Athllas shrugged. "That's what my father was trying, but it wasn't working. The foreign minister was being troublesome—he's part of an ancient, entrenched family, and though they're not liked very much, they have a lot of sway. Getting close to his son was the best way to potentially twist things in our favour, and it still is."

"So…who's actually in charge while you're at the academy?" Irmond asked.

"A couple stewards will manage matters, unless there's something really important, which I'll be expected to come deal with." He folded his fingers. "I have a great many guards and servants watching me, now, secretly. Some probably think I don't know they're there. They won't let me get injured, though I've specifically instructed them to allow you four to get close to me. Except, of course, in dungeon runs—Dr. McGemild chewed them out, then promised that she knew exactly how to look after me, but also that having a personal guard squadron in the dungeons wasn't going to be the best thing for my growth."

Wulf winced. After a few seconds of silence, he figured he should probably come clean about the first guard they'd convinced to leave, because he was giving them problems.

Athllas laughed.

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"Not the reaction I was expecting," Seith commented.

"Yeah, me neither," Irmond said. "You're not, like, mad?"

"I'm starting to understand," Athllas said, "that you will need to do what it takes to secure victory. He was a good friend, but if what you said was right, then he's not mad at me, and he doesn't think I'm mad at him. Quite possibly the best outcome, interpersonally and otherwise. But I will be requesting him back after this is all done." Athllas folded his fingers. "Besides. He was a good man, but he'd never have let you four accomplish what you did."

"Well, at least we're not up next for execution," Wulf said. "But I figured I should be honest."

"Technically, we never lied about having done that," Kalee reminded him. "We just never felt the need to explain until now."

Wulf began, "That's—"

Before he could finish, the carriages rolled to a halt outside a harbour warehouse. It was a few city blocks away from the wharf, surrounded by dilapidated and crumbling wooden crates and debris. Its walls were made of cheap clay bricks, water stained, and all its windows had been shattered when the tidal wave hit the city last year. One of the walls had caved in, and the black-shingled roof was collapsing in the center.

Clearly, the warehouse hadn't been important enough to warrant repairs. But it made the perfect place to meet a sketchy reema-making Alchemist.

They hopped off the carriages. Wulf didn't think they looked very intimidating, as a bunch of Academy-age boys in their uniforms still, but then again, the way Varl walked and carried himself, he looked like he was about to punch a hole straight through a brick wall.

There were about twenty Lions present in total. Five of them, all Irons, grouped up behind Wulf, as if they were worried he was going to try something. There was a chance he wasn't here just as backup, and though he didn't really know what Varl wanted for him, he was more than willing to find out.

"Be ready to run," he whispered to the others. "We're still the weakest of the bunch."

Varl heaved open the warehouse's front sliding doors with a push, then marched inside. At first, it looked just like how Wulf expected an abandoned warehouse to. Crates scattered along the walls, beams all across the floor, dust and other identifiable debris everywhere. But a soft green glow emanated from the back, coming from behind a stack of boxes.

A man in a long white coat jumped out from behind the stack. It was dirty and stained with many colours of liquid, and he wore a dented metal breastplate overtop, which had a patch of acid-melted metal in the center. Atop his curly black hair, he wore a set of goggles.

"Evenin', Varl!" the man called. "What can I do for ya', hm? Is there…a reason you're here so late? I'm not in trouble, am I, considering how…long it's been since you've visited in-person. I've been working on that higher strength reema you requested last year…" He didn't wear a rank badge, but Wulf assessed his ranking as subtly as he could.

[Ascendant – Middle-Copper]

It had to be the other Alchemist. Weak, but then again, most Alchemists were. They got themselves mana by completing alchemy related tasks, sure, but without passive Skills to enhance the grade of the potion, it'd take more and more mana to complete each potion. Then, you ended up creating a very low-quality potion, which didn't give you as much mana.

Aside from Wulf's Skills and Class, he'd had lots of experience putting together painkilling potions in his last life, and that had to count for something, even if it was only mixing powder and boiling water, and even if it already had mana imbued in it.

As Varl and the alchemist exchanged pleasantries, Wulf wandered the edge of the warehouse, wary of the other Lions watching him. He stopped at a shelf. There were a few potions on it, but they barely glowed, and the Field only considered them Low-Coal. Most were healing potions. Some caused hallucinations, or just enhanced any other narcotics someone took.

He shuddered and shook his head. But these potions were weak.

And they'd been forced. The ingredients hadn't been ideal, and someone had come in and altered them, ignoring what they actually wanted to be.

This alchemist could've had so much better results if he'd tried to follow the ingredients' purpose. Wulf didn't know if it was the Field showing, or if he'd just been more observant, but when he stirred his potions, there was almost always a tug. He listened to the ingredients, and even if luck played a part, they always came out stronger when he let fate take over.

"So…why are ya' here?" asked the alchemist again, after exchanging pleasantries with Varl. "Am I in trouble, because whatever it is, I swear I didn't do it."

Though he was at least in his thirties, he was a Copper compared to Varl's Low-Silver, and they couldn't compare in combat skill or ability.

"Or, are ya' here for the stronger reema? I can show ya', but—"

"We have no need of your stronger reema anymore," Varl snapped. "None of this will matter in the coming weeks."

All the Lions glanced at each other. Athllas crossed his arms and tapped his prosthetic fingers on his sleeve.

"I believe you have the potential to foil my…ascent, and I cannot have that. It was you who gave up Reginald, wasn't it?"

"I—I have no idea who you're talking about!"

"Someone did," Varl said. "No one else knows his routines, knows where the powder was getting dropped, and exactly what strength the guards would need to be to apprehend him."

Not unless they were looking, watching, observing, and biding their time. Planning, having options, without knowing that you had to secure the defeat. That kind of subterfuge didn't seem like something that would go over a human's head, nor a dark elf's.

"What if…" Kalee whispered. "Wulf, what if Varl is a demon?"

"It's possible," he whispered back. "How would we…prove it? How would we get him to reveal himself?"

"I don't think we're going to have to worry about that," Irmond said. "Alchemist guy has been watching you oddly this whole time, and now—"

The Alchemist raised his finger and pointed at Wulf. "You have liars in your mix, Varl. He's an Alchemist, too."