Fate Alchemist - A Regression Academy LitRPG

Wulf's stomach dropped. He spun toward the alchemist. "I'm a Pilot. Always have been. You have no—"

"He's the one the Black Pilgrim described!" the Alchemist shouted. "The Carolaign boy with the wildname, the boy with a split core. I…sense the potions he carries!"

Wulf raised his hands. "I'm a Pilot. You're thinking of someone else. Who the hell is this Black Pilgrim, anyway?"

"A human message bearer, spreading the word of another Great Alchemist!" the regular Alchemist shouted. "A Mage of the shadows, who has seen the Great Alchemist's power first-hand! The Great Alchemist will have the power to reshape the world itself. He will touch the cords and pluck them to his liking—a God! Panne re-come, to set the world back on its right path!"

The alchemist dropped to his knees and pressed his forehead against the floor.

Shouting with confusion and rage, Varl grabbed the alchemist by the back of the neck and threw him face-first into the ground. His neck snapped, and the rest of him fell limp.

Wulf turned in a circle. By now, all of Varl's Lions were facing him, and they were encroaching fast. Kalee held her staff up in a fighting position, Irmond pulled his bow off his shoulder, and Seith activated her wrist blades.

"I've got nothing to hide," Wulf bluffed. He looked right at Varl. "Check me if you want." He held his arms out.

Varl marched forward and unbuttoned Wulf's coat, then pulled it open. He tugged one side away, revealing the inner pockets with potion vials in them.

"You lied," Varl snapped.

"I do that often."

Varl narrowed his eyes. "What are you…?" He tilted his head back, as if he was sniffing the air, and let out a shuddering, inhuman growl. His eyes flared bright orange, roaring with flame.

Just like a fiend.

"You are the disturbance. I sense your tangled Ghirrar!" Varl flexed his fingers, as if the tips of his fingers were clawed. "The one who Gom Huteyn warned of! I will snuff out your life before you can pluck the Ghirrar against us!"

"Uh…" Wulf wasn't sure what to take of that, but he was pretty sure something had gone wrong with Varl, and was pretty sure there was something demonic about the guy. Even the other Lions were staring at him skeptically. Wulf looked Varl in the eyes, then asked, "What's your favourite colour?"

"What? Absurd inso—"

It was just enough to throw the dark elf off balance. Wulf pushed Varl, striking him in the chest with both hands, and buying himself time. Then he drew a speed potion out of his haversack and splashed it up in the air. He caught the droplets with [Arm of the Alchemist] and splashed them outward, dousing all the other Lions and his own friends.

[Bastion] triggered, and with nearly twenty people all under the effect of his potion, his strength was dramatically increased. He lunged forward and punched Varl under the chin, flinging him back across the warehouse. He smashed through a pile of crates.

The rest of the lions converged, brandishing weapons of their own. Another charged in, and Wulf drew his scissors, swatting the boy away.

"We can't take them all!" Irmond called.

"If Varl gets up, we can't take him on yet, not without a plan and some tailor-made potions," Wulf replied. "He's a Silver! Maybe higher, depending on whatever rank that demon comes out as."

"Then we need to run!" Seith yelled, ducking under a staff swipe.

"Huddle up!" Kalee shouted. She was already whipping her staff around and whispering a spell incantation under her breath. Finally, she triggered the Skill, and five orange rune-circles appeared around the edge of the warehouse. They activated with a thrum, dragging down on the weakest sections of the roof.

It collapsed, falling toward the Lions. Some raised defensive Skills, and others scattered.

But the roof was also falling on them. Kalee triggered one more skill, using her angular gravity manipulation, and a disc of amber runes flared to life above their heads. Irmond grabbed Athllas by the arm and dragged him under the runic circle.

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Above their heads, gravity reversed, holding chunks of the roof in suspension. A massive beam plummeted, threatening to tear through the circle, but Wulf drew back the remains of the speed potion and knocked aside the debris.

When Kalee released the runic circle, there was nothing above their head but the night sky. Clouds of dust wafted up, and the entire warehouse crumbled.

"We need to get back to the academy," Wulf said. "If Varl tries to kill us, at least we'll have backup."

"Go!" Athllas yelled. "My guards will clean up the rest of the Lions, and I'll have them taken to court. Varl wants us!"

The five of them ran out of the wreckage, back to the wagons. The horses stamped and whinnied nervously. With his scissors, Wulf cut all the horses free, then saved five. "Ride back to the Academy!" he yelled. "If you get split up, just meet us back there, and go as fast as you can!"

He jumped up onto the back of his horse, then tucked his scissors back into the sheath on his back. Snapping the reins, he urged the horse to sprint off down the roads.

He didn't know the optimal way back, but as long as they kept moving, they could lose Varl.

At least, that was what Wulf thought.

Halfway through downtown, when the towers rose up high on all sides, a rift tore open in the air. It had golden, glowing edges, and led to a golden-white plain of nothingness beyond. It was the same shade of light that some of Mantri's entrances had cast.

Varl stepped out, his flesh burning and blistered. It was like the plane was tearing him to shreds and igniting him at the same time, but he didn't seem to care.

A Silver…doing that? He wasn't sure what rank abilities like that came at, and he'd only heard in passing of the ability for high-ranked Ascendants to travel long distances using the Field.

Aside from the terrible burns, Varl's leg was bent back at an awkward angle, and his right arm hung limp. Whether that was from a warehouse collapse or just general abuse, Wulf didn't know.

Or, what was most likely, was that the demon just didn't care about the boy whose body he'd stolen.

Varl, the real Varl, was almost certainly dead by now. This was just a demon spirit.

A tendril of smoke raced out toward them. Varl's arm snapped out, and particles of ash poured out the palm of his hand, turning into a whip.

"Turn!" Wulf shouted, pulling his horse to the side. They dipped through an alleyway. He and the others split up, evading Varl yet again.

The whip of ash slammed into the empty roadway, tearing up bricks and sending stone shards flying. It hit with enough speed and force to shatter the ground-floor windows and smash the first storeys of the storefronts.

Wulf didn't turn back. He kept riding, keeping the distant academy centered in his vision. He sprinted his horse through the old city's gate, jumping between the crossed spears of two guards, then guided the animal around to the Oronith hangar.

There was no other sign of Varl, at least not yet. When Wulf's horse skidded to a stop in the center of the hangar, he was the third to make it back. After about thirty more nail-biting seconds, Kalee and Athllas rode into the hangar.

They'd all made it back, thank the Field.

Wulf dismounted. Varl was probably still chasing them, or—

Another portal opened in front of them. This time, it was less firm, and it sputtered, but Varl dragged himself out.

A regular dark elf wouldn't still be alive. Most of the skin of his face had burned away, leaving only a skull, melting cartilage, and empty eye-sockets with orange flame burning behind them. Wulf wanted to look away. Varl's body couldn't take another teleportation like that.

But he was here, right in front of them, standing in their way.

"You will all die!" Varl shouted. It wasn't his voice anymore; his neck and tongue and vocal cords were long-gone. It was an icy, rough voice. It wasn't a human, more like…if rocks tried to imitate the sounds of a human.

"Well, that's a given," Wulf said, drawing his scissors. He was pretty sure Varl was stronger than a Low-Silver, but they had no choice but to try.

"Gom Huteyn's plan will work, no matter the cost. This city will burn from the inside-out…and I will guide them from their slumber."

"Are demons known for…threatening you before killing you?" Seith asked.

"More like telling you their plan," Irmond muttered.

"He didn't tell us much of his plan, did he?" she countered.

"Demons enjoy the suffering of others," Kalee said. "Their purpose is to grow and spread, and the ones who spread the best were the ones who loved cruelty. They like the slow agony of approaching doom, of knowing you feel powerless." She scowled. "I may not have liked Varl, but he didn't deserve any of this."

"Deserve. What a funny word you people have," 'Varl' said. "As if the world owes you anything. It's what the Field makes you think, I suppose." He glanced around. This late at night, the hangar was mostly empty, but someone would've had to have seen the disturbances. Professors would be on their way. "I, Gom Pyek, didn't deserve anything! I should have earned it, and I will with my loyal, helpful service. The same phenomenon that defeated us four thousand years ago…has risen again."

Wulf would've pointed at himself if his hands hadn't been full. He'd heard a lot of weird revelations tonight, and he wasn't sure if he believed the one about him being some kind of rising god.

But there was no time to question it.

"I'll follow my orders to the end!" Varl—or Gom Pyek—shouted. "This city will burn, mark my words. No surrender, no giving up."

He spun, turning and sprinting down the hangar hall. He trailed chunks of ash and burning fabric, before disappearing between the doors at the end of the hall. Wulf and the others chased after him, but once they reached the dungeon entrance, they stopped. Pyek was gone.

"That sure looked like surrender," Seith said.

"That was a Demon Spirit," Kalee said. "They will retreat if their orders allow it, because they see their ultimate victory as a more important inevitability. They're more flexible than colossal fiends, and infinitely more evil. If he's retreating, it's because he has a plan for a greater victory that he can't abandon."