Fate Alchemist - A Regression Academy LitRPG

Wulf spent the rest of the week experimenting with the Wraith's dream link, trying to sense the internal spirit's mana systems and transmit, control, and expand them. Nothing worked.

He did, of course, sense the mana system. There were channels, routes around the Oronith that his mana travelled along. Those were easy to find. It had to get transmitted to the extremities somehow. First, it shot down to the main storage well, which was still full from last time, and then, like pushing water through a pipe, he could pump the mana around the Oronith.

But when it reached the hand, that was the problem. It stalled. The academy had sealed off the channels at the hand, both preventing mana leaks, but also making it very difficult to reattach a hand.

If they were going to rebuild Wraith's hand from the ground-up, it'd still be very difficult with an Oronith in a coma.

By the time the next Firstday loomed—the date of their supposed delve—Wulf was starting to realize that he wouldn't get the hand attached in time. At least, not properly. But he'd told Dr. Blyke about what he intended to do with it for a long time, and Dr. Blyke seemed to at least be interested in the proposal.

So, on the Seventhday before the delve, Wulf, Seith, Kalee, and Dr. Blyke attached the hand—with or without Wulf's control over it. They rigged up a set of cranes, hoisted the black obsidian gauntlet, and fitted it onto Wraith's damaged wrist. After a few hours of work, of shaping and chiselling and bonding stone pins, they had the shiny Viridian hand attached.

It was still a little oversized for Wraith, but they could worry about shaping it later. At least it was attached.

He had no idea what it was going to do, admittedly, but he hoped with all the concentration and effort they put into it, it was going to act as a bit of a construct—meaning that it would register with the Field and grant an additional effect. Seith, having helped make it, should gain lots of mana from it, and so would Wulf.

They hung the obsidian blades from the Wraith's hip. At the moment, they could only hold one at a time, which was going to wreak havoc on his training. He'd gotten much better at dual-wielding through the semester.

He went through one last check of the armour, then made sure the cloak was firmly attached, and checked with Dr. Blyke about the repairs.

Wraith's integrity sat at a stable ninety-five percent. Everything was in good order, except the hand, which was causing the Field to register a drop in durability. This was probably going to be the first time Wulf had actually piloted Wraith in its mostly proper condition.

And of course, the first time he'd be departing here with a proper send-off.

There was nothing else he could do but wait.

~ ~ ~

Surprisingly, he did sleep that night, and restfully enough. In the morning, after breakfast, he immediately reported to the hangar with the rest of the crews in the dungeon-delving class.

He, Kalee, Irmond, and Seith all stood together in a group, awaiting instructions. They stood with a group of nearly a hundred other students, waiting for their professor. They knew exactly where Dr. McGemmild was—she was across the hangar, arguing with Dr. Azanthius. Wulf didn't know exactly what they were saying, but he was pretty sure McGemmild was insisting that a delve was unsafe at this time, and Azanthius was insisting that, given the circumstances, they needed all the experienced crews they could get.

Wulf agreed with them both. It was unsafe.

But at the same time, they needed this expedition, and they needed the mana. Safety concerns could wait until after the demons weren't trying to destroy the world.

Not every student here would end up on a crew, either. Most had no potential Oronith, and were borrowing the unclaimed Oroniths the Academy could spare for this delve for their training. For many of them, it would be the first time they set foot in a cockpit.

That included Athllas. He was going to be joining them, by his own insistence, but he wasn't going to use the Rex Basileus. It was too powerful for him, and he couldn't form a stable dream-link.

Finally, Dr. McGemmild walked over. She crossed her arms, and had a very sour expression. "Good morning, students. We will begin our first delve of the semester. Many of you will be borrowing an Oronith for this two-week-long expedition, and I expect you to do your best to keep it in proper working order. No purposeful damage, no infighting. Your routes have been planned, and they will be transmitted to you through the central Academy management codex. Don't deviate from your route or take another crew's loot."

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There were a bunch of soft murmurs. Whether they wanted it or not, rumours had been circulating around the Academy—something about the dungeons getting unsafe for students.

But no one really knew what was going on. Wulf glanced at Athllas and a few of his other friends—three others who he'd probably selected to be part of his crew.

"You will defeat the rooms along your routes, and we will not—I repeat, will not—delve deeper than the first level. If you see anything unusual, return immediately. Assess all your targets' tier. You are expecting to face Iron and Low-Silver monsters. Anything stronger, and you don't stand a chance. Know your limits. Even in an Oronith, you cannot fight everything."

Wulf glanced around at his classmates. Most were freshly Low-Bronze. There were some other Middle-Bronzes, those from the more important families, and a few High-Bronzes, from the really important families (but he also regarded them with suspicion, and wondered how much mana-water they'd had to use to get themselves to that point).

In Istalis, it had been said that you needed to be Iron to pilot and Oronith. Wulf knew that was ridiculous, but there would be a decent strain on the dream-links.

These students also were only going to be piloting Iron tier Oroniths, though—not Silver, like the Wraith.

"Your group has been selected," Dr. McGemmild continued, "because of your advancement progress—only Bronze Pilots are allowed—and because of your scores on assignments and tests. All others will fail the course. Let's not prolong the inevitable. To your Oroniths. Your Mages and Pilots will find crew suits waiting for them in the cockpits."

Before they split, Wulf ran over to Athllas. "You're good? It sounds like they're putting us on the same route."

"Of course they are," Athllas said. He was unreadable, and Wulf couldn't tell if Athllas was disappointed or not.

"You asked for us?" Kalee questioned.

"No, but they put me with the crew they gave the best odds of success," Athllas said. "The rankings might not reflect it, but those are skewed anyway. The professors know you guys are at least experienced, and putting me with the team with the best odds. It'd be a shame if the king died on his first expedition into the dungeon, leaving no heirs."

"It'd have to go to someone else," Wulf muttered, remembering what the late king said about Athllas siblings. Not ideal, to say the least. "Well, something tells me you'll still get a good ride."

"What do you mean?"

"Trouble seems to find us," Wulf said. "and I think we have an enemy in the dungeon who's specifically looking for us."

He wasn't sure if he could take on Varl. He had his two banked Mark upgrades, which he could deploy for an emergency surprise. He had his time altering pendant, which he could use to make a potion, and the Serpent's Demijohn was available for that purpose specifically, which could counter the demon spirit.

He'd just have to hope it was enough.

They ran back through the hangar until they reached the Wraith, then sprinted up the scaffolding. Already, workers were peeling it away, moving it into the proper position, and freeing the Wraith. Ground crews waved torches and pulled equipment and wagons away. Wulf and Kalee ran up to the top, Seith found her position on the Wraith's flank, and Irmond went to pick up Speckles.

Inside the cockpit, they'd cleaned up the debris, and fixed the Pilot and Mage's holding apparatuses. The Pilot's had been sized better for Wulf, and the Mage's had a better opening to handle Kalee's tail.

Two jumpsuits had been draped over the back of the harness. They were white leather of some kind, and though they weren't magical, they were slightly tougher than the regular Academy uniforms. It was a proper Pilot's jumpsuit.

At least, from the early years of the war. Later on, Pilots began wearing at least chainmail beneath their golems, just in case, but Wulf didn't have any of that at the moment. It'd been sized for him, using the same measurements as his uniform, and he pulled it on over his shirt and pants, but wore his coat overtop. It wouldn't fit below, and he wanted his potions and storage pendant easily available. Though it was form-fitting, the jumpsuit allowed a wide range of motion without getting in his way. There was a reason lots of fighters shunned baggy clothes.

He then activated his golem, swung his arm and rolled his shoulder, then stepped up to the harness. The Pilot's suit had an opening for his dream socket, which he quickly slotted into the dream-link.

Time to test out the new socket, at least.

A surge of mana flowed back through the dream-socket, and immediately, pain seared his hand where the Wraith was missing one. He had practiced forming a dream-link with the Wraith over the past week, just to experiment with the channels, but he didn't move. It was getting easier, partially because he'd increased his tier, but also because he was getting used to it.

Today, the Wraith only glowed a faint magenta, with most of its glowing gaps in its outer shell being blue. The link was stronger, and more stable. That didn't mean much to him while standing still, but there would be no delay between his movements and Wraith's.

Finally, a worker lit a brazier in front of the cockpit, then pulled away the last of the scaffolding. They were good to depart.

He stepped forward, feet churning on the holding apparatus, and the Wraith stepped out of its hangar bay. Twenty-six other Oroniths were stepping out of their hangars at the same time, and the sound was deafening. Wulf thought the floor was going to shatter under their feet, but it never did.

While the others were taking shaky steps, though, he was already walking confidently toward the dungeon entrance. The gates were open and ready.

With each step, he felt a better connection to the paalchite deepstone. It was truly lighter than most stones, and though he was wielding a massive Oronith many times heavier than he could normally lift, his limbs weren't as burdened as they were before. He could move faster, with the golem and the dream-link resisting him less.

When he reached the edge of the dungeon entrance, he crouched, then jumped down.