Fate Alchemist - A Regression Academy LitRPG

The Wraith fell the entire distance to the ground, not landing on the ledge halfway. Wulf landed in a crouch, cushioning the impact. There was still a cloud of dust that rose around them, and a deep, stoney boom, but he didn't feel the Wraith's knees cracking, nor any pressure on the knees of his own golem.

"Alright, everyone," Wulf said, speaking through the communications construct. "Checking in. Everyone here and ready?"

"I'm good!" Irmond said. "There isn't much room to fly down here, but we're on your shoulder."

"I'm ready," Kalee said. She'd moved all her consumable constructs to the outside of her pilot suit, giving herself easy access to them.

"I'm in position," Seith replied. "Looking for any signs of damage, but as best I can tell, you're looking in top condition."

"Can you work on the hand a little?" Wulf asked. "It's a little large at the moment, and I get the feeling that the closer it is to…matching, the easier it will be to attach."

He also got the feeling that he was going to need alchemy to do it. He wasn't sure why, and he could probably do it without alchemy, but that wasn't exactly pushing toward his purpose, fulfilling the needs of his Class. It wasn't just the world telling him to use alchemy on the hand, but his mind telling him he needed to.

"I can do that," Seith said, excitement on her voice. "I've been looking for some practice on an actual Oronith, not just the models we have in the Artificers' Labs."

Wulf stepped away from the dungeon entrance, then assessed the status. He hadn't checked when they departed, but the main, important message read:

[Silent Wraith (Low-Silver Tier Oronith) has activated. Systems diagnostic complete. Overall body integrity: 95%]

It hadn't gotten any stronger yet, which he had expected. Until he improved himself a little more, or improved the actual Oronith itself, it was going to stay a Low-Iron.

A different sheet flared to life at the very center of the cockpit, however, and it was much more interesting:

[Linking to CENTRALIS ACADEMY CODEX.]

[Dungeon route analysis complete.]

[Generating map…]

[Pre-planned route loaded. Displaying on map.]

[Please follow your route and clear all rooms along the way. Good luck, student. If you cannot complete a room, turn back, and the map will display a retreat route. You will be docked three percent of your final grade for each room along your route that you fail to clear.]

A little harsh, but Wulf didn't intend to fail. He clenched the one fist he had control over, then drew one of the Viridian swords. Testing Wraith's new speed and maneuverability, he spun the sword. It was a little heavy, but the heft gave it more power. Its tip split the air and let off a crack-boom like thunder with how fast it was moving.

A moment later, a different Oronith jumped down into the opening behind him, and a new voice rattle out through the communications construct. "Had to catch up with you," came Athllas' voice. "Are you ready?"

He was piloting an Oronith made of beige sandstone. It had no external armour, though it had been designed as if it were wearing a long skirt of lamellar chainmail. It had a tall helmet with a plume, and carried a giantwood spear. The tip was some sort of golden metal, and a red streamer trailed behind it.

"We're good," Wulf said. "Follow the route. We'll lead. With two of us, the rooms on this level shouldn't be much of a challenge. Enjoy the mana, and keep your eyes open."

He set off down the hallway that the map indicated. The dungeon hadn't changed much since they had last visited, but the rooms would've refilled since last time—if they were even taking the same route, which they weren't.

Glowing yellow berries hung from the ceiling and lit the hallway for as far as he could see.

The rooms, however, were entirely empty. It wasn't much of a challenge at all. When they reached the first room, Wulf searched it all over for monsters, looking for any sign. Maybe it was a trap room, or maybe the monster was a mimic, but there was nothing. Even Irmond, when he flew around the room on Speckles' back, couldn't find anything.

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"That's not a good sign," Athllas said.

"Not at all," Wulf said. "Perhaps it's a malfunction. The dungeon just didn't refill fast enough. Keep moving."

As they continued down the hall, Wulf asked, "How often have you piloted Oroniths, Athllas?"

"A…a couple times," the boy replied. "Twice before this, actually. I used this one—it's called Rex Despotes, for the crown prince, as a trainer. When I'm strong enough, I'll get the Basileus."

"How strong are you?" Wulf wished he'd checked Athllas rank badge earlier, but there had been a lot on his mind.

"I'm a Low-Bronze, now. With the Despotes, we're rated Middle-Iron."

"Stick behind me," Wulf said. "I don't know what we're going to find in the next room."

Complete emptiness. Like the previous room, there was nothing but an empty room. No monsters. Either it had been cleared out, or the monsters had been killed. He didn't like either option.

"Keep moving," he said. A pit was building in his stomach. "Keep following the route."

The next room they found, at least, had a corpse in it. The corpse of a giant, mutated, overgrown orc. It was about the height of an Oronith, but its shoulders were broader, and it had a swell of pustules along its back that made it look like a camel. A few of them had popped, and were leaking reeking, horrible liquid across the floor of the room.

Wulf poked it with the tip of his sword. It didn't budge. It didn't even register with the Field when he tried to assess it—it was good and dead.

"It's not just me who thinks this is a bad sign, right?" Irmond asked.

"Not just you," Wulf said. "Something killed it." He kicked it over with Wraith's foot, rolling it onto its back. "Something with a fistful of burning claws."

"Should we turn back?" Seith asked.

Wulf glanced at Kalee with just his eyes, trying not to turn his head, so it didn't shift Wraith's entire head. She only grimaced.

"We can't go back," Wulf said. "Athllas, if you want to go back, go. But we need to go deeper."

"Why?" Athllas asked.

"Our arrangement with Lord Umoch, remember?"

"Yeah. But I'm coming with you, then. I'm not going back."

"Very well, then…" Wulf said. "But if we're in severe danger, I'm sending you back, no questions asked."

"You can try."

He rolled his eyes. Hopefully, they wouldn't need to send Athllas back at all, but none of this boded well.

They passed three more empty rooms on their route. As best Wulf could tell, their route was bringing them closer to the shaft down to the next level of the dungeon.

As he approached the next room, an orange glow seeped out of it, leaking out along the floor and making everything flicker.

Wulf stopped, held out his hand, then pointed his short sword forward. He watched for a few seconds, and when he didn't see anything, he started moving again. The moment he entered the room, an immense, mind-boggling pressure pressed down on him. It was like the feeling he got when staring at Dr. Azanthius' bracer, except all over his body.

"Wulf!" Irmond shouted. "To your left! Watch out!"

Wulf flicked his head to the side, and Wraith obeyed. It glanced the direction he wanted it to.

Something crashed into his flank. A swell of darkness rose in his periphery, and smoke and whirling fire smashed into him. The plates of Wraith's armour constricted, and his head rattled inside the golem's helmet, bouncing off the side. Specks whirled in his vision.

He didn't let himself fall over. Planting his feet, he dug in the tips of his boots, then let the Wraith slide, cleaving away a path and skidding along the stone.

A colossal fiend stood in front of him, wielding nothing but long, glowing orange claws. It howled, then charged forward.

Wulf deflected a set of its claws, then ducked under another and punched it in the gut, sending it staggering off to the side. He spun around and stood upright, then held out his arm and assessed its strength:

[Colossal Fiend – Middle-Gold]

Wulf spun in a circle, trying to take in his surroundings. There were four hallways that led out of the room, but only one that the codex deemed acceptable.

But the codex could be damned. Wulf didn't really care what route it wanted him to take—especially not when two of the hallways (including the one they'd just come from) had glowing orange light flickering in it, too.

"Three fiends!" he called. "We can't fight them all." He ducked away from the first fiend, dodging another swipe of its claws. "Athllas, come with us! Run!"

Wulf turned to the left, taking the hallway that led them closer to the downward shaft—but also included a hallway that would lead back to the dungeon entrance and the Academy.

They sprinted down the hall, stone feet hammering the bricks and thundering. The sheet warned him that he was deviating from his route, and he ignored it.

Finally, they reached the wide chamber with the shaft down to the next level. Wulf skittered to a halt, stepped to the side to allow Athllas much less maneuverable beast through, then slashed the first, closest fiend in the gut. He hadn't filled up the blades with any homemade poisons, but they were sharp enough. His first blow cracked the fiend's carapace.

It stumbled forward, and he tripped it, then threw it down to the ground and slid his blade into the back of its neck. Kalee used a spell skill to pull it down quicker, piercing its outer shell. It still writhed, trying to throw him off, but Athllas knelt on its arm and back, holding it in place.

Wulf drove the blade in again and again until the gold-rated beast stopped moving, then rose up.

He staggered to the edge of the shaft and looked down. There was a constant orange, fiery flickering. There were more fiends down there, and they were getting closer. They were trying to come up.

And when they did, they would destroy the entire delving group. They might even rise farther and destroy the Academy and the city.

"Wulf…" Athllas warned. "What's the plan?"