Fate Alchemist - A Regression Academy LitRPG

They arrived in the Litterlands on the fourth day of sprinting. It was a barren wasteland, separated from the rest of the Centralis Continent by an enormous ridge, and by Wulf's estimates, the ridge was about the height of an Oronith and a half.

Ahead, a plain of boulders and shrubs spread as far as Wulf could see, rolling with the foothills before eventually flattening out toward the horizon. A few rivers trickled across it, and heaps of boulders formed unnatural looking cones across the land, like the plains had goosebumps.

In his courses last year, they'd explained how a glacier of mana-water rolled across the land many thousands of years ago, and the slow churning and spiralling of the frozen but still mobile mana-water had churned up heaps of boulders and shaped them into the cones there were now.

It didn't mean Wulf didn't prefer the myths that an ancient dragon king had 'littered' the boulders across the plain, and this entire realm was his treasure hoard. It was much more…interesting than just 'an arcane-energy imbued glacier did it.'

The ground was still a shade of light gray—covered in a thin layer of snow—but shrubs and bushes pushed up through the snow. In the early morning, they were covered in frost, and it glittered as sunlight filtered through the dusty sky.

Wulf didn't slow down as he reached the ridge. He just jumped. Wraith hit the ground, kicking up an explosion of snow and mud, but he kept running.

Most of the Litterlands were empty. Humans left them to the dragons, all except the nomadic tribes. The nomads, however, scraped by, often raided by dragons even despite their meagre possessions.

But in an Oronith, the dragons weren't a huge issue.

Throughout the fourth day, Wulf encountered two. If Wraith was the size of a human, the dragons would've been about the size of a magpie, and they had enough self-preservation instinct to stay away.

He never got a good glimpse at them, but they looked about the same as he'd seen in the paintings: wide wings, a lizard's body with massive back legs and stubby arms, and bodies covered in red scales. Horns protruded from the tops of their skulls, which glowed faintly with embers, and they trailed black smoke through the sky as they flew.

Wulf was pretty sure they also smelled faintly of sulfur, because he always caught a whiff when one flew past.

He followed the map. Kalee had slotted it into one of the holders for the enchanted parchment readouts through the cockpit, but that had only been so Wraith could read it. Once the Oronith took the instructions from Valens' map and processed them, it projected them onto a smaller readout of the landscape: a zoomed-in map with a guiding arrow pointing them in the direction they needed to travel.

There were a few landmarks dotted across the map, which Wulf didn't see anymore. Apparently, Wraith's old maps knew about a place called Iskmih Static, but it no longer existed, not even as ruins.

When the sun set and evening arrived, Wulf came to a halt. The foothills were only a faint bulge on the horizon behind them, and aside from the ever-present boulder cones dotting the land, there was nothing around. Wind buffeted Wraith, and a faint dusting of snow pelted it from behind.

But Valens' map ended.

"You're sure this is the right place?" Irmond asked. "Like, maybe his tracking technique, or whatever he did to find it, didn't work?"

"He sent people out to search," Wulf said. "In person. They were supposed to track the cords, feel for the book and its connection to fate. They found it…here, apparently."

Wulf knelt down and patted the ground with Wraith's hands, which sent tremors through the earth for miles. Probably not the best idea.

"What if the dragon moved his hoard?" Seith asked.

"They never move their hoards," Kalee provided.

"Do you know that?"

"Aside from reasoning that the immense effort it would take to move so much treasure would be infeasible for a dragon, yes, I do know that," she replied. "The Litterlands might have the highest concentration of dragons in the world, but it's not the only place with dragons."

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"Did you fight one?" Irmond asked excitedly. "Did you kill one?"

"I helped my martial arts master hunt one," she said. "As part of him training me to use other senses than sight and sound."

"Can you use any other senses to find this dragon?" Wulf asked.

"I'm detecting…churned dirt below."

"Just detecting?" Irmond said. "Like…how?"

"My arcane senses," she replied. "Even though I only made it to Silver in my last life, I managed to train my arcane senses early to make up for my failing other senses."

"That's supposed to be my job," Irmond muttered.

"In this life, I seem limited to what I'm touching," Kalee said. "I can sense well through the floor or walls if I'm in direct contact, but not for long distances. Not like you and what you're capable of."

Irmond replied, "Perhaps if I could see what we're dealing with…I might be able to help a little more."

"I might be able to work something out," Wulf said. "Kalee, can you reverse gravity in a patch ahead of us?"

"That can be arranged."

Wulf stepped back and took a wide stance, then held his arm out, aiming toward the patch. Kalee triggered a spell skill, and a massive runic circle appeared in front of them. Orange light made the snow shimmer.

Then the loose packed dust rose up into the air. The powerful wind whisked it away, revealing a patch of churned mud below. Just mud, no shrubs, no saplings, nothing.

"Uh, guys," Irmond said. "I don't suppose Kalee just ripped up all the plants, either?"

"She didn't," Seith said.

"What an astute observation, the both of you," Wulf muttered.

"Alright, well…if you must know, I'm picking up on a massive underground cavern beneath this churned soil. No, I'd bet that's the den—wait. Something's holding it up. Something hard and scaly. Is the dragon the roof? Were we just standing on—"

Before he could finish, the ground trembled—and not because of him this time. The dirt sloughed off a rising mound of red and beige scales, which glinted in the fading light. Wulf took a single step back, but it wasn't enough. A dragon exploded from the ground like a volcanic eruption, and a wing struck Wraith in the chest, flinging him back. He pulled Wraith's cloak up and fluttered it in front of them to protect Irmond and Seith from the rain of debris.

He stood up, shaking off a coating of loose dirt, only to find a dragon looming a few Oronith heads higher than him. It didn't stand up on its back legs; it slunk forward like a cat, and its eyes shone yellow in the evening glow. It demanded, "Who dares awaken me?"

"Seith, sound projectors, if you please," Wulf said.

"On it. Everyone, quiet." After a few seconds of grunting and a stoney thud, Wulf communications construct began buzzing. A screech rolled through it, and he winced, but it only lasted a few seconds.

"Good evening," Wulf said. "You wouldn't happen to be Oltáneach, would you?" His own voice echoed outside the cockpit, projected from a construct somewhere around his chest area. Even though he had enough Marks, he wasn't sure if he could project his voice loud enough for a dragon of this size.

The dragon prowled forward, circling around Wraith. Each step made his knees tremble, and the sinewy flesh of its wings curled, like it was walking on its knuckles. It left a massive trail along the ground.

Wulf continued, "Judging by your magnificent size—"

"I am Oltáneach."

"Wonderful. I've come to make a deal with you."

"Usually, those who want something from me spend hours on pleasantries and flattery."

"Oh. Well, you've definitely got nice…scales?" Wulf tilted his head. "To be perfectly honest, I didn't come intending to flatter."

Kalee pulled off her communications construct and laughed, so Oltáneach wouldn't hear, then muttered, "No, he's really not good at flattery."

"It's preferrable," Oltáneach said.

Why wouldn't it be? Why would a dragon waste their time on something they received no gratification from?

"What would you ask of me? A portion of my hoard? Enough gold to start your own kingdom? Or perhaps you wish for me to burn your enemies to the ground?" Oltáneach snarled, then curled around to the other side of Wulf. He snapped his teeth, then blew a jet of flame out across the fields, melting the snow, turning bushes to ash, and making the cones of boulders melt into puddles of glowing rock.

"A book. I'm told you have a book."

"Ah…so he is wiser than most humans," Oltáneach said.

If reading lots of books was the only thing that made you wise, the academy would be better at its job, Wulf thought. But he kept that to himself. He said, "I don't want to talk in circles, Oltáneach. I know you have Panne's Inheritance, and I would like it. What would you like from me in return?"

"Wiser than the little gnats who petitioned me weeks ago," Oltáneach snarled. "Asking the same reward. They tried flattery, and they tried begging. They then tried infiltrating my den, and their bones have become part of my hoard."

"What would it take?"

Oltáneach's throat lit up bright orange. Light seeped through the scales, and his horns glowed with embers. His head pulled back like he was about to cough, and smoke leaked out the corners of his mouth. "I wish to be left alone. A wise man should know when to run."