Fate Alchemist - A Regression Academy LitRPG

Seith and Irmond stared at him for a few seconds, unmoving, unblinking. Finally, Irmond said, "Wait, but like…the future future? You're not an oracle-alchemist-pilot in hiding, are you?"

"Just an alchemist-pilot," Wulf said.

Seith glanced at Kalee. "You're not at all confused by what he said? You don't seem shocked at all."

"I'm…also from the future," Kalee replied at a whisper.

"What?" Irmond exclaimed. "Oh, on the Field, I don't think I should believe you, but it's the only thing that makes sense…"

"I swear, it's true," Wulf said. "I saw the end of the world. The demon wars continue for forty years. They build hives, they conquer us, they harvest our planet's stones and metals and tear apart our moons, then, when the world finally implodes, they just…leave. Before the world ended, though, the Field of the future used its last power to send Kalee and I back through time. Into our younger bodies."

"So you're actually…like, sixty?" Irmond asked.

"Yeah," Wulf replied. "But, it's weird. It feels like I mostly have the memories of the future, not the soul and mind of my future body. How much those memories make me…me, is still up in the air, but…"

"I knew you were weird," Seith said.

"This is what clued you in?" Irmond whispered back. "Not the whole insistence on alchemy stuff, or how quick he was advancing, or how much he seems to know, or just how good they both are at fighting?"

"Well, I didn't want to make excuses for why I lost to him."

"It's still a lack of skill, don't worry," Irmond joked. "He's just better than you."

"Guys, you can't tell anyone," Wulf said, reigning the conversation back in. "I need a promise, alright? The Academy will probably think you're insane, but it'll be even worse if they believe you. I can't imagine how insane they'd get about it. Probably lock me up in a cell or something."

"Right," Irmond said. "My lips are like…sealed. I haven't gone around and told any of your secrets yet, have I?"

"Not that I know of," Wulf answered. "But it doesn't hurt to be wary."

"Fair enough," Seith said. "I won't tell a soul, either."

"Thank you," Wulf said.

"So…you had to have seen some things, yeah?" Irmond asked. "Both of you, I mean. Forty years of war…wow. Is that what we're in for this time, too?"

"Hopefully not." Wulf leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "But yes. I did see some 'things'."

"Did you guys know each other before you came back?" Seith asked.

Kalee shook her head. "We hadn't even seen each other."

"How did you figure it out, then? I assume you two knew before tonight, right? Judging by your reactions, and how much time you were spending with each other."

"We knew," Wulf said. "For a few weeks, now. It was near the start of the semester. We found each other in the Artificers' labs."

They explained how they'd met, and how their unique classes worked, and how they'd devised their plan during their detention with Thalin, before finally giving Irmond and Seith a little time to process the new information.

"So…the world, like, ends?" Irmond asked. "That's what happens?"

"That's what we're trying to prevent," Kalee added.

"And right now, the most we can do is fight the demon hordes," Wulf added. "We've gotta deal with what we can. At the same time, we'll work on gaining enough strength to fight off the demons. We're gaining power, building a crew, and saving what we can. The demons don't have to win this time."

"That...certainly makes things more extreme," Seith said.

"And above all," Wulf continued, "earning Marks is important. We can gain infinite power, in theory, with the help of Marks. Enough to fight off the demons. And the best way to gain Marks is by doing crazy, meaningful things that have a massive effect on the world around us. Especially if you want Grand Marks."

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"So...where do you plan on going?" Irmond asked.

Wulf swallowed. It was like the newspaper earlier had been a bad omen. Softly, he said, "The city of Clegghold. It's a massive industrial center, and when the demons destroyed it, it was a massive blow to the Confederacy. The next attack will be in Thirdmonth of next year, so we have time to prepare. But the demons will also be stronger."

"That's very reassuring," Seith said sarcastically.

"It's not supposed to be. It's a call for us to do something. So do something we will. If we have to steal another Oronith, I'll gladly do it to save Clegghold."

"As would I," Kalee provided.

"I think we all would," said Irmond, looking straight at Seith. She nodded, bearing a confident expression.

"So then, until then, improve yourselves, get stronger, and become the people you need to be to help us save the world," Wulf said. "But for tonight, no more worrying about that."

"We got business out of the way," Kalee replied in agreement. "So let's just enjoy ourselves."

~ ~ ~

On the way back to the Academy, Wulf snuck off the main path to harvest flesh and bone from the colossal fiend's corpse. The muscle itself wasn't useful, but the black fats held significant mana inside them, the chitinous shell would turn into an excellent powder for dangerous poison potions (if they reacted at all like an insect's shell), and the bones? Well, he didn't know what they'd do, but he could experiment.

Afterward, the next week passed by much the same. Wulf attended classes, then completed his chores in the evenings—including his work with Ms. Wenarle.

Finally, on the next Sixthday, Wulf had finished removing all the restrictions from the Alchemy books, and Ms. Wenarle agreed to let him take the book he wanted. Or, more accurately, had agreed that it was safe for him to sign out the book.

So, the next morning, on Seventhday, he visited the library early and hunted. Ms. Wenarle was just arriving, the guards were still opening the doors, and it was still dark out. Wulf didn't have much time before he had to be back at the dorms—to meet Irmond for their morning run—but there was enough time to pick up a book.

Ms. Wenarle led him up to the fifth level of the library, then over to a shelf along the back wall, labelled, Unique Crafting Disciplines.

"The book with the most mentions of…what was it? Zerio?" Ms. Wenarle asked.

"Xerion, I believe." Wulf knew it for certain, but he was being polite.

"With a Z or an X?"

"X."

"Ah, right this way. My Mark is illuminating it for me." She strode down the aisle, robe fluttering behind her. She must've had a Mark like Wulf's plant identification ability, but for books.

When they made it about halfway down the row, she plucked the book off the shelf and handed it to Wulf. It had a dark green cover, and a pristine spine that only had a single crease down the middle. The words Ancient Elven Weapon Crafting were printed on the cover, along with a golden imprint of curved swords.

Wulf held the book. It was heavy, and a layer of dust caked its top. "Thank you, ma'am."

"You're welcome to sign this one out whenever you want," said Ms. Wenarle. "According to my records, no one has looked at it for…oh, about seventeen years. Seventeen and a half. It's an antique, but whoever wrote it put a preservation enchantment on it. As long as you don't rip the pages, it will stay in near perfect condition."

Except for a crease on the spine, apparently. Wulf didn't mention it. "Thank you."

"I've got it signed out in your name. Now you must get moving, before anyone notices a first year in the previously restricted section. I'll check the book out for you. Give it a few generations of students, and no one will even notice the lack of restrictions, but for now, you should keep that book hidden."

Wulf nodded, then, holding the book, ran down to the first floor and back out through the library's front doors. He slowed to a brisk walk outside. The sky was starting to lighten, revealing an overcast sky. It threatened to snow, but nothing was falling yet.

As he walked back to the dorms, he cracked open the book and read the foreword.

In ancient times, elven nations had no blacksmiths. They didn't need fire to forge weapons; they turned carved wood into metal via transmutation, a lost alchemical art that many have studied. However, without a Class that inherits transmutation Skills (which are extremely rare among the races of men), this art cannot be replicated.

The basic principle is simple: carve the desired shape of your weapon, and transmute it enough times that it retains its shape and becomes the material you desire. With enough infusions of Chaos or Order, an elven crafter could turn a wooden sword into titanbone. But care must be taken: some stages of transmutation cannot hold their form, such as shinglesand, and all your progress will be undone if your weapon loses its form. To jump over such stages, one must gather enough units of Chaos or Order and apply them all at once (for more information, see section 31.A.).

Wulf flipped through the book until he found the first mention of xerion.

A material of legend, xerion is pure primal material, refined beyond a state of longing, and confined to a state where it only reacts with its surroundings if its master desires it to. Upon drawing the Chaos or Order out of its surroundings, it does not consume them to convert its form into a natural material, but rather, stores its universal essences for future uses. Elven crafters were known to use xerion lumps in weapon crafting, though the Hero of Fellsea notably wielded a hammer tipped with xerion during the second age (he was not an alchemist, however, he could control whether the xerion activated or not by bonding with his weapon).

Wulf snapped the book shut. "Alright…" he whispered. "I'm going to make a weapon out of xerion."

There was no question in his mind about it. If he was going through all the effort to make a weapon, it better be something useful for crafting as well.

And…to literally draw the chaos or order out of an enemy with just his weapon alone would make for devastating combat abilities. With or without an Oronith.

His mind ran at double speed, but he reigned it back and walked with twice the speed. He was going to have to figure out how to actually make xerion, next, but that was a problem for the future. For the rest of the Seventhday—after his morning run—he'd need to make potions.

After all, tomorrow was his next tournament fight.