Fate Alchemist - A Regression Academy LitRPG

Wulf stood alone in the arena armoury, waiting for his next fight. Whoever his opponent was…well, they weren't in the armoury with him at the moment. He pulled out a half-complete tincture of a cleaning potion that he hadn't finished, but had refined to a high degree—to High-Copper before he even activated it.

He found the same golem he'd used against Seith, which was in the back corner of the room. None of his earlier potion remained (it'd been a few weeks), but he'd come prepared. He pulled the stopper out of his half-finished tincture flask and poured the liquid over the golem, then activated it, creating a random potion. Then, he took control of it all and willed it to open.

This time, using [Arm of the Alchemist] barely cost any mana.

Or, no, scratch that. It cost the same amount of mana, but it didn't look like it was draining his nearly full storage core at all. Even if there were still a few minutes before the fight, he could afford to spend the mana getting his golem ready.

He slipped into his golem, sliding his legs into the slots and pushing his arms into the sleeves, before closing up the helmet around his head and sealing the chest. Then, using the golem as an extension of his body, he walked over to the sheet of regular parchment pinned to the wall.

It listed all the remaining competitors in the Low Bracket.

Or, at least, it had. Most of the competitors in the Low Bracket had scratched their names out after Wulf's fight with Seith. They knew they weren't going to beat him.

Judging by the list, Seith had been close to the top, but as punishment for leaving the Fletchers, she'd been kicked down to the bottom. But everyone had still known her as a top fighter.

Until Wulf had come along and taken her out of the standing in a matter of seconds.

He felt kinda bad for all the students who had to drop out of the tournament, but in truth, no one was making them. They still could've lost to him if they wanted to, though it'd probably have been embarrassing to them and their guilds.

But no: tonight's fight was against Harrel. Lord Harrel's son, the same Harrel who Wulf had fought the first day upon returning. Now, having lost much of his standing, he was looking to make a name for himself in the guild again. Or at least, that was what Wulf figured. Looking for a rematch had to be the only reason he hadn't dropped out of the bracket yet.

And Wulf wanted nothing more than to get this fight over quickly. It might take a few more than three movements, but he'd do it fast, and then have more time to return to his dorm and spend the rest of his Firstday researching xerion. (Chef Kennet and the janitors had released him and Kalee from their duties for the night, because it was a tournament night. As Marsa explained, it was the least they could do to repay Wulf and Kalee for saving their hometown—Arotelk.)

Finally, an attendant leaned into the armoury and said, "Hrothen. You're up."

Wulf piloted his golem out into the center of the arena. All at once, the light constructs blinded him, and the cheers of the crowd made his ears ring. They had to be louder than last time.

But his crew was also out there, watching. He'd have to make them proud.

As he strode across the sand, Harrel and his golem walked in the other direction. He carried a heavy-looking mace in his hand. The attendants didn't explain the rules to them again; they simply backed away to the edges of the arena and allowed Dr. Langold to do the introductions.

"Good evening, everyone! I see we've drawn quite a crowd for this Firstday, despite the late autumn chill! Well, no matter. I'm sure you're all eagerly awaiting a skirmish between two Pilots.

"On the north end of the arena, we have Harrel, son of Lord Harrel. That would be of the Fletchers Guild's Istalis Plains branch. Notable for…" Dr. Langold cleared his throat, which echoed through the arena, and gave a telling pause, before continuing, "...for his loyalty to the family legacy.

"And on the south side, we have Wulf Hrothen, who…I have a note here saying that he has been dubbed the Hero of Arotelk."

Wulf hung his head in embarrassment. At least he had a stone helmet covering his face, so no one would see him reddening.

"One-time pilot of Emerald Vanguard, and," Dr. Langold raised his voice over the crowd, "seemingly a fan favourite." The voice amplification construct crackled and popped, pushed to its very limit. "The odds are greatly in his favour, but for tonight only—this is the final fight of the Low-Bracket, and the winner will move up to the Middle-Bracket, where competition is much more fierce."

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Wulf glanced up at the sheet of hanging enchanted parchment along the upper ridge of the arena. The odds were ten to three, in favour of him.

That probably meant bets had gone accordingly. He'd probably get a decent chunk of the winnings, but not as much as if the odds were against him.

No matter, though. He didn't need to buy anything right away.

"Begin!" Dr. Langold called.

Wulf, with no weapon, settled into a defensive fighting stance. Harrel hauled his mace up into a fighting position, swung it around a few times as if trying to get a feel for it, then slammed it into the sand.

Wulf had to admit, he was curious what rank Harrel had gotten to, but with the golem sealed over Harrel's chest, it was impossible to see the boy's rank badge.

Instead, Wulf willed the armour of his forearm to open up, revealing his own rank badge and parchment. He called on the Field to assess Harrel's rank as the boy circled toward him.

[Ascendant – High-Wood]

Oh. Not even Coal.

Ah, well, Wulf thought. No one said this was going to be a fair fight, and ranking up during the tournament wasn't against any rules.

Wulf sealed the parchment over his arm again and looked up at Harrel. "How's the head?" Wulf asked.

"I'll get you this time, dog," Harrel snarled. "Last time, I was only Low-Wood, but I've gained two more tiers since then. And now, I have a weapon."

Wulf wasn't about to say that he'd already made it a tier higher. He simply said, "Good luck."

"Insolence! Where's the fear and respect for your betters?"

"You're only better if you can prove it."

With a shout, Harrel charged, holding his mace up high. It was oversized for a human, but perfect for a golem, and when he slammed it down at Wulf, it whistled through the air with a heavy screech. Its head had metal spikes jutting out of each side, and Wulf didn't want to know what would happen if he got hit by that. Even a tier below, it'd do damage to his golem.

He leaned back. Wind whistled past his chest, vibrating his armour panels, but doing no damage.

Wulf dodged blow after blow, swipe after swipe, navigating back across the arena until he reached the very center. He needed Harrel angry.

Before the fight, he'd brewed a strength potion for himself, and one harmless sight-enhancing potion for Seith, Kalee, and Irmond to drink during the fight. They'd listened to his instructions this time, and they'd drank their potions before the fight began. That, combined with Wulf's other Marks and his own strength potion, made him a force of nature.

Each step shook the sand and sent vibrations through the earth. Whenever he leaned back or to the side, he pushed his golem so hard and fast that the stone groaned and protested against him.

At some point, he was going to need a better golem, too.

As the fight dragged on, Harrel's swings grew more and more desperate. "Stop running, dog! Fight me! Take a hit, if you're not afraid!"

Exactly where Wulf needed him.

The moment Harrel swung next, Wulf darted closer instead of moving farther away, closing the gap. Wulf punched Harrel once in the gut, hard enough to make Harrel gasp and lose focus, then deflected Harrel's mace hand, pushing it on a sideways trajectory.

The mace slammed into the sand, and Wulf set a stone-covered boot on top of it. When Harrel tried to pull his weapon up, Wulf resisted, holding his boot in place. The mace didn't budge. In fact, Wulf probably pushed it deeper into the sand.

"H—how? You're a farmboy from Carolaign!" Harrel exclaimed.

"Magic?"

With a growl, Harrel charged forward, throwing a sloppy punch at Wulf's head. Wulf raised his other arm and deflected the blow, then struck Harrel in the chest with an open palm. As soon as the golem absorbed the impact, Wulf used [Chaotic Alteration].

Stone didn't have much chaos, but there was a little bit of it, and it was a vital component of what gave stone and earth its identity. After all, magma and eruptions and earthquakes were still vital components of the earth.

A sliver of chaos leaked out of Harrel's golem's chest armour. Wulf used the same hand, the one storing the chaos, and struck Harrel's mace-holding wrist, flooding the boy's stone gauntlet with the chaos he absorbed. The stone, with its form altered and changed to a half-step away from its next transmutation, grew brittle. Upon impact, with Wulf's enhanced strength, it shattered. The bone beneath cracked, and Harrel shouted in pain.

Before the boy could retreat or fall over, Wulf turned back to Harrel's chest. The armour, where he'd drawn out a touch of chaos, had condensed a droplet of primal material. It beaded on Harrel's golem's chestpiece, slowly crystalizing and absorbing essences from elsewhere, weakening the armour.

Wulf struck the same location once more, putting as much effort as he could into the blow. He pushed the primal material deeper as it crystalized, embedding it right into the center of the stone.

Desperate to become more than just primal material, it drew chaos and order out of the surrounding stone. They cracked, then shattered, leaving Harrel's chest bare and unarmoured.

With the force of the impact, Harrel stumbled back, gasping and panting. "I yield!" he exclaimed. "I yield, I yield!"