Fate Alchemist - A Regression Academy LitRPG

Wulf pushed himself halfway up. The snow squished beneath his hands, and his heart pounded. Umoch and his friends were…interrogating Ján? They wanted to know more about what Wulf was?

"I can't tell you anything!" Ján shouted. "I actually can't!"

Wulf had made the Field pact. Of course Ján couldn't.

Wulf pressed his eyes shut for a second, then grimaced.

"You know! How could you not know?" Umoch yelled. "You're his roommate? Nothing suspicious? Hold—hold him out farther!"

Umoch's Fletcher underling leaned out more, shifting his balance and hanging Ján farther out over the ravine. Ján's feet scrambled against the snowy ledge, and he gripped the Fletcher's hand tight. It wouldn't save him.

"Sir!" the Fletcher underling shouted. "I don't think he's going to talk. You can't be serious…"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Umoch snapped. "My father doesn't joke around when he forces a deal! If I can't follow in his footsteps, what am I? No, we kill him if we have to!"

The ground was vibrating, and it wasn't just an illusion of Wulf's heart pounding. Wulf narrowed his eyes, then hopped up to his feet and rose up to his tip-toes. He could barely see the bottom of the ravine, and only in glimpses, but swathes of brown surged through the canyon below, barely visible in the moonlight.

A few of their eyes glinted sickly yellow, and their matted fur outlined the general shape of a bison. Where it was missing in patches, there was nothing but wrinkled green flesh. Horns jutted out from the top of their heads, much larger than a regular bison's, and a mane of black hair ran down their spines.

Orc-bison. A monster.

Already, with the ravine packed, the bison were starting to push up along the ravine walls. A few took ledges, climbing higher and higher, until they could jump out onto the open fields.

This wasn't just a migration. This was a frenzied flight. They were running from something.

Wulf couldn't just sit around any longer. He had to get Ján out of this.

He sprinted down the hill, his speed potion still active. It'd last for a few more minutes.

As he drew closer, he threw the empty glass vial from his speed potion—an unimportant vial from their weekly mana-water supply—at Umoch. It pelted him in the back of the head, but harm him. "Put him back, Umoch!" Wulf shouted. "I swear, if you hurt him, I'll—"

"Don't move," Umoch ordered the other Fletcher boy. "You'll what, Hrothen? You'll get yourself expelled by attacking me? No, no, I think you'll tell me exactly what you are. How are you able to advance so quickly? How does a nobody like you find the resources to make it to Middle-Coal in his first year?"

Wulf glanced at Umoch's badge. A High-Coal badge. He was losing his lead on Wulf, and he had to be getting desperate about it. He knew Wulf could overtake him.

"Uh…sir?" the Fletcher boy said, his voice trembling.

"Not now," Umoch snapped.

"No…you need to look!" With his free hand, he pointed to the left, where a dark shape was rising up out of the ravine.

It was an enormous spider. The height of two horses, and wide enough to span the entire ravine with its legs. Eight red eyes glowed on its head, and its fangs glistened with sizzling purple venom. Hair and cobwebs clung to its legs like some crude imitation of clothes, and with it came a sour milk-like stench.

Wulf was ashamed, but his first thought was, What kind of potions can I make out of that?

"Oh, by the Field…" Umoch whispered. "Drop him! Go, go!"

Umoch's friend released Ján's collar, and Wulf watched in horror as Ján scrambled, trying to cling onto the boy's hand. The Fletcher ripped his arm away, and Ján tumbled backward, falling through the empty air.

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Lunging forward, Wulf reached out with his hand, but he wasn't fast enough. His fingers brushed against his roommate's but he couldn't get a grip. Using [Arm of the Alchemist], he controlled his strength potion. He ripped it out of his flask and haversack, then shot it out in a stream toward Ján. There wasn't enough to catch the boy, not with a bed beneath him, but Wulf wrapped a tendril around Ján's wrist and pulled, slowing his descent.

But halfway down, the tendril snapped. A potion was still a potion, no matter how much mana was in it, and Ján fell. The potion tendril collapsed into a splatter of red droplets. Ján's arms wheeled, he shouted, and he hit the ground hard on his back, before a stampede of brown bison stormed over him.

But between the thundering orc-bison, Wulf caught a glimpse of Ján curling up and covering his head.

There was a chance he was still alive. A small chance, but still…

"Get back here!" Wulf shouted to Umoch and the Fletcher boy. "He's still alive! Help me help him!"

But they were already running away. They'd sprinted across the fields and were halfway back to the border grove by now.

Wulf was alone against the spider.

He held out his arm and assessed the spider. Words scrawled across his bracer:

[Mutated Widowlob – High-Copper]

Not good. Wulf's stomach plummeted. No wonder the orc-bison were running.

He clenched his fist, using [Arm of the Alchemist] to pull his potion droplets back to him. He just had to hope widowlobs weren't immune to poison.

And the mutation? Monsters, like a widowlob, only mutated in the presence of demon blood. It infected the earth, twisted their prey, and infused them with darkness. Chances were, it was early on in the mutation phase—its flesh wasn't bubbling and boiling yet, like other mutated monsters would given time.

The widowlob turned straight toward him. Its eyes locked on, flared bright, and it let out a high-pitched howl. With a thrust of its legs, it launched itself onto the flat plains beside the ravine, then skittered along toward him. With each step, its legs clicked on the ice and snow.

Wulf swept his arm to the side, guiding the remaining strength potion and striking it in the face. The impact made it stumble to the side, but he infused his potion with as much mana as he could, then hardened it. He made a fist, and the potion firmed up. When he thrust his arm forward, it snapped forward as well, striking the enormous spider between the eyes and making it stumble backward.

That hit harder than either of them were expecting. At least, judging by the widowlob's shriek, that was.

Wulf called his strength potion back and fed it into the vial, then released it from [Arm of the Alchemist].

While the widowlob reeled, Wulf pulled out his splatter potion and removed the broad cork stopper from the top, then held it out. He shouted and spread his arms, trying to make himself look as large as he could.

Monsters were predators. They may have had a penchant for human flesh, but they only fed on humans like a wolf fed on sheep. They would prioritize their own safety, and if they deemed a target too dangerous, they'd run.

The widowlob's eyes flickered and glistened. It took a neutral stance, then bent toward him once more.

Its hunger outweighed its fear, then.

Snarling, it bounded toward him. He splashed half his snailsalt potion at the spider's head, then dove away. The spider scampered past him, creating a wake of snow as it tried to halt.

Half the potion had landed on its face. It howled once more, and steam rose from its face, but it wasn't terribly corrosive. Certainly not enough to kill the spider. However, the potion effect registered, because Wulf felt an immediate boost in strength and speed.

The spider, though, shook its body and shuddered, then turned back toward Wulf with nearly the same speed as before.

His potion had said it was slow-acting, but he hadn't realized it would be this slow. It wasn't doing anything to the spider.

He'd need his new Skill, then. To maximize its effect.

The widowlob, now more confused than angry, turned back toward him. In its mind, he'd just splashed it with a mildly irritating drink.

He charged toward it, still holding his flask out, then splashed the rest of it on the spider's body. The beast still shifted away, but it didn't matter. Most of the potion hit its abdomen and leaked through the carapace.

The spider bit down toward him, baring its fangs. A drop of purple venom dripped onto Wulf's arm—the widowlob wasn't even trying to bind him up in a web. It just wanted him dead, and dead now.

He struck it in the side of the head with his now empty flask—the steelglass flask, which he'd painstakingly crafted.

It didn't break on impact. In fact, the force sent the widowlob reeling to the side. It shrieked, now furious. But Wulf still hadn't broken its carapace, and it turned back toward him, now desperate to turn him into a meal. It charged.

To buy himself time, he drew out his strength potion, turning it into a whip, then slapped the widowlob beneath the chin. The potion splattered everywhere, and he lost control of it, but it bought him just enough time. As potion droplets rained around him, he triggered [Deadline], focussing on the spider and all its potion effects.

Immediately, the spider ground to a halt, like time had been slowed for it—and only it. It barely moved.

And then, as Wulf watched, as its fang slowly drifted toward his head, the beast's body shrivelled up. Its carapace imploded, its legs pulled inward, and it fell—gravity was unaffected by his slowness potion.

Completely dehydrated, the widowlob stopped moving entirely. Its eyes dimmed, and it died on the spot.

Wulf backed away, panting, and picked up his flask. But it wasn't over yet. The stampede of orc-bison had passed, and now Ján lay at the bottom of the ravine, unmoving, curled up in a defensive position.

Without a second of hesitation, Wulf jumped down into the ravine.