They sprinted to the edge of the forest unaccosted. Wulf had stuffed his pockets with blood-red ice shards, and they clinked and rattled precariously with each step. He’d stuffed his vials with as much yeti fur as he could hold.

  Now, they just had to make it out alive.

  A couple more yetis whooped and hollered behind them, but slowly, it faded into the distance, and Wulf never saw another one face-to-face.

  By the time they made it back to Thalin’s hut, it was pitch-black outside, and had to be getting close to midnight. They sat down at the table in the center of the room for a few minutes, panting, catching their breath, and not saying a word.

  Finally, Thalin huffed, “You two are dismissed. Hopefully, our next few evenings aren’t so intense. I think we’ll go…herb-hunting next time.”

  “Sir,” Wulf said, “just making sure, you won’t tell anyone about our abilities, right?”

  “So long as you don’t throw me under the wagon if you get caught.”

  Wulf almost considered making a Field Pact, but there was no reason to mistrust Thalin, and the dwarf would be in just as much trouble for not saying anything, so Wulf only nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

  Standing up, he pushed away from the table, and walked to the hut’s door, with Kalee close behind. They stepped out onto the porch, then marched down to the trail.

  As soon as the hut’s door shut behind them, Wulf said, “This isn’t good. A demon attack in almost three weeks. Would you be willing to help?”

  She sighed. “You can trust that I’ll do everything in my power to help Arotelk and its people. I’m just…not sure what that will look like yet.”

  “If I come up with a plan, would you follow it?”

  “We’ll see.” She crossed her arms. “Let's see how you do with your potions, first, and if this deal works out. And…register for the inter-Class tournament. I won’t hold it against you if you don’t do well, but you need the recognition.”

  Wulf blinked. “Do you know how that works? I didn’t…uh, didn’t get a chance to participate last time. Didn’t make it to Middle-Wood in time.” In all honesty, he hadn’t even thought of it this time, considering how last life, he hadn’t reached Middle-Wood in time to qualify.

  “Place well, and you’ll get more ration credits. Maybe guild recognition.” She walked a little faster, and her scaled tail swung behind her. “You can use the ration credits to buy more mana-water and other equipment from the faculty store. And sometimes, they give you a cut of the winnings.”

  “Money…” Wulf breathed. He was going to need some eventually, especially if he wanted more brewing equipment. “Understood. Are you joining?”

  “I paid the admission fee to the Middle Bracket. I said I’d do everything in my power to prevent this demon attack, so that’s what I’ll do.”

  Wulf exhaled, partially in relief, but his throat tightened. They’d have to fight against each other, potentially.

  Oh well, he thought. You’ll just have to get better than her, so you can win.

  “Good,” he said. “Then for now, I’m gonna clean myself up, and I need to sleep. I can pick my new Skill in the morning.”

  ~ ~ ~

  The next morning, while Ján was still asleep, and before he went out for his run with Irmond, he organized his supplies. He’d kept an emergency potion (a weak poison potion) on his desk in case he ran out and had nothing to fuel his storage pendant with.

  He’d used up all his loose plants, leaving only the potted grass, which he gave their daily wine to, but it was the last of his mana-wine as well. No more vinegar to make tinctures with, and a whole lot of empty vials and flasks.

  He took stock of his potions he had left. Two more weak poison potions, and that was it. However, his [Hoard of Strength] Mark had permanently retained a little bit of a speed boost from his use of the speed potion last night. It was baked into his very form, now.

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  For ten minutes, he filled his two first flasks with Low-Iron yeti hair and Low-Iron ice from their spines (which still hadn’t melted). He placed them on his rack, lit his burn-box, and prayed the phoenix fire was enough to melt the magic ice.

  It was. The ice slowly turned to Low-Iron mana-water, which he used as the base for his potion. It began to bubble and simmer, and though the white hairs didn’t dissolve, they turned pale. The whole solution became cloudy and began bubbling.

  Wulf stirred it with a quill, though he resolved to head into town on Seventhday to buy more equipment. That, however, meant he needed money. And, having checked a tournament poster last night, he realized there was an entrance fee to the tournament, too.

  When he finished the potions, he used his last weak poison potion to infuse them with mana, and they obliged. The Field recognized them each, and, on a faint impulse, he reached out before his ability transmuted his potions into something else.

  For a brief moment, the enchanted parchment on his wrist read:

  Yeti’s Might Potion (Middle-Coal Quality)

  Grants the user a moderate increase in strength for two minutes.

  But the ink flickered, and as the potion changed colours (both adjusted randomly; one became a deep purple and the other a pure red), the enchanted parchment adjusted as well. First, the potion’s tier climbed up one stage, then the effect adjusted.

  It now read:

  Levitation Potion (High-Coal Quality)

  Makes the user slightly lighter for five minutes. Inflicts a weak purplevein poison.

  [By crafting a potion, you have increased your mana. Advancement progress: 4%]

  Wulf narrowed his eyes. “Odd…” he whispered. He’d made the proper potion that his ingredients were supposed to make, and then it shifted. He’d need to work his way up to a stronger aura again, because that was what was holding his potions back from being Copper-tier. That was easy enough.

  I need a way to interrupt the potion after the tier increases, but before the potion transmutes to something else.

  Just to be sure, he checked his second potion:

  Bloodlust Potion (High-Coal Quality)

  For the next ten minutes, increases the user’s strength for each opponent whose blood he draws.

  [By crafting a potion, you have increased your mana. Advancement progress: 8%]

  That could be insanely useful in combination with [Hoard of Strength], and he had to make sure he timed using it right. In a large battle, he could permanently increase his strength massively.

  But for now, he checked his new ability upgrades. Perhaps there’d be something that allowed him to alter the type of potion he made.

  After he let the analysis of the potions fade, he turned back to his wrist, and the sheet returned to a readout of his potential skill upgrades:

  [Bastion] Your strength and durability increase for every person within a mile under the effect of your potions.

  [Shardmonger] Any broken glass with potion on it is under your control. Uses mana for each shard under your control.

  [Alchemist’s Luck] For ten minutes, doubles the user’s luck.

  Alternate: You may choose to upgrade one of your previous Skills.

  He went over the options in his mind. [Shardmonger] would be excellent for offensive abilities, and allow him to do more damage, but it didn’t synergize well with his main purpose, which was to be a Pilot. Glass was nice against small targets, but against an Oronith, it wouldn’t do anything.

  And he had to consider: an Ascendant’s class tended to evolve as they gained more abilities and adjusted their elemental aspect. If he picked abilities that were closer to a Mage’s pure offensive abilities, he’d push himself in that direction, and soon, he’d stop getting options helpful for piloting at all.

  [Alchemist’s Luck] was nice, but relying on luck wasn’t what he needed. It might help him make positive potions, but it wouldn’t help him influence the type.

  So he settled on [Bastion]. It was the best of the options, and when he was working with a team, having other people using his potions was a guarantee.

  And, hell, they didn’t even have to be allies. If he created more corrosive potions, he could gain the effect just from inflicting poison or corrosion on enemies. It left the most possibilities open, and most importantly, it’d help him as a Pilot, too.

  When he went out for his morning run with Irmond, he kept his eye out for arcane plants, and plucked a few more tufts of grass. It was becoming increasingly easier to see them—as the season latened, it stayed dark longer in the morning.

  By now, they were both able to do a full loop of the campus. On the opposite side of the dorms, Wulf found a set of bushes.

  But…arcane bushes. Well, not arcane right at the front, but farther back, the Field recognized a few plants. They were…oregano stalks, best he could tell, and they were starting to wither in the fall.

  Without warning, he dove through the bushes, then plucked out a few stalks of arcane oregano out, and held them up.

  “I don’t even know how you saw that,” Irmond muttered, jogging in place. “You know, Chef Kennet would probably pay you a healthy sum to get his hands on some of that, especially so late in the year.”

  “Would he, now?” Wulf asked. His lips quirked up into a smile. “I think we need to take another stop on the way back to the dorms, then.”

  “Right now?” Irmond said. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be right now, right?”

  “I’ll pay you a tenth of what I get for the tip.”

  “Alright, yeah. We go now.”