Wulf stepped out of his golem with a quarter of his storage core mana left.

  He was doing well, but if he ever wanted to fuel an Oronith, he was going to need more, especially since, unlike other Pilots, he would lose mana and be unable to recover all of it.

  But as usual, not a problem for right now.

  He left his golem in the corner of the arena’s armoury and let the potion flow out of the golem, turning into a small puddle on the floor that would evaporate in a few minutes.

  Seith sat on the bench in front of the weapons rack, catching her breath, looking straight down at the floor. Not crying, but obviously upset.

  With a grimace, Wulf marched over. He leaned on the shelf across from her and crossed his arms, then said, “Hey. You good?”

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “Look, I’ve got no ill will against you.”

  “Why not? All I’ve done is stand against you, try to hurt your friends, and threaten you.”

  “Because I know what it’s like to throw your lot in with the wrong people. I also know how horrible it feels to be on the losing team.” He sighed. “You seem like a decent person, though. You want a job? I could use an Artificer, and I’m about to get my hands on some fancy metals.”

  “A job?” Seith shook her head. “Not particularly.”

  “A team. A crew.”

  “So a guild by any other name.”

  He scoffed. “A family. Guilds can’t give you that.”

  “I have a family. Four brothers, five sisters.”

  “They’re not at this academy, are they? I’ve only seen one skyhorn.”

  “Not at this academy. At the central branch.”

  “Then you’re alone here,” Wulf said. He pushed away from the wall. “Think on it, will you? And, look, I’m gonna invite the others out for dinner in Arotelk tomorrow. My treat. If you want to see what it’s like, if we can get this little group to work together…well, at least I’m paying. Least I can do, given how I got the money.”

  Judging by the odds, people hadn’t exactly expected him to pull this off, and he’d have quite the paycheque from winning that fight.

  “I’ll think about it,” Seith said. “But a free meal does sound appetizing.”

  “That’s the spirit.”

  With that, Wulf turned about and walked out the armoury door. He returned to the locker room, pulled his shirt on and snatched up his haversack, then walked out to the exit, where the mouse-girl TA was waiting for him.

  “Evening,” Wulf said. He didn’t want to look too expectant, but he hoped he knew why she was here—with a pouch of silver in-hand.

  “Your cut of the bets,” she said, then held out the pouch and dropped it in Wulf’s hands.

  The silver clinked and rattled, and it was heavier than he thought it’d be. Past the brim of the pouch, there were even a few glints of gold.

  “That’s…a lot,” Wulf said.

  “The odds were heavily against you,” the TA said. “She might have been near the bottom of the bracket, but Seith was considered one of the best fighters of the Low Bracket. I’m sure there will be plenty of resignations now.”

  Wulf sighed. “I suppose. Well…thank you anyway.” He tightened the pouch’s neck, then tucked it into his haversack. With a nod, he set off down the hall and walked around the promenade. There’d be a few other Low Bracket fights for the night, and even some of the early fights in the other higher brackets, but he didn’t care to watch.

  When he reached the front of the arena, a hand clapped down on his shoulder. He tensed up, and his own hand snapped up, grabbing his assailant’s wrist. He was about to throw him, until the boy called, “Wulf!”

  Wulf stopped. “Irmond. Sorry.”

  He spun around. Irmond and Kalee ran along the promenade behind him. He patted his haversack and the coin pouch. “Thanks, guys.”

  “It worked!” Irmond exclaimed. “As soon as we drank the potions, you hit her like…so much harder!”

  Wulf blew a puff of air out his nose. “Yeah, but next time, you can drink them right away. My Skill lasts as long as you have a potion active.”

  “...Sorry.” Irmond tucked his hands behind his back. “Next time.”

  “Would you put sugar in it next time? Or something to make it taste a little better?” Kalee winced. “It was like drinking vinegar and grass…vile.”

  “That’s the neat part,” Wulf whispered. “That’s exactly what was in it. Just…with an arcane touch.”

  “You’re insane,” she whispered. “And more insane than most Ascendants like us.” The way she said us made him think she was talking specifically about the ones who’d gone back in time.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  “Well, you’ve all got to start somewhere.” He let out a slight smile. “Anyway, the three—maybe four—of us are getting dinner in Arotelk tomorrow. My treat.”

  “Maybe four?” Kalee asked.

  Irmond tilted his head. “Who else?”

  “You’ll see.” Wulf turned away and began walking. “And while we’re there, I need to gather some more equipment. A bit of a dual purpose.”

  ~ ~ ~

  For the rest of the evening, Wulf studied transmutation. Aside from basic potion alchemy, being able to change something from one material to another would be a basic skill of an alchemist. Technically, he had one transmutation Skill, but it was random, and basically passive.

  If he was going to make a proper weapon, or better yet, provide his Artificer friends with proper materials, he needed an ability to transmute materials.

  That didn’t mean he couldn’t learn.

  While using Kalee’s constructs, he reviewed his textbook some more, analyzing the basic study of elements. A transmutation Skill wouldn’t do him much good if he didn’t have basic knowledge to utilize it.

  All matter fell into categories. Much like the Field was obsessed with classifications and categorizations, the Great Alchemist Panne had devised a system of organization for most elements.

  There were four main elements: Earth, Water, Air, and Fire. (Which, as it happened, corresponded to the most common aspects that Ascendants took on—Earth for Pilots, Fire for Mages, Air for Rangers, and Water for Artificers. However, most common did not mean always.) Air and Fire were volatile, the chaotic half of the primal material. Earth and Water were stable, the orderly half of primal material.

  To transmute materials, you had to understand what the material was, first, then know the right aspects of what you were trying to make. To make something chaotic from something orderly, an alchemist had to extract the chaos from a different material and transplant it. In that regard, it was much easier to go from order to chaos—air was all around, and easy to draw from.

  But once you extracted the chaos from something, you were left with its Primal Material—a basic form of celestial matter, the basic building blocks of all existence. The very substance the Field manipulated.

  Neutral, but extremely valuable, and extremely dangerous. It sought to take on an aspect, and sucked the aspect out of anything around it.

  Which made Wulf wonder about his own ability and his first Skill. By changing the materials and makeup of the potion, he had to be drawing from something.

  But then…it probably wasn’t that random after all. Volatile ingredients, with Air and Fire aspects, tended to make harmful potions. Since it was much easier to draw in the chaos of air and fire, of course his potions would tend toward harmful poisons…

  And the Primal Material left behind? Well, the Field had created it without his direct will, and it would be returned to the Field almost immediately, and repurposed.

  All of that was helpful to know. For one thing, he’d always be surrounded by air. By delving deep underground, he might be able to skew his potions closer toward order and draw on the earth, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

  After all, he had a method of making potions with beneficial effects, now, with clever manipulation of catalyst-slips. But if he tended toward poisons anyway, why not aim for a volatile poisonous aspect?

  When he finished drawing in all the mana from the constructs for the day, he closed up his book, returned everything to his storage pendant, and laid down. It took a little while to relax, given the day’s events, but he tried.

  Thinking about alchemy calmed him, it seemed.

  Funny, really, he thought. I never once dreamed about being an alchemist…but now, this hybrid class…well, it was exactly what I was looking for.

  ~ ~ ~

  Wulf sat in the stuffy lecture theatre of Introduction to Golem Studies, dutifully taking notes, but wishing the lecture could finish sooner. Then they could head to Arotelk—a little more shopping, and most of all, to see if he could put together a full team over dinner.

  And thank the Field it wasn’t a lab day, because Wulf didn’t know if he could wait any longer to discuss plans.

  “Calling an Oronith a ‘giant golem’ is, in fact, a mischaracterization of what they truly are,” Dr. Stowne, a bulky woman in stained overalls, said. Her graying hair was tied up in a ponytail, and her enchanted-paper-holding vambrace was made of white marble. As stereotypical of a Pilot as they came. “They are Mountain Giants, a soulless, non-sapient monster which we have repurposed for our uses. Like golems, we have implanted a large subduing core in them, but to control an Oronith, the Pilot must link to other dream nodes across the Oronith’s form.

  “Dream nodes are an essential component of Oronith piloting. While Pilots rarely take on dream aspects, they are critical in creating a mental link between the Pilot and Oronith. A dream link will connect the Pilot, their regular golem, and the larger Oronith, allowing you control the larger beast. By the end of the semester, almost all of you will have earned your dream link implant.”

  Wulf had understood the theory in his last life, but it didn’t hurt to get a refresher. All Pilots used their smaller golems to drive the larger Oronith, as a bit of an interface. It took a much greater supply of mana, and the dream link helped direct and feel more in control of the larger Oronith—rather than just a beast you stood inside.

  Dr. Stowne echoed Wulf’s thoughts: “In order to interface with the Oronith, you must first occupy a golem, then control its movements by extension of your smaller golem. While eventually, all Pilots will earn or create their own golem, the academy will provide you with one for your early studies.

  “A pilot’s strength and speed is crucial. The link between Oroniths and golems greatly amplifies the Pilot’s baseline strength, however, a weak and slow Pilot will result in a weaker, slower Oronith. Please remember this as you go into your labs for next week, as it will be critical to you completing them. That is all—you are dismissed.”

  Wulf leapt up from his seat and snatched up his haversack, then snapped his notebook shut and marched out the door of the lecture theatre.

  He ran across the butte and met Irmond and Kalee outside the central arena—they were leaving their respective classes at the same time.

  Five minutes, he vowed. Just five minutes, and if Seith doesn’t come, we’ll leave without her.

  But they didn’t have to wait nearly that long.

  She turned up within a half minute, lingering somewhat sheepishly around the base of the arena, but when she saw them, she began walking over.

  “You just love picking up strays like this, don’t you?” Irmond muttered. To Kalee, he whispered, “He did this to me, too.”

  “I’d bet,” she whispered back.

  “So?” Wulf asked Seith. “Ready to take me up on my offer?”

  Her lips curled into a slight smile. “Just as long as you’re paying.”

  “I’ve got it covered.”