The Academy’s dormitory complex was on the western side of the campus. It was a sprawling building with tens of different wings each added in different centuries. All had the same general style: sandstone facades, simple lattice windows that glowed orange in the fading light of the day, and steep roofs.

  Wulf walked down the hallways, hoping that just being here would jog his memories and he’d remember exactly where his old dorm was.

  He did a complete circle of the third floor (which he knew was the right floor) before returning to the stairs without anything to show for his progress. It was either the room in the northern corner, or the one in the southern corner…

  And the longer he stayed, the more chances someone was going to notice he’d stolen artificer equipment from the labs—especially when he stopped by the communal amphoras (filled with river water) to top up his flasks.

  But thankfully, a familiar face climbed up the stairway and stopped at the third floor. Ján, bless him, was now twenty years younger than when Wulf had last seen him. He hid behind a stack of Mage-studies textbooks, leaving only his swept-back blonde hair and sharp chin visible. He was a human, too.

  “What’s wrong, roommate?” Ján exclaimed jokingly. When he spoke, he had a slight accent, revealing his heritage from East Istalis. But he was entirely fluent in Common-Speak. “Can’t a man have his books?”

  Wulf exhaled slowly, unsure how to respond.

  “Nah, but seriously man, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Ján darted up the last set of stairs, then almost skipped past Wulf with how light his steps were.

  “I’m—I’m fine,” Wulf said. “I just forgot my key.”

  “Well, your saviour is here!” Ján balanced his stack of books in one hand and reached into his pocket. He retrieved a key. Like all dorm keys, it was a simple steel rod with bars down its length.

  Wulf followed Ján down the hallway until they reached the room in the northern corner. Ján unlocked it, then pushed it open.

  Northern corner, dammit. Was right the first time.

  Their dorm was a simple rectangle with a bed and a desk on each side. Ján’s side had a couple woodblock prints hanging from the walls (a relatively cheap way to decorate a room, though being the son of minor Kollish nobility, Ján wasn’t lacking in funds).

  Wulf set his equipment down on his desk and lit a candle. He hadn’t decorated his walls at all, except to hang his schedule above the desk. His rank badge had been pinned to the bottom of the schedule, and truly, he had forgotten his room key. It hung from a nail above the schedule.

  Wulf pulled out a stiff wooden chair and sat down at the desk. Being a Pilot, he had to have an understanding in a broad range of studies, as he’d be the one giving his Oronith crew orders. Though he already knew about the other main Classes, this time at the Academy, he could focus on the lecture material, instead of trying to play catch-up with his poor reading ability.

  Five classes per semester. This first semester was all introductory classes: Introduction to Golem Piloting, Introduction to Mage Studies, Introduction to Artificing, Introduction to Scouting and Spotting—that was a lecture about Rangers—and Basics of Field-based Advancement.

  “Well, I’m gonna head to the common room,” Ján proclaimed. He set his stack of books down with a thunk. “Feel free to join us. When, you’re done with…whatever you’re doing over there.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” Wulf said, old dismissive habits taking over. In his past life, it’d taken weeks for Ján to convince Wulf to come along to the common room. He shook his head—that wasn’t going to happen again. “Actually, I’ll be there in a bit. Just have a little work to do. It was nice seeing you again.”

  “Again? We woke up in the same room this morning, good sir.” Ján narrowed his eyes. “Was that a joke?”

  “No. Why would I joke about something like that?”

  “Ah, so you’re just tired,” Ján said as he walked to the door, pushed it open, then marched out backward. “Well, then, the offer still stands.” He pulled the door shut behind himself.

  It was time to get to work.

  Wulf laid out his [Dandelions] on the table, then set up his two flasks. He placed them in the stand, resting them in holders meant specifically for flasks, then placed the [Dandelion] leaves in one flask. First, he mashed them to a pulp with the tip of a quill that he’d left out on the table a few days before.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Then, with his candles, he lit the burn-box and placed it beneath the flask. The phoenix dust smouldered and emitted heat, but didn’t deplete noticeably.

  For a few seconds, nothing happened, but slowly, heat transferred to the flask, and the water began steaming. The chunks of leaf began clinging to the bottom of the pot, so he dipped his quill back in and began stirring. A little ink got in the flask, but hopefully that wouldn't cause problems.

  According to his textbook, alchemy wasn't as simple as just mixing ingredients together. It might work for weaker potions, but not for all. Aside from obtaining the ingredients and brewing them, there was an extra element of attention that had to go into them. The Field recognized effort above all, and haphazardly mixing ingredients wouldn't ever have as magical of results as dedication.

  Even if he couldn't control the potion’s effect yet, he could control the tier and the strength, and begin building up a stockpile. Problem was, he had no practice with potions.

  His experimentation with alchemy in his past life amounted to mixing pre-packaged powders that already had mana infusions and which the Field had already recognized. Now, he had to make it recognize his efforts.

  With slow, precise movements, he stirred the flask. The liquid shifted, slowly taking on a pale green from the leaves. Steam rose up the top of the flask and filtered out, and the leaves darkened. The heat of the water and the constant stirring made them crumble apart.

  Wulf watched intently. The liquid’s colour changed, and the patterns of bubbles were…unnatural. He couldn’t explain it, but it didn’t make any sense with the rules of the world that his mind had gotten used to. He flipped through his alchemy textbook, thumbing over the pages as he stirred, until he arrived at the last page of the first chapter.

  Note: when distilling arcane ingredients, if boiled correctly, the Field will begin recognizing the ingredients, and you will notice shifting patterns of bubbles that may seem unnatural, or areas of high and low concentration where there should be none. Stir through those areas and concentrate your efforts. In other words, allow the Field to guide your efforts.

  Finally, at the end of the first chapter, it provided a list of basic potions and their ingredients, and their purpose. A potion made with dandelions—either arcane [Dandelions] or regular weeds (and then infused with mana)—would provide a subtle night vision effect. He couldn’t expect that, but it was still nice to know.

  Wulf continued stirring, carefully moving his quill through the patches of bubbles, or stirring up the slightly darker wisps of liquid that hadn’t properly diffused through the vial yet.

  He’d need to get a proper stir-stick, too. But he added that to the list of objects to acquire in the future. The quill worked well enough for now.

  After about ten minutes, the mixture had thickened slightly, and the air around it seemed to vibrate with yearning. The potion was ready.

  Like he had in the gym, he could try to infuse it with his own mana. But if he spent all his mana creating potions, he’d never increase his tier. The Field allocated mana to Ascendants for completing tasks related to their Class, and when they accumulated enough mana, they could advance their tier.

  But there was the catch: while completing tasks, they often used mana. Mages received enormous bursts of mana for defeating enemies and monsters, but they had to consume some to unleash spell Skills. It slowed their advancement.

  And since advancing your tier was the easiest way to gain and upgrade Skills, Wulf needed to advance quickly—he wouldn’t settle for random potions, and if he wanted to convince everyone he was a Pilot, he’d need to be able to fuel a golem for longer.

  Wulf, however, wouldn’t gain nearly as much mana from making potions as a Mage or Pilot would from defeating enemies, and if he was constantly spending mana to complete his potions, he would never advance.

  He leaned back in his chair for a few seconds, thinking, relaxing, and stirring his potion gently. Then, finally, he muttered, “The mana-aura didn’t use my mana.”

  If it had, he wouldn’t have been able to move the golem even once, with how little mana he’d possessed.

  He rummaged through his bag and recovered his canteen with the nausea potion in it. He took another long swig of it, finishing off the last dregs of nauseating liquid. His Mark allowed him to resist the arcane effect, but the flavour still made him want to retch.

  But it worked. An aura expanded away from him, fuelling magic objects, and simply putting mana in the air. With his faint control of it, he willed it into the potion, begging the Field to allow his aura in and infuse the potion with magic.

  For a few seconds, it resisted, like trying to push a magnet’s poles together, but he burst through, and the entire aura flooded into the potion. The glass rang, and the flask quivered. Steam still floated out the top, but now, the liquid itself glowed.

  As Wulf watched, the potion changed colours. He hadn’t seen what his nausea potion looked like in his opaque canteen, but in a glass container, he could clearly see the green fade, and the liquid took on a brown-orange colour, almost like whisky.

  He reached out and pressed his hand against it, calling on the Field to sense it. His enchanted parchment shifted, and new words scrawled across it:

  Mothwing Potion (Middle-Wood Quality)

  Enhances the user’s speed for thirty seconds. Potion is an irritant to eyes and throat when contacted in high quantities.

  [By crafting a potion, you have increased your mana. Advancement progress: 15%]

  Wulf sighed. He supposed a potion could have multiple effects, and if a negative effect got tagged onto a positive effect, it wouldn’t do him much good.

  Although, a slightly corrosive potion could be an especially effective weapon. Sure, speed would be nice, but he had options.

  Gingerly, he removed the flask from its holder, then poured the potion into his canteen. His fingers stung on the hot glass. They didn’t have as thick of calluses as he was used to, but he pushed through. He set the flask back on the rack, then leaned back in his chair.

  He had two more flasks, and he had time and ingredients.

  There was no reason not to make two more potions before he called it a night.