The Hangar Lounge was a 'students only' space, or so they claimed. Wulf was pretty sure the janitors still cleaned it in the evening, but there were only ever professors in it.

On Thirdday afternoon, after all his classes were done—and after an exhausting bout of combat training—he and the others took a trek to the lounge. See what it was all about, and hopefully, rest their muscles before they permanently strained themselves.

Wulf pushed open the door and stepped into a well-lit room. It reminded him of a restaurant, with a normal height ceiling, and cushioned booths scattered around the edges. Tables dotted the center, where fourth years studied in silence or played card games. Candle sconces lined the walls, and a few hanging lamps lit the rest of the room.

On the very far side of the lounge, a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the rest of the hangar. They were near the top, so there was a perfect view of Oroniths leaving and returning from missions, and from the general maintenance work. Iron-tier Artificers scrambled around on scaffolding, carving runes and placing stone panels back into position.

Most of the Oroniths had battle damage now, whether it was a missing limb or just a line of scorching claw marks down the statue's chest. For a moment, Wulf paused, taking in the view, before Phelot and Muy noticed them.

The twins ran over, and one of them said, "Come in, come in. You don't need permission next time, just hang out here whenever you want."

"Thanks," Wulf replied. He walked across the room, following them over to a table in the far corner, with an excellent view over the rest of the hangar. The others followed him, and they sat down in the chairs. "So…" Wulf winced. "I hate to ask again, but which of you is which?" At least the rest of Muy and Phelot's crew weren't here right now.

"I'm Muy," one said.

"And I am Phelot," the other said. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance finally, Wulf."

Wulf stared at them for a moment, until Kalee nudged him. "You're going to forget again, aren't you?" she whispered.

"No, I…" Wulf shook his head. "Muy has a red pin from the Silk Traders' Guild. Phelot doesn't."

"Correct!" Muy said, clapping his hands slightly. "Not sure if I want to stay in the guild much longer, but hey, it was a cushion if Oronith piloting doesn't work out." He grimaced. "I'm just not sure what point there is in trading silk if there's no world left to trade in."

"That's why we're here, isn't it?" Seith said.

"We're working on something," Wulf replied. "I'm not sure how well it's going to go over, and we'll need all the help we can get from everyone here at the academy. No matter what, I'll need all the allies I can get."

"And you're forgetting an important condition," Irmond said. "You need to be alright with"—he dropped his voice to a whisper and leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table—"going against the Academy."

Muy chuckled. Phelot didn't react at all.

"Well, we shouldn't've asked them so early," Seith said. "They barely know us."

"Do not worry," Phelot said. "We know you. We have been in the hangar bay beside you ever since you arrived here. You have made many unauthorized departures and embarked on many risky missions the academy would have never condoned."

"And we still invited you here, didn't we?" Muy asked. "We know what you guys are about, and—"

Before he could finish, another fourth year cautiously approached the table. She was a young woman in a pilot's jumpsuit, and a human as best Wulf could tell. "Sorry to bother you," she said. "But you're Wulf, right?"

Wulf glanced at her. "Y—yes? Correct."

She giggled, then glanced back across the room at the table she'd come from, where a few other girls sat.

Kalee rolled her eyes, then shifted closer to Wulf and leaned on his shoulder for effect. He whispered into her hair, "Don't worry. It took me nearly three years to finally ask you out. I don't think they're any threat to you."

"Sorry," the girl said. She was only a Silver, but there was one other gold at her table. "But I was wondering, would you be willing to make a potion for us, being an Alchemist and all?"

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"What sort of potion?" Wulf asked.

"Well…" She folded her hands behind her back. "Dr. Long is being a stickler in combat class, but we really can't do any better. I think Naysie just made him mad, to be honest, because he hasn't made anyone else spend three classes in a row on the punching bag, and she doesn't have any strength-enhancing Marks, and he said if she couldn't punch the punching bag off the hook, then she couldn't return to classes, but she's falling behind…"

Wulf glanced over at the table with the rest of the girls. One of them had bandaged knuckles, and her hands quivered whenever they moved. And of course, she had no guild badge—only a pin to mark her as High-Silver.

"I think he's trying to get her drop out," the girl continued.

"Sure, yeah, I can make a potion," Wulf said. "Give me a few days, and I'll bring one for her." He grinned. Anything to give their combat instructor a bit of a fright.

"Thank you! Thank you so much!" she said, then scampered away.

"There's a request board," Muy said, pointing to the other side of the room—beside the door Wulf had come in through. "Sometimes, we help each other with crafting tasks. Put in a request, and we'll see what we can do to help. You might start seeing some potion requests pop up."

"I'll do my best," Wulf said.

"Are we going to tell him?" Phelot asked.

"Alright, you can't just say that," Irmond said. "And then not tell us."

"Yes I can." Phelot crossed his arms.

"No, that's—"

"But I can do it."

He and Irmond stared at each other for a few seconds, before finally, Muy said, "The next arena fight, Wulf. We've heard that Leo is going to try to sabotage you."

"I'm not fighting him yet, am I?" Wulf tilted his head.

"No, but Leo wants you out before he has to fight you. Seems like people are getting a bit nervous."

Wulf nodded. "Alright. Thanks for the heads up."

"The warning was simple, but we got it from a trusted source: make sure he can resist an Orichalcum-tier poison."

Wulf raised his eyebrows. "They…have that?"

"I don't know what they have, but if my source tells me they have it, then they have it. You've made him worried, now."

Wulf nodded. "Alright. I'm…not sure if I can do that just yet, but I'll figure something out. Thanks."

"Any time. We want nothing more than to see someone bash that smug bastard's face into the ground," Muy said. "He took both of us out of the tournament last year. And if he's going to cheat? Gotta let you know."

"I'm just not sure how much I can do," Wulf said. "I only have two days before the fight, and I've never made a resistance potion before. I'm not sure if I can, because no matter how much 'randomness' there is to my potion output, I've never seen one before."

~ ~ ~

Wulf spent any free time he had over the next few days working on alchemy. He brewed large batches of potions with the Seven Cylinders and pretty much any other vial he could fit into his stand, and he got a few Gold-tier strength potions to give to the girls in the lounge. But no sign of a resistance increasing potion.

He stared at his status for a few minutes, trying to decipher it, trying to decide whether there was something blocking him, then when he found nothing, he went back through his textbooks and hunted for anything that described how to make a resistance-enhancing potion, or if there was some kind of restriction.

Nothing.

Only a passing mention, in one of the potion tables, that described the ingredients of a resistance-enhancing potion. But no clues for why Wulf wouldn't be able to make one.

He narrowed his eyes, and for a moment, considered brute-forcing it. He could just reverse the transmutation slips that he'd acquired in his first year and prevent his main class ability from taking effect.

But he would need the right ingredients for the potion if he wanted to make that work, and he just didn't have the right ingredients on-hand. No stablewood, no bile-heron feathers, no sea salt—regular sea salt.

For a moment, he considered just hoping that his resistance was enough to deal with whatever his enemies were going to throw at him. An Orichalcum-tier poison, though? Not even he could resist that at the moment.

If they had an Orichalcum-tier poison, it meant they hadn't raised it up like a potion. It wasn't even a potion—they weren't alchemists. They had simply acquired it from the wild. That meant, if he could capture it, he could use it later as an ingredient in his own potions and alchemy.

There was, of course, his latest Mark. He could grant himself the ability to resist the poison for a short while, but he doubted it would last long enough, and if they were going to surprise him with it, he wouldn't get much warning to be able to activate the Mark in time. He needed a potion ready beforehand.

But he still had an idea.

He flipped through his old alchemy textbook until he found the transmutation tables, then jotted down all the fundamental components of the ingredients he needed for a resistance potion. It was hard, long work, and it took nearly a few hours to figure out exactly what ingredients went into a bile-heron feather.

If only there was a way to condense all that information into an easily-accessible format, to call it up at will.

But once he had his list of chaos and order and primal material, he knew exactly how much he needed to put into a vial to simulate the right ingredients, whether he had them or not. And if he just stopped it from transmuting afterward…?

He would have a resistance potion in no time.

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.