Welldark B2 Ch. 02

Stained glass broke the summer light. The tinged, fractured beams cascaded down into the gothic architecture of Welldark's central train station. The air was pleasingly damp and cool. Here and there, artificial illumination ensured that it did not get too dark.

Only the roof of the vast structure was above ground. Large pillars of grey and black rock, decorated with purple tiles and golden trims, extended more than twenty metres upwards. The 3'000 active students of the university were funnelled through this building every day, moving to their courses from the trains that carried them from their dorms. The many stylized pictures under the ceiling matched the sombre architecture.

More impressive than the ornate roof was the state of the stone rows that served as boarding platforms. They were dark grey and clean. Not universally dark grey, there was the typical mix of deep purple and thin gold, but mostly. What was impressive wasn't the colour anyway.

Admittedly, the number of train stations I had visited in my life was limited. Before I went to Hell, I had rarely moved from my place of birth. Afterwards, the typical mode of long distance travel was on the back of some air or seaborne demon creature. Even with my limited experience I was aware that the most common kind of flooring at train stations were the flattened remains of bubblegum. There was none of that here. There were no signs of any stains of any origin. Not even an invisible, oddly sticky spot.

There was no lack of opportunities to fill the area with trash. Every platform had its own kiosk, selling small snacks and the university newspaper. The latter was done through a code that unlocked the article on the Ashod, rather than wasting a bunch of paper every day. Beyond that, there was a commercial area that had, among other things, a bakery and a fast food 'restaurant'. Newspaper aside, all of this did create trash and I was not naïve enough to believe that a gathering of humanoids this large never littered. I had even seen students drink here before. Yet, I never spotted any trash - nor cleaners.

The mystery managed to hold my attention and distracted me from the inevitable. Hand in hand, I walked with my Queen up the stairs that connected the train station to the actual university complex. I would have held Aclysia as well, but three people next to each other took up too much space. Like Willt, she had to pace behind us.

Atop the stairs, Esther and I stopped by a wall and kissed goodbye. A tide of red washed by us, students in crimson shirts and dark pants or skirts. The uniform of Welldark, to be worn by anyone on campus grounds. "See you at work," I said.

"At work," Esther confirmed with a militaristic nod and parted from me, marching towards the Magic Wing of the university. Her tricorne stood out among the students for a while, the white feather bobbing with each of her marching steps. Then she disappeared around the corner and I let out a heavy sigh.

"Three hours," Willt drily commented.

"Three hours of great heartache and longing," I lamented. "Three hours without the sun of my life, shining her rays of merciless criticism and deep adoration upon my every action. Three hours...-" I trailed off into a dramatic pause. Aclysia put a stop to my loathing by stepping up to me.

"I may be able to make the void bearable?" She put a hand on my chest and got close. Wonderfully close.

The sun of my life may have vanished, but I got ample access to a pair of moons in return. It wasn't the fine tone to put it like this, regardless it had to be said: Aclysia had a fat ass. Magnificence only hinted at by the skirt she filled with that lovely behind now shifted under my palm. When we walked, every step brought it through various states of firm and bouncy, the muscles under the soft jello tensing and relaxing.

That her ass was this large was what prevented it from being perfect in my eyes. Esther's bubble butt was a bit more balanced, narrower and in line with her figure. That being said, perfection was subjective and any flavour approaching it was to be treasured. Having so much to claw into was definitely an advantage I would not have passed on. Variety was the spice of life.

While I was on the topic of butts, my mind wandered to that wood elf I had met on my first day. Her ass had been even larger than Aclysia's, an absolute pillow of a backside. She had also been taller, so that balanced out. 'Inistra was her name, I think,' I recalled, wondering if I would ever get another chance to talk to her.

My open perversion had offended her. I did not see any need to apologize. Regardless, it was a shame that she had deliberately avoided me since. Whenever we were in the same room, she was on the opposite side. Those meetings were always by chance. We shared no classes, so I had no opportunity to try and reconcile. Maybe next semester.

There was a risk that she would join another Anomalia before then. This risk was inherent to the situation at large no matter what I did. Doubtlessly, I was already well ahead of the curve. Not only had I formed an Anomalia already, I essentially had confirmed the second entry. Beyond that, Esther, Aclysia and I were the strongest combatants in our semester (officially speaking, there may have been people hiding their true power level, or catching up to us). To describe myself as greedy because I was already thinking about women I wanted beyond those two would have been an understatement.

And I was greedy. Unapologetically.

I wanted who I wanted and I would put in the work required to have their ear, their adoration, and their hearts. I would put in the work to retain their affection, prove that it could last, until my Anomalia was filled and I was waking up every morning amidst a crowd of deeply attractive, adoring females. What man would blame me for this greed? Only those without the will and honesty to pursue the dream themselves, I reckoned.

The crowd around us gradually thinned, as the many streams separated again and again. Welldark had 13 branches, each of them possessing their own set of buildings. Courtyards acted as separating areas. They came in many shapes. Small parks were common. As were simple lawns. Plazas of cobblestone could also be found. All of them enveloped the clusters of buildings belonging to the branches. Each cluster had its own individual set of architectural quirks, while adhering to the gothic theme of purple, dark grey and black.

Roofed pathways cut through these spaces between branches. The stone floor was flanked by curved pillars that could have fit nicely in a cathedral. Aclysia and I were currently crossing the largest green area on the university ground. More than a park, the orderly assembly field between the tall walls served as the university's public herbal garden. Many of the fields here could be rented, all the other ones were used to grow low-priority herbs used in cooking and alchemy. Truly important, valuable, or interesting plants were grown in the greenhouses. Access to them was restricted.

The three of us entered the Mixtures Branch of Welldark together. Copper and glass tubes ran around underneath the ceiling and through the walls. Fluids visibly and audibly flowed through them creating a constant buzz that echoed through the corridors. Parts of the walls were cut out and replaced with tanks. Windows allowed every student passing to see the liquids and gasses within.

They weren't mere decoration. This absurdly expansive network of pipes was necessary to mass produce Alchymiet, a stable alchemical reactant. In the craft, it was used as commonly as water. Metal plates besides each tank described what the current step of refinement was.

There were other tanks as well, some of them located in the middle of a crossing, exuding a cold air. Bubbling mystery fluids of various colours invoked wonder of what they may be. These, too, could be rented by students for their projects and came in various sizes. An array of containers the size of the average kitchen pot filled a niche in a wall opposite to the classroom we aimed for. They contained fish skeletons boiling in a blue liquid.

By now, the wave of students had broken down into countable groups. It was the second time slot of the day, running from 8:30 to 10:30, generally the busiest stretch of the day. This deep in the university, most had reached their destination, however, and the hallways were emptying by the second.

"I'll see you tonight?" I asked, kissing Aclysia's hand. Monday was my busiest day, as much as I had wanted to avoid that. The only option for us to see one another during the day was if she swung by Café Served while Esther and I were working.

"Yes," she dashed that particular (unreasonable) hope. Hugging me, she leaned up to my ear and whispered. "I will have dinner prepared."

Just like that, a smile appeared on my face. It grew even larger when she pressed a kiss on my cheek. Then she took a step backwards and bowed, before heading to a part of the building which appeared downright mundane by comparison to our brewing environment. While I had an alchemy class, Aclysia had one in cooking. The two were in the same branch, which made sense to me.

The alchemy classroom, like practically all classrooms of moderate size, was designed such that the students' seats rose up higher as they went towards the back of the room. A standard design decision, employed by universities of any variety, to ensure that the people at the back could see the teacher. Welldark afforded its students a great array of luxuries, providing leather seats and large tables in every normal classroom. The latter was further amplified in this classroom. Every table was its own workstation, surrounded by a cubicle of glass that would contain any explosion or other mishap. The former was replaced by a wooden stool.

I disliked those. Certainly, it made sense to have them there. Alchemy was not a craft done sitting down and stools were easier to replace. I was also quite certain that leather could have transmutated in unwanted ways, more easily so than the mundane wood used for the current seating. From what I had learned so far, animal materials were more alchemically reactive than plant matter. This was why herbs were so common in alchemy, what they did to the brew was gradual, while pieces of fauna could create some drastic changes.

Still, my butt would have appreciated a softer seat.

Willt and I took the same two stations as we always did. There was nothing forcing us to do so. At the beginning of the semester, the alchemy class had been almost completely filled. After three weeks, we had gone down to about half, about 25 people, which was the number we were currently hovering at. All teachers expected such a development. Since classes weren't mandatory, anyone who felt disillusioned or unmotivated to attend a particular one could just not show up. They weren't required for graduation either.

Cosmic Universities, unlike regular universities, didn't prepare their students to enter an academic field. The primary purpose of Welldark was to teach its students in the Dimensional Truth in a safe and controlled environment. Because that was an endeavour best approached carefully over a long stretch of time, additional courses had been established to educate the students in whatever they might fancy. Welldark, in particular, demanded a minimum of battle and diplomacy training as well. Anything else was on a voluntary basis.

Grades and such would be printed out in a document after graduation, but such a diploma was only of use if one decided to stick to the explored and civilized worlds that knew about Welldark. The knowledge itself was the reward for attending the courses.

Alchemy was useful, that's why I went there and kept coming. I had considered dropping out of a few of my classes. The stern influence of my Queen kept me motivated. Esther wouldn't have let me hear the end of it if I wasted two hours playing video games. Annoying, at times, yet ultimately positive.

We had gotten comfortable and were chatting about nothing in particular, when the teacher came in. He was a middle-aged man of good looks. His head was as hairless as his chin, although he could on some days be seen with a bit of stubble in both places, proving that he was doing this by choice. A well-fitting suit covered his body and he carried a lab coat over his shoulder.

Fluidly, pushed his arms through the sleeves. As he closed the buttons, he raised his voice, like he always did at the start of these lessons. The magic in the room carried it to every corner, "Say it with me, students," he demanded.

A chorus of bored, excited, neutral, bothered, and yawning voices accompanied him during his next sentence: ""Alchemy is an art of the outcome, many roads lead to one goal.""

"Very good!" the teacher, Temerian Lerezen, continued with his ritualistic start. "In chemistry, there are often several ways to refine a desired molecule -- several paths one could take to create the compounds desired. In alchemy, the same principle is amped up to twelve-thousand. Alchemical concoctions are created by a process of transmutation, the elements used valuable not because of their physical but their esoteric properties. To succeed in creating the desired outcome in alchemy, one must reach an end-state by balancing the magical and symbolic attributes of the ingredients."

I leaned against the wall behind me. In the absence of a backrest, that was the best I could do to sit relaxedly. Temerian continued his spiel about the way alchemy worked. The first five minutes of his lectures were always the same. Drilling those fundamentals into us was advisable, yet I was bored every time he brought it up. I went back to listening when something new was being said.

"Alchemy is a mysterious art. Because the value of the ingredients is symbolic, our own perception influences the outcome of the brews. A grand master may be able to substitute materials of equal magical potency for another, strictly by believing, truly believing, that they hold the same esoteric value. In its entire history, Welldark has only produced three such masters, one of whom is the current head of this branch. For us normal alchemists, our characters, our subconscious beliefs, alter the final brew in small or large ways. This depends on your affinity with the brew and the enthusiasm you put into it. Alchemy is a pursuit of the heart. Many formulae can be followed to achieve predictable results, but treating this art as a hard science will only get you so far. A true alchemist gives themselves to the passion of creation."

I nodded along. Passion was a word that I was passionate about. What he described, this influence of one's emotions and character on the brew, was called the Gestalt Effect. I had stumbled over it before, during my private studies. Obviously intent could not fundamentally alter the nature of a concoction. All the Gestalt Effect did was add or emphasize a few properties. For example, a healing potion brewed with a lustful intent may be particularly effective at treating the side effects of a rough lovemaking session, such as sub-drop. Besides that, it was still a healing potion.

"Today, we'll make a potion renowned for its reactiveness to personality." Temerian connected his Ashod to the laptop that was in turn connected to the board behind him.

At first sight, it looked like a plain old chalkboard. The moment the magical communication was established, the grey surface wavered like a calm pond getting disturbed by a small stone. Once the ripple had reached the edges, the entire screen was activated and showed us how Temerian clicked around in search of a file.

"The professional name of it is the Jekermen-Welde Potion, which might appear on the test but is not something I actually expect you to remember. We refer to it as the Lotion Potion. I assume all of you have heard about body lotion before -- the Lotion Potion is a brew you can drink and it instantly treats an area of your body as if you had been consistently applying lotion to it for a year. The Full Lotion Potion would do the entire body without fail, but that's for the third semester."

I had hoped for something a little more exciting. Not that the described effect was without its benefits. As a strapping young lad, my body was still in perfect condition. Age would take its toll with time and such a potion would do wonders in keeping my skin (and the skin of my haremettes) taut for several additional years. If it even came to that. There were ways to prolong one's life using magic.

If nothing else, it would make for good practice.

The teacher found the file he required and the screen soon showed two lists. On the left was a step by step of what to do to get to the potion. On the right was the actual end-state of the potion. 'Stable water, whimsical oil, dashes of sanguine and an essence of rejuvenation,' I read. Already, I reached for Alchemica Esoterica, Version 43. The book listed the symbolisms of common ingredients, as well as their magical potency.

"You will create the potion twice today," Temerian instructed us. "First you will follow the instructions on the left, that will get you to the potion guaranteed. Second you will attempt to reach the desired state of the potion by using your own methods. Like always, if you have any time remaining by the end of the task, you may use it as you please. Now, come to the front and fetch your materials."

Willt and I remained seated, while the majority of our (almost exclusively female) class moved to the front. We were in no hurry to get our materials. Idle, however, we were not. My friend was repeatedly glancing up to the list and grabbed various tools and contraptions to be used later. I first glanced at the list, then at what he had chosen, and then grabbed either the same or very similar tools and contraptions. As was already established, this line of work was up Willt's aisle. I was just happy I could keep up with the reasoning without asking.

"Hey there, Willt," purred one of our female classmates, approaching us with her box of provided materials. She had dark grey, almost black skin and a slender, elegant body. Her hair was primarily black, with white streaks interspersed. The last segments of her fingers were claws of a polished horn-like material and her feet were that of a running bird, like an ostrich. "Mind if I work next to you?"

"By..." Willt cleared his throat and pointed at the empty station to his right, "...by all means."

"Hi Melternykina," I greeted her. A mammonette, she was a female greed demon and someone who I had talked to numerous times in the past three months. Each of those times had been either with Willt in the room or the conversation had been about Willt. From what I heard, and I heard practically everything when it came to the friends I shared an accommodation with, she had talked with Arlethia already too. Interest wasn't as solid as it was between me and Aclysia, regardless there was something here.

If nothing else, she often joined us during alchemy class.

"Melina," she corrected me swiftly and gave me a pleading gaze. Covertly, I nodded. It was a silent signal between the two of us that I would keep my mouth shut for as much as was inconspicuous. Removing myself entirely from the scene was a path I was also open to. However, if Willt didn't have me as a proverbial lifebuoy, his awkwardness was certain to stifle conversation.

That being said, I could and did leave for tiny bursts.

"I'll go get our stuff," I announced and pat Willt on the back. Then I winked at the smiling mammonette. Greedy as I was, I could also play the wingman. Luckily, there were enough women for all of us and, if I was being honest, Melina wasn't my type. Her face was too sharp for me and private conversations had revealed her to be on the dom side of things. Neither were necessarily a dealbreaker, but I could chase other women who were closer to my preferences.