The Academy’s Weapon Replicator - Chapter 102

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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The Weapon Duplicator of the Academy, Chapter 102
Episode 30: Aura
An unexpected commotion erupted in a certain mansion.
A single man had torn through the building.
Eyes as sharp as a veil, pupils transparent and merciless as if reflected in a blade.
Artzie de Roach walked boldly through the front gate of someone else’s estate.
“Vincent von Kolman.”
Facing off against the knights guarding the mansion, Artzie pulled a sheet of paper from his coat.
“You’re under arrest for information leakage, conspiracy, and bribery as a member of the Imperial Direct Knights. If you abandon your resistance and come quietly—”
Artzie drove the spear’s tip into the ground with a dull thud.
“Only you die.”
“Damn it, you lunatic! Cut him down!”
Vincent, watching from the second floor railing, bellowed the command. At his word, the knights rushed at Artzie.
Whoosh—Artzie swung his spear lightly, striking both the incoming blades and the wrists wielding them simultaneously. Those who took a direct hit dropped their weapons.
In the same motion, Artzie’s spear traced a curve, striking the sides of the knights’ faces in rapid succession.
“Ughhhh!”
Though the knights were clad in full armor with helms, somehow every one of them collapsed after contact with Artzie’s spear. All had been knocked unconscious by the impact.
Though he’d spoken as if he would kill them all if they resisted, Artzie had instead used the flat of the blade or the shaft itself, striking them unconscious. There was no need to kill.
‘…Hmph. That much.’
Vincent let out a cold snort at the sight.
There was nothing remarkable in Artzie’s movements. Not even a hint of flourish—only humble, ordinary motions. Subduing all the knights without killing them was impressive enough, but Vincent himself could have done the same.
Vincent was certain. He could win. These knights’ defeat only proved how utterly incompetent they were. He’d thought the expensive mercenaries he’d hired were decent, but they were all show and no substance.
A smile spread across his face. Vincent walked back to his room, retrieved the spear he’d kept carefully displayed, and left again.
By then, all the first-floor knights had been laid out, leaving only Artzie standing in the center.
“Listen!”
Vincent shouted as he thrust forward his spear. The ornate decorations along its shaft and its brilliant shine caught the eye. The blade in particular gleamed beautifully, drinking in the light from the mansion’s chandelier.
“Look at this spear! If you have eyes, you’d know—it’s the Kiriothites, called the Spear Grasped by Angels! It’s the kind they compare to legend itself.”
“Impressive,” Artzie replied.
His voice remained unchanged, and whether his words held genuine admiration was impossible to tell.
With a sharp breath, Vincent leaped down from the railing. Drawing his spear downward as Aura pooled within him, he landed softly—a technique of riding on the pressure radiating from his Aura to lift his body.
“When two fighters are matched in skill, their weapons determine the victor.”
“That’s certainly true,” Artzie said.
Vincent gripped his spear with both hands, its point aimed at Artzie. Meanwhile, Artzie’s spear rested casually on the ground, its blade end touching the floor.
Tension coiled through Vincent’s arms. Aura rose and swirled, filling the spear’s shaft. The blade’s edge now glowed not with reflected light, but with Aura, radiating its own luminescence.
Hssssh!
Vincent’s eyes flashed open, and the spear’s blade rushed toward Artzie like lightning.
And then—
Whoosh—
Vincent found himself staring blankly at his empty hand.
The spear was gone. The Kiriothites, called the Spear of Angels, spoken of in legend—gone.
No, not gone. He’d lost it. The moment Artzie had brought his spear lightly against Vincent’s own, Vincent felt no sensation whatsoever and his grip simply opened.
“What…?”
While Vincent stared blankly at his own hand—
Artzie twisted the shaft beneath and swept Vincent’s legs out from under him. Vincent crumpled helplessly, looking up at Artzie.
“I have one question.”
Artzie pressed the blade’s edge against Vincent. Despite how easily he’d won, displeasure was written across his face.
“Why are you so weak?”
“Wh-what…?”
Vincent lifted his head, wondering if he’d heard correctly.
Weak? Me?
‘You insane bastard. There’s something abnormal about you, not me!’
His spear had simply flown from his grasp at the slightest brush against the blade. There’d been no sensation of it slipping away. How could anyone respond to such technique?
“That spear just now—you called it Kiriothites?”
“…Yes. A wretch like you couldn’t even—”
“I’ve seen better. That’s why I’m asking.”
Killing intent kindled in Artzie’s eyes.
Vincent couldn’t understand why Artzie would be angry at this moment. It would make sense during their fight, but there was no reason for it now.
“There’s someone I know.”
Artzie’s spear moved to Vincent’s throat.
“That person wielded a weapon so laughably inferior to what you just held, and they swung it without a shred of hesitation.”
Blood trickled down Vincent’s neck. It was as though Artzie’s fury radiated outward from the spear’s tip.
“And yet he refused to wield that weapon, choosing instead to cultivate his own strength. He begged for knowledge, accepted wounds, endured blows, and struggled through. That’s how he became strong. All because he believed it was the only way he’d survive. He weathered years when everyone around him dismissed him as hopeless.”
Vincent didn’t know who Artzie was talking about, but he understood one thing clearly: his timing was spectacularly, miserably bad.
“I’ll ask again.”
Artzie’s gaze turned glacial.
“What right do you have to be so weak?”

* * *
My brother Artzie had taken up a temporary teaching position at Constellation Academy.
This followed the official story in the game “Etius.” When the main quest “Assault” was prevented, Ales inevitably either got expelled from Constellation or vanished without a trace.
Artzie had filled the sudden gap in the Basic Combat Arts teaching staff for that interim period.
But it was only temporary—just until a permanent instructor arrived.
So who would that permanent instructor be? I knew the answer to that too, of course.
“Nice to meet you all~!!”
The voice was even more buoyant than it had been in the game, and my spirits sank immediately.
Students gathered in the lecture hall to hear the lesson watched blankly as a man bounded through the entrance, practically bouncing with each step.
He was slightly shorter than the male average for this world, with a face far too youthful for his actual age.
The instructor Pascal.
Gamers called him “the Rascal.”
Not quite a villain, but many gamers wished he were one instead.
“Ahem.”
Standing in the center of the lecture hall, Pascal cleared his throat and spread his arms wide.
“Hello, everyone. I’m Pascal Shilitz, and I’ll be taking over the Basic Combat Arts course here at Constellation from today on. Delighted to meet you!”
Pascal grinned broadly, gesticulating wildly. The students smiled back awkwardly.
Even trying to suppress their initial impressions, they couldn’t ignore that Pascal looked far too young in appearance and manner.
“And I’m a knight from the Imperial Palace. Impressive, isn’t it? That’s exactly why I’m able to teach all of you!”
Some students’ eyes gleamed at his boasting.
Of course, an Imperial Palace knight stands in a different league from any shabby private order. Even the lowest-ranking palace knight commands respect.
And Pascal was far from the lowest rank.
“Now that we’ve reached the Second Semester, you’ll be learning about Aura in earnest. Mind you, this isn’t something I decided on my own—it’s part of Constellation’s curriculum!”
This time, most of the students’ expressions genuinely shifted.
Aura. The dream itself for combat-track students.
As I’ve mentioned before, Aura and Mana are simply different names for the same substance—what’s called “Qi.”
But while magic-track students grasp Mana quickly and begin casting spells, combat-track students lag far behind in learning to use Aura.
Some never master it at all, even by the time they graduate from Constellation.
There are several reasons for this. First, combat fighters can survive without Aura.
A mage without magic is impossible, but a swordsman without Aura is entirely viable. So the necessity diminishes, and the timeline stretches.
Another factor: Aura manifests differently in each person.
Constellation guides students toward the proper method of using Aura, but grasping it is an individual journey.
Unlike magic, there’s no fixed incantation or formula for wielding Aura.
Just as every person’s bones and muscles differ, so too does each individual’s Aura express itself uniquely.
“By the way, this is my Aura! Keep your eyes wide open and watch!”
Pascal extended one hand. The students’ faces registered disbelief. And their skepticism proved justified.
A sound emerged, almost like a light engine humming to life.
“Wow……!”
From his bare hand, Pascal drew forth Aura. Its shape was unmistakably that of a blade.
Since Aura is a release of Qi, it’s invisible to the untrained eye—or appears only as the faintest shimmer to those lacking sensitivity.
…If I’m honest, I wouldn’t have been able to see it until recently either. But after all the battles I’ve fought, I was grateful to see it now, perfectly clear.
“Aura without a weapon….”
Someone murmured in a tone of admiration.
Long ago, Ales, who had been the previous combat instructor, once said something like this:
-When one reaches the pinnacle of Aura, they can weaponize the bare hand itself.
In other words, Pascal had attained that pinnacle. A realm even Ales had never reached.
…Well, there are various nuances to that phrasing, but setting those aside, there’s no denying Pascal’s formidable skill as a knight.
“How’s that? Pretty impressive, right? Impressive, right? Hahahaha!”
Had he only stayed silent, he’d have basked in admiring looks. Instead, the students’ expressions returned to that awkward smile.
“Aura can be wielded like a weapon from bare hands as I’ve shown, but even so, it’s better to hold a proper weapon. Aura amplifies the weapon’s edge, hardness, and durability while drawing out its inherent strength.”
I listened to Pascal’s explanation and reflected.
Like every other student, my top priority this semester is mastering Aura.
In terms of weapon quality and quantity, few would surpass me—but all I’ve done is swing them. Nothing more.
It’s like trying to chop wood with an extraordinarily powerful chainsaw that’s switched off. Sure, the blade might cut through, but that’s not what the tool’s really capable of.
A weapon’s true performance is determined by the user’s Aura. In other words, every weapon chooses its master.
Just as a master chooses a weapon. Though there are extreme cases like Excalibur Alpha, where the blade actively selects who wields it.
“Now then, I should demonstrate what kind of power this Aura actually has.”
As Pascal spoke, his gaze swept across the students. In that moment, all their eyes naturally converged on a single person—a reflexive response, as automatic as trained dogs answering a call.
Naturally, it was Aster.
“You there, dark-haired student! You’re Frontdier de Roach, correct? Come to the front.”
Aster naturally responded to the summons by… not standing up.
What? Why wasn’t I moving?
“Frontdier de Roach!”
“……Ah, you meant me?”
Only then did I realize he’d been calling my name, and I looked at Pascal.
Pascal smiled and gestured for me to come forward.
I didn’t quite understand, but since he’d called, I stepped ahead anyway. The expressions on the students’ faces and my own were remarkably similar.
“Um, what should I do, sir?”
“Oh, it’s simple. Showing Aura colliding with an ordinary weapon would be too predictable, so I want to show you all what happens when Aura clashes with Aura.”
……Ah, I see. The premise is wonderfully, brilliantly straightforward.
“……If Aura collides with Aura, then that means……”
“Yes, yes, Frontdier. Manifest your Aura. You have a weapon ready, correct?”
“……?”
I’m not particularly close with the students in the Basic Combat Arts class. I’m a ‘human sloth,’ after all.
Yet this time, I darted my eyes across the room, scanning the students. Instinctively, I shot them a desperate look, silently pleading for help.
Even the students who dislike me would surely see things my way this time.
“Um, Professor? Frontdier doesn’t use Aura.”
“That’s right. It seems you’re mistaken—the one who recently mastered Aura is Aster Evens over here……”
Exactly. They were saying precisely what I needed to hear.
Upon hearing the students’ words, Pascal glanced briefly at Aster, then broke into a grin.
“Ah, of course I know. Aster Evens! Truly impressive! I’m well aware.”
Then he looked back at me.
“Now then, show me your Aura. Frontdier.”
……?
What? Wasn’t communication working? No, it had been working just a second ago.
Pascal’s words stirred me from my confusion.
“Frontdier, you can use Aura, right? I already know everything~”
And as if to show he’d seen through me completely, Pascal smiled confidently. Then he gripped a sword made of Aura and took a fighting stance.
……Ah.
This game can kill you in ways like this too?
What a broken mess.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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