The Academy’s Weapon Replicator - Chapter 123

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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 123
Part 37: Memories (5)
My blade missed Armel, unfortunately.
He leaned back to evade it. The movement was too hasty, throwing his balance into disarray. He tumbled sideways, half-falling to the ground.
When Armel regained his footing, he stared at me with wide eyes.
“You… you’re not Frontdier, are you?”
He seemed more shocked by the fact that his ability hadn’t worked than by the blade bearing down on him.
I stood in silence, though cold sweat ran down my back all the same.
‘That was close.’
I was putting on a calm front, but the anxiety was genuine.
Armel had been right. I’d miscalculated—I’d believed that if I simply kept my distance, Rete’s Divine Power wouldn’t reach me.
And as Armel had said, I harbored a half-formed faith that even if the Divine Power did reach me, it wouldn’t take hold.
I’d already factored both of those contingencies into my mind.
And yet.
‘I lost consciousness for a moment.’
A chill ran through me at the realization that Rete’s Divine Power had affected me—even if only slightly.
At some point, had I begun to see myself and Frontdier as one and the same?
I smiled as though I’d anticipated everything all along. I wasn’t sure how convincing it looked.
“Right, I thought something was off! There’s no way that ‘lazy human’ could’ve improved this much! I heard he was utterly talentless, making no effort whatsoever!”
“Hah, hah, hah.”
I laughed, stepping closer while still gripping the short sword.
“Who would believe such a thing, Armel?”
“…!”
Armel’s expression hardened deliberately. He thrust a hand into his robe, and what emerged were several short blades. Or rather, since they lacked hilts, perhaps “blades” was the proper term.
I recognized those blades.
‘They look identical to the blades that are ejected from Quinie’s fan.’
Quinie stored hers in her fan, but the father wielded them directly in combat. Even without hilts, the grip portion was narrower than the blade itself—processed so it could be grasped easily without injury.
“Whether or not my Divine Power works, it doesn’t matter. I’ll just kill you here and be done with it.”
Then Armel cracked his neck with a sharp pop.
But it wasn’t merely stretching muscle. Each pop was accompanied by a visible expansion of his body. Starting from his neck, then shoulders, arms, waist, legs, and ankles—with each crack of bone, the corresponding limb swelled noticeably larger.
He was expanding his skeletal structure, not reducing it.
“You’ve been using Skeletal Reduction this entire time, then. Is this your true form?”
“That’s right. A small frame makes disguise easier. There’s no better way to conceal one’s age.”
It didn’t seem like magic—perhaps a technique uniquely his own, or else something learned from Indus.
With his body fully expanded, Armel now stood taller than me. At least in sheer build, he now resembled Angen.
Clang!
The several blades Armel held fused into one with a single gesture. Interesting weapon, indeed.
Whisk!
Armel swung his right arm, hurling one of the blades at me. The speed was unremarkable, so I batted it away with my short sword.
In that same instant, Armel closed the distance, and his right hand—the very one that had just thrown—still held a blade.
Crash!
Our blades collided head-on.
‘I see. He can fuse them and separate them at will.’
It was like wielding playing cards, launching them freely from one’s palm.
He could throw and fence simultaneously.
Crash! Clang!
Armel and I traded blows several times. As befitted a family head, his blades already shimmered with Aura. Mine did no less.
“Who are you, really? How long have you been impersonating Frontdier?”
“Quiet! I’m Frontdier, I’m telling you!”
There was nothing false in what I said. I am Frontdier. Everyone in this world would attest to it.
Yet I had also been impersonating him. Two seemingly contradictory statements, and yet somehow they both held true.
Crash!
I parried Armel’s two-pronged assault with both swords at once. He judged it dangerous and quickly retreated.
I’ve worked with dual blades enough to know that sloppy handling makes it more perilous than fighting with one sword alone. The left interferes with the right.
…And yet, even so.
“Armel.”
“What?”
“You’re weaker than Quinie, after all.”
I was certain of it.
Armel lacked the talent for true combat. The notion of throwing and swinging blades simultaneously was fresh, but he couldn’t apply that ingenuity to the degree his sister could.
I know it well because I’m the weaker one. Using methods that break the rules like that only proves how weak I am. Just as I’ve scraped together every tactic I could find to stand against him until now.
“You won’t die a pleasant death.”
Armel growled.
Well, naturally he’d be furious hearing that.
‘So what do I do?’
I could have killed him long ago if I’d wanted to. Without needing to meet him like this. I’m not even sure Armel could stop a barrage of projectiles.
But this is Constellation Academy. Besides, Armel hasn’t even had his guilt proven yet. Even if he were guilty, killing him with my own hands sits wrong with me.
If I just tie his feet so he can’t pull any more reckless stunts, that should be enough somehow.
‘…That’s right.’
The way Armel fights with his unorthodox methods.
Maybe I should pull out one of my own tricks too.
Clang!
Armel came at me again. Our blades met once more with a loud metallic ring.
In truth, the gap between Armel’s swordsmanship and mine isn’t that wide. If anything, Armel probably has more raw strength thanks to his larger frame.
But I’ve faced opponents far stronger than Armel far too often. Not just enemies—especially from training with Artzie, I’ve been thrown to the ground countless times.
And more than anything else, Armel’s swordplay is rusty. You can see it plainly that he hasn’t engaged in real combat for a long time.
Whoosh!
Armel’s blades came slashing at me from both sides. This was the moment I’d been waiting for. The instant he launched a simultaneous two-handed attack.
I extended my sword. Right at the point where Armel’s two blades would cross.
As expected, Armel had never experienced this technique before. Though he must have heard reports about it.
Slip—
My short sword and Armel’s two blades connected without sound. In the next instant came a dry, cracking noise like burning kindling, and Armel’s weapons flew spinning through the air. The crossed blades scattered into empty space.
It was the Disarming Strike.
“Urgh!”
Armel staggered backward, finally realizing what had happened. Still, he recovered quickly—faster than most who’d fallen victim to the Disarming Strike.
I pressed forward into the distance he’d retreated, swinging my short sword toward his chest.
The blade passed through empty air, never touching him. During our exchanges, Armel had measured the length of my sword and judged his distance accordingly. It was natural that the blade wouldn’t reach him.
That’s right. The blade doesn’t reach him.
Drip—
“Huh…?”
Armel froze, only then seeming to understand.
Blood was flowing. A long gash had opened across his chest, bleeding profusely. It soaked through his uniform and dripped down.
Not deep enough to be immediately life-threatening, but far from a shallow wound either.
“Ah, ugh!”
Thud—Armel dropped to one knee. The sudden, substantial blood loss would bring dizziness and exhaustion flooding in.
“What… I dodged it. How is this possible?”
That’s right. Armel had dodged the blade.
But he hadn’t dodged my Aura.
My Nil Jack’s Short Sword extends its reach the moment it carries Aura. The blade itself doesn’t grow longer—the Aura extends beyond the sword’s edge.
And my Aura is colorless. In the chaos of combat like this, it’s not easy to judge that extra distance.
I released the Menosorpho.
“That’s enough. You’re seriously wounded.”
……
Armel’s empty hands swept across the ground. While his eyes stayed on me, they flickered toward his surroundings.
He’d lost both his weapons, so he was looking for anything nearby he might grab. But even his outstretched hand trembled from weakness. Any movement in that state would only worsen the bleeding.
That was when it happened.
Creak—someone walked out from the building’s rear exit.
It was Quinie, right on cue. Perfect timing.
“…Armel Colt.”
Quinie called his name coldly. Not as de Viet, but by the name he used at Constellation Academy. That must be the name Quinie had chosen for him.
“You’re the one who caused the incident thirteen years ago.”
Quinie opened her Fan. Aura was already surging and gathering around it.
“…Heh heh, that’s right.”
Armel laughed as he looked at Quinie.
Quinie’s eyes narrowed. The color of conflict deepened in her gaze.
“…I really don’t remember anything. Not a single thing. And I’m looking right at the man who calls himself my father.”
“Of course. My ability is perfect. A memory I’ve erased can never be restored.”
Armel spoke as if genuinely proud of this, even laughing.
I couldn’t fathom what was in Armel’s heart as he said such things.
…But I had heard something from Selena.
A smile is only convincing when the eyes laugh along with it.
At least Armel’s smile now was entirely unconvincing.
“I’d love to kill you on the spot, but you need to pay your debt. The time has come for the truth about Indus to come to light.”
“No amount of torture will extract information about Indus from me.”
“Hmph. Your loyalty runs that deep?”
“No. Because I don’t actually know anything worth knowing.”
With those words, Armel exhaled a breath laced with bitter mockery.
“Even Indus itself doesn’t know who its true leadership is. Perhaps the inner circle does, but I certainly don’t. Whether Indus is genuinely composed of commoners, fallen nobility, a noble house, or even the royal family—I don’t know. On top of that, its true scale is immeasurable. There are countless imposters out there claiming to be Indus when they’re nothing of the sort. It’s easy to slap on that banner—protecting and defending against the discrimination and oppression common folk face—so anyone can appropriate it.”
Armel was right; Indus appeared outwardly so pristine that countless people claimed the name for themselves without consequence.
And since the real Indus imposed no sanctions against such imposters, measuring its actual scope became all the more impossible.
“Imprison me or kill me—do as you wish. I’m worthless to Indus now anyway. What Indus does best is Tail-Cutting. You’ll watch our connection vanish as if it never existed.”
Keh-heh-heh—Armel let out a laugh that might not have been a laugh at all.
Quinie and I exchanged glances and nodded to each other. Our task remained unchanged, regardless.
I approached Armel slowly. Since only I possessed immunity to his abilities, I was the only one who could restrain him.
His power worked at range, or so I’d heard, but with Quinie on guard, she would stop it easily enough.
Since his ability clearly originated from his fingertips, watching his hands would suffice.
When I drew near his back—
“Ah! Quinie! I’m here~~!!”
The worst possible voice I could have heard at that moment rang out.
Strange as it was, all three of us—myself, Quinie, and Armel—whipped our heads toward the sound.
Kora walked through the entrance of Constellation Academy.
The worst possible timing.
Armel’s words echoed in my mind once more.
—Both the drug that induces his rampage and the one that stops it—I have them both.
Snap!
Armel and I moved nearly simultaneously. As he thrust his hand into his garment, I pressed down on his shoulder, applying full force to crush him where he stood.
But suddenly strength drained from my limbs, and I stumbled. My hand, meant to pin Armel’s shoulder, hit the ground instead.
Armel rolled away through my grip, his body now smaller than before.
‘Skeletal Reduction!’
Shrunken far smaller than his previous diminished form, Armel drew a blade from within his garments. At the hilt’s end hung something—a pouch of some kind, containing something.
Whish!
With his frame trembling and his balance barely held, Armel hurled the blade toward Kora with every ounce of strength he possessed.
Dodge! Kora! Quinie’s cry split the air.
At her words, Kora reflexively leaned back, evading the blade—
Pop.
The pouch burst open in mid-air.
Directly in front of Kora’s eyes.

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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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