The Academy’s Weapon Replicator - Chapter 14

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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 Academy’s Weapon Duplicator, Episode 14
Chapter 3: Manipulating Destiny (5)
Of course, I’m not completely helpless in a fight.
After weeks of daily training in the Training Hall, my Throwing Technique had climbed from the lowest rank to the low rank.
Beyond that, I’d been repeatedly depleting my Mana to fully utilize Gram, slowly increasing my Mana Quantity in the process.
As a result, I’d been overworking myself with constant Mana Depletion lately, and fatigue had reached its peak.
These days, I really do feel like Frontier.
Besides, I’d played the game to exhaustion, so I knew the monsters’ patterns.
Reality doesn’t move exactly the same as the game, but the patterns held true for the most part.
But Frontier had to remain useless and lazy.
Every time I played Etius as Aster, there was one thing I always thought about.
Aster was fine in every way, but he was too famous, and that came with equally high expectations.
Allies naturally relied on Aster, and enemies were overly cautious, making it hard to slip through unnoticed.
Frontier, by contrast, occupied the opposite position.
No one would expect anything from Frontier, and enemies would let their guard down around someone so unremarkable.
There was real advantage to be gained from this positioning.
‘Besides, there’s also Thanatos.’
When I first wove Heukcheon, there was the god Thanatos, who’d tried to kill me.
There was no guarantee my bluff at guessing his name would hold up forever.
So to avoid being discovered by Thanatos, it was better that my existence in this world remained inconspicuous.
Sybel dealt with the Ratmen in exasperation, but she worked through them diligently.
Meanwhile, I watched her fight carefully.
And against a Ratman positioned in her blind spot,
Weaving
Workshop 1st Product
Grade — Common
Iron Short Sword
I threw the woven short sword and struck true.
The Ratmen took direct hits from my blade and toppled over helplessly.
They were focused on Sybel anyway, and besides, the woven blade was invisible.
I thought we’d finish them off that easily, but then—
‘…Hm?’
I was counting the remaining Ratmen as we cleared them, when suddenly the air rippled.
Sybel didn’t seem to notice.
Had I seen wrong?
…No.
I swept the area quickly.
Something against the darkness was shimmering like heat, a wavering mirage. It rushed toward Sybel at alarming speed.
“Sybel!”
I shouted and hurled my short sword.
The mirage descended on Sybel almost in the same instant.
“What—agh!”
Sybel barely managed to dodge after hearing my voice, but
her footing was unsteady.
I closed the distance by throwing short swords at the remaining Ratmen and dropping them.
I didn’t worry about Sybel noticing my Weaving. She had no room to pay attention to how I fought.
Thump—the sound of wind rushing from fabric.
Sybel collapsed to the ground.
“Ah, ugh.”
Blood seeped through the hands clutching her abdomen.
She hadn’t dodged completely, then.
Sybel tried to get up quickly but fell back down.
I approached her to check her condition. Her eyes were bloodshot, her breathing labored. Her limbs trembled weakly, not obeying her will.
“What—what is this? Why can’t I move?”
Sybel was panicking at the state of her body.
“Paralytic Poison.”
“Paralytic Poison?”
“Yeah, one of them had a troublesome weapon.”
“Ugh, so then—am I going to be all right?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll handle the rest. Just rest here. There’s a sleep component mixed in, so you’ll be fine once you wake up.”
“That’s… I can’t let you. You can’t even fight.”
Even as she spoke, Sybel’s eyes were slowly closing.
In truth, this poison had no sleep-inducing properties whatsoever.
It was more like a form of hypnotic suggestion. Sybel had spent a considerable length of time exploring the dungeon today, and the traps she’d triggered had drained a significant portion of her mental and physical stamina.
Fatigue had already accumulated heavily.
If she was told the poison contained a sleep effect, she would believe it honestly and fall asleep readily enough.
“……Well then.”
I confirmed that Sybel had fallen asleep and rose to my feet.
A slow, deep breath. In and out.
Don’t panic. When the mind wavers, the body follows with mistakes.
──The poison coating her is extraordinarily lethal.
──The thing that attacked her is no mere Rat-man.
Every word I’ve spoken to Sybel is a lie.
Stay calm.
If I succeed, I can turn those lies into truth.
Looking around, I could see only the corpse of the Rat-man—no sign of the other creature.
It didn’t unsettle me. That’s simply how it is with beings of that nature.
I bit my lip.
An invisible enemy. Air shimmering with heat-haze. A weapon coated with lethal poison.
An ‘abnormality’ potent enough to wound even Sybel, who receives Blessing of Destiny.
I know what it is. That it’s a creature that could never belong in a dungeon of this caliber.
Its name is Sleave.
Born human, yet bound by its very soul, transformed into a monster.
The most troublesome aspect of Sleave is that a single graze is fatal.
The blade it carries is coated with lethal poison.
When I told Sybel it was paralytic poison, I wasn’t entirely lying.
Only the degree of paralysis differs.
At first, the limbs stiffen. Just as Sybel couldn’t rise moments ago.
Then, gradually, the internal organs begin to solidify, the lungs cease to respond. Breathing becomes agonizing, and when that reaches its limit, finally the heart and brain petrify.
All of this takes approximately twelve hours.
Within that time, I must clear this dungeon and reach the Church or Hospital for an antidote.
Twelve hours seems generous at first glance, but one might die of shock before then.
The sensation of dying slowly is nearly unbearable for an ordinary person. Even with treatment, profound psychological trauma can linger.
Which is why I must eliminate this creature as quickly as possible.
“……Where are you.”
I lowered my stance and surveyed my surroundings.
Sleave cannot be seen by the naked eye. As a spirit, it makes no sound either.
Only at the moment of attack does a faint heat-shimmer ripple through the air.
But I had thrown my woven short sword at it just before it attacked Sybel.
I couldn’t confirm the hit directly, but from the trajectory, it must have struck.
The more damage Sleave takes, the more its form gradually becomes visible. Like a veil being slowly torn away.
As with any monster, a creature at full strength is the most dangerous.
That’s why landing that blow was a stroke of fortune. Now, the heat-shimmer that should only appear during an attack continues to shimmer constantly.
The shimmer ripples more violently,
and a weapon flies toward me horizontally—at this very moment.
Clang! Its short sword met mine blade-to-blade.
“Hah!”
Sleave drove the blade forward. It seemed to be pressing for a test of pure strength.
I lack the Divine Power, the Mana, the sheer strength to win such a contest.
That’s true. If this were merely a trial of strength.
Scriiing—!
I wove a short sword in my free hand and slashed at where I assumed its arm would be.
Rather, I swung the blade at a location I could only guess held its arm, since it remained invisible.
Kyieeeeee—!
A piercing shriek.
It recoiled in pain. Yet it didn’t seem to have dropped its weapon.
Perhaps the cut was shallow. With visibility gone, there’s no way to be certain.
My left hand remained empty.
Sleave wouldn’t understand it. My bare hand had severed its arm.
‘……It’s becoming more visible now.’
A woman draped in tatters, scraps of cloth hanging from a body that was almost bare. She swayed and twisted as if nearly naked.
But her true nature was that of a spirit.
She appeared so faintly that the moment she moved quickly, she vanished from sight.
Just as now.
“……!”
The instant I realized I’d lost her from view, I rolled across the ground.
Against a creature like this, a half-hearted response meant death.
I could land a hundred attacks, but if her blade touched me once, it would be over.
‘If only I had Heukcheon!’
Heukcheon—that elastic metal—I’d left at the Residence.
The artifact Quiniae had promised hadn’t arrived yet, and I never expected to encounter an external monster in a low-rank Dungeon.
Weave
Workshop Pattern 1
Grade – Common
Iron Short Sword
I created a weapon using Weave.
Right hand: a real short sword. Left hand: a woven short sword.
Dual Wield was new to me. My stance was clumsy at best.
Besides, the woven blade was unreliable. The moment it materialized, it would vanish again, so I had to strike, not parry, and remake it each time.
But what mattered now wasn’t swordsmanship.
My goal was simply to hook Sleave.
‘Will it work?’
I swallowed hard.
The odds weren’t good. But against a spirit, this gamble was all I had.
Sleave seemed wary now.
The thrown blade at first, the wounded arm—she knew I possessed an invisible weapon in my hand.
But that hesitation didn’t last long before she swung her blade at me again.
Clang! Bang!
I kept Sleave’s faint form in my sights and struck her attack away with my weapon.
Sleave possessed no swordsmanship. She simply swung with a speed that far exceeded mine.
“Huff! Huh……!”
My flesh trembled.
Each breath felt like my lungs were tearing apart.
I abandoned all thought of attacking and focused entirely on defense.
She wasn’t even using proper technique, yet each moment of blocking made my blood spin dizzy.
When my attacks failed to land, she pressed forward with even greater ferocity.
As I parried that vicious blade again and again,
—I hate you.
Her voice reached me.
—I hate the gods.
—The gods who lied to me.
—I curse all the gods who imposed eternal torment upon me.
Her voice overflowed with resentment and rage. As if only such emotions remained. Her attacks were like the outpouring of a deep grudge.
But,
“So what……!”
I am not a god. I receive no divine favor. I am a body without Divine Power or talent. I nearly died at a god’s hand, in fact.
Crash!
I’m barely keeping up with deflection now. It’s time.
I raised my right hand, the one holding the short sword. As I blocked her blade, I released my grip.
Twang!
With a brilliant sound, the blade left my hand—making it appear to Sleave as if I’d lost it.
An empty hand. An exposed chest. Sleave would seize this opening without hesitation.
Whoosh!
Sleave’s blade shot toward me in a straight line.
‘Please!’
Weave
Workshop Pattern 3
Grade – Common
Iron Shield
This time, a shield.
Sleave must think my invisible weapon is a short sword. After clashing a few times, she’d have deduced as much. If I had another weapon, I would have drawn it long ago.
Because she holds that assumption, this shield will work.
Clang!
I swung the shield with all my strength. Parrying—violently deflecting Sleave’s short sword from her grip.
My shield vanished the moment it struck, and Sleave’s blade tumbled from her fingers.
Without the short sword, Sleave loses her means of attack. A spirit cannot exert physical force, so that single blade was her only weapon.
Shrieeek!
With that strange cry, Sleave whirled around like lightning—her form moving fast enough to leave lines across the air itself. Her hand stretched toward where her blade would fall.
But I know where the short sword will land, and I move one step ahead.
I positioned myself as I watched the direction she was heading.
Without thinking, I held my breath against the tension.
Once more. Weave.
Please. Hold.
Weave
Grade – Legendary
Gram
‘Ugh……!’
The moment I grasped Gram, nausea crashed over me.
Even without Heukcheon, I’d already spent enormous amounts of Mana.
But my opponent’s attention was fixed on the lost weapon, her movements predictable and transparent.
‘If I miss this, I die here. Simple as that.’
I brought Gram down on Sleave from above.
Scrape—!
The sound was brief.
My hands trembled violently.
Gram vanished.
Mana Depletion seized my entire body.
Sleave, meanwhile, did not even cry out—that sharp wail that had filled the space until now was gone. She simply revealed her form completely, in stillness.
On her knees, her expression held no pain whatsoever.
Was this the Final Moment?
As I thought that.
—Is this that person’s blade?
Sleave’s voice reached me. It was faint, growing more distant with each syllable.
I spoke through ragged breath, fighting down the convulsions in my body.
“Do you know who owned the blade?”
—Have I been cut by that blade? Me, whose form is spirit.
“…Yes.”
Sleave could not receive damage from physical force. Because she is a spirit, she cannot even touch anything save that single short sword.
I myself do not know exactly how I was able to cut her.
Whether it was because Weave borders on magic, or because of Gram’s nature itself.
I did not speak because I did not know. And besides, Sleave had no time left to hear my words.
—Is that so.
—Then I can still touch that person’s blade.
With those words.
Sleave’s revealed form slowly faded—not a concealment as before, but a complete dissolution.

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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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