The Academy’s Weapon Replicator - Chapter 185

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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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Academy’s Weapon Replicator Episode 185
Chapter 59: Sloth
Hella watched Frontdier absorb the Fragment.
Fool. That was all she could think.
Hella knew about Frontdier’s Black Lotus as well. She had assumed he would use that artifact to absorb the Fragment.
But Hel’s Fragment was not merely liquid confined within a glacier.
Helheim itself represented an entire world, and the Fragment was the passage connecting Helheim to this continent.
So long as the world of Helheim did not crumble, liquid would flow endlessly from the Fragment.
‘Does he understand that? Is he trying to gather the liquid with his own body?’
Even so, attempting to absorb all of it—Hella frowned at Frontdier’s act.
He should have already tasted it at the Barrier. The effects of absorbing the black monster’s Mana. It was not a substance a human could endure.
Of course, the very fact that Frontdier had absorbed a black monster was strange, but Hel’s Fragment transcended that by far.
If black monsters had been neutralized to maintain a monster’s structure, then the Fragment was raw concentrate itself.
He must have anticipated it. He must have already known that pain.
Yet he does it again?
‘Either more foolish than imagination, or more mad than imagination.’
Hella saw all the liquid flowing from the glacier converge toward Frontdier. That itself could certainly be seen as his intention. He had wanted it.
And before Frontdier, swallowed by the liquid, Selena cried out, shrieking his name.
‘Was he trying to save that woman?’
It was strange. From what she had heard, this man Frontdier had an extremely narrow circle of human relationships. He did not seem the type to sacrifice his life for anyone.
More peculiar still was the sight of the rescued woman weeping and calling out Frontdier’s name like that.
Since ancient myth, affection between people had been both humanity’s greatest weapon and its greatest weakness.
Had the gods witnessed Frontdier deeply loving someone, they would have targeted that person first. Their power worked better on one like that than on a creature with faith as thin as a fingernail.
‘Well, there’s no point dwelling on it now.’
Buried beneath the Fragment, Frontdier’s form vanished completely. By now, countless vengeful spirits of the dead from Helheim were surely fighting over him. His original soul must have been torn to shreds by then.
Unfortunately, once a soul was scattered in such a manner, Frontdier could not reach even Helheim, let alone Valhalla. That was what true death was.
Even Hella, who ruled this underworld called Hel, did not know what awaited a soul after its essence had been torn asunder.
‘Might as well look.’
Hella closed her eyes, then opened them.
As she shifted her gaze to her own eyes—borrowing human sight for a moment—countless spirits rushed at Frontdier’s body.
[They’re certainly fighting hard enough.]
Being swallowed by the Fragment did not mean all the dead would attempt to seize Frontdier’s body.
Most properly formed souls were content enough with life in Helheim. Above all, they knew that lusting after another’s flesh rarely ended well.
What rushed at Frontdier’s body now were petty spirits and phantoms.
Vengeful spirits with nothing but a desire to reclaim life, with no other purpose—decayed souls.
Yet for all their pettiness, their numbers had long since exceeded ten thousand, become incalculable. Among them, Frontdier’s soul left no trace at all.
[Still, it seems a rather fine body. The numbers are incomparable to those who covet other flesh.]
Hella genuinely marveled at the flood of petty spirits. It was rare to see such numbers gather at once. Even if she herself had orchestrated it, gathering this many would not be easy.
The vengeful spirits tore at each other, clawed, punched, slew one another as they fought for dominion over the body.
But a vengeful spirit without proper consciousness loses form; the petty spirits were far more susceptible to this. Some died from each other’s wounds, some mixed and fused. From there emerged something that could no longer be called a soul or a petty spirit at all—a monster.
For a petty spirit to maintain sanity while being consumed by the consciousness of others was impossible. From the tangled mass, no proper reason or thought could emerge.
Because all consciousness was mixed together, nothing was conscious.
Because all thoughts were contained, nothing was thought.
Because every impulse pulled in every direction, nothing was acted upon.
In the end, whatever spirit came to possess Frontdier’s body would neither pretend to be Frontdier nor do anything remotely human. It would be a cripple. The end of a vengeful spirit.
[Gradually.]
The petty spirits mixed together, their struggle ceased, and they clumped into masses that swelled and shrank repeatedly. It was like cheese gratin bubbling in an oven.
The collective malformed spirits expanded and contracted, but ultimately they were shrinking. As if conforming to the shape of Frontdier’s body.
Hella shook her head. It had been a passable spectacle, but she tired of it quickly. More than anything, this was a scene she had witnessed many times over. The vengeful spirits vying for Frontdier were far more numerous than before, yet they were nothing more than that.
‘Baldur warned me so gravely I had actually expected something.’
What is this.
She had merely witnessed a suicide show.
Though she might have said his feat—crossing the Barrier, reaching the Fragment, destroying it—was admirable for a human, but since she had drawn him in from the start, it held little meaning.
[Then I should head back…… Hmm.]
As Hella turned her gaze away, she happened to notice something.
It was Frontdier’s Workshop.
‘Now that I think of it, he had gathered people there and suspended them in the air. So the Fragment wouldn’t touch them.’
Hella glanced at that Workshop.
The massive structure still floating in the sky.
‘……Wait.’
Why is that building still floating?
No—why does that building still exist at all?
That’s Frontdier’s skill, isn’t it?
Now that Frontdier is dead, why would it still—
‘!’
The realization struck her, and Hella looked back at Frontdier’s body.
Souls clinging to it, trying to seize it for themselves.
Still, Hella could not sense Frontdier’s presence.
But there was only one explanation for what was happening now.
‘He’s still alive?’

* * *
Lorie asked, her voice tight with tension.
“A settlement only I can make?”
Honestly, Lorie had nothing she could give Frontdier on the spot.
The lives of all these people—she had no confidence she could ever repay such a debt.
‘Wait… surely not.’
Without thinking, Lorie drew her arm forward slightly.
When a man asks a woman to repay a debt, certain things naturally come to mind. And Lorie knew her own beauty well.
That’s why she lived behind a mask of plain, unremarkable features. Her true appearance drew too much attention, lingered too easily in memory.
“Surely you’re not saying you want my—”
“No.”
The answer came without hesitation. Frontdier spoke as though he’d anticipated such a misunderstanding.
Lorie felt heat rise to her face and pouted slightly.
“Then what is it?”
“I’ll give you two conditions. You’ll agree to them.”
“…I’ll hear them first and decide.”
Lorie tried to sound firm, half-expecting to meet that murderous glare again, but Frontdier simply raised one finger without pressing the point.
“First: answer honestly everything I ask you.”
Lorie’s brow furrowed. The first condition alone was no trifle.
She belonged to the Secret Department, so naturally she carried secrets that had to be kept. If she began divulging everything carelessly, she might as well be dead already.
These people’s lives were important, yes—but if she leaked sensitive information, the entire Secret Department could collapse.
“…That won’t work.”
“Let me be more precise. Information you wish to keep hidden—you don’t need to answer. But if you do answer, don’t lie.”
Her head tilted now. Keep hidden what you want hidden, but if you speak, speak only truth.
“Then I could just stay silent about everything, couldn’t I? How would you even know what I’m hiding?”
A fair question. Frontdier smiled.
“Exactly. That works.”
“…?”
“And the second condition.”
Frontdier raised his next finger while Lorie’s confusion still hung in the air.
“From this moment on, any conversation between us remains a secret you carry to your grave. Even after death, you protect it.”
At those words, Lorie began to understand.
Frontdier wasn’t after Secret Department intelligence. Whatever he needed to know, he didn’t require her oath of secrecy to extract the Department’s secrets.
He had information he couldn’t let others learn. He meant to tell Lorie. Her knowledge was simply a means to that end.
“…I understand.”
Setting aside the difficulty of the condition itself, Lorie found herself curious about what secret Frontdier would keep even beyond death.
Hearing her agreement, Frontdier cleared his throat.
“Then my first question: that Hypnosis you used before.”
“Hypnosis, yes.”
“Did it take on me weakly, or did it not take at all? I need to know for certain.”
Lorie’s mouth tightened. Clearly the question displeased her.
But bound by the condition, she answered honestly.
“It didn’t take at all.”
“Has that ever happened before?”
“Never. Not once. There have been times it didn’t work well, but this was the first time it outright missed.”
At this, Frontdier brought his hand to his chin, his gaze distant in thought—an expression that suited his weary face well, though she wouldn’t admit it.
“This is just a hypothesis.”
After a moment, Frontdier spoke again, as if the thought had crystallized.
“What if the target is mistaken about their own true nature and their outward appearance—would the Hypnosis then miss?”
“……? I don’t follow.”
Frontdier had been so roundabout that Lorie barely grasped what he was asking.
Frontdier laughed bitterly, letting out a small sigh as though surrendering something.
“What I mean is—suppose the me standing before you right now isn’t actually Frontdier at all.”
“……?”
This time he’d been too direct, and her comprehension lagged. Her brow furrowed as if he’d said something mad, but then she held his gaze, and her eyes widened gradually.
“Your Hypnosis might miss, wouldn’t it? If I’m not Frontdier.”
At that question, a chill ran through her entire body, raising her skin in goosebumps.
Lorie’s fingertips trembled. She’d glimpsed one facet of the inexplicable dread she’d always felt emanating from Frontdier. She mustn’t let it show, yet controlling her expression proved nearly impossible.
“It’s just a hypothesis, as I said. If that were the case.”
“A, a hypothesis…….”
“And the second condition. You haven’t forgotten it?”
Not to breathe a word of this to anyone. Lorie grasped that meaning completely, nodding several times.
Then she paused to think. After all, she had to answer the question. The scenario was so unusual that she needed a moment to imagine it through.
But the answer came quickly.
“It’s possible.”
“Really?”
“My Hypnosis is called that, but it’s still magic—a potent suggestion imposed on the target to manipulate them. The process and applications resemble what people call hypnosis, so I use that term for convenience.”
Frontdier nodded. He understood well enough that Lorie’s Hypnosis was no ordinary spell.
Ordinary hypnosis could never be so devastating, nor act so instantaneously. Above all, he’d sensed the mana emanating from her eyes.
“My Hypnosis touches the very soul of my target. If the soul present weren’t who we’re assuming, but a different one entirely, the Hypnosis wouldn’t take hold.”
So that’s why it felt like it ‘missed’, Lorie thought aloud as the thought struck her mid-sentence. Though he’d called it a hypothesis, she already believed Frontdier’s words entirely.
“So every application of Hypnosis is possible for you?”
“Yes. More precise and certain than Hypnosis itself. I even used one of those applications to construct this false persona.”
“So what you’re saying is……”
Frontdier smiled.
He would soon face a god. A being that knew far more than humans, could see far into the distance. He had to deceive even those eyes.
There was only one thing left for Frontdier to rely on now.
Acting on information no god possessed—just as he had matched Thanatos’s name when they’d met once before.
“Do you know what ‘Astral Projection’ is?”

* * *
The liquid of Hel’s Fragment that had been poured onto Frontdier spread out again, widening.
Selena flinched and stepped back. Contact would mean death for her as well.
But looking closely, it seemed slightly different from how it had been a moment before.
‘……This is Heukcheon.’
All the mana and will of the Fragment, along with countless petty spirits and souls invisible to Selena—all of it had drained away, leaving only the black liquid: Heukcheon.
Which meant every last bit of that had been swallowed into Frontdier’s body.
Frontdier’s eyes, now exposed, were hollow. His face held no expression. Every muscle hung slack, and his open gaze simply fixed upward at the sky.
“……Frontdier…….”
Selena called his name in a trembling voice. Already her eyes glistened with tears.
Frontdier had died to protect her.
She couldn’t say what change had occurred in Frontdier’s heart all this time. Perhaps his transformation ran deeper than her own emotional change.
And so he’d sacrificed himself. To save Selena. The weight of it she could not bear.
“I’m sorry, Frontdier……. I’ve—I’ve caused you to…….”
Unable to hold back anymore, Selena lowered her head. Tears spilled from her tightly shut eyes.
Raised as an assassin in Mangot, she’d encountered Frontdier as the first man she’d ever faced. When they first met, he was frightening, arrogant, and headstrong, yet possessed of enough judgment and strength to shoulder such traits alone.
Added to that were his keen observation of her circumstances, his bold audacity in leveraging Mangot itself.
And now, Frontdier had abandoned everything he had for her sake.
While Selena entertained these thoughts……
[……You there. Where have you been?]
In a world Selena could neither see nor hear.
Hella’s eyes widened as she beheld the man before her.
The man’s face bore the unmistakable stamp of ease and peace. Other gods had told her he was insufferably aggravating and disagreeable, and now she understood perfectly why they’d all said so.
“I was sleeping for a moment.”
Frontdier spoke. He looked down at his own hands. The sensation of being a spirit felt oddly strange. He’d worried his hands might turn translucent, revealing what lay beyond, but they did not.
Frontdier observed his body—a mass of petty spirits. Countless spirits that had destroyed one another as they tangled together had now become merely one. Singular. Powerless.
While the petty spirits fought among themselves, Frontdier, who was no longer within the body, watched on unharmed and serene.
[You were asleep?]
Hella’s displeasure was written plainly across her face.
What Frontdier had done was the technique of Astral Projection—a method of separating soul from body.
In this world where Valhalla, the Underworld of East, and Helheim exist, the concept of a “soul” had long since become manifest.
Yet Astral Projection was no simple feat. It was nearly impossible to accomplish alone, and whoever aided the process had to perceive the soul within the body with absolute precision.
Only through an extraordinarily delicate method could the soul and body be separated without wounding either.
—Unless, of course.
The soul and body had already been separate all along.
“If the gods had told you anything about me, wouldn’t you have heard this detail first?”
Frontdier laughed without a trace of fear.
The spirit that had just undergone Astral Projection bore a form far too lucid and precise for what it should have been, possessed of a perfect will and sense of self.
“A terribly lazy one, that’s what they’d call me.”

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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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