The Academy’s Weapon Replicator - Chapter 187

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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 187
Chapter 59: Sloth (3)
The battle at the Barrier stretched on.
When Frontdier killed the Cyclops, a vast gap opened across the battlefield from the Barrier to where the creature had fallen.
The Roach Knights protecting Frontdier seized that opening, deftly drawing the scattered Monsters left and right toward their lines.
Silvain, now wielding his sword in his left hand, fought with greater ease than before the battle began, and the Knights’ movements—employing their mobility—resembled a Drive Hunting tactic.
As they herded the Monsters, sometimes forcing them to collide with one another until they’d bunched them into a single mass, Angen’s blade and the mages’ Chanting blazed forth.
And above all else.
‘That Frontdier thoroughly eliminated every last Black Monster before heading out.’
Silvain marveled at Frontdier’s meticulous approach.
He couldn’t grasp the principle behind it, but Frontdier had proven to be the Black Monsters’ natural predator.
Before venturing alone toward the Fragments, he’d already eradicated nearly all of them.
Of course, to Frontdier they were precious Mana reserves—but Silvain had no way of knowing that.
Monsters possess morale just as humans do. Though not affected quite as severely, when one beside them dies, they hesitate; when defeat looms before their eyes, they flee.
But Frontdier had shown the Black Monsters something worse than death—they watched as what had been a Monster became Mana and was drawn inward.
At what point in that process death occurred was something even Monsters couldn’t comprehend, such was the terror of it.
Frontdier, having slain the Cyclops, bolted northward beyond the known lands. The battlefield thereafter resembled the battles Yeranhes had always known.
Certainly there were far more Monsters than usual, but Frontdier had already eliminated most of the Flying Monsters beforehand and nearly eradicated the Black Monsters, then dispatched the dangerous Cyclops itself.
While Frontdier dashed hither and thither, Silvain and the Roach Knights, along with Angen, held firm—transforming the engagement from a desperate struggle into something at least manageable.
For a long while, the battle between Monsters and humans remained in deadlock.
But then, at a certain moment.
“……Doesn’t something seem off about these creatures?”
A soldier’s remark—nearly a murmur to himself—but it found its mark among those harboring the same thought.
“They’re looking off to the side suddenly, or walking then just standing there, or glancing about.”
“Like they’ve just woken up, wouldn’t you say?”
“Like they don’t know why they’re here.”
A shift rippled through the Monsters’ movements.
True, they still lunged ferociously at the sight of humans, but the overall coordinated flow of the swarm was fracturing.
Silvain and Angen both noted the change at once.
From outside the Barrier, commanding the Roach Knights, Silvain caught a glimpse of Angen across the rushing landscape—just for an instant.
As if already knowing, Angen had already fixed his gaze on Silvain, and in that fleeting exchange of looks, they spoke.
─Frontdier did it!
Certain of it, Silvain drew a long breath through his nose.
“Cry out! Soldiers of Yeranhes!!”
Silvain gathered every last remnant of his Aura, worn thin by the long battle. The Knights did likewise. Once they spent this Aura, what came after would be precarious—but Silvain had no doubt.
There would be no “after.”
“Strike terror into their hearts! In the deluge of falling Arrows and the onslaught of flame and ice, let them understand where they truly are!”
“Spare no Arrows! Spare no Mana either! Pour everything you have upon them!”
“This will be hard, but you need only endure this moment longer! This is the end! Give all your strength—it matters not if you fall! Those who fall will still return home safely!”
Understanding Silvain’s intent, the Knights rallied the soldiers. The soldiers gritted their teeth and roared.
Unconcerned with what remained of the battle, they shouted, loosed Arrows, swung their blades, and Magic fell from the sky to the earth.
“Raaahhhhh-!!”
And as if to drive it all forward, Angen’s long horizontal slash carved through the air. The wall of distant Monsters tumbled like dominoes, crumbling away.
The Monsters behind, suddenly thrust into the front line, froze. They locked eyes with Angen, whose Aura flared terribly from afar.
─You too will fall where you stand.
A death sentence that needed no words. Angen’s gaze alone had already foretold their doom.
Shrieeeek-!!
The Monsters were in complete chaos. Freshly awakened, they found themselves suddenly engulfed in a rain of Arrows, besieged by fire and ice, assailed by mounted warriors driving spears and blades into their ranks, while Monsters fell and died before their eyes in the distance.
What first caught their attention was the Barrier. Still thick, still high, and upon it humans with eyes burning with killing intent.
Impossible. That Barrier cannot be crossed. But then—why am I here? What are all these corpses?
Monsters whose judgment came too late perished. Those whose judgment was late but their action slower still perished. Those who moved but whose legs were slow also perished.
The awakened Monsters began to scatter. Of course, those already attacking the Barrier knew nothing of what lay behind and threw themselves mindlessly at the humans, only to have their throats pierced by blade and spear point.
“Guaaaahhh! Hack! Hah—gasp-!”
One of the forward soldiers swung his blade like a madman. It was thanks to Silvain’s cry and the Knights’ encouragement, but he was already half-drunk on the scent of war.
In mortal combat, such men are common. He was saved only by standing at the very front—one careless mistake and he’d begin swinging at friend and foe alike.
Such a soldier is normally subdued by several men tackling him from behind, or brought to his senses by one far stronger, forcing him to release his weapon.
But this time, that would not be necessary.
“Guaahhh! Hack! Ha…… huh……?”
The man, hacking away at the Monsters before him in a frenzy, suddenly sensed something amiss.
Whoooosh~
His sword awkwardly cleaved the empty air at some point.
“Gasp, gasp, gasp…. Gasp….”
Only then did the soldier become aware of his own breathing, and slowly he let his shoulders drop.
“It’s gone….”
The Monsters are gone.
He’d swung his sword mindlessly as they poured in without end, but once the last one fell, the next never came.
All he heard was his own heart hammering in his chest, and his breath rasping like wind tearing through the trees.
All he saw was the curiously hollow space beneath the Barrier, and Monsters scattering in all directions.
His senses, which in the frenzy of battle had felt only his own heartbeat and breath, which had seen only what lay before his eyes—slowly, those five senses opened outward to the whole world.
And when they had fully opened—
Thud!
“Awwwwwwww!!!”
The vast roar of the battlefield struck his ears.
The soldier gazed numbly around him. People locked in each other’s arms, cheering. Men gripping swords who slumped down with sighs of relief, their breathing ragged. A robed mage on her knees, weeping.
Thump.
The man heard the roar, saw the faces of the people around him, and then collapsed to a sitting position.
His whole body was drenched in sweat and heavy; caked with earth and dust, blood and moisture clung to him unpleasantly. Though soaked through, his face had grown parched and cracked—each gust of wind made it feel as though parchment were crumpling.
What the man gazed upon was only the clear sky. It had tilted somewhat, but bright afternoon still hung well before sunset.
A single day could stretch this long. A single day could endure this eternally.
With that clear sky and that sunlight shining as though indifferent to its own decline fixed in his eyes, the man spoke in a low murmur.
“We won….”
It was an undeniable fact.
“Oh! Look there!”
The Roach Knights, who had been checking the condition of the soldiers, the wounded, and the dead, suddenly one of them spotted something and cried out.
“Mm…!”
Silvain’s eyes brightened as he followed the knight’s pointing finger.
Clip-clop, clip-clop—from the North beyond the Barrier, a single horse approached slowly. Upon it sat a man and a woman.
Upon confirming this, Silvain felt something swell up from deep within his chest. His voice, worn hoarse from so much shouting, came out slightly cracked as he called out.
“Roach Knights! Fall in!”
In truth, he rarely gave such an order. Usually, soldiers fell into formation of their own accord when circumstances demanded it, and even when given instruction, they were typically told which formation to assume.
Yet the knights, without needing to be told, swiftly gathered and split into two lines, creating a corridor down toward the Barrier. They were offering the warmest welcome possible—the grandest display they could muster for those approaching from afar.
“We must give these heroes a welcome worthy of their return! If I see anyone bungling this, I’ll drag you from your saddle myself!”
At Silvain’s words, the knights bit their lips hard, stifling their laughter. In the meanwhile, the horse bearing Frontdier and Selena slowly approached toward them.
“Everyone! Salute!”
With a sharp metallic ring, the blades of the Knights shot skyward. Sunlight caught and scattered across their surfaces, and beneath the corridor they had formed, the interlocking swords created an elegant arch.
“Frontdier! You’ve done brilliantly!”
Silvain drew near to Frontdier. Cassian halted before the corridor the knights had created. Cassian would have liked nothing more than to walk slowly down the center of that passage they had made for him, but circumstances did not permit it. There was a reason.
“Without you, this battle would truly have been….”
Silvain observed Frontdier’s condition. Frontdier was never one to be cheerful or particularly animated, but today he seemed even quieter than usual.
And for good reason.
“…What?”
A hollow laugh escaped Silvain. Even the foremost of the assembled knights caught sight of Frontdier and could no longer contain themselves—they burst into laughter.
“He’s asleep.”
Frontdier was dozing against Cassian’s neck, and Selena was dozing against Frontdier’s back.
He was not merely nodding off with his head bowed—he was truly, peacefully asleep.
Through the sensation of weight upon his back, Cassian could sense the state of his master, and he took care not to let him fall from his back under normal circumstances.
Cassian closed his eyes and shook his head slowly side to side. That gesture, so utterly human, was remarkable—but in truth, the moment Cassian had witnessed the knights falling into formation, he had even let out a sigh.
With resignation, Cassian began to walk slowly down the corridor the knights had made.
Since it had come to this, he might as well expose his master’s shameful appearance to all and sundry.
“Pfft, pfu-hahahaha!!”
“Ahhahahahaha!!!”
As Cassian walked down the middle of the knights’ ranks, those who caught sight of Frontdier burst into laughter one after another.
“Ah, well.”
Silvain let out a sigh. When Frontdier had returned with such a commanding presence, he had wanted nothing more than to rejoice with the knights at his safe return.
Yet he could not abruptly wake a hero who had guarded the Barrier, so Silvain simply watched as laughter erupted from the knights’ ranks each time Frontdier passed.
And at the end of the corridor the knights had formed—
“…Huh!”
“Mm.”
The knights quickly shut their mouths. They forcibly swallowed the laughter that had been about to burst forth, holding it down with such effort that their throat muscles likely startled at the strain. That was how hard they were working to suppress their mirth.
“…Frontdier.”
At the end of the column was Angen. He had come running without even mounting a horse, and now he beheld Frontdier.
The knights exchanged glances. Angen’s expression was difficult to read. Was he relieved at Frontdier’s safe return, proud of him, or angry that he had forgotten the time and place to sleep?
Angen reached out and placed his hand on Frontdier’s hair as he lay sleeping face-down.
Hair as black as the deepest night. The same shade as his own.
Eyes at rest so peaceful they seemed to hold all the world’s tranquility. They had inherited the shape of his mother Malia’s gaze.
Despite the gentle cast of his face, his broad shoulders and sturdy lower frame spoke of lineage—the very embodiment of the houses of Yeranhes and Roach.
“I know I was a son who fell short in Father’s eyes.”
“I must pay the price for my idleness.”
“……Ah, paying the price, you say.”
Angen laughed. The knights nearby, startled by the sound, nearly pulled at their reins.
“Still wearing that lazy face of yours, aren’t you, Frontdier.”
He spoke with a smile, his firm, steadfast face breaking open into one of genuine warmth.
He could scarcely remember the last time he had smiled like that.
When Angen wore such a smile—
‘……Ah, I see.’
Silvain understood at last.
He had always thought Frontdier, unlike Artzie, seemed ill-suited to be the lord’s son.
But that smile just now had made everything clear.

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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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