The Academy’s Weapon Replicator - Chapter 19

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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 Weapons Duplicator Episode 19
Chapter 5: The Test (3)
……When Quiney said the footprints were clear, she’d been speaking by her own standards. A third-year’s standards.
In a forest, footprints don’t register properly. Most of the time you’re treading over fallen leaves and branches.
At a glance, they’re barely distinguishable—just shallow depressions in the ground.
In truth, from Quiney’s perspective, Frontier simply naming it a “bear” had already been passing work. He’d identified the trace of the footprints and their direction.
Rather than relying solely on the footprints to narrow the field, by looking at the broken branches and cleared leaves along the path, you could roughly estimate the creature’s bulk. Add to that the forest terrain, the size and stride of the prints themselves.
With those conditions in mind, calling it a “bear” might well prove correct.
‘But inferring it was specifically a Red Bear from among all bear-type monsters—that’s genuine mastery of Tracking.’
Edwin seemed to have noticed this too, but the truth was, even third-year students often hadn’t properly learned Tracking.
It wasn’t a priority skill, after all.
“Frontier, is that by any chance Divine Blessing?”
At Edwin’s question, Quiney felt a flutter of interest as well.
Everyone believed Frontier had no Divine Blessing, but that belief was just that—belief.
Perhaps he’d received some form of Divine Blessing after all.
A god who oversaw hunting and the chase?
“That’s a secret.”
Frontier smiled thinly.
Many people kept their Divine Blessings secret.
Still, it was rare among the nobility. Usually the family advertised such things first. That’s why even those who wanted to hide it found it difficult to do so.
But House Roach had the renowned Atzje. Frontier might well have judged that keeping his blessing hidden was acceptable.
“I see……a secret…….”
“Well, now that we’ve identified it, let’s move quickly. With a Red Bear, there’s no need to be cautious.”
Leaving Edwin’s murmur behind, Quiney took the lead.
Behind her, Frontier tilted his head.
“No need to be cautious? Why not?”
“Because it won’t run away when we approach—it’ll attack.”
“But wouldn’t an ambush be better if we could manage it?”
Quiney opened her Fan in response to Frontier’s question.
“I don’t need tricks like that. I’ll bring it down myself.”
“……Oh.”
A short exclamation escaped from Frontier.
Quiney felt her shoulders rise with satisfaction.
‘For once, I ought to show my best side.’
Energy flowed into her stride.
* * *
“Frontier, what kind of weapon do you use?”
“A Short Dagger. Would you like to see it?”
“Oh, that’s a standard-issue weapon. You can use something like that?”
“I’m most comfortable with it.”
After Frontier revealed the true nature of the traces, Edwin’s questions directed at him noticeably increased.
Frontier answered them all kindly, without showing annoyance, and displayed the Short Dagger at his belt without hesitation.
There was no need to make a bad impression, and these were questions he could answer straightforwardly enough. From the other’s perspective, it was perfectly natural to be curious.
“Come now, let’s stop the chatter. We’re nearly there.”
“Yes.”
At Quiney’s words, Frontier and Edwin lowered their stance.
As they walked at a slower pace, a bear covered in red fur appeared in the distance.
Calling it a “discovery” would be slightly misleading.
It was looking toward Frontier as well. In fact, they were moving toward each other.
Quiney stepped forward.
“Now, this assignment was about an upper-year teaching lower-years, so Frontier, you step back.”
“I thought I’d also learn teamwork in combat.”
“That’s for next time.”
Most of the path Frontier would walk at Constellation Academy was one Quiney had already traveled.
Becoming a team and fighting together would come later. The positions didn’t even match up yet anyway.
“Watching is learning too.”
At that, Frontier nodded honestly and took a step back. Confirming this, Quiney advanced a little further.
And Edwin remained there, still and quiet.
‘……Lucky.’
That was his thought about Frontier. He’d been startled the moment he saw his face.
Frontier’s reputation and public perception tend to overshadow it, but his appearance is quite refined.
It isn’t mere handsomeness. There’s a dignity and grace to his very face, as if the word “aristocrat” had been carved into human flesh as a template.
An air of perpetual languor draped over his features, creating an enigmatic atmosphere.
And behind it all stood House Roach, a venerable lineage.
Frontier’s older brother Atzje was a monster in his own right, yet Edwin felt little when faced with him.
Atzje was a senior to Quiney, and had already graduated from Constellation Academy. Moreover, Edwin had never directly witnessed his true strength.
But Frontier was different.
He’d earned the epithet “human sloth” for sleeping through every class, his drowsy eyes betraying nothing but lethargy. Yet his subsequent actions spoke otherwise.
His conduct at the Mistiltein Conference proved it as well.
Some called it reckless, but judged by results alone, it was an act of genuine courage—one that mattered.
And the Tracking he’d displayed just moments ago.
Surely a divine blessing from a high-ranking god.
‘I should have been like that.’
If only he’d been stronger, could he have prevented his house’s ruin?
Frontier possessed something worth envying.
If Behertion had not fallen—
if Edwin had remained even slightly whole as a nobleman—
“Edwin!!!”
The shout snapped him back to awareness. Quiney’s voice came from his right.
When had the fight moved?
As his gaze shifted, the massive frame of the bear came into view, its bloodshot eyes bearing down upon him.
Roooaaarrr!
“…ah.”
The bear’s cry reached his ears like a distant rumble.
Where was his sword? At his hip? Strapped to his back? No time to draw it. No time to block it. Not even time to dodge.
Wait, this—
this was survivable—
Something grabbed his shoulder with a jolt. His balance tipped. His feet lifted off the ground, the sky tilting dizzily.
The bear’s paw whistled past, its claws missing Edwin’s nose by a hair’s breadth.
“Fron, tier—”
Flung backward, Edwin saw him clearly: Frontier, hauling him out of harm’s way.
Yet the bear’s assault didn’t cease. Its body bore minor wounds, its bloodshot eyes unseeing.
Quiney must have inflicted them.
“Hup!”
Frontier hurled a Short Dagger faster than the bear’s next strike.
Clang!
It flew with remarkable precision toward the beast’s brow, only to be intercepted by a sweeping paw.
Bad luck. The bear had swatted blindly and caught it.
‘Dangerous.’
Quiney thrust out her Fan.
But then—
GRRRAAAAAAHHHHH!
The Red Bear’s howl.
That bone-shaking shriek froze Quiney’s hand in place.
Edwin, standing close by, felt every hair on his body stand on end.
Thwick!
Yet in that very instant, another Short Dagger buried itself in the bear’s left eye.
Even amid that scream of agony, Frontier’s movements remained utterly composed.
He’d fired the second blade even as the Red Bear was shrieking.
As if he’d known the beast would cry out before it happened.
“…that,”
What was that?
Could a human maintain such calm?
The bear bellowed in pain, its movements sluggish and clumsy.
That was all the opening needed—more than enough for Quiney to finish it.
Thwip-crack!
Six blades erupted from the Fan’s edge, embedding themselves vertically into the beast’s body.
All six struck vital points, and any two of them alone would have been fatal.
The Red Bear stiffened, stood frozen for a long moment, then toppled.
It crashed with a tremor like an earthquake, grass and leaves scattering wildly. Quiney rushed forward through the dancing foliage.
“Edwin, Frontier! Are you both all right?”
“Ah, yes. We’re fine.”
Frontier’s voice was calm and steady.
He approached Edwin, who had already collapsed, and extended a hand to help him up.
“You’re not injured, are you?”
“……Yeah, no.”
Edwin took his hand and rose to his feet.
Once Frontier had helped Edwin up, he and Quiney exchanged feedback on the battle they’d just finished.
Throughout it all.
In Edwin’s eyes as he watched Frontier, there flickered something inexplicable—a frustration, an anger he couldn’t quite suppress.
* * *
After the Joint Mission was complete,
in Constellation Academy’s private research studio.
“I’ll leave the supplies you requested here on the desk.”
“Oh, Edwin. I’m always grateful.”
Edwin hoisted a box brimming with various materials onto the work surface.
Binkis, the instructor who’d sent him on the errand, was absorbed in her research.
Binkis is, to put it kindly, a researcher through and through.
Speaking plainly, she is consumed by her work.
She is a Summoner.
Her gift lies in ‘observation’—she watches the techniques of others, commits them to memory, and applies them to her summoned creatures.
Her summoning structure is the ‘Golem’.
Since Binkis personally assembles and constructs her summons, she can mimic the techniques of others.
Currently, she was in the process of creating a new Golem.
This time, it wasn’t a summon.
She was crafting a pure Golem that would operate of its own accord.
“This looks different from what you were working on before.”
“Right. This time it’s a Metal Golem.”
A Metal Golem—in other words, metal itself.
For Edwin, blessed by Hephaestus, it was a material almost like an old friend. And now, a Golem besides.
Edwin looked at Binkis.
“Surely you’re not making this for me?”
“Well, you did say you wanted to see an actual Metal Golem, didn’t you? I figured I’d make this as thanks for everything you’ve done.”
Professor Binkis laughed somewhat sheepishly.
She genuinely felt deep gratitude toward Edwin. His assistance had proven invaluable.
More than that, his Divine Blessing granted him exceptional talent with metal, fire, and Golems alike—so much so that often it was Binkis who sought his counsel.
Edwin stared at the Golem in a daze, deeply moved.
Then his gaze caught on something: beside the Golem lay an enormous spear, matching its colossal size.
“Does this Golem use a spear?”
“Yes. I saw Atzje wielding a spear with my own eyes last time, and I was so impressed that I decided to incorporate it.”
At those words, Edwin’s hands clenched into fists.
Again, Atzje.
Atzje, Frontier.
House Roach kept gnawing at his nerves lately.
Edwin’s swordsmanship was ordinary at best. Talent had never lain in that direction, and the fact that he managed to meet even the second-year average was remarkable in itself.
Edwin knew this truth: no matter how hard he trained, no matter if he devoted his life to the blade, he would never reach Atzje’s mastery with weapons.
Yet he felt no despair about it. Edwin had never cared much for combat anyway; metal casting and Golems were his true calling.
But creating Golems demanded enormous capital—the mere attempt to forge one required vast funds. For a fallen nobleman like him, that sum felt impossibly distant.
Edwin gazed quietly at the Metal Golem.
‘If I had the money, could I have created a Golem like this?’
Lost in such musings as he studied the construct,
‘Wait—’
Edwin froze, as if nailed in place.
Through the eyes blessed by Hephaestus, the structure of this metal Golem became transparent to him—joints, moving parts, core, mana circuits, all of it laid bare.
‘……This Golem.’
And visible to his sight were the many traces of incompleteness in its design. One of those traces seized his attention and would not let go.
‘It has no master yet.’
A Golem, bound to obey commands absolutely, must have an ownership ritual inscribed into its very design to designate its master.
That space remained empty.
……Which meant, if he so chose, Edwin could become its master himself.

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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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