The Academy’s Weapon Replicator - Chapter 194

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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, Episode 194
Chapter 64: The Weakest
The test proceeded simultaneously for all first-year students.
Because of this, a considerably large venue was needed to accommodate all the first-year students and the upperclassmen who would administer their tests.
Constellation Academy had such a place.
“This is the Field of Constellation……!”
“I heard the environment changes freely depending on the situation and what’s needed! How does it work?”
The first-year students chattered excitedly among themselves.
Until now, the first-years experiencing the Field for the first time had been after joint training, so seeing it this soon was extraordinary.
“I heard the Practical Test itself is something the current Student Council President is trying for the first time.”
“I was told the Student Council at Constellation hardly does anything, but it seems different this time.”
Because of this, the first-years’ awareness of the Student Council President was quite high. It was the first time the Student Council had hosted a school event of this scale.
Surprisingly, the faculty viewed the Student Council President Ellin’s proactive efforts favorably. They too felt Constellation needed change.
However, this was ultimately an event led by the Student Council.
Because of this, most of its conduct and management were left to the Student Council. The faculty offered only answers to questions and minimal assistance, refraining from taking a larger role.
“Welcome.”
So the person standing on the podium where all the first-years had gathered today was
“I’m Ellin, serving as interim Student Council President. Thank you for your cooperation.”
Ellin herself.
Upon seeing her, the first-years wore expressions of surprise, some staring blankly. Each harboring their own thoughts, they whispered to one another.
“So that’s Ellin……”
“They said she’s a Swordsmanship prodigy.”
“I’d love to learn from her if I get the chance.”
Ellin’s mere presence commanded the students’ full attention at once.
Her voice was soft, her manner gentle, yet anyone admitted to Constellation knew well her level of skill.
It showed in a different kind of mastery—the high level of prowess she possessed as a swordswoman, distinct from Mana and Aura.
“As I mentioned beforehand, you’ll be taking your test here. The test will progress through several stages, evaluating your abilities in each scenario. For your information, these test results won’t be shared with others. This isn’t a test meant to instill inferiority complexes, but rather to help each student understand their strengths and weaknesses, allowing you to improve and develop further.”
Most students were reassured by Ellin’s words, though some were displeased. The displeased ones were naturally confident they’d secure top scores.
But whether their confidence matched their actual ability or not, this test would utterly shatter it.
Ellin had said the purpose wasn’t to inspire inferiority, yet if arrogance existed, shame would certainly follow.
“As mentioned earlier, the first test will evaluate your basic physical stamina and mobility. Therefore, the test contains only various obstacles. The upperclassmen await you in the next stage. Those hoping to face the upperclassmen, first you must pass this Stage 1.”
At Ellin’s words, the students nodded with tense faces. Stage 1 offered no chance to meet upperclassmen.
Failure here meant lacking the qualifications. Beyond not meeting the upperclassmen, it would be utterly humiliating.
“And one final word.”
Ellin’s tone remained as always.
“I don’t know what mindset you all bring to this test,”
she said, her voice as unmoved as ever, sweeping her gaze across the first-years.
“but it’ll probably be less fun than you think.”

* * *
True to Ellin’s word, Stage 1 was filled with obstacles blocking the students’ path.
The broad outline was simple: students would navigate obstacles and challenges presented by Constellation, advancing to the next stage.
In detail, it was divided into two main categories: Combat and Magic.
For the Combat branch, there was a pool filled with rubber balls—a Ball Pool—below them, and students had to walk a narrow, uneven path, sometimes requiring them to climb walls or jump, while avoiding various hazards.
A single misstep or collision with an obstacle that sends you tumbling into the pool meant disqualification. Using Magic also meant disqualification.
For the Magic branch, several walls blocked their path ahead, and solving a problem would open a wall, allowing them to proceed. Most problems required Mana Manipulation, and here Constellation verified their Mana control, intuition, and pure intelligence in calculating circuits mentally.
“Haha, what is this! It’s like a playroom!”
The first-years in the Combat branch were initially taken aback upon encountering Stage 1.
Below was the Ball Pool, and the obstacles—flying hammers, walls, and such—were all designed soft and springy so children wouldn’t get hurt.
The Magic branch wasn’t much different. The design was cute and playful, with nothing particularly disruptive while solving problems.
Moreover, the instructional voice was excessively kind in tone and manner. By the way, the guide voice included Runia, the female protagonist of the game.
Their feeling that it resembled a playroom wasn’t unreasonable. It was actually designed that way.
Stage 1 merely validated physical stamina and functionality, requiring nothing particularly demanding of mental fortitude.
In other words, dangerous situations were thoroughly excluded. Their ability to cope with injury, even the pressure of death, and mental toughness would be examined thoroughly in the next test.
However, many students needn’t have worried about the next test.
“Uh, uhh?”
“Gyah!”
Before long, most Combat branch students were tumbling into the Ball Pool,
“Mm, mmm……”
“Ugh……”
Most magic-track students were stuck at the Stage 1 barrier, consumed with the problems before them.
Though called a basic competency verification, this test progressed in stages and divided those who failed from those who succeeded.
So even Stage 1 was designed to weed out some. The playroom-like aesthetics masked a gauntlet—underestimate it, and you’d find yourself weeping.
“Ugh, wha—!”
When it was his turn and Dier pushed open the Stage 1 door, his face went rigid the instant he saw the obstacles.
The cutesy design didn’t register. Hammers swinging from both sides, floors that vanished without warning, walls closing in—each was vicious without mercy.
Still, he pressed forward. Clawing, scrambling, he seized each ledge as it came. He’d trained enough in movement without relying on Aura. This much, he could manage.
“Hya!”
He planted his foot on the final platform and shoved the door open with all his strength, advancing to the next stage.
He had passed Stage 1.
“Done… huh?”
Relief and joy flooded through him, but Dier halted the moment he registered someone standing before him.
Pielot—the first-year prodigy—waited in that space.
Pielot glanced at Dier as he entered, then looked away with indifference.
Dier surveyed the room around him.
Besides Pielot, three others were there: a combat-track male student, and a male and female who appeared to be from the magic track.
Doors identical to the Stage 1 exit he’d just come through were connected to this chamber.
‘Is this a waiting area?’
As Dier suspected, this was where those who passed Stage 1 waited before advancing to Stage 2.
Dier looked around until he spotted the door leading to Stage 2.
“Why aren’t you moving on to the next stage?”
Dier asked Pielot directly. Pielot furrowed his brow and tilted his head slightly. His gaze held the unmistakable implication: ‘You’re not like us?’
“…The door’s locked.”
Someone else answered for Dier—a man taller and broader-shouldered than him, with a taciturn demeanor. But from Dier’s perspective, at least he was willing to speak among this group.
“Seems like we’re supposed to wait until a certain number of people gather. And since you just arrived, it should open soon.”
Before the man finished speaking, a sharp beep sounded and a metallic clang rang out. The lock on the door disengaged.
Dier found this remarkable enough to ask the man.
“How’d you know? That it would open soon?”
“Don’t you know? When you become a Professional, the basic Team Composition is five members. The minimum is three, but unless it’s an extremely easy mission or you’re quite confident in your skills, teams rarely operate with just three.”
Dier nodded obediently. The man regarded him with a look of pity for his ignorance of such fundamental information, but Dier paid it no mind.
“…Wait. So that means I came in last among us?”
…
The others glanced at Dier sideways for finally grasping the obvious, then walked on in silence.
Though five were entering as a team—which typically meant operating with coordinated teamwork—not a single one showed any sign of intending to do so.
Pielot took the lead and opened the door to Stage 2.
From here, an upperclassman would greet them. Who would it be? Since it was Stage 2, surely nothing impossibly difficult awaited.
Within their various thoughts, the one who greeted them proved to be, in a sense, unexpected.
“Oh, you’re here?”
A black-haired male student, wearing a necklace set with a black jewel and an armband on his draped arm, sat in a black chair as he received them.
His eyes held a drowsiness verging on exhaustion, his slouched form threatening to topple into sleep at any moment.
They recognized him at once. They’d never seen his face before, but they knew immediately. The saying was true—his gaze and features alone were enough.
Without thinking, Dier murmured aloud.
“…Sloth…”
“Sorry, but I do have a name. Could you not call me that?”
The female magic-track student beside Dier stiffened, her voice trembling with tension.
“Sloth’s Frontdier…!”
At those words, Frontdier covered his face with his hand. His already weary expression deepened.
“Please don’t call me that either?”
He felt like one of the Four Celestial Kings of some far-off realm. The embarrassment was unbearable.
“Is the upperclassman our Stage 2 test opponent?”
“Yeah. Since it’s Stage 2, don’t stress too much. The ones waiting in Stages 3 and 4 are much tougher.”
Saying it this way made him feel like he was admitting, ‘I’m the weakest among us.’
“The rules for Stage 2 are simple.”
Frontdier spoke while pointing his finger upward past his own head.
“See that key up there?”
At his words, all five looked up to confirm the key. It hung from a nail driven into the wall at a height equivalent to two people. With Aura, it would be easily within reach.
“Touch that and you pass. Move to the next stage. That’s it.”
“…Touch it?”
“Right. Doesn’t even have to be your hand. Use magic, shoot an arrow, throw whatever weapon you’ve got—hit it and you’re done. Of course, I won’t lay a finger on that key. I won’t move its position either.”
“…?”
“And one more thing—I’m not getting out of this chair.”
At Frontdier’s words, the five faces twisted in subtle dismay. The Key looked ready to draw a weapon on the spot.
Not getting up from the chair—just how much contempt did one have to harbor to propose a test like that?
“……You seem quite confident, senior.”
The one speaking now was a male student from the Magic division. He made no effort to hide his displeasure at what he perceived as Frontdier’s disdain.
“Don’t misunderstand. I wasn’t planning on doing this originally.”
Frontdier spoke in an unmoved tone.
“The original condition wasn’t to touch the Key—it was supposed to be knocked to the floor. There were no restrictions on whether I had to be sitting in a chair.”
“……Why were restrictions added?”
“The first-year students who came before you—none of them passed. Later, once all the first-years take the test, they’ll get a second attempt.”
And that’s why I’m exhausted right now, Frontdier muttered under his breath, too quiet for anyone to hear.
The group’s eyes widened. Knocking the Key to the ground—it didn’t seem particularly difficult. Even if there was no condition requiring Frontdier to sit in a chair, such a condition seemed strange to begin with.
Yet no one had managed to pass.
“……Senior.”
That was when Pielot spoke up.
The moment he opened his mouth, Qi was already roiling within his body.
“Knocking you down wouldn’t count as a disqualification, would it?”
At those words, Dier and the others turned to look at Pielot in surprise. But Frontdier himself was unsurprised.
Frontdier looked at Pielot with a cold, low smile—the expression of someone who had expected exactly this.
“The most certain solution there is.”

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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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