The Academy’s Weapon Replicator - Chapter 31

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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 Replicator, Episode 31
Chapter 9: Menosorph (5)
I opened the door in the floor.
The basement visible to my eyes was quite spacious.
I jumped down.
Thump—a fairly loud sound rang out, but my body felt little impact.
I looked around the basement.
Dust drifted across the floor as if it had never been cleaned, and a musty smell stung my nostrils.
Did only Frondier know of this basement?
At least it seemed to be a place unknown to those who cleaned the house.
I surveyed the basement from end to end. Its structure didn’t look much different from the floor above.
I picked up a single book from a table in the left corner.
On that book, which my hand had naturally drawn to,
“Diary – Frondier de Roache”
was written.
My heart suddenly began to race.
I slowly opened the diary to somewhere near the middle.
May 2nd
It doesn’t feel cold even as the rain falls. Has the chill left completely?
Elodi boasted that she wasn’t hot or cold in any season because of her Divine Power.
I found it rather irritating.
…….
June 14th
It’s hot.
Elodi tried to coax me into going to the Valley.
When I retorted that she wasn’t even hot, she sulked terribly.
She was only pretending to sulk. I know it all.
Stories from childhood.
Perhaps because it was such a long time ago, it seemed Elodi treated Frondier with familiarity.
‘The diary being here—did Frondier live in the Cottage back then?’
Since Frondier had no Divine Power, it might have been better for him to be here rather than feeling self-conscious at home.
I flipped through the pages carelessly until I stopped.
A particularly short single line.
I stared at that sentence as if it were nailed before my eyes.
December 26th.
Completed the interpretation of the Ancient Language.
“……?”
Ancient Language?
Frondier had interpreted the Ancient Language?
I examined the diary again.
Frondier had indeed recorded observations about the Ancient Language at regular intervals.
—The Ancient Language consists of entirely identical characters, yet the meanings differ. The respective meanings bear no similarity whatsoever—they’re completely different. Upon realizing this, I grew utterly exhausted. I assert with certainty: this language was never created for communication.
“……What is this?”
Frondier was interpreting the Ancient Language, and he’d completed the interpretation?
That he interpreted the Ancient Language meant, in other words, that Frondier had discovered it somewhere.
Where on earth?
I reread the diary from the beginning.
October 21st
Damn, it’s cold.
Elodi still wanders outside in light clothing.
I’m starting to get annoyed.
Does Elodi even know how I feel?
…….
November 4th
I’m tired of smiling.
I’m tired of saying everything’s fine.
I’m tired of this situation where I have to say every single day that everything’s fine.
Damn. Screw this. That stupid woman.
Please, just shut up and be quiet.
An ominous feeling emanated from the diary.
The dates on which she curses Elodi grow more frequent with each passing entry.
Through the pages of this thick diary, Frondier’s hatred for Elodi accumulates as time marches forward.
‘Did Frondier dislike Elodi?’
No—this went far beyond mere dislike.
It was hatred.
November 11th
Five gods who love Elodi.
Why Elodi? Why five of them?
One of them could have come to me instead.
Not that I need Divine Power in the first place.
But having someone like that beside me is torture.
Disappear, Elodi.
Disappear.
Vanish from my sight.
Don’t smile like that in front of me.
“Five gods…….”
Elodi, blessed by the love of five gods.
Frondier, possessing neither Divine Power nor talent.
The inferiority complex Frondier carried seemed far more severe than I had imagined.
December 2nd
Once I finish deciphering the Ancient Language, it will all be over.
Everything comes to an end once that’s done.
My inferiority complex, this depression.
I won’t have to see Elodi’s vapid smile again.
Elodi will end up in exactly my position.
“What?”
Elodi ends up in the same position as me?
What does deciphering the Ancient Language have to do with Elodi?
Did he discover something while translating it?
‘No—looking at the diary, it seems more like he learned to decipher the Ancient Language because of Elodi.’
My mind accelerated rapidly.
Against my will, thoughts cascaded forward, propelling my reasoning onward.
Ancient Language, decipherment, Elodi, five gods, the same position.
‘……He tried to do something to Elodi’s Divine Power using the Ancient Language.’
From the tone of it, it sounds as though he was trying to strip her of her Divine Power.
But he probably failed—or perhaps the plan was suspended.
Looking at when this diary was written, it was three years ago.
Long before he enrolled at Constel.
When I played Aethius, Elodi wielded the power of five gods with ease, and it was Frondier who was nowhere to be seen.
Whatever he’d attempted against Elodi, for whatever reason, it didn’t work.
Afterward, he became the “human sloth Frondier” and has done nothing but sleep at Constel.
……Frondier. What exactly were you trying to do?
Simply being incompetent would have been enough!
You’re already tormenting me with that!
‘This makes him a complete villain…….’
Thud—
Then came the sound of something striking the house. It came from above.
Tension shot through my entire body instinctively.
A booming voice followed.
“Ah, yes, yes—young master, are you there?”
A voice amplified by mana, lazily assured and condescending.
Calling him “young master” while being impossibly disrespectful.
“We know everything, young master.”
‘……Enemies?’
I steadied my racing heart and drew a measured breath.
“It would be best if you just came out quietly. Open this door or we’ll burn the whole place down.”
……Who are these people? Are they after me?
Frondier is regarded as pathetic by everyone; he shouldn’t have earned anyone’s enmity.
Or is it House Roache they’re after, not me?
“No good, lads. Make quick work of it.”
He hadn’t come alone; his voice carried toward his subordinates.
Then, at once.
Crack-boom!
A sinister whistle of arrows filled the air above, loud as an earthquake.
Arrows, most likely.
He’d said he’d burn the place down, so they must be flaming arrows.
The preparation was thorough.
This wouldn’t be possible unless he’d been certain of my location from the start.
I swept my gaze quickly around the basement.
They don’t know yet that I’m underground and not in the cottage itself, but the moment the cottage collapses, it’s obvious I’ll be exposed.
I need something to counter them before that happens.
‘Replication…!’
I began drawing every object visible around me into my workshop.
Each time, I could perceive the structure of the things themselves.
‘A noble house’s annex would definitely have one.’
While searching like this, I discovered a bookshelf.
Below several books arranged on it, a button, and beyond that, threads of mana flowing deeper.
“This is….”
I approached the bookshelf and pressed downward on the books toward which the mana pointed.
The bookshelf slid smoothly to the side, and a passage wide enough for one person appeared.
—Found it. An escape route.
If I could only slip away through here, for now—
“Young master! We didn’t come empty-handed! We’ve brought a gift!”
What is this bastard saying?
I was about to ignore him and turn toward the passage when—
“We have a child with us, you see!”
My feet stopped.
I twisted my expression in unmistakable displeasure.
“This child—we’re about to throw him into that house. He’ll burn quite nicely.”
A lie, I thought.
But I heard faint crying. Unmistakably a boy’s voice.
“If you run, young master, from tomorrow onward you’ll carry the mark of a murderer. Especially one who burned down a house with a child inside—the charges would be quite serious, wouldn’t they?”
Bastards.
Now I understand who they are. No—I understand who’s controlling them.
Not enemies of House Roache. Not anything so simple.
An organization wearing the mask of championing commoners: Indus.
Those greasy things have targeted me.
“Tch…”
I exhaled deeply, then
climbed back up the ladder.
* * *
“Hey, keep the fire moderate. We just need to break through the door.”
Serf, watching from a distance, called out a warning.
All we need is to get Frondier out. If he suffocates to death, that’s a problem.
“Well, isn’t this as good as having him cornered?”
These men follow Serf’s orders, but they aren’t Indus members.
They’re merely mercenaries he hired for a hefty sum.
They had no idea who they were being hired to touch, much less that it was House Roache. They’d simply been given an order: burn down the cottage and pull the man inside out.
“That’s right. He’ll crawl out on his own. We even threatened him with the kid, after all.”
Grovel, one of the Indus members, chattered away cheerfully.
Beside him, a much younger boy was laughing softly.
“Brother, did I do well?”
“Of course you did! Your acting skills are improving every day, little one.”
Grovel patted his younger brother Rockvel’s head with a smile.
“Brother, but do I really have to go in there? Into that burning house?”
“No, no. It’s just talk. Think this Frondier fellow will come out just like that? But if he does, you’ll have to act again, you understand?”
“Got it!”
Grovel reassured Rockvel.
Serf, listening to the exchange, thought to himself.
‘But he’ll have no choice but to come out.’
By now the house would be thick with smoke.
An ordinary person without Divine Power wouldn’t be able to stand it and would bolt outside.
Even if there were an escape route prepared beforehand, once branded a murderer for killing a child, could anyone ignore that?
If someone from a noble house like House Roache committed such a thing as child murder, something worse than death awaited.
Probably sent to Tayburn’s Barrier or some such place, left to rot there until death.
Click—
“Huh?”
Then the door opened.
Frondier emerged from within.
“He actually came out?”
Grovel was startled, but Serf felt a familiar sense of inevitability.
Frondier was idle and incompetent, and on top of that, a nobleman. The thinking of such people was entirely predictable.
He would believe himself safe even in these circumstances.
He’d done as ordered, so now he bore no responsibility for what happened to the child, and being a nobleman, he wouldn’t die.
With such complacent thoughts, he’d stepped outside.
“Well, young master. Good to meet you. My name is Grovel.”
Grovel spoke up.
“If you’d just obey our words, you won’t have to see anything unpleasant—”
“Serf Daniel.”
Frondier cut off Grovel’s words.
Grovel felt a bit displeased but said nothing.
……But how did he know Serf Daniel’s name?
“Serf Daniel. Answer me. Are your ears deaf?”
Serf let out a hollow laugh.
Did he still not understand the situation and his position?
Serf, who had been silent until now, finally opened his mouth.
“I’m amazed you know of me.”
“Why were you staying quiet in the back?”
“No discourtesy intended. I merely refrained from overstepping my place.”
Serf spoke calmly.
His eyes met Frondier’s.
Languid eyes. Even now, sleepy and indifferent eyes.
With that self-assured expression, Frondier—
“You’re the one behind this. Serf Daniel.”
He spoke as though stating the obvious, correcting the matter as though providing the right answer.
“—What do you mean? The man standing before you is the leader calling himself Grovel—”
“Ah, yeah. So that’s the concept. I got it. Then let’s just skip over that.”
Frondier waved his hand dismissively, as if bored.
What was with that negligent manner? As if he knew everything already.
For the first time in a while, Serf felt displeasure. But he didn’t let it show on his face.
Always the smile.
That’s what a member of Indus should do.
“Before I grant your request, let me make one proposal.”
But Frondier’s arrogance knew no bounds.
Veins stood out on Grovel’s forehead.
“Young master, has water gotten into your skull? You think you’re in a position to make proposals—”
“You there, the little one.”
Frondier pointed to Rockvel, the younger brother standing beside Grovel.
Rockvel, admirably enough, had been continuing his act of sniffling and tearing up since Frondier appeared.
Frondier spoke.
“Send him to 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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