The Academy’s Weapon Replicator - Chapter 4

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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 Constellation Academy — Chapter 4
Episode 1: The Lazy Human, Frontier (3)
Crack!
“Got it!”
I clenched my fist as I watched the target shatter.
This was the Training Room.
Some came for muscle training, others for magical testing, still others to verify techniques.
In any case, as long as you found an empty space and got permission, anyone could use it freely.
Since nothing inside was visible from outside, I could deploy my Weaving without restraint here.
What I was doing now was one of the programs set up in the private chamber—target practice.
Normally it was a facility for people with ranged weapons, and all you had to do was hit the distant targets.
At the lowest difficulty, the target simply stood still, but as the difficulty increased, the targets retreated farther away, appeared and disappeared on a whim, moved erratically, and eventually even dodged in response to projectiles.
Of course, I was humbly working through the lowest difficulty.
Incidentally, the targets were Magical Engineering Holograms, so breaking one didn’t actually destroy anything real.
The sound effects and graphics were simply extraordinarily convincing.
When you succeeded in hitting something, the impact zone and damage were displayed—remarkably convenient.
What I was practicing now was the Throwing Technique with a woven Short Dagger.
If I could induce the resonance phenomenon at the moment of impact on the target, I could deal damage even when throwing the woven Short Dagger at an enemy.
In other words, invisible ranged attacks would become possible.
Weaving’s intervention in reality lasted only the briefest instant—it appeared for just a moment when cutting, blocking, or piercing, then vanished.
That’s why Weaving’s effectiveness was halved in close combat. The blocking itself lasted only a split second.
If I failed to divert or deflect the opponent’s attack in that moment of parrying, their blade would pass right through my weapon or shield and cut my body clean.
The same went for shield or sword. If I held a shield, I’d have to parry every single incoming strike as if it were a game; if I held a blade, I couldn’t afford sloppy blocking—I’d have to divert or bat away every attack.
I had no desire to attempt close combat at such an insane difficulty level.
So whether it was a bow, a Short Dagger, or anything else, the best outcome would be to defeat an opponent from a distance without ever needing to engage.
But this tactic had one fatal flaw.
“……Damn it, I can’t hit anything.”
Me.
A veteran player in nothing but an idle game, and Frontier—someone who’d only ever slept well.
Our twin catastrophes of senselessness seemed to synergize in a way that made you shudder.
Still, grinding away like this, landing hits one time in ten or one time in twenty, eventually—
[A skill has been created.]
[New Skill: Throwing Technique]
[Throwing Technique]
• Grade: Common
• Description: Hurl objects to strike targets. The higher your proficiency, the greater your accuracy modifier.
• Current Proficiency: Lowest Rank
A skill acquired.
It was nothing to boast about, but since neither Frontier nor I could rely on any natural talent for combat itself, we’d have to depend on skills.
For reference, lowest-rank Throwing Technique was something even a child of around ten could obtain with enough effort.
……Keep pushing.
* * *
Evening, with the moon cut to a slender crescent.
After finishing my practice and stepping out of the Training Room, I stood silently before the entrance. And I watched time pass. There was something I needed to confirm.
Because I’d been in such chaos right after entering this game, or rather had been in chaos from the moment I entered, or rather because I’m fundamentally a chaotic person—
……Anyway.
Because I’d been living in such a daze, there was something I’d briefly forgotten.
At first I hadn’t thought of it. But once one thought occurred to me, it snowballed into an inescapable certainty.
Today I had to confirm it.
I was waiting for someone.
The reason I was waiting here at the Training Room was because I knew he would definitely be here.
I’d even checked the date on my smartwatch—today was right. The time was nearly upon us.
Zing—
The automatic door to the Training Room slid open.
I fixed my gaze on the man who emerged.
……Found him.
Gold hair that reflected moonlight with crystalline purity, brilliant blue eyes that gleamed with inner light, features so finely crafted they seemed designed by divine hand.
Anyone who laid eyes on this man would feel the very air around him shift and change.
──Aster Evans.
First-year student of Constellation Academy, humanity’s hope destined to shine brilliantly.
The protagonist of this game, Etheus.
“……Hm? Hello there?”
Aster Evans gave me a light nod in acknowledgment.
For him, I—Frontier—were a stranger at this moment.
……Even if we weren’t meeting for the first time, he likely wouldn’t remember me anyway.
I bowed in return, keeping up the courtesy.
No sense in inviting suspicion through careless behavior.
I hadn’t waited to speak with him. I’d waited to see him.
Aster glanced at me once, then continued on his way.
A fork in the path would appear shortly ahead.
The left branch led toward the Library; the right, toward the Dormitory.
I watched his back in silence. At the junction, his footsteps turned—
—to the right.
Confirming it, I let my gaze sink into despair.
It was certain now: this game would be far messier than I’d anticipated.
——Game Etheus.
Aster Evans was, as I’d just established, the protagonist of Etheus.
The game’s protagonist, naturally, means the character that the player controls.
……In other words,
an Aster Evans that no player controls is known to no one.
There’s an event scheduled for today’s date.
If Aster heads to the Library, he meets the librarian and receives some valuable information from her.
The information itself isn’t what matters—the meeting is rare enough that it builds a deep rapport with the librarian.
In other words, it raises her Affinity.
Because the librarian continues to offer varied assistance afterward, all players naturally make for the Library.
……Because they know about the event of meeting the librarian in the Library.
I know information that Aster Evans would never suspect—because I’m a player.
Etheus is a game no one has ever cleared.
Everyone who’d challenged Etheus naturally guided Aster along the optimal route that yielded the most rewards.
……There’s no way the current Aster Evans would follow such a path.
It’s an optimized route built up through countless shared discoveries and infinite retries among many players.
Even if five miracles happened at once, an Aster knowing nothing couldn’t possibly follow it.
I’d played as Aster so many countless times.
Yet I know nothing about the Aster in front of me.
An Aster Evans that no player controls. I had no way of knowing where he’d really go.
“There’s no helping it.”
The original plan was simple: strengthen myself and become Aster’s companion.
While Aster grew on his own, I would master my own methods and contribute to his strength.
Frontier wasn’t originally part of Aster’s circle, so if a stronger me joined him, it was pure mathematical gain.
That’s what I’d thought, but the plan had changed.
This Aster won’t grow as well and independently as I’d assumed.
He won’t follow the Veteran Players’ route.
For now it’s just a minor loss—the librarian’s information—but down the line, he’ll miss out on experiences and equipment and Artifacts that would have strengthened him considerably.
This game has never been cleared by anyone, but a clear without Aster is unimaginable.
So from now on, what I need to do is subtly guide Aster. To make him follow the Veteran Players’ path.
I can’t let him obtain everything.
Characters who only help with information acquisition, like the Library librarian, can be skipped. I have most of that knowledge anyway.
But essential, unavoidable events—he must experience those.
Since I’m not acting directly, it’ll take far more work.
Still, I’ll make it happen somehow. I need to make Aster strong. While growing stronger myself, too.
……Right, I need to place in the top ten of the class this year.
I need to do that as well.
……Right, Aster just skipped the Library librarian event.
“……Hah.”
I exhaled slowly.
This is a mess.
“……I need to do that too.”
Everything Aster will miss from here on out.
I’ll have to pick it all up myself.
* * *
I opened the library door.
There weren’t many people inside, and the air carried that quiet, relaxed atmosphere befitting a library.
Still, a few students who caught sight of my face widened their eyes and gave me a wide berth.
Frontier and a library made for an awkward pairing.
Truth be told, there was nowhere in Constellation Academy that suited Frontier.
An educational institution built for cultivating skill and character—there was no way such a place could suit someone who wanted nothing to do with anything.
I quickly scanned the area and found the librarian.
She was quietly working at her desk.
Brown hair, round glasses, an unremarkable face—yet that impression dissolved the moment I noticed her glamorous figure and the beauty mark beneath her left eye.
On first sight, she looked every bit the librarian; but when glimpses of that sultry expression crossed her features, the impression crumbled.
The librarian, Ainenn—an instructor here.
Building a friendship with her meant access to the latest school gossip and miscellaneous information that circulated within these walls.
It might sound trivial, but given that the game was riddled with poor design and absurdities, for a newcomer like me, information was precious.
……Well, at least for a newcomer it was.
In truth, she mattered more to Aster Evans than to me.
But since Aster had missed this event, I couldn’t just let it slip by.
‘My arrival won’t trigger the event, though.’
Since I was here anyway, I might as well gather every scrap of information Aster had let fall.
If the chance arose, I could share the information with Aster appropriately.
So, what to do?
My reputation among the instructors was surely well-known.
Ainenn probably knew about Frontier too, which meant I’d have to build a rapport starting from negative favorability.
“You’re Frontier, right?”
But Ainenn spoke to me first.
She waved me over as soon as she saw my face.
……What’s this about?
Bewildered, I approached her.
“I didn’t expect to see you in a place like this. What brings you here?”
“……There’s a book I was looking for.”
There wasn’t one.
But I couldn’t very well say, ‘The reason I’m here is you,’ could I?
“Mm. Perfect timing, actually. Want to take a look at this?”
Ainenn pulled something from beneath her desk. It was a newspaper.
She’d produced just a single newspaper, and I almost asked what I was supposed to be looking at,
but the moment I glanced down, I understood.
The headline on the front page seized my attention.
[A party discovers a Divine Artifact. The location—a dungeon near Solgitof Estate?]
Accompanying the headline was a photograph.
In the photograph, inside a transparent case, lay a single branch.
A branch. Its shape looked familiar.
“Everyone’s been calling it ‘Mistletoe.'”
That’s right.
When I first entered the world of Etheus,
an instructor showed me this branch through a Wizard View.
It looked exactly the same.
“You told Jane this wasn’t Mistletoe, didn’t you?”
So the instructor’s name was Jane.
I nodded quietly.
Ainenn questioned me with a probing air.
“So what do you think? It’s in the newspapers now, and soon it’ll be all over the Wizard View broadcasts. Everyone who sees this is calling it Mistletoe. If they’ve really found a Divine Artifact—something most people struggle to encounter even once in a lifetime—the empire will be in an uproar.”
Of course it would be.
Even the most trivial object touched by a god’s hand held tremendous value.
And Mistletoe was far from trivial.
In Nordic mythology, Baldr—the god called the “Perfect Divine Being.”
The mistletoe branch that killed him. That is Mistletoe.
Its worth could not be measured in coin, and few artifacts in existence could stand against it.
Someone had found what everyone recognized as the true Mistletoe,
and I had said, ‘Mistletoe doesn’t look like that.’
In other words, Ainenn was asking me now:
Can you still stand by your claim when circumstances have shifted like this?
Can you say it again—that what you spoke of isn’t just bravado or empty talk?
Behind Ainenn’s smile, a faint glimmer of mischief appears.
She probably expects me to back down. Or perhaps dodge the question, deny my own words, stumble over them. Either way, she’s waiting to see me flustered.
But.
“My conviction remains unchanged.”
……
At my composed reply, Ainenn’s smile vanishes.
“Mistletoe never looked like that.”
I know. I know exactly what Mistletoe looks like, and more than that—
I know the true identity of the “false Mistletoe” displayed in that newspaper, sealed inside the transparent casket.
‘……But that, I can make use of it.’
I’d been pondering how to approach Aster naturally. If I play this right, that news could solve everything.
Once this story breaks, Aster will fixate on it without question.
Aster’s Divine Artifact. Its target is none other than Baldr.

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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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