The Academy’s Weapon Replicator - Chapter 63

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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 63
Chapter 17: Temporary Instructor (1)
“──Gasp!”
Elicia’s eyes snapped open. She drew in breath so violently it seemed as though she’d been suffocating.
“Where…?”
She looked around. A hospital room.
How was she alive? Hadn’t she died? Or did the afterlife simply look like this?
As the question formed in her mind, the door creaked open.
“You’re awake.”
It was her sister, Salle.
Salle’s expression was composed, as though she already knew the full story.
Elicia asked softly.
“…How am I still alive?”
“Don’t ask me. What would I know?”
Fair point.
Elicia sensed something cold in Salle’s manner.
Salle changed the water in the vase beside Elicia’s bed as she spoke.
“How do you feel?”
“…Fine. Impossibly fine.”
“Good. That’s how it should be.”
After changing the water, Salle’s hands—still holding the vase—stilled for a moment.
“Today is your last day as a princess, you know.”
“…”
So that was it.
That’s why Salle seemed so distant.
“Why did you do it?”
“…”
The question struck like a blade. Elicia had no answer and fell silent.
Salle spoke, her eyes darkening with something deeper.
“Sister. Do you know who inherits the Imperial Throne?”
“…Who?”
“Me.”
“…”
“Foolish sister. Why go through all this? If you wanted to be empress, you could have simply waited. Just waited, and it would have happened. Why would you do this?”
Salle, like Elicia, was an ordinary person. In the eyes of the court, her political acumen fell short of her sister’s.
That Bartelo would pass the throne to such a Salle meant Elicia’s position was never secure to begin with. Salle was pointing this out—though it was a thing Elicia already knew in her heart.
“…Even so, I would have done this.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t trust Father.”
The Emperor, Bartelo.
Elicia accepted that Salle would inherit the throne—because she herself had failed.
To plant regret in Elicia’s heart, to quell the people’s suspicion, Bartelo would place Salle—not Aten, not Roderick—upon the throne.
For Bartelo was entirely capable of such a move.
Bartelo had never intended to give Elicia the Imperial Throne. That was the truth as Elicia saw it.
“No.”
Salle spoke.
“You didn’t distrust Father. You distrusted yourself.”
“Perhaps.”
Perhaps.
Perhaps she had lived her whole life in that doubt.
-Elicia. Among my children, you are the one most like me. That’s what worries your mother.
Words Philia had spoken once. Now, at last, they made sense.
Elicia had inherited Philia’s gift for calculation, her political cunning, and her nature of—suspicion. She’d also inherited something rather less admirable, though she’d hesitate to name it.
Aten, by contrast, had received Philia’s magical talent, the power of their bloodline, and her kindness.
A daughter born from grey Philia. Black and white.
In that sense.
‘…Perhaps.’
“Perhaps it was right that you became empress, Salle.”
“What are you saying?”
“You’ll succeed at both. You will.”
Salle’s brow furrowed at words she couldn’t grasp.
“…Anyway, are you going to be all right? If this goes on, you’ll end up a commoner after prison. You could spend your whole life bearing people’s scorn.”
“I’m not all right about it, but that’s my burden to carry. I was meant to be dead anyway.”
Meant to be dead.
…Come to think of it, how am I even alive?
The dagger Frontdier gave Philia supposedly contained deadly poison.
I’d actually lost all sensation the moment it grazed me, passed out cold.
“So who was it, in the end?”
“Who?”
“The one who ruined your plan. I saw the scene. The Chimera’s wounds—only a handful of people could do something like that.”
“…Didn’t Mother tell you?”
Elicia’s question made Salle shake her head.
So that’s it. She hid Frontdier’s existence.
That was Philia’s strategy. Elicia fell for it perfectly. She too failed this plan because she didn’t know Frontdier’s true strength.
Frontdier had cleaved the Chimera in a single stroke. Of course, he’d wounded it in earlier exchanges, but he’d been winning against the Chimera alone the whole time.
The Chimera was an amalgamation of countless monsters—its body possessed overwhelming physical ability, but its intellect was abysmal at best. It lacked a fundamental species identity, so its tier fell far short.
Yet its skin was unmistakably that of a dragon; any ordinary attack should have left barely a scratch. He’d carved away nearly the entire left side of the creature.
‘…A person like that, in Constellation’s first year…’
What kind of monster was Constellation breeding? Did they even know?
* * *
[Main Quest ‘Ambush’ Completed.]
– No Named Characters Lost.
The Main Quest had finally been cleared.
I clenched both fists triumphantly in my room after checking my Smartwatch.
It might look strange to others, but no Named Characters dying—that was worth celebrating.
Even as a Player, even as Aster, this was something I’d failed to achieve several times before.
On top of that, this run had fewer casualties overall than any of my previous playthroughs, both Named and civilian alike, so my joy was entirely justified.
[Quest Reward Confirmation]
[Quest rewards change based on the number of Named Characters lost.]
[Characters lost: Zero.]
[Highest-grade reward confirmed. Rewards are distributed according to tier, tailored to the current character.]
The game Aethius evolves Aster in countless directions even while being played.
Unexpected events trigger that Players don’t anticipate, and even when you know what’s coming, the exact response is never identical.
Layer in each Player’s personal preferences, and even the same Aster grows into entirely different strengths.
That’s why the reward is always suited to that particular character.
‘So what’s the highest-grade reward that suits me right now?’
Not Aster anymore, but Frontdier’s highest-grade reward.
I’d grown reasonably strong, and with the unique-tier skill Weaving at my disposal, they wouldn’t hand me anything ridiculous—
[Skill ‘Analysis’ Acquired]
[Analysis]
• Grade: Unique
• Description: Analyzes the target. Once analysis is complete, all information about the target can be confirmed, and if necessary, mastered.
“…What?”
I’d obtained a skill.
The description was stating its name completely literally.
…Analysis. What am I supposed to use that for?
I gripped my head. I’d at least hoped for something useful in combat or battle. Or maybe some magic effective against monsters.
‘Weaving’ and now this—why does Frontdier keep pulling garbage skills like this?
“…No, wait. I’m still alive because of Weaving.”
Weaving, which I’d written off as a trash skill, had become an indispensable cornerstone skill for me now.
This ‘Analysis’ should hold that same kind of value. With luck. If I think it through carefully.
…Analysis, huh.
“Should I try analyzing Weaving?”
The thought spilled out of me before I could stop it. And once I said it, it didn’t sound like a bad idea. I’d always been curious about what Weaving really was. Even the Library had yielded nothing useful.
I didn’t know if it would work, but there’s only one way to find out.
Analysis
Target: Skill ‘Weaving’
Analysis initiated
I tested the Analysis skill on Weaving experimentally, but nothing seemed to change noticeably.
I was starting to think it wouldn’t work when something occurred to me, and I glanced at my Smartwatch.
[Analyzing Skill ‘Weaving’. ……1% complete.]
……It seemed this would take quite a while.
At this rate, it looked like it would be finished in a few days.
* * *
And so came another school morning at Constellation Academy.
I’d prepared myself.
On the day I’d faced Elicia and the Chimera, I hadn’t attended Constellation from the morning.
Which meant several people, including teachers, would know I wasn’t there during the attack.
Of course, they’d assume I was a lazy coward who ran away, or wonder how I’d known the monster attack was coming, or suspect I was part of it—that sort of thing.
I’d have to endure the reasonable, relentless suspicions that came with it.
With that resolve firmly in place, I opened the classroom door.
“…….”
“…….”
I could definitely feel all eyes fixed on me. Here it comes—the sharp mockery directed my way…
“…….”
“…….”
But the mockery never came.
The way they looked at me was different from what I’d expected—wary somehow, suspicious, or maybe a little afraid.
What’s this? Not what I thought at all.
“Frontdier.”
Just then, Aten approached. She spoke in an uncharacteristically quiet voice.
“Over here.”
“Oh, yeah.”
I sat in my usual seat, and Aten sat beside me. Her voice reached my ears in a peculiar tone.
There was a magical aura to it—it seemed she’d cast something so only I could hear.
“About the attack, you know. Frontdier, you weren’t anywhere to be seen.”
“Yeah.”
Aten knows too, then. That means the others will have noticed as well.
But why do their expressions look like that?
“So people are saying… that you’re the one who did it?”
“Did what?”
“The ‘fireworks,’ they mean.”
“Fireworks?”
“Fireworks exploded over the fleeing monsters, and all the ones below were killed because of it—that’s what they’re saying.”
……Crisselacatos. And Ioceira as well.
“How did that become something I did?”
That’s strange. I’m Frontdier, the proud human sloth, after all.
There’s no way someone like me could pull off something so impressive?
“It’s because you weren’t seen when they were blocking the monsters, and also because of the training record update.”
“Ah.”
“The 3.14-second record for ‘Target Striking’ in the Personal Training Room. The logic is that fireworks would make that possible.”
……A brilliant deduction. And it’s true.
The students at Constellation Academy are too smart for their own good.
This is what comes of being sharp-witted.
Just then, the bell for the end of class rang. The next lesson was Basic Combat Arts. I had to head to the Gymnasium.
“I’ll get going now. Listen carefully in class.”
“Oh, right.”
Aten is a mage; I’m a warrior.
So even in the same class, it’s common to attend different lectures depending on the subject.
After parting with Aten, as I walked, I thought.
What should I do? I need something to divert the students’ attention.
It’s not good for my story to keep coming up among Constellation’s students.
I’m Frontdier the human sloth. It would be best to maintain this position indefinitely…
Even after reaching the Gymnasium, my worries persisted. But I couldn’t find any real answer.
That was when someone entered.
In that instant, my worries became utterly meaningless. Even the students who’d been stealing glances at me in the Gymnasium suddenly had their eyes riveted on the man who’d just arrived.
──I’d momentarily forgotten what the first lesson was about. Or rather, I’d forgotten what that lesson now meant.
“Welcome.”
The man standing at the lectern greeted us with startling brevity. And that brevity suited him perfectly.
“Ales will no longer be at Constellation due to personal circumstances.”
That’s right.
Now that Ales, who had been Elicia’s accomplice, had been expelled from Constellation Academy.
The Basic Combat Arts class was left vacant.
And the man who filled that vacancy was none other than.
“A temporary instructor by the name of Artzie de Roache, apparently.”
My brother, Artzie.

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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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