The Academy’s Weapon Replicator - Chapter 8

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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 8
Chapter 2: A Branch in the Coffin, Mistilteinn (4)
I tested the short blade several times, weighing it in my hand. The weight, the balance—everything matched the original Weaving.
I’d need to run an actual test to verify the blade’s edge, but it was almost certainly identical.
‘But it’s consuming Mana continuously.’
Heukcheun was a substance that solidified only when force was applied to it.
Maintaining that form required constant magical power.
My Mana pool was about average for an ordinary person.
By Constel student standards, it was hardly impressive, but I could sustain it through a single combat encounter without issue.
Weaving made from Heukcheun had advantages and disadvantages that were the complete inverse of standard Weaving.
A weapon made through standard Weaving only manifests in reality at the instant of contact, making it impossible to block an opponent’s attack head-on.
If I tried, their attack would punch through the Weaving and kill me.
Besides, if I didn’t sever them in one strike, the weapon would vanish again, making it hard to deal genuine damage.
Heukcheun, by contrast, was a tangible weapon, so I could use ordinary sword techniques exactly as taught.
I could defend normally, clash blade-to-blade, and even push back if my guard held for even a moment.
But Heukcheun drained Mana continuously while I maintained it through Weaving, and because it had physical substance, enemies could see it.
I would need to switch between standard Weaving and Heukcheun depending on the situation.
“……Then.”
I swallowed hard, tension climbing my throat. This was where things got serious.
In my workshop right now lay the legendary blade Gram.
Witnessing the actual form of Gram had been an unexpected windfall.
The moment I’d laid eyes on Ampere’s Gram, I’d burned its image into my workshop.
I placed the Heukcheun short blade on the frame and released the Weaving, letting it naturally revert to liquid and settle back into the mold. Then I rested my hand on it again.
This time, I wasn’t replicating an ordinary short blade. I was replicating a hero’s sword.
─If this was possible, I’d take another step forward in mastering this world.
Weaving, Heukcheun
Grade – Legendary
Gram
Threads of Mana extended toward the Heukcheun.
Inscribing the image and structure was simple.
[Gram]
• Grade: Legendary
• Description: A legendary blade wielded by Sigurd. The exploits of hero and weapon are so extraordinary they surpass several divine artifacts.
Ability Details >
– Dragon Slayer: Slew a dragon and became steeped in its blood. Grants vastly enhanced attack power against dragons and instills fear in dragon-type creatures of Unique Grade or lower.
And it was complete.
Up to this point, it was purely Frondieur’s raw talent, so nothing else interfered.
The problem was,
“……Ugh!”
The instant I gripped the woven Gram, a devastating vertigo and wave of nausea crashed through me.
Mana depletion. I couldn’t last more than three seconds—I canceled the Weaving immediately.
“Huff, cough! Cough cough……!”
Dry heaves wracked my body. Every drop of moisture inside me felt scorched away.
Yet even in the agony, hope flickered through me.
“Cough, it w-works, cough, it actually w-works……! Cough!”
Yes. The Weaving itself succeeded. It just demanded an absurd amount of Mana.
“Ugh……. I need to find a way to increase my Mana pool.”
The fastest method was equipping an Artifact. But Artifacts that expanded your Mana pool were prohibitively expensive.
Even the Roache family would balk at such expenditure—or rather, precisely because they were Roache, they were all the more sensitive to high-priced items.
If I were Aszhie, perhaps such spending would be permissible.
But I’m Frondieur. It’s not an option.
“Then for now, I’ll try the brute-force approach.”
There was one other method to expand your Mana pool: draining it completely, just as I’d done moments ago.
When your Mana runs dry, your body responds by expanding the pool to prevent the next depletion. Like muscles growing stronger through strain.
Most characters in Etheus don’t actually know this method exists.
The Mana gained is minimal compared to items or Divine Power—much like how muscle growth from exercise doesn’t show overnight.
And completely depleting your Mana is considered taboo by the standards of this world.
Danger could strike anywhere, anytime, so letting your Mana—your lifeline—run empty was enormously risky.
But then again.
Knowing that Mana grows? There’s no reason not to do it.
Once my Mana recovers, I’ll Weave Gram several more times, repeating the Mana depletion cycle to build up my reserves.
……But this method has its limits.
In the end, I need items.
“……Quiné.”
In the end, the conclusion that emerges is this: I need to make a deal with Quiné de Viette.
She’s the only trading route I have access to.
But since I have no money, I’ll need to offer something else in exchange.
Of course, before that, I should establish a rapport first.
Let me think about how to win her over.
“Anyway, how am I supposed to carry this—”
I stopped mid-sentence. My fingertips trembled.
Puzzled by the trembling, I watched it carefully as it crawled up my arm and swept across my entire body.
“I—what—ugh!”
This was nothing but fear.
The emotion that descended upon me so suddenly, I didn’t even recognize it as fear at first.
There was nothing around me. No trigger for this fear existed.
‘……No.’
Just moments ago, the empty air had held nothing, no one.
As if a curtain were slowly being drawn open, the center of the empty space tore apart.
Someone emerged slowly through the gap.
“You, are.”
A small boy with black wings spread wide.
Golden eyes turned toward me—eyes brimming with hatred and contempt, as if they’d reached into my throat and were clawing through it.
The fear swelled.
With what little reason remained, I quickly surveyed the boy’s form.
‘Not human. A god. One of the gods who genuinely exist in this game, Etheus. But which one? From appearance alone, either Greek or Norse mythology. Think—golden eyes, black wings, a boy’s form—which god……?’
In the world of Etheus, a Manifestation of a god is not an easy thing.
Even from a god’s perspective, it requires considerable preparation. Yet this god breached those barriers to appear before me.
‘Could it be because I used Heukcheun to Weave?’
If Weaving becoming real in the world had been set in advance as a ‘condition’ for Manifestation,
then the preparations for Manifestation would have already been in place.
And if that were true,
this god knew that Weaving would affect reality.
I don’t know it yet, but to this god, Weaving is that dangerous.
The god in the boy’s form moved his lips.
I couldn’t hear it, and even if I had, I couldn’t understand a god’s language, but somehow I sensed that the god was
[saying something like, You’ve finally done it.]
That was how it felt.
The god snapped his fingers. In that instant, my right hand rose of its own accord.
Frondieur’s Unique Skill
Weaving
Workshop 1st Grade
Grade – Common
Iron Dagger
My hand moved of its own will, Weaving.
The blade’s edge pointed toward me.
‘This bastard, trying to kill me……!’
He was controlling my body, trying to kill me with my own hand.
A perfect suicide disguised with no evidence left behind.
My right hand trembled uselessly—completely beyond my control.
The blade crept closer.
I clenched my teeth, trying to resist with sheer force.
……Wait.
I can clench my teeth.
I changed my thinking. I can’t resist with strength.
I’m just human, not even a Named—an ordinary person. Opposing a god outright is folly.
So what I need to do is make him stop his own actions.
While I still have the window to clench my teeth.
While I still have the chance to move my mouth.
I meet the cold golden eyes that stare at me.
I moved my lips, crushing the breath leaking out of me.
“──Thanatos.”
My words barely formed a sound.
But this damned god would understand.
A god ought to manage that much.
[……!]
Golden eyes widen.
At the same moment, the boy’s body pulls away from me.
The blade rushing toward me stops dead.
“Gasp! Ah—gasp!!”
I recovered my freedom of movement and drew a ragged breath.
I nearly died……!
[──!]
The god wearing a boy’s face shouted something at me, his expression twisted with confusion and fury in equal measure.
I couldn’t make out a word of it. Bastard.
Soon after, as though he’d thought of something, his face shifted into contemplation.
He bit his lower lip, glanced at me once more, then walked through the crack in the air.
The crack sealed shut, and my room became my room once more.
“……He’s gone?”
Tension drained from me like water.
Thanatos—Death himself from Greek mythology.
But in Etheus, he is not what the original myths describe as “death itself” or any such thing.
Powerful, a high god indeed, but his absence would not make death disappear. Though he governs death, he too can die.
Still, guessing his identity was fortunate.
Golden eyes. Black wings. The appearance of a boy.
There aren’t many gods bearing all three marks—but I would have staked my life on the guess anyway.
The strongest evidence was his method of killing.
When a god possesses a human body and forces it to end itself, just as he did moments ago, it leaves no trace—only a suicide.
How fitting for the god of death.
Only a handful of gods know Thanatos’s face. Those few are higher gods than he.
I merely guessed, but Thanatos would not see it that way.
That I know Thanatos’s face—to him, it would seem I share intimate connection with one of the higher gods.
For that reason, killing me outright would be dangerous.
I spoke his name in the hope he would think as much.
……Still, what I can say is this:
I was incredibly fortunate.
“……A catastrophic crisis, and yet a catastrophic opportunity.”
That he tried to kill me must surely be because of Weaving.
I don’t know why Weaving displeased a god’s heart.
But in Etheus’s history, there has never been a single instance of a human affecting a god’s emotions.
“Could it be that Frondieur lacks Divine Power because he is hated by the gods?”
……Am I overthinking this?
Humans with Divine Power are rare to begin with, and surely Frondieur isn’t despised by every god.
In any case, this Weaving ability may be more dangerous and powerful than I ever imagined.
“But.”
I gazed down at my hands. The trembling wouldn’t stop.
I laughed bitterly at myself.
“I suppose I’ll need to grow accustomed to fear.”
I don’t know how long my bluff will hold.
Thanatos can hardly simply ask the other high gods about me outright, so I’ll have bought myself some time.
But I should prepare whatever I can before then.
* * *
‘Frondieur.’
Quiné thought about him in the lecture hall.
Frondieur de Roache. Second son of House Roache.
Now that she herself was entering third year at Constel, she believed only Aszhie from the Roache family warranted her attention.
She’d learned Frondieur’s name only after he enrolled.
She knew Aszhie had a younger brother, but had thought him unremarkable.
She’d probed for information, just to be certain, but found nothing of worth. The only intel was that he was exceptionally lazy and idle—and it rang true.
“Quiné, what are you thinking so hard about?”
The friend beside her spoke up.
Quiné glanced at her sidelong.
“Anne, what do you think of Frondieur?”
“What? Don’t tell me—Quiné, after seeing that face of his! Have you finally caught those fresh, fluttering feelings? Really felt them? That sweet, tender, adorable sort of…!”
“I’m asking for information.”
“Sure you are.”
Anne laughed, a light, breathy sound.
“Frondieur? Well, I don’t know. They say he just sleeps through class. Though lately that doesn’t seem to be the case anymore.”
“Not the stuff everyone at Constel already knows.”
“Then I’m afraid that’s all I know.”
Hmm. Fair point.
Anne couldn’t possibly know much about Frondieur in depth.
Instead, Quiné asked a different question.
“You know about that incident a while back, don’t you? How Frondieur smashed the transparent case where Mistilteinn was kept?”
“Oh, yeah! It was such a mess just a few days ago.”
“What do you make of it?”
“Of that action?”
“Yeah.”
Anne tilted her head with a thoughtful hum, then broke into a broad smile.
She answered brightly.
“Reckless! Stupid!”
“…I see.”
Right. This was the public’s assessment of Frondieur regarding that incident at the time.
Even if it were for his own father—what if it had truly cost him his life?
What father would want to watch his own son die?
‘But to my eyes, he seemed filled with certainty.’
It must have been so. Otherwise, he would never have done such a thing without fear.
—I have never feared such things.
“Hah.”
Quiné laughed. She’d never heard anyone speak like that before.
Especially not in a place where all manner of renowned gods’ favorites had gathered together.
Truly, without a shred of fear.
“Fine. I’ve made my decision.”
“About what?”
“If I want something, I should just take it.”
Quiné crossed her arms, her thoughts advancing in her mind, her bright eyes speaking with conviction.
Seeing her like that, Anne was thinking something along the lines of ‘Could Quiné really be interested in Frondieur?’

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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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