The Academy’s Weapon Replicator - Chapter 92

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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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Academy’s Weapon Duplicator Episode 92
Chapter 26: Sacred Forest (4)
The woman of the lake.
In the original Arthurian legend, this mysterious woman bears no name, yet across different lands and retellings, she goes by many—lady, fairy, maiden, and more.
But to all the Gamers of Etheus, she had only one title.
‘The Witch of the Lake’.
[How impolite. A witch, you say. I’m a fairy, thank you very much. I do have a name—Nimue.]
Right, Nimue. That’s what it was. Hearing nothing but “witch” for so long, I’d clean forgotten her name.
Nimue smiled faintly as she said it. Her serene beauty and that gentle expression hardly suited the epithet “witch” at all.
Or perhaps that’s precisely why she was one. Plenty of Gamers had fallen for that face alone.
There were more than a few who’d poked around here and there, convinced her true nature must be benevolent.
But I, who’d clung to this game longer than anyone else, could say with absolute certainty:
Nimue was a witch.
“Yes, Nimue. I’ve come to the lake on business.”
[What sort of business?]
“I’m here to find a sword that lies within it.”
Something flickered across Nimue’s expression.
[Ah, so you do know something after all…]
Nimue spread both arms wide—a gesture as if welcoming me.
[If you can find it, by all means, do try.]
[Nimue!]
Merlin called out sharply, as if to rebuke her.
Nimue smiled brightly and turned to me.
[The sword lies in the lake. Take it if you’re able.]
“What do you mean by that?”
[Have you forgotten where you are? This is far north of your lands—a place of extremes. This lake is colder than any glacier. It simply refuses to freeze because it exists as a ‘lake’—yet only that keeps it liquid.]
I looked down into the water. It was clear and transparent, yet I felt the biting cold she spoke of radiating from its depths.
Water colder than ice. It should be impossible for a stagnant lake to maintain such a temperature—and yet under the name of “Mystique,” this one held its form eternal.
No ordinary cold could freeze this lake. The temperature simply continued to drop, endlessly lower.
Taken to extremes, even if mankind fell to ruin, this place would remain unchanged forever.
It was an absurd kind of cold, no matter how you looked at it.
Nimue, watching my face, laughed softly—almost musically.
That laughter itself seemed so benign it was almost eerie.
[Will you go in? What good is finding the sword if you cannot escape alive?]
“Don’t worry. I came prepared.”
I turned and approached Cassian. I took Penelope’s Cloth and bound it around my hand. The bitter cold that had been gathering instantly vanished. The cloth’s effect.
[…Hmm.]
Nimue’s smile slipped slightly. She still seemed at ease, though.
[Well then. By all means.]
Nimue spoke again. She made no move to stop me.
I glanced at Merlin. His expression was hard, yet he showed no sign of intervening.
“…Are you truly about to dive in?”
Selena asked. Something like worry colored her voice.
I wondered if it was natural for her to be concerned—being my guard and all—yet it felt like something more.
“I have to.”
“Something feels wrong about this. The way they’re letting you go so easily.”
“Yeah. I feel it too.”
“What?”
I laughed, waving my hand casually as if heading out on some errand.
“I’ll be back soon.”
And with that, I dove into the lake.
* * *
Selena watched the lake where Frontdier had disappeared, at least for a moment.
If she’d jumped in after him as his guard, she’d be frozen solid in less than five seconds—no doubt about it.
Even from this distance, she could feel the killing frost—one touch would bring frostbite.
Beside her, Nimue sighed with what sounded like regret.
[And so another greedy life meets its end.]
“…What do you mean by that?”
Selena asked.

It wasn’t her concern what Frontdier did or where he did it—but dying was another matter entirely. Escorting him was her duty, after all.
Of course, if he died out there, it wasn’t as though she’d perish alongside him, but there would certainly be severe consequences.
“Frontdier isn’t affected by the cold. Retrieving a sword should be a simple task for him.”
She’d noticed back in Taeburn that Frontdier didn’t feel the cold. It must be that cloth, she thought. The thing he wore as a necktie—she never would have guessed it had such properties.
But Nimue shook her head.
“That’s not why. Simply blocking out the cold won’t allow him to retrieve the sword.”
“…Not because of the cold?”
Nimue covered her mouth with one hand. Her smile was gentle, almost maternal.
“This Lake is very deep, you see. Ordinary people cannot reach its bottom.”
“…Even so, he shouldn’t die from that.”
“If that were all there was to it, perhaps not. That man looks stronger than he appears, so I suspect he might reach the bottom. But the truth is, according to legend,”
Nimue, speaking with evident amusement, suddenly stopped and looked at Merlin—as if checking his reaction. It was a strange gesture, but she soon turned back to Selena and continued.
“…the sword is embedded there. Deep at the very bottom.”
“…!”
That was right. Excalibur was originally a sword embedded in a stone. Or perhaps a sword given directly by the Lady of the Lake.
But neither of those—the sword stuck in the depths at the Lake’s bottom? The legends had become thoroughly tangled.
“That sword will drain your Mana if you try to pull it free. More than that—it will steal your very life force. Only one with power strong enough to overcome all of that can draw the sword. If someone tries to pull it without understanding their own limits, all their vitality will be drained away, and when they finally regain consciousness, they’ll be trapped in waters too deep to escape.”
At Nimue’s explanation, Selena swallowed hard.
A sword that chose its master with absolute severity—one that could drive even a worthy person to death if they overstepped.
‘…But this is all happening underwater.’
Even if someone were worthy, could they possibly draw a sword from within the water?
Did there exist anyone capable of accomplishing a feat on land, let alone beneath the waves?
Why had two different legends become intertwined? Why did the sword demand a task that seemed impossible for anyone to complete?
-Because the Lake is real.
Frontdier’s words kept circling through her mind. Selena’s thoughts continued to race.
But time passed clearly all the same.
There was only so long a person could survive underwater. Nimue, as if bored, glanced up at the sky for a moment before speaking.
“…Well then, shall we return? The master you’re waiting for will not come,”
Splash!
At that moment, the waters of the Lake erupted violently. Selena, Nimue, and Merlin all witnessed it.
It was Frontdier. He surged upward, gripping what looked like a hammer in one hand,
Thud.
Tumble-tumble-tumble.
“……”
He crashed into the ground and rolled like a dog.
Breaking through the Lake’s surface had looked rather magnificent, but Selena held her tongue.
“Huff—I thought I was done for.”
The words that came out were far less impressive. Selena clamped her mouth shut and approached him.
When he’d surged from the Lake, he’d seemed to be holding something like a hammer in his right hand, but it had vanished in the meantime.
In other words, Frontdier’s hands were both empty.
Selena examined him as she asked carefully.
“…Did you fail?”
“Hm? Fail?”
“You didn’t bring the sword back…”
“Oh, right. I figured why not give it a try, but the moment I touched it, all my strength just drained away. It wasn’t something I should be handling.”
Frontdier admitted it freely, without hesitation.
At that, Selena felt relief wash over her. Frontdier hadn’t died. She wouldn’t face punishment from Cassian.
“Hmm, I see. So you understood your place after all.”
Nimue looked down at Frontdier, sprawled on the ground.
She saw his empty hands. Really, trying to take the sword would have been strange. He deserved credit simply for letting go of that desire and returning alive.
“I told you, didn’t I? That sword cannot be yours to take.”
“Right. You did.”
With that, Frontdier extended one hand. Still lying down, he raised his palm toward the sky.
“It doesn’t matter.”
And then.
With his other hand, Frontdier tore off the Necklace he’d been wearing.
“What are you…?”
For a moment, she couldn’t understand the strange act.
But when the black liquid that poured from the Necklace gathered in Frontdier’s outstretched hand, forming itself into thin threads that took on shape,
Nimue’s eyes widened at last. Her smile vanished. Her mouth fell open in shock.
Frontdier’s face held the smile that Nimue had lost.
“I told you, didn’t I?”
Frontdier grasped the completed blade in his hand.
A rounded pommel, grip fitted for both hands, a blade sunken at its center, a crossguard and edge that gleamed gold.
[What, how, how is this even…!]
It was the sword embedded in rock for heroes to draw, the blade that the Lady of the Lake would place directly in waiting hands.
Excalibur.
“I came to ‘find’ the sword.”
I never said I came to ‘claim’ it. Not once.
* * *
From the start, I had no intention of drawing Excalibur.
The ‘true’ one isn’t mine. It belongs to the protagonist of this game, Aster Evans—the blade he’ll one day grip in his own hands.
It’s meant to be his primary weapon, and I’m not fool enough to steal it from him. Such a thing is impossible anyway, and there’s no need for it.
I entered the Lake, discovered Excalibur, and on impulse, I reached for the blade.
……It didn’t budge an inch. The sword embedded in the lake bottom seemed less inserted than fused with the earth itself.
The moment I grasped it, I felt my mana draining—and I let go. In that same instant, certainty crystallized.
This sword cannot be drawn by anyone. Not even Aster Evans.
That was when my hypothesis became certainty.
Since I’d already ‘witnessed’ it, that was enough. I deployed Menosorpho and verified Penelope’s Cloth. I’d consumed the Dragon Heart earlier, so this cloth would supply mana in its place until that was exhausted.
‘My application of Menosorpho has deepened.’
It was thanks to Menosorpho that I could leap from the lake bottom to the surface.
Within the range of the magic circle, woven weapons move at my will—so if I held onto such a weapon while it moved, wouldn’t flight become possible?
It was a simple thought, and it did work. The problem was that only Mjolnir succeeded.
The other weapons, no matter how I commanded them to move while gripped in my hand, couldn’t bear my weight. Given their performance even underwater, the prospect on land was bleak.
Even Gram barely made my body lift slightly; Artemis’s Bow and its arrows did loft me into the air, but I nearly stopped breathing from the exertion.
‘Nearly spent.’
Penelope’s Cloth wound around my wrist had worn down to little more than the length of my forearm.
Throughout it all, Nimue murmured in confusion.
[No. It can’t be. You couldn’t have drawn that sword! It’s impossible—no one could….]
Impossible. No one. Nimue had said so herself.
[Y-yes! It’s a fake! Isn’t it!]
Nimue cried out, pointing directly at me with trembling fingers.
“……Hah.”
I couldn’t help it—laughter spilled from me. Pure, bright laughter.
From the soles of my feet to the crown of my head, I embraced her words. My entire soul resonated with what Nimue had said.
And so I smiled—a smile more genuine than truth itself could ever be.
“Yes. It’s a fake.”
I spoke the most truthful words.
How proud I felt of this answer.

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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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