The Academy’s Weapon Replicator
chapter-121-1

Memory (4)

The man was convinced when he saw Quinie wearing glasses.

Quinie is mistaken about his ability. She thinks it's about completely erasing memories.

He had seen many people with the same misconception. Most of them had adopted a similar defense mechanism. All they could rely on was time.

But that wouldn't be enough to discern the man's ability. His power wasn't to erase all memories, but to remove any trace of his existence from those memories.

"Quinie, is Kora not coming today?"

After school, the man boldly asked Quinie.

The moment he asked, Quinie's expression changed. It was a brazen question, naturally making her suspicious. But for now, it was just suspicion.

"She'll come. Later. We planned to go home together."

Quinie's face bore a defiant smile as he answered. As if to say, try me. She probably planned to check the time and then report it. Probably to Frondier? He had seen them together recently.

"Alright, thanks."

The man walked past Quinie upon hearing his words, lightly brushing Quinie's arm with his finger as he passed. That was it. Quinie would lose all memories of him. Of course, she couldn't report anything now.

'Kora is coming, she said.'

Of course, he couldn't fully trust Quinie's words. The likelihood of lies was higher.

However, the fearless smile Quinie just showed, her misconception about the man's ability. The man decided to bet that Quinie's words were true.

After all, checking wouldn't pose any danger.

'This is a good spot.'

The man hid behind a building near the entrance to Constel. He was waiting for Kora.

Of course, if it came down to a proper fight, he couldn't beat Kora. Right now, Kora might be struggling to master magic that doesn't suit her, but when it comes down to simple combat, her physical abilities are incomparable to that of humans.

The man's goal isn't to kill Kora right now. That's why he waited until Kora came to Constel.

Just wait here until Kora arrives, then induce that previous rampage.

"Should I call him Armel de Viet then?"

[No. Given how things are going, it seems he hasn't been recognized by the family yet.]

"So, he's still Senior Armel Colt."

...What is this?

From behind the building where the man was hiding, an unexpected conversation could be heard above.

The man looked up.

Someone was sitting on the building's railing, talking to a crow.

...A crow?

'Could it be, that one from before!'

The man recalled the crow that had been next to him when he was on the tree.

Could it be that it wasn't an ordinary crow?

Moreover, the person talking to it was Frondier, the man undoubtedly in collaboration with Quinie.

Since when did Frondier learn to tame? And the tamed animal even talks?

"So, Mr. Armel."

Frondier, who had been conversing, stopped talking and looked down at the man.

Armel Colt.

Wearing glasses, with a slight build, an unremarkable appearance and faint presence that were difficult to remember at first glance.

To the man who dreams of someday returning to being Armel de Viet, Frondier asked.

"So, what are you? Cousin of Senior Quinie, or perhaps a brother. Do you have some secret birth story?"

Thud!

Armel jumped back, creating distance. His action was observed by Frondier's languid eyes.

Even as he sweated, Armel managed a sly smile.

"Ah, Frondier? I'm surprised. What's going on?"

"Hello."

Frondier jumped down from the building and landed. For the first time, they were facing each other at eye level.

'What an idiot, voluntarily giving up the advantage of being at a higher spot.' Armel chuckled to himself. 'As expected, Frondier is inexperienced.'

According to the reports from Indus, he seemed to have a rather flashy record, but half of it must be bluffing—

"Menosorpo."

Before Armel could finish his thought,

Armel felt himself stepping into a gigantic Rune of immeasurable size.

'He's using a Rune for no reason?'

He’s not sure what this Rune is, but it's not good to stay in it without knowing its effects.

...But, in which direction should he go to get out of this Rune?

Swish—

When Armel unknowingly hesitated.

Swoosh—

BOOM!

Armel was startled by something suddenly pouring down and moved his feet. He didn't get far.

When he realized it, he was trapped inside a formation of spears that had pierced through the ground in all directions.

'This is ridiculous. Spears are popping out of seemingly empty air! Even if they were rocks instead of spears, it’s unbelievable!'

Armel observed the spears that had fallen obnoxiously in front of him. Each and every one of them appeared incredibly real, but they all exuded mana that filled the gaps seamlessly.

It's magic. Magic that's so tangible. Does that mean the power of the Rune from earlier is this? At the very least, magic within this Rune is actualized as if it were real.

"Why, why is this happening? Frondier. This is quite disconcerting."

Armel spoke to Frondier with an awkward smile.

Frondier tilted his head.

"I'm asking just in case, but have we met before?"

“……Of course not. It's my first time talking to you like this. I merely know your face because you're so famous.”

Frondier laughed at Armel’s words.

His sunken eyes closed for a moment, and when they opened again, the smile had turned into a sneer.

“I think so too. I don’t remember either.”

This brat.

Armel’s neck tensed up. Frondier was certain that he was the culprit.

Then why isn’t he attacking him right away? Is he not confident in his abilities? Does he want to test his skills?

At that moment, Frondier spoke.

“But let’s say, just for a moment, that Armel’s plan actually worked and he somehow managed to worm his way into the Viet family.”

As Frondier spoke, he pulled out the short sword that was hanging from his waist. It was an oddly-sized sword.

Armel didn’t respond. He simply maintained an expression of bewilderment.

Seeing that face, Frondier continued speaking.

“Would he still be able to stay in Indus, the organization that’s supposed to be fighting for the commoners’ rights?”

At those words, Armel’s expression froze, still feigning ignorance.

‘How much does this brat know?’