Chapter 133 - The Academy’s Weapon Replicator

Arc 41: School Trip (5)

Malia lifted her Sagephone and checked the screen. Messages had arrived, just as the teachers had agreed beforehand. Their contents were much the same, and simple.

[We’re beginning.]

It was the signal to commence the operation.

While the response team tracked down Indus’s leadership, the escort team would search for any Indus members who might be aboard the train.

If Indus truly intended to use the business cards, there was one thing they absolutely had to establish.

Where was Frondier?

The cards could issue only one command: kill Frondier. Naturally, they would try to locate Frondier, the key to it all. And to pinpoint his location, Indus would need someone aboard the train as well.

Constel students were not the only people on this train. There were ordinary passengers too, of course, and Indus would be hiding among them.

In the days leading up to today, Malia and the other teachers had passed the same information to certain students.

Frondier would be traveling in a different vehicle because of his community service.

They had not actively announced this to all the students. Only Frondier’s classmates in Class Five and the few students who had asked about him knew.

But tell a handful of students, and they would share the information among themselves, spreading the story. Naturally, the original account would become distorted and exaggerated.

Once embellished this way, information became a “rumor,” losing credibility. Unreliable information bred confusion.

From Indus’s perspective, Frondier might truly be traveling in a different vehicle—or that might be a false rumor, and he might be aboard this one. Ultimately, Indus would have no choice but to split its forces.

This time, Constel was exploiting the influence of “rumors,” just as Gregory had done at Constel.

But the truth was that Frondier was not aboard the train at all.

As long as Indus kept racking its brains over which car he was in, it would never find him.

Make people believe one of two answers must be correct, and they would never consider a third possibility—the truth.

And on top of that...

“Wow, what is this? This is amazing.”

In one part of the train, several girls were chatting excitedly. Each held a few face masks.

“Are you sure we can use these? They look expensive.”

“It’s fine. An upperclassman I know gave them to me. But be careful. If you do anything shady while wearing one, you’ll get arrested on the spot.”

“Ahaha, we wouldn’t do that.”

One of the girls handed the masks out to her friends, presenting them almost as toys.

Their owner was, of course, Quinier.

Naturally, this had not been Quinier’s idea. Frondier had asked her to do it.

“How do I look? How do I look?”

“Wow! You look exactly the same! I can’t tell the difference!”

The girls pressed the masks onto their faces, took on the appearances they wanted, and laughed at one another. It was only natural, since Quinier had called them “toys” when handing them out.

Of course, none of them intended to turn into Frondier. They did not even know what he looked like.

But if Indus saw students using the masks, another suspicion would inevitably take root.

They still did not know which car he was in—and now they might not be able to identify him by his face, either.

Ultimately, that would push Indus’s members to take a few risks to confirm Frondier’s identity.

“You there, miss.”

“Y-yes?”

“You were trying to ‘appraise’ our students. Where did you learn to do that?”

“Yes, I, no, I...”

“Would you come this way for a moment?”

Jane was smiling, but there was something utterly chilling behind that smile.

The woman swallowed as she looked at Jane, then meekly followed her.

Capturing these people meant little in itself. Most would not be core members of Indus, and they probably would not even have any reliable information about the organization.

This was simply a show—a show meant to suggest that Frondier was definitely aboard the train.

The harder Constel’s teachers worked to respond, the more they focused on finding Indus, the more firmly Indus would believe Frondier was on board.

'... Now, then.'

Jane checked her phone.

The message she had been waiting for, though hardly welcoming, had arrived.

[The President has made contact with Indus.]

It was a message from Malia. Jane’s expression turned cold, needlessly frightening the woman following her even more.

'... I don’t know how impressive Indus is supposed to be.'

But could they defeat President Ospreet?

Ospreet was Constel’s pillar, its pinnacle, and the pride of every teacher there.

'Show them what you’re made of, President.'

No, just kill them. Those cockroaches.

* * *

Between the two cliffs spanned by the elevated railway, Ospreet stood in midair, facing a young girl.

“... Wow, you really are floating, Grandpa.”

The girl sounded impressed. Ospreet smiled kindly.

“Aren’t you doing the same, young lady?”

“... It’s a little different for me.”

“How honest of you.”

Ospreet examined the space beneath her feet. Though barely visible to the naked eye, something like fine threads was supporting her.

“What brings you here, young lady?”

At his question, the girl looked down. The elevated railway lay below.

“I’m here to blow up the train.”

“Oh? The train, you say?”

“Yes.”

“A great many people will die.”

“That’s right.”

The girl nodded, her eyes innocent.

“Constel’s students are too strong. Especially the first-years. We have to dispose of them all here.”

“Isn’t strength a good thing?”

“Yes. If they’re on our side. But they aren’t.”

It was a remarkably simple dichotomy.

Yet, strangely enough, Ospreet found it convincing. Every faction in the world likely fought over a divide as simple as this girl’s. They merely dressed it up with various justifications.

And by that same logic, Ospreet belonged to “them,” which was reason enough to oppose her. What refreshingly straightforward reasoning.

Ospreet spoke.

“But you cannot blow up the train.”

“I will.”

“It would ruin Indus’s reputation. You must learn restraint for the sake of your ‘revolution.’”

At Ospreet’s admonishing tone, the girl’s eyes twitched. It lasted only an instant, but he did not miss it.

There was no doubt. Indus had not yet considered that the word “revolution” might have been exposed.

Ospreet himself had not thought of it in such precise terms until Frondier told him.

... Perhaps this could be a means of sowing suspicion within Indus.

“I don’t care. I’ll do it anyway.”

“Surely not. Your revolution knows no ‘limits.’ If you look ‘too high,’ you will lose your footing. What sort of ‘state’ would the country be in then?”

Ospreet deliberately emphasized certain words. His insinuation was exceedingly subtle. He did not say precisely what he meant, but it was enough to plant a “thought” in the girl’s mind.

“...”

She gave nothing away, ignoring his words entirely. It was a shrewd response for someone who looked so young.

“So what are you doing here, Grandpa?”

“Trying to catch some cockroaches.”

“... Are you...”

Her gaze darkened. Killing intent rose from her, tightly controlled from head to toe.

“Talking about us?”

“Hohoho. Whatever is the matter, young lady?”

Ospreet smiled easily despite her killing intent.

“Are you a cockroach, by any chance?”

“... We aren’t cockroaches.”

“You keep saying ‘we,’ but you’re alone, aren’t you?”

The instant he said it, Ospreet felt a strange sensation.

What began as a faint presence, barely worth noticing, multiplied countless times before he knew it, seeming to crawl up from beneath his feet.

“Oh?”

Ospreet briefly surveyed his surroundings. Countless threads were spreading around the girl, and something was approaching along them from farther out.

Things were crawling along the threads from the cliff edges. Spiders. Like the slender threads, they were even smaller than ordinary insects.

“We aren’t cockroaches,” the girl said.

“I see, I see. Not a word of that was wrong.”

Ospreet nodded in understanding.

“You are ‘we,’ and you aren’t ‘cockroaches.’ You meant exactly what you said. I apologize. As one grows old, one develops a habit of reading hidden meanings into even the simplest words. Forgive me.”

Ospreet raised one hand. Holding it horizontally, he touched his thumb to his chest. Mana swirled from the point of contact.

“But, young lady, either way, we need pesticide.”

“We aren’t the ones who need exterminating! It’s people like you—!”

BOOM!

The girl stopped midsentence. Her mouth would not move as she intended. She touched her face—or rather, she could not. Her fingers swept through empty air.

Half her head had been blown away. Only then did she realize that half her vision was gone.

'What was that? Magic? What hit me? I didn’t see anything.'

The girl slumped down, barely catching hold of a thread she had set up beforehand. But...

BOOM!

This time, the hand gripping the thread was blown away. Her body lurched. Even knowing an attack was coming, she could neither dodge nor block it. She looked at her missing hand. It was unmistakably the work of magic.

Her hair fell away in clumps. Soon, every strand split into countless pieces, scattering in all directions along the threads. They, too, were all spiders.

“Young lady, next time I hope you will come in your ‘real body.’ Then we can have an honest conversation.”

As she broke apart into countless spiders, the girl looked at Ospreet with her last remaining eye.

She had come to discover how strong he was, and what the nature of that strength was. She had learned almost nothing.

Soon, her last eye also dissolved into spiders and scattered.

* * *

Thompson, a member of Indus, observed the scene from afar.

He adjusted a component installed in his prosthetic arm and hooked a finger through a ring, pulling it. With a series of clicks, a telescope popped out of the side of the arm. Thompson put his eye to it.

“... That old man’s insane.”

Seeing Ospreet waiting above the elevated railway had convinced the Indus members of one thing. Constel had realized Indus was about to act!

To gauge Ospreet’s strength, Kian had sent a dummy of herself to him. Thompson had tried to observe how he fought, but...

“Holy shit. I’ve got no idea.”

Even from this distance, he could not tell what Ospreet had done. Kian, who had taken the attacks at point-blank range, probably could not even begin to understand.

Just then, his phone rang. Thompson held it to his ear.

“Hey. You got taken apart without lifting a finger.”

“So what’s the deal with that old man?”

“No idea.”

Thompson answered shamelessly. There was a brief silence on the other end.

“That’s understandable. You’re incompetent, after all, Thompson. I chose the wrong person.”

“This brat knows how to get under a guy’s skin, huh?”

“There’s something more important.”

“What?”

Something was more important right now than the nature of Ospreet’s power?

Thompson narrowed his eyes in puzzlement, but Kian’s next words made his expression stiffen.

“Ospreet knows about the ‘revolution.’”