Chapter 135 - The Academy’s Weapon Replicator

Arc 42: Operation Deception

Neither Thompson nor Isamaya could readily close the distance in their fight. Various mechanical devices shot out of Thompson’s prosthetic arm, hurtling toward Isamaya’s throat.

Watching the mechanical tentacles rush at her, Isamaya knocked them aside with her blunt weapon. It looked like a club sized for one hand. It was the pointer she used in class.

“What’s with that stick? You said you were a Constel teacher. Is that your switch?”

“I do use it that way sometimes.”

Isamaya held the pointer horizontally, aimed straight at Thompson.

For a moment, it looked to him as though she were holding a small ball. The pointer’s length was completely hidden from his view, robbing him of any sense of distance.

Then—

“... Hup!”

CLANG!

The instant that little ball seemed to grow larger, Thompson hastily thrust out his prosthetic arm. Isamaya’s pointer struck it and bounced away.

'What? It looked like it got longer—no, it actually did!'

He was right. Isamaya’s pointer had lengthened. Despite the considerable distance between them, it had reached his face in an instant.

Then it shortened again as though nothing had happened, and Isamaya twirled it in her hand. Or was it still a little longer than before? He couldn’t tell what its “original” length was.

“Techniques for long weapons are designed to conceal their reach from the enemy. That’s especially easy with simple weapons like staffs, where there’s hardly any distinction between the two ends.”

Isamaya held the pointer horizontally again. With astonishing precision, she once more hid its entire length from Thompson’s view.

“But what if a weapon that conceals its length can actually change length? Having to account for both at once—isn’t that fun?”

“... You crazy bitch.”

As Thompson spat out the curse, a clattering familiar to them both reached them from afar.

Isamaya listened for a moment, then said quietly, “... The train.”

“Hmph.”

Both paused briefly. Just as Isamaya had said, a train was approaching along the tracks in the distance.

Her gaze darkened.

“So, have you done something to those tracks? Planted bombs, perhaps? Or are you planning to attack the train directly?”

Thompson snorted with laughter.

“Of course not. We’re here because of your boss. That old man’s floating around up there. We couldn’t just ignore him, could we?”

“Oh? So you had no intention of touching the train.”

“Of course. We’re Indus. Our public image matters. If we blew up a train just to kill Constel students, people wouldn’t let it slide. That would be a whole different matter from anything we’ve done so far.”

As Thompson had said, nothing unusual happened as the train passed. Its rumbling grew louder, and it went past Ospreet floating in the air, but nothing happened.

Isamaya thought, 'Frondier was right. They really are waiting until we arrive in Kropol to act.'

Did the members’ presence here mean they had already finished distributing the business cards? Everything was unfolding exactly as Frondier had predicted.

How irritating, Frondier.

With a mechanical rattle, tentacles extended from Thompson’s prosthetic arm while Isamaya was thinking. They began spinning around it like fan blades.

“All right, this time will be different!”

Thompson held it out in front of him like a shield.

CLANG! CLANG!

Isamaya made a few probing thrusts with her pointer, but none penetrated the spinning tentacles. A flicker of interest entered her eyes.

“That really is an excellent prosthetic arm.”

“Of course it is. This thing was custom-made by Hitchcock for a small fortune—”

“So much so that the arm seems more impressive than you.”

Thompson’s proud explanation stopped short. Veins bulged in his face, and his jaw clenched.

“I’ll make sure you need prosthetics for all four limbs, bitch.”

“No, thank you. I have more respect for my body than that.”

“Shut up!”

Thompson charged at Isamaya with a shout. She shortened her pointer and watched him quietly.

'... I see.'

Her brief assessment complete, she swept her pointer in a wide horizontal arc.

Thompson, who had seemed to be charging wildly in a rage, ducked beneath it.

There was no anger on his face as he dodged. Losing his reason to her taunts had been nothing but an act. Instead, cold eyes fixed on Isamaya.

“Hmph!”

Thompson thrust out his prosthetic arm. A hole opened in the center of its palm, and something shot toward Isamaya.

It was a slender needle. Aimed precisely at her face, it struck her glasses with a ping.

“... Huh?”

Thompson hadn’t aimed at the glasses. Isamaya had shifted her head slightly, deliberately blocking it with them.

Their durability was surprising enough, but this meant Isamaya had already seen through his trick.

“... What the hell? That usually sends people to an early grave.”

“I imagine it would.”

Isamaya adjusted her grip on the pointer, noting the rich variety of Thompson’s expressions.

'He’s good at pretending to take the bait.'

At first, he had nearly fooled even her. She had thought her taunting had driven him into a mindless charge. But no. His expression itself had been a trap.

“You think you’re the first person to mock me when they see this body?”

Thompson tapped his prosthetic arm as he spoke.

“People trying to provoke someone never realize how defenseless they make themselves in the process. All I have to do is act a little angry, and they stick their own necks into the lion’s mouth. But you’re a little different, bitch.”

“Well, I certainly do dislike your attitude.”

Isamaya’s voice was cold, her face as stern as ever. She gave a small snort.

“But those are my personal feelings. They’re no reason to let my judgment suffer.”

“... Oh?”

Isamaya tapped her pointer.

“Do you have any other weapons, then? If the circus is over, isn’t it time you left the ring?”

“Still trying to provoke me?”

“My apologies. It’s in my nature.”

Every word out of this woman’s mouth grated on his nerves.

Thompson scowled, but there were none of the dramatic changes of expression or reactions from before. The act wasn’t working, so he had dropped it.

'This bitch is good at defense. She’s not trying to kill me, but she’s doing a fine job keeping me from attacking freely, either.'

Her pointer changed length at will, its maximum reach unknown. That alone was confusing enough, but she also used it to conceal its length from her opponent’s view.

Thompson had assumed his prosthetic arm would give him the advantage in striking first and fighting at range. He had been wrong. Isamaya’s attacks reached him first, then retracted before he could charge.

'No choice, then. It’ll wreck the arm, but here—'

Just as Thompson made up his mind...

HUMMM...

“Huh?”

Thompson stiffened at a strange sensation. It felt as though his whole body had passed through a faint current of mana in an instant. He knew this peculiar feeling well.

“A magic circle!”

The cry escaped him, and he looked around. With Isamaya right in front of him, that was somewhat dangerous, but depending on the type of magic circle, ignoring it could be more dangerous still.

'What’s with this size? Forget the elevated railway—it could swallow the valleys on both sides and still have room to spare!'

Thompson grinned, putting a little bravado into his voice as he addressed Isamaya.

“What the hell are you people doing? What were you planning with a magic circle this big? You’re laying on the welcome a little thick!”

... He had spoken in hopes of extracting even a scrap of information from Isamaya.

But she was scowling even harder than he was. Visibly on edge at the sensation of the magic circle, she was glaring at Thompson.

'... What’s with that look?'

Wasn’t this your doing?

* * *

Pascal and Skyler had noticed the anomaly as well.

They, however, couldn’t afford to look away.

CLANG! CLANG!

They swung their swords with tremendous prowess and aura, each trying to cut the other down.

Pascal dodged a thrust, yet his skin split. Skyler moved clear of a diagonal slash, yet his armor cracked.

Such was a clash of aura.

'Not being able to see where he’s looking is a nuisance,' Pascal thought.

There were more disadvantages than he had expected from what might have seemed like merely fighting a knight whose body was hidden.

No face meant no eyes, and no eyes meant no way to tell where his gaze was directed. Even if his helmet faced Pascal, he could be looking somewhere else entirely. Skyler was probably making full use of that advantage.

Nor were there any muscles to watch, making it difficult to read where an attack would begin or where it would go. Pascal had to watch each attack through to the end to respond properly.

CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!

After two exchanges, their blades locked, each trying to prove the greater strength.

The aura-clad blades rang and threw off sparks.

“An incredible achievement at your age!”

Skyler’s voice remained full of admiration.

Pascal asked, “How old do you think I am?”

“Let’s see. A middle schooler, aren’t you?”

“...”

A vein bulged on Pascal’s smiling face.

CLAAANG!

A full-force burst of aura drove Skyler’s blade back. With a little cry of “Whoa?” Skyler retreated.

“I’m a teacher. What do you mean, a middle schooler?”

“Haha! A joke. I didn’t expect you to get that angry.”

With a little distance between them for the moment, Skyler decided to mention what was bothering him.

“... So, what is this magic circle? Why this absurd size? Did all the teachers stay up all night working on it?”

“Well, I wouldn’t know.”

Pascal spoke nonchalantly, but he truly didn’t know.

What was this magic circle? He had never seen one so enormous. Had someone drawn it larger than its intended size?

A magic circle produced the same effect whether drawn large or small, but the physical act of drawing it larger was that much more difficult. It also increased the risk of mistakes.

And this was exceedingly rugged terrain, with an elevated railway spanning two cliffs. Drawing a magic circle around all of it while accounting for the differences in elevation was something possible only in talk. Theoretically feasible, yes, but no task for a human being.

'Hmm. Let’s take a quick look.'

Keeping his helmet as still as possible, Skyler glanced aside in search of the magic circle’s source. His invisible eyes made tricks like this possible.

'I see. There’s someone standing on the opposite cliff. He’s the one who activated it.'

He was about to turn his attention back to Pascal when—

'No, wait.'

His gaze snapped back to the figure.

'Th-that’s Frondier!'

Skyler was aghast. His shock was hidden inside his armor, but his mind was already reeling.

'Wh-what? Why is Frondier over there? Why, when he’s supposed to be on the train? Then what was that train that just passed? All the Constel students are heading to Kropol, and Frondier alone stayed behind?'

Was such a thing possible? No, would Constel even allow it in the first place?

'... No, impossible. Of course! That’s a mask!'

Skyler reached what he considered a quick and reasonable conclusion. That wasn’t Frondier. It was someone else who had changed their face to impersonate him.

Common sense dictated that Frondier couldn’t be in a place like that. He should naturally have been traveling carefree to Kropol with the other students.

Otherwise, what would become of all the work Indus had put into its business card scheme in Kropol, and all its efforts to spread Frondier’s image? All those plans going up in smoke? Impossible.

'How dare they try such pointless deception!'

Furious, Skyler looked at Pascal.

But Pascal’s expression was a sight to behold.

“... What? No. What the hell?”

Pascal was voicing the very bewilderment raging inside Skyler’s head.

He, too, had spotted Frondier and was muttering with his gaze fixed on him.

'What? Why are you confused, too?'

Was this more deception? Some masterful feat of acting? But Pascal’s expression was far, far too natural for that. The sheer disbelief in his eyes struck Skyler to the core.

'What the hell! Is he real or fake?! That Frondier! Which is it?!'

His mind in utter chaos, Skyler was screaming a scream he couldn’t bring himself to voice.