The Academy’s Weapon Replicator

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Slash!

“Aaaaaaaaargh!!!”

This time it was his thigh. Even deflecting a few blades wouldn't change the outcome.

The man clutched his trembling leg and looked at Frondier. His eyes were already filled with the color of defeat.

“P-please, spare me. I beg you. I was just following orders...”

Slice—

The man's words were cut off again. He looked at his left hand. Or rather, where his left hand used to be.

“……!!”

This time, no scream came out. The excruciatingly sharp blade had cleanly severed his left hand, leaving him with despair and emptiness instead of pain.

“That's the job of a Pro. To follow orders. You're doing your job admirably.”

“S-s-spare, spare me...”

“That's not the job of a Pro. Begging for your life from the enemy. You went through rigorous training and examinations to become a Pro, didn't you? You shouldn't be showing such a pathetic sight to a mere Constel student.”

Frondier's voice was devoid of any inflection.

It was the same voice they had heard during the meeting.

“You're right-handed, aren't you? You can still do more.”

“...W-what...?”

Frondier's words had only one meaning.

He had deliberately cut off the man's left hand because he was right-handed.

Upon realizing this, something within the man, something that had kept him going as a human, snapped.

“S-s-spare me! Aaaaagh! Aaaaaaaa———!!!”

The man screamed and ran away. His cries echoed throughout the building

Slice

“Aaargh!”

The man's left ankle was severed. He lost his balance and collapsed. Having lost both his left hand and left foot, he couldn't regain his balance even if he tried to stand up.

In the first place, it was impossible for the mentally broken man to stand on one leg.

Frondier's neat footsteps followed the man as he crawled away, desperately.

Feeling those leisurely footsteps approaching from behind, the man crawled with all his might.

He turned his back and fled without thinking, but luckily, he was headed in the right direction. He was heading towards the building's exit.

“That's not the way.”

Hearing Frondier's voice, the man gritted his teeth.

Crazy bastard! How could anyone deal with such a deranged lunatic!

He still had some aura left.

If he could use all his remaining strength to escape this building while Frondier was off guard, he might somehow survive. Even if this was a remote part of the field, the probability of someone being nearby wasn't zero.

Believing in that faint possibility, the man crawled with all his might.

Yes!

As he reached a distance where he could dash straight to the exit, the man raised his head.

“...Huh?”

But something was strange about the exit.

The door leading outside, which he had been looking at just moments ago, was gradually becoming distorted, eventually losing its shape and collapsing onto the floor.

This is strange. I clearly saw the exit over there when I ran this way. The door I could escape through was right here until just now.

Why is that, why is that melting, no, why is it turning into liquid,

‘Ah...’

In that instant, the man felt no emotion, just a brief thought.

So it wasn't that I was lucky enough to find the exit in the direction I ran...

There was no such luck from the beginning...

“I told you.”

The same voice, laced with boredom and weariness, reached his ears.

“That's not the way.”

***

Only then did they realize how terribly wrong things had gone.

Frondier, completely ignoring the Pros and toying with a single man. The Pros, unable to approach him despite their numbers.

Each of them was struggling immensely just to deal with a single golem.

‘These things are strong...!’

The golems, with their superior algorithms for fully autonomous operation, prevented anyone from approaching Frondier without him needing to issue any commands.

As they fought the golems, the Pros heard the despairing screams of the man Frondier was toying with.

They witnessed with their own eyes as his entire body was slashed, stabbed, and his hands and feet were cut off. Yet, none of them could even get close to Frondier.

“Hmm?”

A moment later, as they barely managed to hold their own against the golems, Frondier voiced a question.

He had been observing the battle between the golems and the Pros for a while, and then, as if he had just realized something, he spoke.

“Ah, you're just defending to protect me.”

As if he had just grasped the golems' characteristics, Frondier continued.

“There's no need for that. Kill them all.”

That order, given to the golems, was enough to shatter the Pros' spirits.

“W-what?”

The moment the golems switched to offense, their movements changed drastically.

They had been perfectly blocking all the Pros' attacks until now, but now they were effortlessly deflecting or twisting them away, closing the distance.

Whoosh—

Thud!

One of the Pros was struck by a blunt weapon and sent flying. He crashed into the wall and rolled on the floor, remaining motionless.

“——Everyone!”

Just then, the distorted voice that had been threatening Frondier earlier was heard again.

“Run away! Run away!”

It was no longer an order but a scream of desperation.

The Pros retreated while maintaining their stances. Even retreating wasn't easy. In the process, several of them lost their weapons, were sent flying, or were cut down.

‘...That, that!’

As they retreated, they glanced at the exit and their eyes widened.

The door they needed to escape through was covered in black. It was undoubtedly the same black liquid that Frondier had been using.

“B-break through! Someone!”

Someone shouted, but no one moved towards the door.

It was understandable. Each of them was facing off against their own golem. Even simply retreating was causing some of them to be struck and cut down. Turning their backs was absolutely impossible.

“Ugh!”

At that moment, someone who had been hiding in the shadows until now emerged. Since no one else could open the door, he had stepped forward.

He wore a long robe and a mask to conceal his appearance, but Frondier recognized him and smiled faintly.

——There you are, Eden Hamelot.