The Academy’s Weapon Replicator - Chapter 413 Part 2 - The Academy’s Weapon Replicator

A few minutes earlier.

Instructor Giotto walked with cautious steps.

He circled around to the back of the staff room, heading towards the storage room where old materials and cleaning supplies were kept.

An unusually large number of outsiders were present at Atlas today, necessitating strict vigilance.

And it was this cautious nature of his that—

“You’re late.”

Caused Giotto to freeze in his tracks as someone grabbed his arm.

“Oh, F-Frondier?”

He had found the storage room door slightly ajar and felt a twinge of curiosity, only to find Frondier already inside.

“What brings you here? Are you looking for something…?” Giotto asked, forcing a smile as he addressed Frondier.

Frondier simply stared at him.

His gaze held no discernible emotion, just a steady, unwavering observation.

“W-Why, why are you looking at me like that?”

Giotto’s Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. His facial muscles felt stiff from holding a neutral expression. His neck and shoulders ached from the effort of trying to appear calm.

Frondier scratched his head and spoke.

“Normally, I’d play along and try to extract some information from you, but I’m afraid we’re short on time today.”

“W-What do you…?”

“I’ll give you three chances to drop the act.”

Giotto fell silent for a moment, absorbing Frondier’s words.

Then, he resumed his facade.

“What are you talking about? I’m not putting on any act—”

“Two.”

“No, listen, I—”

“One.”

“….”

Giotto finally closed his mouth.

Frondier pointed a finger towards the back of the storage room, where a seemingly ordinary pile of materials lay stacked.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t want that to be discovered, would you?”

“….!”

Although he remained silent, Giotto’s wide eyes betrayed his true feelings.

Hidden behind the materials, concealed with surprising ingenuity, was a magic device connected to the speaker, recording every word picked up by the listening device. But somehow, Frondier had discovered it.

“I’m giving you a chance, Instructor Giotto. Whether you take it or not is your choice.”

“…What do you want me to do?”

“I believe you have a good idea. I want information.”

“What kind of information?”

“That’s the key, isn’t it?”

Swoosh.

The moment Frondier finished his sentence, something black began to emanate from his body. It resembled both mist and dust, its source indiscernible to Giotto’s eyes.

“Gasp…!”

Giotto instinctively inhaled sharply and stumbled back. But it was too late.

The black dust spread rapidly, engulfing the walls, floor, and ceiling, painting the entire interior of the storage room in its darkness.

Giotto’s eyes darted towards the door he had entered through. The door, now completely shrouded in black, showed no signs of an opening. He realized the truth.

‘What, what is this?’

Panic seized Giotto as he witnessed a sight unlike anything he had ever seen before. The once-peaceful and ordinary storage room had transformed into an abyss of blackness, the previous atmosphere replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread.

As the last sliver of light from the window vanished, complete darkness enveloped them.

‘I can’t see a thing…!’

Screech, screech.

Although hidden from view, an unsettling sound reached his ears with chilling clarity.

The unknown source of the sound sent shivers down his spine.

“Will-o’-the-Wisp!”

Giotto hastily raised his hand, casting a spell. Wisp, a spell to illuminate his surroundings with flickering flames.

And in the newly illuminated space—

“Gasp…!”

The blackness that had painted the entire interior had transformed into countless sharp, needle-like projections, all pointed directly at Giotto.

***

“You seem to have misunderstood something, Instructor Giotto.”

Frondier’s voice echoed from every direction, making it impossible to pinpoint his exact location.

Giotto, his body trembling uncontrollably, desperately searched for Frondier amidst the sea of darkness. But his efforts were in vain. The Wisp flames, barely able to hold onto their form against the encroaching darkness, offered a pitifully limited field of vision.

“I’m not here to threaten you.”

“Then what is the meaning of this…?” Giotto stammered, his voice barely a whisper.

The oppressive darkness, the suffocating atmosphere, and the chilling voice echoing around him—everything screamed danger.

“I’m merely offering you a chance. A chance to atone for your mistakes.”

“A-atone?”

“You’ve made a grave error in judgment, Instructor Giotto. You’ve chosen the wrong side.”

Giotto swallowed hard. He understood the implication of Frondier’s words.

He had been discovered. His secret activities, his allegiance to a certain faction within the Academy—all of it had been laid bare before Frondier’s piercing gaze.

But how? When?

“I… I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Giotto stammered, clinging to the last vestiges of denial.

“Denial won’t save you, Instructor. The evidence is quite clear.” Frondier’s voice seemed to draw closer, the pressure in the air growing heavier with each passing second.

“The question is, what will you do now?”

Giotto’s mind raced, desperately seeking a way out. But there was none. He was trapped, both literally and figuratively.

“Tell me, Instructor Giotto,” Frondier’s voice whispered into his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. “Whose orders are you following?”

Giotto’s eyes widened in fear.

He had been exposed.