The Academy’s Weapon Replicator

The throwing distance of the dagger woven from the weaving has increased.

The situation was so urgent that I threw it for the time being and fortunately, it reached it in ‘reality’.

If I had come out of the training room a little earlier, I would have been able to try it more safely.

‘But, what is that?’

With its enormous body and metal armor wrapped around it, it’s definitely a metal golem.

I looked at Edwin.

From a distance, it seemed like Edwin was the golem’s master.

“……Senior Edwin.”

“Frondier.”

As if it holds all the resentment in the world, he calls out my name.

“You again.”

“……It’s the second time I’ve met you.”

I approached Ellen, somewhat wary of Edwin.

I knelt down and examined her condition. There was a wound on her side.

“Did Senior Edwin do this?”

At my words, Ellen blinked her drowsy eyes a few times.

I can’t tell if she’s sleepy or tired.

“……The golem did it.”

“Senior Edwin is the one controlling the golem.”

“……Yeah. Sorry.”

What are you sorry for.

I stood up.

Edwin’s flames of anger were still directed solely at me. As if I were the last piece of the puzzle that he’d arbitrarily put together.

‘……No, don’t tell me.’

Edwin’s surroundings are tinged with purple. It’s blooming from his body like a haze.

I know what that is.

In Etius, where there aren’t many special privileges for players, it’s one of the few things that differentiates them.

A purple haze that only players can see.

It’s proof that a character has been ‘corrupted’.

‘This, damn it.’

Why did Edwin become ‘corrupted’?

He was a person who had never been like that, not even once.

During the countless times that I played the game, he always stood up and restored the honor and glory of his family.

That golem, if he’d had just two more years, he would have been able to create it with his own skills.

The current Edwin’s appearance is too unfamiliar to me.

If I were to guess the reason, there is only one thing.

‘……Me.’

A character that doesn't exist no matter how many times I play.

Frondier.

Is the existence known as Frondier de Roach causing Edwin von Behetorio's corruption?

"Frondier. That golem isn't Edwin's. Edwin is being controlled by the golem."

"I get it, so take a rest."

Listening to the voice struggling with pain is difficult.

'Being controlled by the golem.' So, does this mean the golem's movements aren't of Edwin's own volition?

"Senior Edwin."

"...Why?"

"Can you control that golem?"

"Of course."

As if to prove his answer, the metal golem moved.

The golem indeed seemed loyal to Edwin's commands. No, loyal to his will?

As someone who just intervened, I don't know why they were fighting.

But still.

"...Senior, have you killed someone with that?"

At my question, Edwin's eyes darkened.

Of course, they would. Even hearing it makes me feel bad, but it's a question that must be asked.

"...This guy and that guy, damn, that question about killing someone...!"

As expected. Ellen had asked as well.

"What would you do if I had killed someone?"

"..."

"What would you do, you little shit!!"

Whoosh, the golem took off.

Its approach, swinging a spear at me, reminded me of a spinning top with a scythe attached.

But more sinister than that.

Weaving

Workshop No. 13

Grade - Rare

Bastard, the Lion's Greatsword

I unfolded the Weaving and gripped the Bastard Sword with both hands.

Such a brutish attack couldn't be blocked with a smaller weapon.

At the moment of impact, the weakness of Weaving, if not completely parried, it vanishes, and I die.

"Ugh!"

Clang-!

I parried the golem's spear, and my weapon vanished at that moment.

The golem, not understanding why its spear was blocked.

Until now, it had been hit in the face several times with a dagger made through Weaving, but golems naturally lack learning ability.

So,

Clang!

Clang!

I hurled a dagger I wove at his face.

"If you don't learn, just keep getting hit. I'll beat you into a rag."

But he advanced little by little.

Since I can only weave one at a time, he gets closer during those gaps.

'I should have practiced weaving two weapons.'

Regret always comes too late.

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