Arc 9: Menosorpo (1)

A few days after the incident with Edwin’s Golem.

“... Finally.”

I looked at the woven daggers in my hands.

[An option has been added to the skill ‘Weaving.’]

Skill Details>

[Fabrication]

? Grade: Unique

? Description: Stores images of objects in the Workshop, then replicates them. However, they are illusions.

? Option: Simultaneous Replication

- Creates multiple woven objects simultaneously.

- Simultaneous Replication Count: 2

At last, I could weave two weapons at once.

Until now, I could only weave one weapon, so I had to make another whenever it broke. But with an invisible weapon in each hand, I would be able to pull off trickier attacks.

I could throw daggers in faster succession, and even wield twin swords.

“Now, then.”

I closed my eyes. ‘Artemis’s Bow and Arrow.’ The complete set was stored as an image.

... Should I give it a try?

Artemis was an immensely famous goddess, but her weapons weren’t quite as well known. Her own radiance overshadowed them.

Would that make them easier to weave than Gram?

“Never mind the arrow. Let’s make the bow first.”

For now, I just wanted to know whether I could weave it at all. I didn’t need the arrow. It wasn’t as if I could shoot one in here.

I held out my hand.

Fabrication, Black River.

Grade - Divine

Chryselakatos

“Ugh...!”

I could certainly feel the mana draining from my body in an instant, but it was less severe than with Gram.

Divine was a higher grade than Legendary. But since I had only replicated the bow from Artemis’s bow-and-arrow set, the burden seemed lighter.

Gram was also famous enough to rival a god’s weapon.

I lifted the bow woven from Black River.

Chryselakatos. The masterpiece Hephaestus had given Artemis.

True to its name, the golden bow shone brilliantly. Almost too magnificently to use as a weapon.

“Let’s see, then.”

I gripped the bow and drew the string.

Or rather, I tried.

“Huh?”

My hand trembled around the bowstring, but it wouldn’t move an inch.

“I can’t draw it...!”

I strained every muscle in my body to pull the string. It didn’t budge.

Was I really not strong enough?

Meanwhile, my mana was nearly depleted, leaving me no choice but to release the Weaving.

“Hah... hah...”

Let’s think for a moment. Chryselakatos was Artemis’s bow. Did being a god’s bow mean only a god could draw it? Or perhaps only Artemis herself?

But there were a handful of people in Etius who used divine weapons. Constel’s president, Ospreet, for instance.

Most received Divine Power and followed its guidance to discover their weapons, acquiring them as though it were the course of destiny.

But there were definitely exceptions.

Either way, gods weren’t the only ones capable of using divine weapons.

“If it’s not restricted to gods, maybe it’s a weapon only Artemis can use.”

Perhaps that was how it was built. Perhaps Artemis had asked Hephaestus for something.

... Or perhaps there was some sort of curse.

“Artemis... What kind of goddess was she again?”

I tilted my head, deep in thought.

The gods in Etius had been adapted to fit this world, but their stories generally followed similar paths. Some place names and terms had changed, but their personalities and deeds were much the same.

Then it occurred to me.

One possibility.

A possibility I wasn’t particularly happy to consider.

“... Don’t tell me this bow...”

Could only women draw it?

Artemis was famous for hating men. Perhaps that hatred had prompted her to make a special request of Hephaestus.

“Hephaestus, you goddamn bastard...”

Or was Artemis the problem for requesting it? Either way, I couldn’t use it right now.

Even if I wanted to give it to a woman, I couldn’t hand over a weapon I’d woven. It would keep consuming my mana.

In the end, I had to be the one to use this bow.

To do that...

‘... Modify it?’

Modifying a woven weapon. Was that possible? Could Weaving go that far?

No, more importantly...

‘How much do I even know about this ability?’

Nothing.

Until now, I had focused entirely on making the most of the abilities available to me.

Storing weapons as images and manifesting them as ‘phenomena’ rather than ‘matter.’ I had believed that was all it could do.

I still didn’t understand Weaving. I used it simply because I could.

But if I fully understood it—if I could grasp the principles behind storing weapons as images, along with the structure of the weapons themselves—then modifying them wouldn’t be such a far-fetched idea.

‘First, I need to check whether it really is restricted to women.’

... Come to think of it, I had somewhere to be.

Perfect timing. I’d received a message on my Sagephone a little while ago.

I was a little concerned, but perhaps I should go.

For a hospital visit.

* * *

A general hospital near Constel.

“The poison has been completely neutralized.”

The doctor spoke after finishing the examination.

Saibel Forte nodded energetically.

“Hehe, I told you. I feel great.”

“Remarkable. To recover completely from Slave’s poison in such a short time... Thankfully, the wound missed your major blood vessels. You were lucky.”

“...”

Saibel’s expression stiffened a little. Strangely, the words ‘you were lucky’ lingered in her ears.

Seeing her fall silent all of a sudden, the doctor tilted his head.

“Aren’t you pleased?”

“Oh, n-no! I am! Of course I am! Ahaha, I’m famous for being lucky.”

“Haha. We’ll monitor you for the rest of today and arrange your discharge tomorrow. Get some rest.”

“What? Can’t I leave right away?”

“Even after the poison is neutralized, its aftereffects remain. Rest for now. If you feel any discomfort, press this button immediately.”

The doctor pointed to the call button on the wall.

Saibel nodded.

CREAK

After the doctor and nurse left her private room, Saibel breathed out, taking in the silence that had returned.

Slave.

She had been attacked by a monster from the Outside.

She later learned that the poison on Slave’s dagger was extraordinarily potent. It was a paralytic poison, yes, but a dreadful one that killed by paralyzing even the heart and brain.

“Frondier, you lied.”

Saibel let out a small laugh.

He’d said it was nothing serious. Told her to sleep because it had a sedative effect.

All of it had been his way of putting her at ease. To help her fall asleep. To save her.

“Liar.”

Incompetent Frondier. Lazy Frondier.

Frondier the Human Sloth.

“... Liar.”

When she thought about it, his entire existence seemed like a lie.

She didn’t know what Frondier had done or how, but he had defeated Slave. He had killed a monster from the Outside.

He had reassured Saibel, defeated that monster, carried her on his back to the Sanctuary, and cleared the dungeon.

She couldn’t forget the Frondier she had seen then.

[“I don’t believe in gods.”]

The words were lodged in her mind, refusing to leave.

[“Because I don’t believe in fate.”]

“Does he... maybe hate me?”

Saibel buried her face in her knees.

Wasn’t she the polar opposite of Frondier, who said he didn’t believe in fate?

Frondier, who had no talent.

Saibel, blessed with luck and talent.

She couldn’t easily imagine how he must have felt every time he looked at her.

“... No! Why am I worrying about whether Frondier hates me?!”

She jerked her head up, speaking as though she had come to her senses.

That was right. Normally, she wouldn’t have spared someone like Frondier a thought.

Her reason for entering the Low-Level Dungeon had been Aster Evans in the first place.

... Yet even as she thought that...

‘Frondier probably doesn’t rely on fate.’

She soon found herself thinking about him again.

Saibel had always trusted her extraordinary luck.

But even at the most generous assessment, luck hadn’t been on her side during her dungeon expedition with Frondier.

She’d sprung every dangerous trap. There had been more than a few terrifying moments. Thank goodness Frondier had protected her each time. Otherwise, by now...

‘... I’ve always relied on my luck.’

Whatever she wished for always fell into her hands.

The circumstances she wanted always lay before her like sturdy railway tracks.

But when she encountered something beyond the reach of her luck, she had learned just how helpless she could be.

She had never neglected her training.

Had she become so enamored with her luck that she’d started taking it for granted?

‘I want to ask him.’

Ask Frondier.

What he thought of her luck.

What he thought of her.

“... Not that I mean anything weird by it.”

Saibel stared blankly at the hospital room door.

She didn’t like waiting.

But now she had to. Until she was discharged, returned to Constel, and met Frondier.

‘If only Frondier would open that door and come in.’

But that wasn’t going to happen.

Fate might love her, but she had decided not to rely on it any—

CREAK

“... Huh?”

The door opened.

A black-haired young man stepped inside. Languid eyes. A sleepy face. Moving at a pace that seemed a beat slower than everyone else.

It was Frondier.

Spotting Saibel, he greeted her, his expression as sleepy as ever.

“Hi.”

Saibel blinked her large eyes a few times in a daze, then thought:

... Maybe she could believe in fate just a little longer.

* * *

“How are you feeling?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine.”

Saibel was awake when I arrived. She looked somewhat dazed.

Had she just woken up?

‘That’s awkward.’

To be honest, I’d been hoping she would be asleep when I got here. Then I could secretly weave Artemis’s Bow and see whether her hand could draw it.

“Um, so... Thank you.”

“Hm?”

“For saving me. I heard it was a dangerous poison.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m glad you’ve recovered.”

“Yeah.”

Even as she thanked me, Saibel seemed oddly hesitant. She avoided my eyes, making quick, twitchy movements like a little bird.

It was even worse than when we’d been left alone together in the dungeon.

Apparently, she still hadn’t lowered her guard around me.

Well, that was only natural. People’s impressions didn’t change easily.

After Slave attacked her, the next thing she knew would have been waking up in the hospital, so she didn’t know what I’d done.

She had probably only learned I’d saved her from other people. Things you heard secondhand didn’t always feel real.

Even offering such a sincere thank-you to ‘Frondier the Human Sloth’ was impressive enough.

But whatever. It didn’t matter.

What Saibel thought of me wasn’t particularly important.

She was a villain, after all.

“But, um, you know...”

“Yeah?”

“What was the dungeon reward?”

Oh, of course she’d be curious. I was the one who had cleared the dungeon, so only I knew what the reward had been.

“... But how did you know?”

“Huh?”

“That I cleared the dungeon.”

“... Oh? Huh?! Oh, I-I heard! From Aster, and the teacher, and Quinier, and Aster and the teacher!”

Why so many people?

Did she mean she’d heard it twice from Aster and the teacher?

... No idea.

“The reward... Well, I’m not really sure myself.”

“Huh?”

“I got a pattern that looks like a magic circle.”

After the Low-Level Dungeon, the Sanctuary of Truth, collapsed, I had acquired a magic circle called Menosorpo.

But when I tried using it in front of the mansion, nothing happened.

More precisely, I didn’t know what had happened. It consumed mana, so it must have activated.

To be honest, I’d hesitated a little before telling Saibel about it.

I had to be careful with information only I possessed. I needed to judge whether sharing it would benefit me or Aster before proceeding.

But Menosorpo was something even I knew nothing about. No player in my previous world had ever cleared that Low-Level Dungeon.

At this rate, everything might end without me ever learning what Menosorpo was.

In that case, I was better off seeking information from others.

Saibel might be a villain, but she wasn’t evil at heart.

“... If it’s a magic circle, should I ask my dad?”

“Huh? Your dad?”

“You know I use a rapier, right?”

“Yeah. I saw it in class and in the dungeon.”

In truth, I’d known long before that. From the very beginning.

“My rapier has a magic circle engraved on it too. It should be at home, so I can’t show you right now, but it strengthens its durability and sharpness.”

As I’d mentioned before, Saibel fought with a slender rapier, favoring slashes over thrusts.

I see. So the engraved magic circle was the reason.

“My dad engraved it for me. He’s a professional craftsman, and he’s really famous and amazing. If we ask him, he might be able to tell us!”

Her voice had taken on an excited note. Her eyes were sparkling.

Her words jogged my memory.

Daud Forte.

A master magic-circle craftsman.

In Etius, interpreting magic circles, creating them, and engraving them on weapons were normally three separate professions.

Magic circles usually activated on their own. In other words, engraving one on a weapon, as with Saibel’s rapier, wasn’t their original purpose.

That made people capable of both creating and engraving them extremely valuable. They could select and engrave a magic circle to suit both the equipment and its user.

Even among those people, Daud Forte was renowned for his exceptional skill.

I’d met him often when playing as Aster.

... Still.

“That’s really kind of you, Saibel. Thanks.”

I was honestly surprised. I hadn’t expected her to go this far for me.

Apparently, she felt more grateful to me than I’d realized. Enough to suppress her disgust for me.

“... Huh?”

For a moment, my words left Saibel looking dazed.

“No! Well! Ahaha! No, this is just... basic courtesy!”

She waved her arms as she spoke.

Was it?

Saibel was more loyal than I’d given her credit for.