Part 2: The Branch in the Coffin, Mistilteinn (4)

I played around with the dagger a few times. Its weight, its balance—everything was the same as with ordinary Weaving. I would have to test it to know whether the blade was just as sharp, but it was probably almost identical.

'But it keeps consuming mana.'

Black River was a substance that became solid while force was applied to it. Keeping it in that shape required a constant supply of mana. Frondier had about as much mana as an ordinary person. That was nowhere near enough by Constel student standards, but I should be able to maintain it throughout a single fight without trouble.

Weaving with Black River completely reversed the strengths and weaknesses of ordinary Weaving. A woven weapon only became real for the instant of contact, so I couldn’t block an opponent’s attack head-on. If I tried, their attack would pass through the woven weapon and kill me. Besides, if I failed to cut through something in one stroke, the weapon would disappear again, making it difficult to deal any real damage.

Black River, on the other hand, was a physically real weapon, so I could use normal weapon techniques with it. I could block normally, clash blades, or keep pressing forward even if my attack was briefly stopped. But maintaining Black River through Weaving constantly consumed mana, and its physical form made it visible to enemies. I would need to switch between ordinary Weaving and Black River depending on the situation.

“... Well, then.”

I swallowed nervously. This was where the real test began.

The famed sword Gram was now in my Workshop. Seeing the real thing had been an unexpected windfall. The instant I saw Ampere’s Gram, I had stored its image in the Workshop.

I placed the Black River dagger over the mold and released the Weaving. It naturally turned back into liquid and settled inside. Then I held my hand over it again. This time, I would replicate not an ordinary dagger, but a hero’s sword.

If this worked, I would be one step closer to clearing this world.

Fabrication, Black River

Grade - Legendary

Gram

Threads of mana extended toward Black River. Imprinting the image and structure was simple.

[Gram]

? Grade: Legendary

? Description: The famed sword wielded by Sigurd. The achievements of both hero and weapon are so great that it surpasses some Divine-grade weapons.

Ability Details >

- Dragonslayer: Having slain a dragon, this sword has absorbed its blood. Greatly increases attack power against dragons and inflicts fear on dragonkind of Unique Grade or lower.

And it was complete. Everything up to this point relied on Frondier’s innate talent, so nothing else could get in the way.

The problem was—

“... Urgh!”

The moment I grasped the woven Gram, overwhelming dizziness and nausea washed over me. Mana depletion. I couldn’t last even three seconds before canceling the Weaving.

“Gah, cough! Cough, cough...!”

Dry coughs kept wracking me. It felt as though every drop of moisture in my body was burning away.

Yet even through the pain, hope rose within me.

“Cough, it... cough, it does work...! Cough!”

Yes. The Weaving itself had succeeded. It simply demanded an absurd amount of mana.

“Phew... I need to figure out how to increase my mana.”

The quickest way was to equip an Artifact. But Artifacts that increased mana were outrageously expensive. Even the Roach family—no, precisely because they were the Roach family—was sensitive about such costly items. Had I been Atzier, they would have approved that sort of expense.

But I was Frondier, so that was out.

“Then, for now, let’s try the brute-force approach.”

There was one other way to increase my mana capacity: exhaust all my mana, just as I had a moment ago. When mana ran out, the body expanded its capacity to prevent another depletion. Much like a muscle.

Most characters in Etius actually didn’t know about this method. For one thing, the increase was minuscule compared to what items or Divine Power provided. Just as exercising didn’t make your muscles visibly grow all at once.

And by this world’s common sense, completely exhausting your mana was taboo. Danger could strike anywhere, anytime. Emptying your mana, your very lifeline, was incredibly dangerous.

But, well. Since I knew it increased my mana, there was no reason not to do it. Once my mana recovered, I would weave Gram a few more times, repeatedly exhausting my reserves to expand them.

... Still, even this method had its limits. In the end, I would need items.

“... Quinier.”

Ultimately, that was the conclusion I arrived at: doing business with Quinier de Biet. She was my only available trading connection. But since I had no money, I would need something else to offer in exchange. Of course, first I needed to get to know her.

I should think about how to win her over.

“Anyway, how am I supposed to carry this arou—”

I stopped midsentence. My fingertips were trembling. Puzzled, I watched them, and the trembling soon crawled up my arms and swept through my entire body.

“Wh-what is... urgh!”

It was nothing other than fear. The feeling had engulfed me so abruptly that, at first, I hadn’t even recognized it for what it was. There was nothing around me. Nothing that could have triggered such terror.

'... No.'

Until a moment ago, the empty air had held no one, nothing. Now it split down the middle, as though a curtain were slowly being drawn aside. Someone slowly squeezed through the gap.

“You... are...”

A small boy with black wings spread wide.

Golden eyes turned toward me. His gaze, full of disgust and contempt, seemed to reach down my throat and claw around inside it. The fear swelled. With what little reason I had left, I quickly looked him over.

'He isn’t human. He’s a god. One of the gods who actually exist in this game, Etius. But which one? Judging by his appearance, he’s from either Greek or Norse mythology. Remember. Golden eyes, black wings, a god in the form of a boy...!'

It wasn’t easy for a god to descend into the world of Etius. Even the god in question needed considerable preparation. Yet he had overcome those obstacles to appear before me.

'Could it be because I used Black River to weave?'

If he had set Weaving becoming physically real as the “condition” for his descent in advance, then he must have been ready from the beginning. And if that was true, this god had known that Weaving would affect reality. I still didn’t know why, but to him, Weaving posed that much of a threat.

The god in the boy’s form moved his lips. I couldn’t hear him, and even if I could, I wouldn’t understand the language of the gods. Yet somehow, it felt as though he were saying:

[“So you finally went and did it.”]

SNAP!

The god snapped his fingers. At the same instant, my right hand rose of its own accord.

Frondier’s Unique Skill

Fabrication

Workshop No. 1

Grade - Common

Iron Dagger

My hand performed Weaving on its own. The tip of the blade it created pointed toward me.

'This bastard is trying to kill me...!'

He was controlling my body, trying to make me kill myself with my own hand. A perfect suicide disguise that would leave no evidence.

My right hand merely trembled, completely ignoring my will. The blade drew steadily closer. I clenched my molars, trying to muster strength.

... Huh?

I could still clench my teeth.

I changed my approach. I couldn’t resist him by force. I was only human—an ordinary person who wasn’t even a named character. Opposing a god at all was reckless. What I needed to do was make him stop of his own accord.

While I could still clench my teeth. While I could still move my mouth.

I met the golden eyes staring coldly at me. As though crushing the breath leaking out of me, I moved my lips.

“Thanatos.”

My words were barely audible. But this fucking god would damn well understand them. A god ought to be capable of that much.

[“...!”]

His golden eyes widened. At the same time, the boy moved away from me. The blade approaching me stopped.

“Hah! Hah, hah!!”

Regaining control of my body, I gasped for breath. I-I had almost died...!

[“—!”]

With confusion and anger mingling on his face, the boy-shaped god shouted something at me.

I can’t understand a damn word you’re saying, idiot.

Then, as though something had suddenly occurred to him, he grew pensive. Biting his lower lip, he shot me a glare and walked toward the opening. Soon the gap closed, and my room returned to normal.

“... Is he gone?”

With the tension gone, I slumped limply.

Thanatos, the God of Death from Greek mythology. But in Etius, he wasn’t “death itself” or whatever he was described as in the original myths. He was powerful and high-ranking, but death wouldn’t disappear without him. Despite presiding over death, he too could die.

At any rate, I had been lucky to guess his identity. Golden eyes, black wings, a boy’s appearance. Not many gods possessed all three traits, but I’d still had to stake my life on a guess.

The most important clue was his method of killing. If a god controlled a human’s body and made them kill themselves, as he had just tried to do, it would be a suicide with no traces of his involvement. Fitting for Thanatos, the God of Death.

Even among the gods, very few knew Thanatos’s face. Those few were gods of higher rank than him. I had merely guessed, but that wasn’t how it would look to Thanatos. The fact that I knew his face would make it seem as though I had close ties to another high-ranking god. That made killing me carelessly a dangerous proposition.

I had spoken his name hoping he would think that.

... Even so, all I could say was that I had been incredibly lucky.

“... This feels like both a huge crisis and a huge opportunity.”

He must have tried to kill me because of Weaving. I didn’t know why it had offended a god, but never before in the history of Etius had a human affected a god’s emotions.

“Could Frondier have no Divine Power because the gods hate him?”

... Was that taking things too far? Few humans had Divine Power to begin with, and surely not every god hated Frondier. In any case, this ability called Weaving was more dangerous than I had thought, and might be just as powerful.

“Still.”

I glanced down at my hands. They wouldn’t stop shaking. With a touch of self-mockery, I said,

“I’ll need to get used to fear.”

I didn’t know how long my bluff would hold. Thanatos couldn’t simply go around asking the other high-ranking gods outright, so it would buy me a fair amount of time. Until then, I would have to make whatever preparations I could.

* * *

'Frondier.'

In her classroom, Quinier thought about him. Frondier de Roach. The second son of the Roach family.

Now a Third-Year at Constelle, she had thought Atzier was the only member of the Roach family she needed to concern herself with. She hadn’t learned Frondier’s name until he enrolled. She had known Atzier had a younger brother, but hadn’t expected much of him. Just in case, she had dug up information, only to find nothing worthwhile. All she had learned was that he was terribly lazy and indolent, and those reports were highly credible.

“Quinier, what are you thinking so hard about?”

Her friend beside her spoke up. Quinier gave her a casual glance.

“Anne, what do you think of Frondier?”

“What? Don’t tell me, Quinier! That face of his finally got to you! Have you finally felt that fresh, innocent feeling? Has it happened at last? That sweet-and-tart, lovey-dovey feeling...!”

“I’m asking for information.”

“Thought so.”

Anne grinned.

“Frondier, hmm... I don’t know. They say he just sleeps through class. Though that doesn’t seem to be the case lately.”

“Something everyone at Constel doesn’t already know.”

“But all I know is what everyone knows.”

Hmm, fair enough. There was no reason Anne would know much about Frondier. Instead, Quinier asked a different question.

“You know about that recent incident, right? Frondier smashing the transparent coffin holding Mistilteinn.”

“Oh, of course! Everyone was making such a fuss about it until a few days ago.”

“What do you think about that?”

“About what he did?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm...” Anne tilted her head, then broke into a broad smile and answered brightly.

“It was reckless! And stupid!”

“... Hmm.”

Yes. That was the public’s assessment of Frondier’s actions in the incident. Even if he had done it for his father, what if it really had been a Divine Relic? What father would want to see his son die?

'But to me, he looked utterly certain.'

He must have been. Otherwise, he could never have done something like that so fearlessly.

[“I have never feared anything of the sort.”]

“Pfft.”

Quinier laughed. She had never seen anyone say such a thing. And in a gathering of people loved by all manner of famous gods, no less.

Truly fearless.

“All right. I’ve decided.”

“What?”

“If I want something, I really should make it mine.”

Quinier spoke with her arms folded and her eyes shining, her thoughts already moving ahead. Watching her, Anne was thinking, 'Could Quinier really have feelings for Frondier?'