A hero isn’t something that just happens on its own.
Frondier said so. As if there were no need to say it at all, as if stating the obvious.
And so, at least in this moment, Ias couldn’t be honest.
'...I thought it was like that.'
That a hero is determined by fate.
In truth, Ias had believed that. Only after hearing Frondier’s words did he realize he’d been thinking that way.
His talent, the expectations around him, his pride bordering on nature itself. All of it seemed to lead him toward being a hero.
But no one can lead a hero. Because a hero is the one who leads everyone.
It’s a simple fact.
“......Teacher.”
“What is it?”
“If I keep not making the decision to become a hero, then in the end, what do I become?”
“You don’t particularly become anything.”
Frondier’s answer was simple and easy. As if it were a question that required no grand deliberation.
“You just walk the same path as most who never make a decision.”
“......!”
“The world is cruel and also merciful. Or rather, so merciful that humans feel it as cruelty.”
Frondier drew in a mass of Heukcheon the size of a fist and set it on his palm.
“Do you know what this is?”
“......The thing that just now floored me and Glaukos.”
“Right. Touch it.”
Frondier took Ias’s hand and dropped Heukcheon onto it.
“Uh—whoa.”
Ias was flustered. What had been a sphere on Frondier’s hand flowed down like water the instant it touched his.
The moment he reflexively tried to grasp it, it hardened; when he opened his grip, it flowed down again.
While he busied himself clutching at it, Ias asked,
“W-what is this?”
“It’s a substance whose property is to become metallic only when force is applied. Any force works. You’re hardening it with the strength of your fist right now, but mana works too.”
Frondier gave a light wave and controlled Heukcheon again. What had been in Ias’s hands scattered like water and hovered in the air between him and Frondier.
“The world is like this.”
“......Like this black liquid?”
“If you’re not making any decision, the world flows like a liquid. There’s neither success nor failure there. Or rather, there is, but it’s nothing grand. Like water, it will lightly wet you and stop. It’s the way most people live. Which is why it’s important. Because like liquid, they blend into each other and live without large collisions.”
And in the next moment,
Fwap!
What had seemed scattered in the air gathered in an instant, took on a crystalline structure, and gleamed.
“And this is a life that’s made a decision. How does it look?”
“......It’s shining, and also......”
“Pitch-black.”
“......Yes.”
Ias nodded. Compared to when it was liquid, the crystal formed from the gathered black liquid was utterly pitch-black.
“If you walk the path of a hero, success and failure will become much clearer. Success will give you a reward as intense as a jewel, and failure will hurt as if you’d swallowed a stone.”
If you decide to become a hero, you can no longer run from the countless blades that will appear on that path.
Because you decided to walk it.
That is the weight of a decision.
“I thought you were delaying because you feared this. So I understood. Walking this path isn’t something just anyone can do. Knowing the pain, I figured you were hesitating.”
Frondier retrieved Heukcheon. Then he shook his head.
“But looking at you now, it seems you’re worrying about something off the mark from the start. You’re showing impatience rather than hesitation. Have you been thinking you’re falling behind?”
“......Yes.”
Ias thought he was being pushed off the stage.
So he kept agonizing over how to get back onstage, and grew that much more impatient.
If he stayed still like this, it felt like he would be completely pushed off the stage.
“There’s no need for that.”
Frondier denied it with a single cut.
“The reason you’re late is far simpler. Because you’re putting it off.”
“......Since I’m not making the decision to become a hero, naturally I’m getting farther from being a hero.”
“Right. Ordinarily, that’s what people call fate.”
“......!”
Ias looked up in surprise.
Just now, something.
Frondier had said something he absolutely must not let pass.
Frondier tilted his head at Ias’s startled face and mixed in a slight joke.
“Or you could call it laziness.”
***
On his way home, Frondier let out a sigh.
'There I go running my mouth again about useless things.'
He had only needed a place for practice and experimentation, yet now, ill-suited as it was, he was about to properly lecture an elective.
'......Well, it’s welcome if Ias or Glaukos grow.'
The possibility named Ias.
No one knows it better than Frondier. Perhaps even more than Ias himself.
There are two men who revealed the name Ajax in the Trojan War. Commonly called Great Ajax and Little Ajax.
Both are figures who distinguish themselves in war, but their evaluations are clearly different. One, due to a series of events, feels shame and takes his own life to preserve his honor; the other is one who commits the crime of ravishing another.
Thus Frondier agonized over which of these the Ias he knew fell under.
But given time, it feels like both are mixed in. When he hears the mother’s name, it seems like Great Ajax’s side, but he’s granted Divine Power, and on top of that, he has arrogance.
Perhaps the Ias in this game has the possibility to become either.
“I hadn’t wanted to be what influences that possibility.”
Another sigh.
Ias, after hearing Frondier’s words, went back with something different in his eyes. Frondier doesn’t know how he will change. Whether it will be for the better, or become even more of a mess than now.
At any rate, now Frondier has to draft a curriculum. Something fitting for Magic–Combat Combined.
Dual application of magic and combat. In truth, Frondier had never seriously thought about teaching this. Because he had been fighting that way from the start.
'......No, strictly speaking, I’d just been yanking out some unsorted something that was neither magic nor combat.'
He had gathered all eyes of Atlas with the “Spear of Black Lightning,” but in truth Frondier has more aptitude for combat than magic. The amount of study and training experience is overwhelmingly different.
So what Frondier needs now in order to build a curriculum is knowledge of magic rather than combat.
“I am learning a lot from Elodie, but.”
Frondier stopped walking. His house was right ahead. Elodie would be staying next door.
He thought for a moment.
Combining knowledge of magic and combat. A means that came to mind at once to solve that.
But for that, he needed Elodie’s help. Even more than now.
And that method amounted to taking out one of Frondier’s own secrets and showing it to Elodie.
That doesn’t fit with his policy of giving others only the minimum necessary information at all times.
“......What.”
Frondier let out a short laugh.
“What are you even agonizing over, you idiot.”
His face, if anything, turned refreshed as he smiled.
At this point, what’s the point of hiding anything from Elodie.
What meaning would that have.
“Don’t forget, Frondier.”
Someday, when he makes a mistake.
When his heart collapses, and he does something that endangers his comrades and all humankind.
“Elodie is the only one who can stop that.”
Frondier nodded, and set out.
To show Elodie one of the secrets he had been hiding for a long time.
***
And the next day.
“.......”
“How is it? Not too dark, right? This is a place where no light source comes in, so to secure visibility, we have to generate it from inside.”
“.......”
“So I installed wisps ahead of time so they turn on every time you come in, and it looks like it worked better than I thought. As expected, wisps not made with formula crystals provide an appropriate amount of light.”
“.......”
Even while Frondier explained, Elodie stared around, dumbfounded.
She was standing in the middle of a massive building.
As Frondier had said, no light came in from outside, the door she’d used to enter had completely vanished, and by her mana detection, numerous dangerous things were laid out in many places—the vast building.
That’s right.
She was inside the Workshop now.
“......What is this?”
Elodie’s question was startlingly apt.
Frondier nodded and said,
“This place is called the ‘Workshop,’ and it’s the space that serves as the source of my Unique skill. It’s an armory, and also an archive.”
“......The source of your Unique skill?”
Elodie cocked her head.
“That thing where you take out weapons and use them?”
And soon drew the answer herself.
Frondier nodded.
“With a skill called ‘Weaving,’ I can replicate a target I’ve seen once. So long as I properly observe it, I can replicate any weapon. The stronger the weapon, the mana consumption skyrockets, of course.”
“Then this is where you register the targets you’ve ‘observed’?”
As expected, quick to understand.
But Elodie spoke as if unconvinced.
“But that’s usually the realm of magic. Is it possible for something like that to be registered in a real building like this?”
It was the correct line of reasoning.
“Right. Originally this Workshop was also a concept of the skill, but later, I became able to replicate the Workshop itself.”
“......That’s absurd.”
Elodie lowered her posture and set her hand to the floor.
Her eyes knit at once.
“As I thought, this isn’t just a building. Nor is it simple magic. A concept has popped out into reality. This is the realm of grand magic.”
“Oh, then am I a grand mage too?”
Frondier had asked as a joke, but Elodie’s expression didn’t improve.
Feeling like he’d become a tremendously tactless human being, Frondier closed his mouth.
“......It’s not wrong.”
“Hm?”
“Only limited to this Workshop, so it’s a stretch to call you a grand mage. But just being able to utilize this is a dream domain for mages.”
At Elodie’s words, Frondier felt awkward.
From what he’d heard from Jeanne ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) d’Arc, Weaving is a skill given to one who has experienced another world. So the Workshop is the same.
By normal means it’s absolutely impossible—but it’s not something Frondier achieved by effort, either. Though it is his ability, it doesn’t feel like it’s his, so the feeling is odd.
“So why are you showing me this? To brag?”
Elodie quickly pouted and asked Frondier.
“Of course not.”
Frondier waved a hand.
Flap-flap!
Something came flying from the upper floor. When Elodie looked in surprise, countless sheets of paper were fluttering down like dancing.
In that time, a bulletin board had been created beside Frondier; behind that, a blackboard appeared; and in front of Frondier, the three-dimensional map device she’d seen before rose up.
Even if she’d understood the principle, seeing it with her own eyes was still absurd; Elodie stood there slack-jawed, staring.
“......What are you doing?”
“I want to learn magic here from now on.”
Frondier grabbed several bundles of paper and held them out to Elodie.
When Elodie read them, they contained an organized summary of what she had taught Frondier about magic so far, along with a condensed digest that seemed compiled from the concepts of some books.
“If it’s here, we can prepare everything for teaching and learning. We can use the blackboard, pin materials to the bulletin board, and visually render what we learned with the three-dimensional map device. The curriculum for the class I’m going to teach this time is something that doesn’t exist yet, so facilities like these are indispensable—”
“Frondier.”
“Hm?”
After carefully reading what she’d received, Elodie looked up.
With wise, lake-clear eyes, she looked at Frondier and said,
“You got perfect scores on every written test at Constel.”
“.......”
“Was that cheating?”
Even if she isn’t a grand mage yet, Elodie—who stands on the verge of four-element combination.
Indeed, that wisdom outstrips Frondier’s thinking.
“......You caught me?”
“You sneaky jerk!!”
