chapter_0204

Mesugaki Tank Enters the Academy –
204

Mesugaki Tank Enters the Academy –
204

When I first stepped into the
street stall and received the paper, I was extremely nervous.

After all, I was pretty much
forced into a duel with the First Prince.

The gazes from around me were
filled with disdain, making my skin prickle.

The First Prince’s tone,
challenging me to show the great skills I had supposedly demonstrated
at the academy, was very aggressive.

Not to mention, there wasn’t a
single person around to cheer for or worry about me.

However, the moment I sat down
and unfurled the paper, I erased all that tension.

At that moment, what lay
before me wasn’t just a simple piece of paper but a dungeon.

A place to strategize as
efficiently and quickly as possible, just like I used to ponder
behind a monitor in the past.

At the top of the paper, the
name of the dungeon to be conquered and the party composition was
written.

Let’s see.

A frontline warrior with the
skills of a B-level adventurer.

A rogue proficient in combat
but poor with traps.

A mage with strong firepower
but significant restrictions.

A cleric who could only use
healing magic.

The party composition was
straightforward, but the members were awful.

They had raised the main
character well but just shoved in the rest.

If you posted a party like
this asking for its evaluation, the forum would probably ban you for
posting junk.

Their equipment was shabby and
the items they brought were utterly useless.

Wow. This is truly a newbie!

Playing however they pleased
without knowing anything—this was the epitome of a newbie!

Hey! Street Stall Owner! Is it
really okay to show this to a minor?!

Do you want to get arrested?!

Calm down.

I need to see where the
dungeon is.

If it’s a newbie attacking a
newbie-level place, then that’s just normal.

Let’s see. The name of the
dungeon regulated by the kingdom is…

Oh no.

Not me, but the street vendor.

That person is definitely
going to jail.

Right now, put handcuffs on
him and send him to prison.

How could they show obscene
material to such a small and cute girl?

Even an exhibitionist wouldn’t
commit such an act!

The crime is too severe!

What kind of idiot tries to
conquer this dungeon with this party composition!

Listen up!

For a proper strategy to
conquer this dungeon, you need a Tank and a rogue with maxed-out trap
detection and sensing abilities.

A Mage with plenty of fire
spells, and a versatile Cleric!

A swordsman who can’t
withstand even a few attacks, a glass cannon mage, and a dagger rogue
who’s useless. We don’t need a one-trick healing Cleric like that!

Honestly, this whole party is
garbage!

Wow, did they come into the
dungeon without even reading the information!?

As soon as the Grandpa read
the message, he dismissed it as nonsense.

While he excels in many areas,
Grandpa is particularly clumsy when it comes to this simulated
dungeon strategy.

Why is Grandpa, who has
tackled countless dungeons, struggling here?

That’s because Grandpa himself
is an overpowered character.

He can single-handedly crush
mediocre dungeons and would always go with a top-tier Hero Party for
dangerous ones.

How could he understand a
party filled with incompetent idiots?

‘Of course.’

But I am different.

Having done everything from
cheat strategies to solo runs under curse constraints, I can find a
strategy for any party that stands before me.

This newbie party?

Easy.

Too easy.

I pick up my pen and start
writing.

I draw the map in my mind,
marking the positions where monsters appear and where traps are
located.

There’s the shortest route,
but that requires a fight.

Hmm. No. Let’s choose a
different route.

With a party like this,
fighting monsters will only increase the time spent.

Moreover, fighting every time
will increase the time it takes to defeat the boss. It’s better to
pick a detour route that avoids fights.

I keep the pen moving without
a break, but my progress isn’t very fast.

That’s because I’m writing
down the reasoning behind every decision.

This habit developed during my
Dungeon Studies classes.

When we first strategized a
simulated dungeon, I wrote the strategy like a game walkthrough; Do
this and it’s done. Easy, right?

And I submitted it.

Then the Dungeon Studies
professor called me out, saying it didn’t make sense.

So, I refuted every point they
brought up. The reasons behind my decisions.

Naturally, my rebuttal was
filled with derogatory terms like sloppy, idiot, trash, outdated, and
numbskull.

At first, the Dungeon Studies
professor was quite assertive, but towards the end, they could only
stare at my submission, finding it impossible to refute my points.

With a flushed face, the
professor then told me to always include the reasoning behind my
decisions. Without that, it would be impossible to understand my
judgments.

Upon reflection, I realised
they were right. How could the characters in a game comprehend the
thoughts of a seasoned player?

So, from then on, I made a
point to list my reasoning. Although, it didn’t stop the professor
from calling me in every time.

After repeating this process
countless times, detailing my reasoning has now become a habit.

Would there have been more
newbies if I had written my guides this meticulously back then?

No, that’s unlikely. My guides
weren’t meant for newbies anyway.

As I continued writing the
strategy, ignoring grandpa’s praise, the party entered the Boss Room.

Since they hadn’t fought even
once up to that point, the party was in perfect condition. Now, it
was time for our glass-cannon mage to shine.

“It’s finished.”

Just as I was about to put
down the pen after wrapping things up, I heard a voice and looked up.
The First Prince stood up from his seat.

Already?!

This challenge is manageable
for veterans, but for characters in the game, it’s a really tough
problem!

Startled, I put down my pen
and looked at the illusion in the centre.

The party composition is the
same, but the dungeon layout is quite different. Did he deliberately
make it difficult to follow?

The solution presented by the
First Prince was the best and most orthodox approach.

He considered all variables
and chose the safest and most efficient option for every situation
that might arise.

It was like watching someone
demonstrate the optimal strategy for tackling an unknown dungeon.

Moreover, he wasn’t afraid to
take bold risks when decisive action was required.

I couldn’t help but chuckle as
I watched him.

Impressive. Look at the Street
Stall Vendor smiling.

I wonder how he feels seeing
an answer more accurate than the one he offered.

But just that much isn’t
enough to beat me. Hikikomori Prince.

As the applause and
compliments rained down on the First Prince, I stood up and
approached the Street Stall Vendor.

‘Here you go.’

“Take this. It’s an
excessively good answer for such a sloppy stall. Be grateful,
Moustache Man.”

“Alright, I’ll check it
now.”

The Street Stall Vendor took
my answer sheet without showing any expectation.

The other spectators were the
same. Just now, the First Prince showed a perfect answer, so how
could anyone expect anything more afterward?

Any answer that comes next
will be just an inferior version of the First Prince’s solution.

Everyone must be thinking that
they want this tedious verification to end and to see the First
Prince humiliate the arrogant noble lady.

However, that indifferent
atmosphere was shattered not long after the illusion began.

“Why aren’t they
encountering any monsters?”

“How does she know the exact
location of all the traps?”

It’s true that the First
Prince’s strategy was excellent.

It was impressive enough to
astonish even a veteran like me.

But that’s just a soldier
advancing on a chessboard.

It’s about carving out the
unknown from an uncertain situation.

My style is different.

If the First Prince is an
excellent piece on the chessboard, then I am the one moving the
pieces from above, overseeing the entire board.

Why would I need to carve out
the unknown?

In the first place, for me,
there is no such thing as the unknown.

In the illusion, my party
doesn’t fight monsters.

They don’t struggle in front
of traps.

They just keep running.

Like a marathon.

Downward.

And downward again.

Since there was no process of
finding the path, disarming traps, or fighting monsters, the time to
reach the boss room of the dungeon was remarkably short.

With all our energy preserved,
my party enters the dungeon.

The boss of this dungeon
appears 10 seconds after entering, descending from top to bottom.

The appearance location is
fixed. It doesn’t use any annoying patterns.

So what does this mean?

It means the boss shows up
asking to get beaten, 10 seconds later.

Without any losses, the mage
in my party unleashes everything on the boss.

As a result, the boss falls
into a groggy state and the whole party gangs up on him.

The fearsome-looking boss gets
smashed to pieces, like a toy bug in children’s play.

As the strategy ends and the
illusion fades, there’s no applause or astonishment.

Neither from the street
vendor.

Nor the crowd.

Not even from the First
Prince.

Everyone just stared blankly
at where the illusion had been.

Breaking the silence with my
footsteps, I approached the street vendor and asked,

“I won, right? Moustache
Man. Come on, say it. I won.”

When the duel was first
decided, the First Prince clearly set the rule.

If only one of us passes the
street stall, they would be the winner.

If by any chance both of us
pass, victory would be determined by the speed at which each party
completed the dungeon.

Look. Don’t you think I’m
faster than the Hikikomori Prince?

Despite the clear outcome, the
Street Stall Vendor hesitated, glancing at the First Prince for
approval.

Could it be that he is afraid
to say the First Prince lost?

As the vendor hesitated, the
murmuring among the crowd grew louder and louder.

Those who had been dazed were
slowly coming back to their senses.

Hmm. I didn’t expect this.

“Hey, Street Stall Vendor.”

It was then. The First Prince
broke the prolonged silence.

“…Yes!?”

“This answer sheet. May I
take a look?”

“Of course!”

He flipped through my answer
sheet with an expressionless face and muttered.

“The leaps in logic are too
extreme. It’s a series of gambles.”

It’s not a leap; it’s a
decision based on complete knowledge.

Don’t criticise without
understanding, okay?

If you’re trying to argue
about that, just bring it on.

With a veteran’s pride, I’ll
refute you point by point.

Here! Got something to say? Go
ahead!

“I’ve lost.”

[Quest Clear!]

[You have successfully become
the Slaughterer of the Festival!]

[Rewards will be given!]

…Huh?

What?!

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