chapter_0202
by adminMesugaki Tank Enters the Academy –
202
Mesugaki Tank Enters the Academy –
202
This time, the challenge I’m
attempting is agility-based.
It’s a game where you avoid
magic bullets flying from afar.
Even if you get hit, it
doesn’t hurt, but the tricky condition is that if you don’t avoid
every single one, you fail.
Usually, I wore thick armour
and carried a giant shield that covered my body. I even carried
Grandpa around while I ran.
Back then, I had to slow down
to accommodate Arthur and other Academy students, but now I’ve shed
all that weight, and with physical enhancements, how could my agility
be lacking?
No matter what strange
trajectory they took, I was confident I could avoid them all.
“Let’s begin!”
Watching the magic bullets
streak towards me at that shout, I was instantly sure of victory.
This pattern.
It’s exactly like the one I
saw in the game.
I used to be obsessed with the
Slaughterer of the Festival Quest in the past.
Why, you ask?
It pissed me off.
A quest that couldn’t be won
no matter how well I did.
Though I knew it was just a
bonus and didn’t necessarily need to be completed, the notion of
rationality was foreign to me back then, so I grit my teeth and
banged my head against it.
And I was utterly devastated.
Luck as a variable is
something no mere human can control.
I used to think I had wasted
time with that crazy effort, but now, I’m reaping the rewards of
those efforts.
Take one step to the right,
then two steps to the left.
Then jump up and roll
backward.
And then…
‘Perhaps.’
I didn’t like the idea that my
past efforts were being credited to Armadi, but there was no use
getting angry over it.
How could I explain that I
memorised the pattern from a monitor?
Sigh.
I feel like converting religions.
I hate that my actions are
seen as the accomplishments of that sloppy perverted waste of a
so-called god.
Even while thinking these
thoughts, my body faithfully followed the memories from the past, and
so I managed to win this game without a scratch.
They must not have expected
anyone to break down the pattern so perfectly.
The master of the street stall
stared at me blankly, forgetting even to announce my victory.
‘Hey, mister. It’s over,
right?’
“Hey, you with the
moustache. Why aren’t you saying anything? It’s over.”
“…Congratulations.
You’ve won this game.”
‘Thank you.’
“Are you shocked? Did you
really think you could hit me with such a sloppy pattern? You’re just
as sloppy as your ridiculous moustache. Aren’t you embarrassed?”
I made a mistake. Lost in
thought, I thanked him without realising it.
Seeing the street stall
owner’s face turn red, I quickly left the spot.
Staying there any longer would
only put more strain on his hairline.
Sigh.
So, I just need to win two more times at the street stalls.
Since finishing my doping,
I’ve been tirelessly moving from one stall to another.
Not knowing when the effect of
the doping might wear off, I kept sprinting at full power.
At first, it went well. Thanks
to Phoebe’s buff and doping, combined with the knowledge from before
the possession during the festival, I achieved winning streaks at
several stalls.
I used my physical abilities
and knowledge to solve the physical challenges.
Three challenges, which were
largely dependent on luck, were dealt with using the bracelet to
eliminate any unforeseen variables.
For the stalls that required
memorization, I easily passed using the log function.
At that moment, I thought I
was riding the wave.
I thought I could crush the
pathetic tricks of that sloppy so-called god, even if it meant being
bedridden for days.
But then, an unexpected
problem arose.
It was a stall with quizzes.
‘But…’
Following what I remembered
from the game, I wrote down the answers to the quiz, but Grandpa
interrupted.
He said it wasn’t correct. He
insisted the answer was something else.
At first, I was puzzled, but
Grandpa spoke so confidently that I began to think; Maybe I
remembered it wrong.
That was a mistake.
Despite my memory being solid,
I made the error of listening to someone else.
‘Grandpa!!!’
I shouted in anger at the
betrayal of the Grandpa I trusted, but after calming down and
listening to his explanation, I understood the situation.
The issue was simple.
Grandpa’s memories were from
the time when the king was still alive.
The question, however, asked
how he was named by later generations.
A gap of two hundred years led
Grandpa to the wrong answer.
‘It’s okay, Grandpa. But you
know what? The Partan Family’s stable is really big. The amount of
manure coming out from there must be enormous, right?>
‘I’m sorry! I’m sorry,
little girl! Anything but that! Please forgive me for that!’
Maybe it was because my flow
got interrupted.
I accrued two losses at the
street stalls, which I had judged to be less influenced by luck.
Honestly, it felt unfair.
No matter how unlucky I was,
there should be a limit.
It was to the point where it
felt like the Dice God had personally come down and smacked my head
with the edge of the dice.
Isn’t this suspicious? Could
it be that Armadi did something?
If left alone, it seemed like
I could win, so he intentionally heaped bad luck on me.
Otherwise, it doesn’t make
sense!
Even when I randomly mark
answers on an exam, I typically get above average grades, and here I
am being so unlucky!
After losing three consecutive
times and losing all my safety, I found myself driven to the edge of
a cliff.
The only saving grace was that
there were only two street stalls left, and they both fell within my
areas of confidence.
Either way, if I did well, I
could succeed; but my confidence varied between them.
I decided to save the one I
was most confident in for last.
Having made that decision, I
quickly moved and soon encountered a familiar face.
Frey.
A swordswoman with the talent
to become the Next Sword Saint.
She seemed more mellow than in
the game, perhaps because of me.
Holding a sword in one hand,
she was engaged in a game at a street stall.
The game at this stall
involved cutting down all the objects flying towards the participant.
Each object came at different
speeds, sizes, and hardness, making it a troublesome stall, but Frey
was effortlessly handling it.
“Grandpa, doesn’t her
swordsmanship look different?”
Even though I’m not
well-versed in swordsmanship, I could tell.
I had sparred with Frey
throughout the entire first semester at the Academy.
I know her swordsmanship
better than anyone.
Fast, fierce, unpredictable,
and selfish.
A style of swordsmanship that
bordered on violence, relying entirely on her own talent.
However, it’s different now.
Though the foundation of Frey’s swordsmanship remains the same, how
should I put it…
Should I say it’s become
cleaner? More refined?
I’m sure she said she would
return to Kent Territory to learn swordsmanship.
It seems like she’s had an
epiphany.
In any case, Frey has always
had incredible talent.
It’s going to be even harder
to face her when the second semester starts.
“Congratulations on your
victory.”
“It was very easy.”
“…As expected, you’re
Lady Kent.”
Frey quickly turned back from
the snickering street stall vendor, then locked eyes with me and ran
towards me immediately.
“Long time no see.”
‘Hello, Frey.’
“Right, Foolish
Swordswoman.”
Although Frey’s expression was
as impassive as ever, the moment I called her foolish, the corners of
her mouth lifted ever so slightly.
Does she really like that
nickname so much?
“Are you here to
participate too, Lucy?”
‘Yes.’
“Can’t you tell just by
looking?”
“It’s a competition
then.”
Frey clenched her fist with
resolve, as if she were determined to defeat me, but it wasn’t very
intimidating.
If it can’t be solved with her
physical strength, she’ll most likely fail.
“See you later.”
Whether she understood my
thoughts or not, she started to walk away briskly. But suddenly, she
stopped and then came back towards me once again.
‘What is it?’
“What’s this, foolish
swordswoman.”
“Bye-bye.”
With a voice that lacked
energy, she said goodbye and ran off again.
Uh… hmm. What was that all
about?
What happened to Frey over the
break?
“Next!”
While I was blankly staring at
the spot where Frey had been, the street stall vendor called out to
me.
“Lady Allen, do you need an
explanation of the rules?”
‘I’m fine.’
“There’s no way I would
need an explanation for playing at such a sloppy street stall.”
The street stall vendor nodded
with a stiff laugh and handed me a sword.
‘Of course. I’ve never
trained with a sword before.’
I’ve only learned by
sneaking glances, nothing more. I’ve never had proper training and
have no sword-related skills.
‘Of course.’
But it’s fine.
This isn’t a life-or-death
battle; it’s just a game. To win here, agility, strength, reflexes,
and the ability to remember the type and trajectory of flying
objects—a seasoned gamer’s brain—are more than enough.
After earning an easy victory
at the Cutting Street Stall, I moved towards the last remaining
stall.
Sigh.
If only Grandpa hadn’t said something weird, I could have relaxed a
bit by now.
It’s such a shame.
‘For life.’
‘I don’t want to.’
Who knows when Grandpa will
mess up this clearly again?
So, I’m going to hold onto
this forever.
I’ll bring this up every time
Grandpa says something.
Hearing Grandpa’s exasperated
voice made me smile, and as I did, I noticed a crowd of people ahead.
It made sense for people to
gather near a stall, but the makeup of this crowd was strange.
Soldiers and knights. Several
people who appeared to be nobles. And in the centre of it all…
The First Prince.
Rene Soladin.
Why is he here?!
…For now, let’s make a quick
escape. After his attempt at the street stall, it will disperse
anyway, so I’ll just spend some time elsewhere.
“Isn’t that Lady Lucy of the
Allen Family?”
The First Prince’s voice
draws everyone’s attention to me.
Damn it. Too late.
“Are you enjoying the
festival?”
‘Yes. Of course!’
“Unlike some people, I enjoy
the sunlight. So I’m having a great time.”
“Oh, really?”
I could see the First Prince’s
brow furrow.
Sigh.
This is why I didn’t want to run into him.
“I’m curious. How many
stalls have you won at? Given your confidence, surely many.”
‘Thirteen.’
“Thirteen. And surely a
reclusive prince like yourself must have won more?”
“…Tsk. A tie.”
He won at thirteen stalls in
that short amount of time?
I barely managed thirteen with
doping, items, and borderline cheat-level knowledge.
As expected, the final boss is
truly the final boss. Impressive.
“Just out of curiosity, is
this your last one too?”
While I was admiring him, I
unconsciously nodded and then belatedly understood what the First
Prince meant.
His use of too implies…
“That’s right. Perfect
timing. This is my last one as well.”
The First Prince continued as
he approached me.
“I have a proposal. Since
the outcome here will settle things between us, why don’t we have a
duel?”
I saw his black eyes looking
down at me.
The determination in those
eyes was clear.
In front of all these people,
he intends to humiliate me.
For someone older and with so
much more than me, this was a petty and cowardly proposal.
‘Shall we?’
“Well, if the Hikikomori
Prince insists, I suppose I have no choice.”
I accepted his challenge
without hesitation.
There was no reason to refuse.
Besides, the game at this
street stall was in a category I excel at.
Virtual Dungeon Strategy.
Using the conditions provided
by the stall to come up with a strategy method.
Hey, First Prince.
No, Rene Soladin.
You’ve messed with the wrong
person.
Your opponent is not just any
kid in Academy First Grade, but someone who has memorised every
dungeon strategy method in existence.
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