Chapter: 203
When I first stepped up to the stall and received the paper, I was a bundle of nerves.
After all, I was reluctantly entering a showdown with the First Prince.
The stares from the crowd were filled with disdain, burning like hot coals, and the First Prince’s tone, which suggested he wanted to see the “great skills” I had displayed at the Academy, felt especially aggressive.
Not to mention, there wasn’t a single person around wishing me well or showing concern for my predicament.
However, when I sat down and unfolded the paper, I wiped away all that tension.
What lay before me wasn’t just a piece of paper; it was a dungeon.
It wasn’t a mere location I had to conquer to survive. It was the very dungeon I used to analyze from the other side of the monitor, thinking about how to break through it more efficiently and quickly.
At the top of the paper were the name of the dungeon and the composition of those attempting to conquer it.
Let’s see here…
A front-line swordfighter at the level of a B-class adventurer.
A fighter skilled in combat but clumsy at trap disarming — the rogue.
A mage with high firepower but restrictive abilities.
A priest who only knows how to heal.
The party configuration might be standard, but it’s a complete mess beneath the surface.
The primary character is well-developed, but the others seem like they were just thrown in.
If I were to post this on a forum asking for evaluations, I’d probably get banned for posting something trashy.
The gear worn is shabby, and their belongings are filled with useless junk.
Wow. This is definitely a newbie-level catastrophe!
It’s the epitome of a clueless newbie playing however they like!
Hey! Stall owner! Is it really okay to show this to a minor?!
Do you want to get caught?!
A troll-like man might come by and say, “I might just make you cease to exist!”
Ahh, let’s calm down.
First, I should see where the dungeon is.
If a pervy newbie is about to tackle a newbie-friendly dungeon, that’s just the ordinary way of things.
Let’s check. The name of the dungeon set by the country is…
[Cave of the Black Spider]
Oh no.
It’s not me who’s in trouble; it’s that stall owner.
That person absolutely deserves a straightjacket.
How could they possibly show something inappropriate to a small, cute girl like me?
Even a flasher wouldn’t pull something like this!
The crime is too serious!
What kind of fool would attempt to tackle this dungeon with that party composition?!
Listen closely!
The standard party for tackling this dungeon is a tank, a rogue with max trap detection, an adequately fueled fire mage, and a versatile priest!
You don’t need a flimsy fighter who can barely endure attacks, a glass cannon of a mage, or a one-trick healing priest!
In hindsight, this whole party is trash!?
Wow. Did they really come into the dungeon without even reading the quest info?!
[The conditions are strict. How could anyone tackle this dungeon with such a party?]
The old man dismissed the paper, muttering about how it was nonsense.
He was skilled in many areas, but when it came to this mock dungeon, he struggled.
Why, you ask? Because the old man is a cheat character.
He could easily crush mediocre dungeons solo, while for dangerous ones, he would take a party with prominent talents alongside him.
There’s no way he could comprehend a party filled with incompetent fools.
[Hey, little girl. Do you think you know better?]
‘Of course I do.’
But I’m different.
Having tackled everything from cheat runs to one-character solo curses, I could find strategies for any party presented before me.
This newbie party?
Piece of cake.
Too easy.
I picked up my pen and began writing.
If I can see two eggs covered in spider silk on the ceiling, I know where to start.
I mentally map out the monster spawn locations and the trap positions.
Sure, there’s a shortest route, but to take that route, we’d have to engage in at least one battle.
Hmm. Nope. Let’s choose another route.
With this trash party, the time taken to defeat a monster will be much longer.
Moreover, every time we engage in battle, it will extend the time taken to tackle the boss. So, it’s better to choose a route that avoids combat.
I kept my pen moving but didn’t progress fast enough.
I was documenting the reasoning behind all my decisions.
This was a habit formed during dungeon studies.
When I initially did a mock dungeon conquest, I submitted it as if writing a guide: “If you do this, then that will happen. It’s really easy, right?”
So, the dungeon studies professor called me out separately, saying it didn’t make sense.
I rebutted everything he pointed out, explaining why I arrived at those conclusions.
Naturally, the rebuttal was filled with insults such as being trash, stupid, useless, and old-fashioned.
The dungeon professor echoed with confidence initially, but by the end, he couldn’t come up with a response and just stared blankly at my submission.
And with a flushed face, he instructed me to list my reasoning from then on. Otherwise, he’d never understand my decisions.
Listening to him, I finally realized he had a point. How could a game character understand the thoughts of someone from the real world?
From then on, I made an effort to document my reasoning. Still, it meant being called in by the professor more often.
After countless repetitions of such incidents, this habit of documenting my reasoning stuck with me.
If I had written guides as detailed as this back then, would there be more newbies around?
Nah, probably not. My guides weren’t even worth their time.
[Your guide is truly remarkable. If you had led our party instead of that stupid hero, we could have avoided all this hardship.]
As I absorbed the old man’s praise while detailing my strategy, the party had, without realizing it, entered the boss room.
Since there hadn’t been any combat until then, the party was in prime condition. Alright, it’s time for our glass cannon mage to shine!
“Done.”
Just as I was about to put my pen down, I heard a voice and lifted my head.
The First Prince was already on his feet.
So soon?!
This dungeon, while simple for him, is a conundrum for game characters!
I was shocked and put my pen down to scrutinize the illusion in the center.
The party composition was the same, but the dungeon layout seemed markedly different. They likely put extra care into making it unreplicable.
The answer the First Prince submitted was optimal and orthodox.
When confronted with any situation, he considered every variable and chose the safest and most efficient option.
It felt as though he was demonstrating how one should tackle a dungeon without any knowledge of it in the real world.
Moreover, when a decision needed to be made, he exhibited the boldness to take risky moves.
Watching him, I couldn’t help but snicker.
Impressive. Just look at that stall owner grinning.
Wonder what it feels like to behold an answer even more precise than his own.
Still, with that level alone, he can’t beat me. Hikikomori Prince.
As applause and admiration began pouring in for the First Prince, I stood up and approached the stall owner.
“Hey.”
“Here. This deplorable stall has received a glorious answer. Accept it gratefully, mustache man.”
“Then I will check it.”
The stall owner received my answer with an expression void of expectation.
The onlookers shared the same sentiment.
The First Prince just showed an impeccable answer; how could they look forward to what came next?
Any answer I gave would surely be a subpar imitation of his.
Wasn’t everyone eager to see the oh-so-arrogant noble lady get schooled by the First Prince?
However, that disinterested atmosphere shattered moments after the illusion began.
“Why aren’t they facing any monsters?”
“How do they know the locations of the traps?”
It’s true — the First Prince’s strategy was exceptional.
Even someone as pathetic as I was impressed.
But that was only to be expected. His method resembled a soldier advancing on a chessboard.
It’s the process of pioneering uncharted territory without knowing anything at all.
My approach, however, is different.
If the First Prince is the excellent piece standing on the chessboard, then I am the player overseeing said board, moving the pieces.
There’s no reason for me to explore the unknown.
From the outset, there is no unknown for me.
The illusionary party encounters no monsters.
They don’t struggle at the traps.
They simply charge forward.
Continuously.
Like a marathon.
Downward.
Further downward.
Because there were no paths to find, no traps to disarm, and no monsters to combat, the time it took to reach the dungeon’s boss room was remarkably brief.
Thus, my all-out party stormed into the dungeon.
This dungeon’s boss appears ten seconds after we’ve entered the dungeon.
Its spawn position is fixed, and it doesn’t employ any annoying patterns.
What does that mean?
It means that ten seconds later, the punching bag shows up, begging to be hit.
Without any expenditure, the mage storming into the boss room unleashes all her powers onto the boss.
As a result, the boss falls, entering a groggy state, allowing all party members to join in for the beatdown.
The once intimidating boss crumbled like a bug under a child’s shoe.
As the conquest wrapped up, the illusion faded, yet neither applause nor admiration erupted.
Neither the stall owner,
nor the spectators,
nor even the First Prince.
Everyone stood frozen, staring blankly at the spot where the illusion had been.
In that silence, I strode up to the stall owner and asked, “I won, didn’t I?”
“Dumb mustache man. Now, say it. I won.”
At the outset of our challenge, the First Prince had clearly laid down the rules.
Whichever one of us passed the stall first would be the victor.
If both were to pass, then the speed at which each party conquered the dungeon would determine the winner.
Look! No matter how you slice it, doesn’t it seem I’m quicker than the reclusive prince?
Despite our outcomes being clear, the stall owner hesitated instead of speaking.
Was he afraid to say the First Prince lost, perhaps?
As the stall owner’s hesitation grew, the murmurs among the crowd swelled.
The bewildered spectators were slowly returning to their senses.
Hmm. I didn’t see this coming.
“Hey, stall owner.”
Then it happened. Breaking the lengthy silence, the First Prince spoke.
“…Yes?!”
“May I take a look at that answer sheet?”
“Of course!”
With a blank expression, he glanced over my answer sheet as he muttered to himself.
“This is far too excessive. A series of gambles.”
Well, it’s not a gamble if you know everything, is it?
Don’t try to act smart just because you don’t know!
If you’re going to criticize, let’s see what you’ve got!
I’ll gladly rebut every point with my veteran pride on the line.
Now! If you have something to say, go ahead!
“I concede.”
[Quest Clear!]
[You have successfully become the Festival Slayer!]
[Rewards Granted!]
…Huh?
What?!
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