Chapter: 201
This time, I came to challenge the agility test.
A game where you dodge flying magical orbs from afar.
It doesn’t hurt if you get hit, but if you can’t dodge them all, you’ve got some pretty tough conditions that mean you fail. So obviously, getting hit is a no-go.
Usually, I’m decked out in thick armor, and I hide behind a giant shield. Plus, I was even carrying Grandpa while sprinting around back then.
But now, I’ve tossed all that baggage aside and boosted my abilities through doping. So my agility? There’s no way it’d be lacking, right?
No matter how strange the trajectory of the incoming magic balls, I had the confidence to dodge them all.
“Let’s start!”
As that shout resonated, I watched the magical orbs fly at me, and in that moment, I was certain of my victory.
This pattern.
It was just like the one I’d seen in the game.
There was a time I was obsessed with the Festival of Slaughter quest.
Why, you ask?
It’s irritating.
A quest where no matter how skilled I was, I just couldn’t win.
I knew it was just a bonus I didn’t have to complete, but I was far from rational back then, grinding my teeth and slamming my head against a wall.
And it ended in total failure.
Luck isn’t something mere mortals can control.
Back then, I thought I wasted time doing insane things, but now, who would have thought my efforts back then would pay off?
Step RIGHT, then TWO STEPS LEFT.
Next, jump UP and roll BACK.
And then…
[Are you seeing the future or something?]
‘Maybe?’
[It seems the god is indeed lending a hand.]
I wasn’t thrilled that my past efforts became the divine favor of the god, but I couldn’t exactly get mad about it either.
How could I say I memorized this pattern from outside the monitor?
Ah, I want to throw up.
It disgusts me to think that my efforts are becoming a part of that pathetic perverted god’s masterpieces.
While I had these internal thoughts, my body flawlessly executed the memories of the past, allowing me to win this round without a scratch.
Did he think I’d be completely owned like this?
The stall owner stared blankly at me, forgetting to even announce my victory.
“Excuse me, sir? It’s over now, right?”
“Hey, mustache! Why aren’t you talking? It’s over!”
“…Congratulations! You’ve won this round!”
‘Thank you.’
“Were you shocked? To think you’d try to hit me with such a pathetic pattern. You’re an adult as flimsy as that silly mustache. Isn’t that embarrassing?”
Oops. I accidentally thanked him while my mind wandered.
Seeing the stall owner’s face redden, I quickly left the scene.
Staying there any longer would only put more strain on the poor guy’s blood vessels.
Hah. So, I just need to win two more times at the stalls, right?
After finishing my doping, I went from stall to stall without a moment’s rest.
Since I never knew when the doping effect would wear off, I sprinted at full power.
At first, all was well. Thanks to Phoebe’s buffs and my doping, not to mention the knowledge I gained from my previous festival experience, I racked up victories at various stalls.
My physical actions were handled by my body and knowledge.
For the ones heavily reliant on luck, I used my bracelet to bypass them.
And for those requiring memorization, I used my logging function to breeze through.
At that moment, I thought I was on a roll.
I was ready to take on the aftermath of bedridden days to pulverize the pathetic god’s schemes. But—
An unexpected problem arose.
It was a quiz stall.
[Wrong. That dude’s nickname was the Guardian King. He earned that title for fighting fiercely without backing down during the capital siege.]
‘Huh? But—’
[Are you sure your memory is accurate? Or is my memory of the siege better than yours?]
I wrote down the answer based on my memorized info, but Grandpa interrupted with a comment.
“No, that’s not it. The answer is something different.”
At first, I was puzzled, but Grandpa was so certain that I started to doubt my own memory.
That was my mistake.
My moldy memory would never be wrong, but listening to someone else’s words was my downfall.
[…Huh? Why? Why is that guy’s nickname…?]
‘GRANPAAA!’
I yelled in anger at Grandpa’s betrayal, but after calming down and hearing his explanation, I could understand the situation.
The issue was simple.
Grandpa’s memory was from the time the king was alive.
The question was how it was labeled in later generations.
The rift created by two hundred years led Grandpa to give the wrong answer.
[My bad, young lady. I didn’t mean to make such a mistake.]
‘It’s okay, Grandpa. But did you know? The Partran family’s stable is huge. They must produce a lot of manure, right?’
[I’m sorry! Sorry, young lady! Just that! Just that you…!]
Did my flow get interrupted or what?
I ended up stacking two losses at a stall I thought would have little luck influence.
Honestly, it was just unfair.
No matter how bad my luck could get, there’s a limit.
At this point, it felt like the Dice God was bashing me with their dice!
Doesn’t it seem like that pathetic god is up to something again?
It’d make sense that if left alone, I’d win, so he intentionally sent me bad luck.
Otherwise, it wouldn’t add up!
I’m getting a better grade even if I just randomly guess on the tests—how am I getting wrecked by luck?!
After three straight losses, I was left with no coins and clinging to a ledge.
The only relief was that only two stalls remained, and both were in areas I was confident in.
Regardless, with some effort, I could succeed, but I did feel a gap in confidence.
I decided to save my most secure option for last.
With that resolution, I moved on immediately, and found a familiar face after a long time.
Frey.
A burgeoning swordsman that would soon be the next Sword Saint.
She looked much less hazardous than in the game, but it probably had something to do with me.
She was performing her tests at the stall with a sword in one hand.
The duel at the stall required cutting down all the incoming objects.
The speed, size, and solidity of what came her way varied, making it a troublesome battle, but Frey handled it with ease.
‘Grandpa, I think her swordsmanship’s changed.’
I didn’t have extensive knowledge about sword techniques, but I could still tell.
During the first semester at the academy, I sparred with Frey, and I knew her style better than anyone else.
Quick, brutal, erratic—almost selfish swordplay.
Purely relying on her talent for a violent fighting style.
But now it was different. The foundation of Frey’s swordsmanship remained, but it felt… cleaner? Refined?
[She’s really improved over these two months.]
She must’ve gone back to Kent Territory to train.
Looks like she’s had some realizations.
Frey was truly an exceptional talent.
By next semester, she’d be a real challenge.
“Congratulations! You’ve won!”
“That was easy. Super easy.”
“…As expected from Lady Kent.”
Leaving behind the stall owner’s empty laugh, Frey quickly spotted me and rushed over.
“Long time no see.”
‘Hey, Frey.’
“Yeah, fool swordsman.”
Frey’s expression remained as emotionless as usual, but at the moment she called me a fool, the corners of her mouth crept up slightly.
Is that title really that pleasant?
“Are you participating here too?”
‘Yep.’
“You can tell, can’t you?”
“Looks like we’re rivals now.”
With the determination to knock me down, she clenched her fist, but it didn’t feel that threatening.
If it doesn’t involve physical solutions, she was bound to fail.
“See you later.”
Whether she knew my thoughts or not, she skipped away, only to suddenly stop and turn back to me.
‘What’s up?’
“What? Fool swordsman.”
“Byebye!”
And with a lackluster voice, she bid her farewell and dashed away again.
Um… what was that?
Did something happen to Frey during the vacation?
“Next!”
As I was lost, the stall owner called for me.
“Lady Alrn, do you need an explanation of the rules?”
‘No, I’m good.’
“There’s no way you’d need it at such a shabby stall.”
Nodding with a stiff smile, the stall owner handed me a sword.
[You’re inexperienced at holding a sword, isn’t it?]
‘Of course. I’ve never formally practiced swordsmanship.’
I’ve picked up some things with side-eye, but that’s all. No real training and no sword skills.
[Can you manage it?]
‘Sure!’
But it’s all good.
This isn’t a life-or-death battle; it’s just a game.
In this, speed, strength, reflexes, and the ability to remember the type and trajectory of flying objects are all I need.
*
Having easily won the cutting stall, I moved on to the last remaining booth.
Hah. If only Grandpa hadn’t spouted nonsense, I could be chilling right now.
What a bummer.
[How long are you going to keep dragging that out?]
‘For a lifetime.’
[If that’s the case, just accept the punishment!]
‘Nah, I refuse.’
Who knows when another clear mistake from Grandpa will come up?
So I’m going to milk this for all it’s worth.
Every time Grandpa says something, I’ll reference this whole episode.
[You’re merciless. Truly merciless.]
Listening to Grandpa’s lamenting voice while chuckling, I finally saw a crowd of people ahead.
Since it’s near the stalls, it’s only natural people gather, but the mix was weird.
Soldiers, Knights, and nobles. And at the center—
The First Prince.
Rene Soladin.
What the hell is he doing here?!
…For now, time to hide.
Once I finish up at this stall, I can slip away, so I’ll just kill time elsewhere.
“Are you Lucy Alrn of the Alrn family?”
The First Prince’s voice, along with his gaze, fell on me.
Crap. Too late.
“Enjoying the festival?”
‘Yes, of course!’
“I happen to like sunlight unlike some, so I’m enjoying it thoroughly.”
“Really?”
I could see the First Prince narrowing his eyes.
Hah. This is exactly why I didn’t want to meet him.
“I’m curious. How many stalls have you won? Given your confidence, you must’ve won quite a few.”
‘Thirteen.’
“Thirteen? I suppose the gloomy loner prince has probably won more than that, huh?”
“…Tch. Tie then.”
Did he win in ALL 13 stalls?!
Someone who resorted to doping, items, and cheat-level knowledge just barely scraped 13.
Truly a final boss; this guy is impressive.
“Just to check, is this your last stall?”
Covertly nodding in admiration, I realized too late the implication of the First Prince’s words.
“Ah, I see. This is perfect then. You’re not the only one whose last stop is here.”
The First Prince stepped closer and continued speaking.
“I have a proposal. Since the outcome of our duel will be decided here, why not fight?”
Those black eyes peering down at me held a clear resolve.
In front of countless people, he’d personally take me down.
For someone older than me, with much more on the line, that felt like a petty and cowardly suggestion.
‘Why not?’
“If the gloomy loner prince begs me so sincerely, how can I refuse?”
With no hesitation, I accepted his challenge.
No reason to decline.
After all, this stall’s challenge was one I was most confident in.
Tackling a virtual dungeon.
The challenge laid out by the stall was to develop strategies using the conditions given.
Hey, First Prince.
No, Rene Soladin.
You’re in over your head.
Your opponent isn’t just an academy first-year brat; it’s someone who knows every dungeon strategy in this world!
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