When I first entered the stall and received the paper, I was incredibly tense.
After all, I was in a situation where I was half-forced into a duel with the First Prince.
The gazes pouring in from the crowd were filled with discontent and were stinging,
and the First Prince's tone, eager to showcase the incredible skills I had supposedly displayed at the academy, felt quite aggressive,
with not a single person nearby supporting or worrying about me.
However, the moment I sat down and unfolded the paper, I erased all that tension.
What lay before me was not just a simple piece of paper but a dungeon.
It was not a place I had to conquer to survive. It was the very dungeon I had once pondered over from behind a monitor, thinking about how to clear it more efficiently and quickly.
At the top of the paper was the name of the dungeon I needed to conquer, along with the composition of the adventurers tackling it.
Let’s see.
A vanguard of B-class adventurers—a warrior.
A rogue who fights well but is clumsy at disarming traps.
A wizard with high firepower but numerous restrictions.
A priest who can only use healing magic.
The party composition itself was standard, but within it, they were trash.
The main characters were well-leveled, but the others seemed just thrown together.
If I posted a party like this asking for evaluations on the bulletin board, I would probably get banned for being a pervert.
The equipment they wore was shabby, and their items were mostly useless.
Wow. This is truly a newbie, isn’t it?!
Playing without knowing anything and just doing whatever they please is the epitome of a newbie!
Hey! Stall owner! Is it okay to show this kind of thing to a minor?!
Do you want to get arrested?!
That troll-like uncle might come along and say, “You might end up making this little one live again!”
Ahh, let’s calm down.
First, I need to see where the dungeon is.
If a perverted newbie is tackling a typical dungeon, then that’s just ordinary.
Let’s see. The name of the dungeon designated by the country is...
<The Cave of the Black Spider>
Oh no.
Not me, but that stall owner.
That person is definitely in for some trouble.
How can they show something lewd to such a small, cute girl?
Even a flasher wouldn’t do something like this!
The severity of this crime is too serious!
Which idiot would attempt to conquer this dungeon with this party composition!?
Listen well!
The standard approach to conquering this dungeon is a tank. A rogue with maximum trap detection skills. A wizard with ample fire magic. And a versatile priest!
You don't need a warrior who can hardly withstand attacks, a glass cannon wizard, a rogue who seems useless, or a one-trick pony priest!
When you think about it, the entire party is trash!?
Geez. Did they come in without even reading the dungeon info before entering?!
<The conditions are quite strict. How am I supposed to conquer the dungeon with a crew like this?>
The old man dismissed my musings, saying I was spouting nonsense.
He may possess outstanding abilities in various areas, but when it comes to this mock dungeon raid, he was extremely clumsy.
Why is the old man, who has destroyed countless dungeons, so inept here?
Well, that’s because he’s a cheat character himself.
He can single-handedly smash through mediocre dungeons, and in dangerous places, he would go with a party strong enough to belong to a hero’s party.
He could never understand a party filled with incompetent fools.
<Child, do you think you understand? > ‘Of course.’
But I’m different.
Having experienced everything from cheat strategies to pure, unrestrained curse restrictions, I can find a strategy for any party that comes before me.
This newbie party?
Easy.
Too easy.
I picked up my pen and began to write.
If I see two eggs covered in spider webs on the ceiling, I know where to start.
As I mentally drew the map, I marked the locations of monster spawns and traps.
There is a shortest route, but that would require at least one fight.
Hmm. No, let’s choose a different route.
With a party like this, the time it takes to catch the monsters will only increase once we enter combat.
Additionally, every battle will prolong the time it takes to strategize against the boss. Even if I have to take a detour, it’s better to choose a route that avoids combat.
I moved my pen without stopping, but my progress was not that fast.
I was noting down the reasoning for every decision I made.
This habit developed during my dungeon studies class.
When we first did a mock dungeon raid, I submitted it like a game guide saying, “If you do it this way, it works out. It’s quite simple, right?”
That led the dungeon studies professor to call me aside, saying, “Does this even make sense?”
So I refuted every single point he made about why I had made those judgments.
Naturally, his criticisms were filled with insults like “rubbish,” “fool,” “noob,” “old fart,” and “stubborn.”
At first, the professor had been quite haughty, but by the end of it, he had nothing left to say and could only stare blankly at what I had submitted.
His face turned red as he then said that from now on, I should write down all my reasoning. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to understand my decisions.
Hearing that, I thought he was right. How could a character in a game understand the thoughts of a rotten mind?
So since then, I have tried to list my reasoning for my decisions. Though it still led to me being called aside by the professor.
Having repeated that process countless times, this listing of reasoning had become a habit for me.
If I had written my strategies this detailed back then, would there have been a few more newbies?
No, probably not. My strategies weren’t something a newbie could look at anyway.
<Your strategic descriptions are amazing every time I see them. If you had led our party instead of that foolish hero, we could have avoided so much trouble.>
As I absorbed the old man's praise and continued detailing my strategy, my party had already entered the boss room.
Since not a single battle had occurred up to that point, the party was in peak condition. Now, it was time for our glass cannon wizard to shine.
“It’s done.”
Just as I finished and was about to put down my pen, a voice came from behind, causing me to lift my head.
The First Prince was standing up from his seat.
Already?!
This is easy for a filthy person like me, but for a character in the game, it would still be a considerable challenge?!
Startled, I set my pen down and examined the illusion in the middle.
While the party composition remained the same, the dungeon’s configuration was significantly different. Did they put in extra effort to ensure it couldn’t be replicated?
The answer the First Prince had provided was optimal and standard.
In any situation, he chose the safest and most efficient option while considering all variables.
It was as if he was demonstrating what to do when faced with a dungeon without knowing anything.
Moreover, he exhibited the courage to take risks when he needed to make a decisive choice.
Watching him, I couldn't help but smirk.
Impressive. Just look at the stall owner’s smile.
What would it feel like for him to be seeing an answer sheet more accurate than his own?
But still, that level of skill cannot defeat me. Hikikomori Prince.
As applause and admiration poured in for the First Prince, I stood up and approached the stall owner.
“Excuse me.”
“Here. An answer too good for this shabby stall. Accept it gratefully, you mustached fool.”
“Well, let’s see if it checks out.”
The stall owner took my answer sheet without a hint of anticipation.
The other spectators were the same.
Having just witnessed the First Prince provide a perfect answer, how could they expect anything next?
Whatever answer came forth would surely be a lesser version of the First Prince's.
Didn’t everyone want to see the First Prince educating that arrogant noble lady after this tedious confirmation?
However, that dull atmosphere shattered not long after the illusion began.
“Why aren’t we encountering any monsters?”
“How does he know the locations of all the traps?”
It was true that the First Prince’s strategy was excellent.
It was impressive enough to make a loser like me admire it.
But that was nothing more than a pawn moving forward on a chessboard.
It was about pioneering the unknown in a situation where one knows nothing.
My approach was different.
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If the First Prince was the excellent piece standing on a chessboard, I was the one looking down at the board and moving the pieces.
There was no reason to pioneer the unknown.
I had no unknowns to begin with.
The party within the illusion does not fight monsters.
They do not suffer hardships before traps.
They simply run.
Continuously.
Like a marathon.
Downward.
Again downward.
Because there was no process of finding paths, dismantling traps, or battling monsters, the time taken to reach the boss room of the dungeon was very short.
Thus, my fully powered party entered the dungeon.
The boss of this dungeon appeared 10 seconds after we entered.
The spawn location is fixed. It doesn’t use any troublesome patterns.
What does that mean?
It means that ten seconds later, a sandbag will appear, asking to be hit.
The wizard who entered the boss room without any consumption pours everything into the boss.
Consequently, the boss falls into a groggy state from the thread and is attacked by all party members.
The boss, who had appeared menacingly, is shattered like a toy that children play with.
As the strategy concluded, the illusion disappeared, but neither applause nor admiration erupted.
Not from the stall owner.
Not from the spectators.
Not even from the First Prince.
Everyone was staring blankly at the spot where the illusion had been.
I approached the stall owner, making footsteps in the silence, and asked him,
“Did I win?”
“You foolish mustache. Come on. Say it. I won.”
When the duel was first decided, the First Prince clearly stipulated it.
If either of them passes the stall, that one wins.
If both pass the stall, then the speed at which each party conquers the dungeon will determine the winner.
Look. No matter how you look at it, I seem faster than the hikikomori prince, don’t I?
Even though it was clear who would win, the stall owner didn’t open his mouth and instead glanced at the First Prince.
Was he afraid to say the First Prince lost?
As the stall owner hesitated, the crowd's murmurs grew louder.
Those who had been confused were slowly returning to reality.
Hmm. I didn’t expect this.
“Hey, stall owner.”
At that moment, the First Prince broke the long silence with his voice.
“...Yes!?”
“This answer sheet. Is it okay for me to see it?”
“Of course!”
With an expressionless face, he flipped through my answer sheet while muttering.
“The leaps are too extreme. It’s all a gamble.”
It’s not a leap; it’s a judgment that can only be made because I know everything.
Don’t be ridiculous when you don’t even know.
If you want to argue about that, then come at me.
With the pride of an old hand, I’ll refute every point.
Now! If you have something to say, go ahead!
“I lost.”
[Quest Clear!] [You have successfully become the Festival Slayer!] [Rewards will be given!]
...Huh?
What?!