Mesugaki Tank Enters The Academy-Chapter 324: 2nd Semester Final Exam (21)

As Arthur stared at the corridor he encountered at the start of the final dungeon exam, a bitter laugh escaped him.

What on earth was I doing inside that dungeon?

How distracted was I to have missed all those clues right in front of me?

Without concern for the stares around him, Arthur covered his face with his hand, mentally retracing each clue Lucy had pointed out just moments before.

An intact ceiling.

Windows with no view outside.

A faded portrait with an impossible date below it.

A broken clock.

Each of the countless hints Lucy had indicated was meticulously detailed in the Dungeon Studies textbook.

At the end of the section explaining gimmicks, there’s a note under "Exceptions." In high-difficulty dungeons, methods are provided for distinguishing between reality and illusion.

Arthur, who had memorized every word of the textbook, now recalled this and clutched his forehead, as if trying to rip out his hair.

I was being toyed with by the dungeon’s boss.

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That wretch used illusions based on previous rooms, and I mistook it all for a new dungeon.

But that’s not what it was at all. The path we were following was simply a repeat of areas we’d already traversed.

Come to think of it, that makes sense.

Everything we encountered from the ground floor onward was just a repetition of trials we’d already passed!

Back then, we thought the resemblance was because our past experiences were helping us through, but that wasn’t it at all!

We were re-clearing obstacles we’d already overcome, so naturally, everything felt familiar!

The more Arthur pondered it, the more he realized how foolish he had been. He then recalled the things he had confidently told Lucy the previous day.

He’d boasted about conquering such a difficult dungeon.

Argh!

How must Lucy Allen have felt listening to him flaunt his supposed accomplishment?

How pitifully must she have viewed this oblivious fool, oblivious to the design she’d crafted.

No wonder her gaze was so odd when she came to meet us after we cleared it!

She wasn’t disappointed because she’d lost the bet—she was merely looking down on us in disgust!

With his face now flushed red in mortification, Arthur lowered his hands.

It terrifies me to think what she’ll say the next time I face her.

The thought that he might have to silently endure her rebukes, knowing he’d lost the bet, filled Arthur with dread.

Just as he began considering whether he could negotiate a trade between the bet’s prize and this shameful encounter, he saw Lucy Allen stepping onto the stairs that led underground.

“I’m tired of explaining how stupid you all are♡ So just sit back and savor how worthless you were♡ Pathetic losers♡”

With those final words, Lucy Allen descended the stairs, and the scene she encountered below was a training ground.

A horde of soldiers stood before those challenging the dungeon, weapons swinging.

Lucy Allen casually observed the scene, casting a brief glance at a boy lying sprawled on the stone floor as a girl scolded him, before exiting the training ground.

The next area was a cave. At its end, a party stood where a giant wolf once dominated.

In the center was a man resembling the boy who had just collapsed, staring in terror at an average-sized wolf. He looked up and offered his companions an awkward smile.

As before, Lucy merely observed the scene briefly and moved on.

What unfolded next was a vast plain.

The area, once filled with demonic golems, now lay strewn with real demon corpses and the bodies of several people, seemingly victims of the demons.

And there, alone in the middle, stood a man covered in blood, staring blankly into space without moving.

Lucy, with a detached gaze, briefly looked at him before slowly making her way to the fourth room.

Arriving there, she found herself in a hallway—not the original one, but a decrepit corridor encountered on the fourth floor.

Lucy deliberately filled the hallway with the sound of her footsteps as she made her way to its end.

“You’ve arrived.”

The formidable being who once guarded the end of the dungeon was no longer there.

Leaning against a closed door, he was no longer the menacing figure who’d driven Arthur’s party to countless deaths. Now, he was merely a weary man, too worn down by time to fight.

The creator outside the stage had become a pitiful figure.

“I put a lot of effort into preparing this stage, yet you chose to disregard it all. It’s truly disheartening.”

Detaching himself from the door, the man drew a sword from his waist.

“Even so, since a guest has come all the way here, it’s only right to respond as the master of this stage.”

But unlike the terrifying crimson aura Arthur’s party had faced, a faint gray aura now emanated from the sword.

“Come forth.”

At that moment, Lucy pulled out her own weapons for the first time.

In her right hand, she held her signature white mace; in her left, a brilliant white shield that seemed to hold the light of the sun.

Filling the room with divine energy, her appearance was so serene and holy that even those who knew her true nature couldn’t help but be awestruck.

As Lucy Allen and the man prepared to clash, everyone in the exam hall was certain of Lucy Allen’s victory.

When I designed the academy’s dungeon, I focused on two main points.

First, every student at the academy should be able to clear the dungeon.

I had heard that, since a student’s individual ability also factors into clearing a dungeon, it wouldn’t matter if I designed a dungeon that lower-ranked students couldn’t complete.

In the original game, most academy dungeons were only accessible once you’d reached a certain level anyway, so the real world wouldn’t be much different.

Still, I went out of my way to ensure that anyone could complete it.

I wanted my dungeon to benefit the academy’s students.

Back in the world behind the monitor, academy students were usually just extras. Except for a few illustrated characters, they weren’t even worth remembering.

But now, it’s different.

Every student at this academy has their own life.

They’re people living and breathing beside me, writing their own stories.

It didn’t matter to me whether they showed me kindness or not.

I hoped that, through the dungeon I created, at least one person could learn something that would help them survive other dungeons in the world.

I wanted them to turn the dungeon into their prey, not be its sacrifice.

That’s why I made every effort to design the dungeon so that all students could clear it.

Of course, my reasons weren’t entirely selfless.

There was also a personal desire involved.

I wanted everyone to enjoy my first dungeon, my masterpiece, crafted with all the ideas I’d accumulated as an academy veteran.

I wanted everyone to reach the end of the dungeon and be amazed by what they found.

In pursuit of this, I abandoned any compromise and nearly cracked my head open designing the real dungeon.

I’d never even opened the textbook since entering the academy, yet I flipped through it over ten times that night.

I wanted any student who had properly studied Dungeon Studies to notice something strange as they looked around the dungeon.

And I wanted them to realize that their knowledge could be applied in such a setting.

But... all my efforts went unrewarded.

The academy students’ dungeon-solving skills were far below my expectations.

True, I had intentionally made it challenging to notice the gimmicks, but still...

Only two parties across the entire academy managed to figure out the dungeon’s gimmicks! Isn’t that absurd?!

Actually, it wasn’t even two parties!

It was just two people!

Toby and Jeff.

Aside from these two, not a single person seriously considered the dungeon’s mechanics! How is that even possible?!

I knew not everyone would notice the gimmicks, but this is beyond ridiculous!

If I’d known they were such amateurs, I would’ve made a simpler dungeon.

If I’d known they were so clueless, I would have finished the design in an hour and gone to bed!

<I was wondering why every word you spoke was filled with venom. Turns out you were just angry.>

“Isn’t it strange not to be angry?! I worked really hard on that dungeon!”

How much effort did I put in for these academy students?

Instead of appreciation, all I heard were complaints, asking if the dungeon was even beatable!

Not being angry would be unnatural!

<I understand you worked hard, but perhaps the students, with their lack of experience, also have a point.>

“What point?!”

<Dungeons where you have to question everything aren’t common.>

“...That’s true, but still.”

Dungeons that require you to doubt every detail aren’t common.

To be precise, they can’t be common.

Most dungeons on earth stem from the power of Agra, the Dark God.

In other words, every time a dungeon is created, Agra’s power is used.

Therefore, high-level dungeons can never be too numerous.

Creating a high-difficulty dungeon requires Agra to use that much more power.

“If students don’t know that dungeons like this exist, they could die in the worst case.”

This isn’t a game.

There’s no such thing as “failing this time but trying again later.”

Not knowing means dying—not as a joke, but as someone’s last words.

The students, who surely understand this danger, didn’t prepare for a high-level dungeon at all!

And these are the ones claiming that clearing dungeons is a noble’s duty!

<Haha. Well, thanks to your efforts, the academy students now know that such dungeons exist and have learned how to tackle them. You’ve done a good job.>

“If you’re changing your tune now, it just looks like you’re afraid of retaliation.”

<To twist my goodwill in such a way—it pains this old man’s heart.>

Hearing the elder’s jest, I chuckled and looked around the room where all the battles had ended.

Instead of stepping toward the door to exit the dungeon, I placed my hand on the crystal orb installed next to it.

<Young lady, what are you planning?>

“Vent my frustration.”

What I’d shown so far was the proper way to clear the dungeon.

There were faster, easier ways and a host of tricks created during the dungeon’s development, yet I’d ignored them all and chosen the orthodox route.

I’d held back from my usual methods, creating a tutorial video for those amateurs. Now, I deserve some fun myself, don’t I?!

<Wait. Young lady! Showing your usual dungeon-clearing methods to others will only harm them...>

“Like I care? Those idiots need to know how pathetic they truly are.”

The tutorial for noobs is over.

The new lecture I’m about to start is the “pro gamer’s speedrun tutorial.”

I’ll show everyone exactly how it’s done.

Catch up if you can.

You miserable fools.