Surviving the Assassin Academy as a Genius Professor-Chapter 216: [Main Story] No.5 Hero Party Decision Match (2)
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< A star of unknown identity?offers condolences to the old man. >
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***
“I sounded him out separately before.”
Before we went to visit the King, Rebecca spoke in worry.
“Father still isn’t... making a move on Setian as Chair.”
“What did he say?”
“Watch.”
Then Rebecca reproduced, with [Illusion], the moment she had had a private audience with the King.
Do you still not recognize it?
Enough. He’s a friend who has been with me for a long time. How can you suspect one who has shared this nation’s rise and fall with me?
Father. It’s not suspicion.
Enough!
My chest clogged with frustration.
When the King says stop, even the Princess cannot say more.
“...Why is that?”
After the “Pink Drug” spread, Setian had been keeping as quiet as possible. Because standing out would be dangerous.
Silence is also language.
Cash is also a commodity.
Stillness is also a strategy.
So far it had worked. In practice, only the King could come and go from the Elder Council Chair’s domain, the de facto No. 2 in the kingdom.
Conversely, if even once the King were to take the “Pink Drug” and enter Setian’s domain, the countless secrets he’d hidden would be exposed. But that one time was not happening.
“Why.”
This was Hiaka III, the Iron Sovereign, who had once overturned anything that irked him.
“...Because he’s old.”
Rebecca bit her lower lip.
“Old people don’t like their peace being disturbed.”
It brings to mind the old man who wouldn’t sell his house even for billions from a construction company.
“And Father is probably doubting his own judgment.”
Because of dementia?
“Whew...”
It was suffocating. A man once strong had grown old. Once a Challenger, an undefeated swordsman, an iron-blooded sovereign—yet the boldness of youth breaks. Even so, only the King can drive Setian out of the royal house.
What should we do?
***
“Open.”
At the King’s gesture, [Illusion] unfolded upon the wooden board. His base and mine appeared.
“Your Majesty. Please crush that young, arrogant professor’s nose.”
“...Do your best.”
The chamberlain sat by the King’s side, Rebecca by mine, cheering.
“Let’s begin.”
“Yes.”
The rules of Hiaka Royal are quite simple.
You secure funds.
With them you deploy units or cast magic to attack the enemy.
If you destroy the opponent’s base within about ten minutes of game time, you win.
Thus, to win, you must read the opponent’s strategy, and at the same time consider the difference in money between you and them.
‘The King favors a one-shot, heavy-hitting strategy.’
If one could read character through a game, ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) Hiaka III’s nature is exceedingly extreme. He mainly uses “Dragon” and “Giant” strategies: gathering power into hefty units to smash the opponent in a single blow.
He was the sort of man who, fifty years ago, ate only barley bread and water for a year to wipe out a northern mountain-cartel.
“You’ve brought the Totem strategy again, I see.”
In contrast, I had brought a long-range Totem setup to bait his attacks.
If you declare from far away, “I’m going to hit you!”—then if the opponent doesn’t want to get hit, he must grit his teeth and come break my totems.
“Your Majesty. It’s the 『Spectrometer』.”
The moment I placed the Spectrometer, the King knit his brows.
“Coward. How does a man come to prefer such a base tactic?”
“You must block it.”
If the King spends money here to block, he can’t field a Dragon. I would seize initiative.
“......”
An anomaly occurred.
The King did not block.
Even as my “Spectrometer” went pew-pew! from afar, firing beams to harry the royal side, he refused to block.
“As if I’d be swayed by such cheap tricks.”
I was in a bind.
“As expected of Your Majesty.”
“You’re reckless, Father.”
The chamberlain smiled; Rebecca folded her arms.
“Recklessness brought me to this seat.”
He set a Wind-element mage behind the Dragon, and an Alligator Bomber by its side. The Wind mage added acceleration to the whole force; the Alligator Bomber prepared for a strike.
Since I’d spent to pull the Spectrometer, the gap widened. His crushing blow only grew heavier.
KWA-BOOM!
At last one of my buildings fell. Yet the King’s face brimmed with leisure. His forces were already crossing into my base.
“Professor Dante. You said you’d teach him, but at this rate you’ll lose again.”
The chamberlain laughed as he spoke. We’d had similar patterns several times before, and each time I lost because I couldn’t stop that one strike.
‘Indeed... difficult.’
I had played the King several times. I’d played Ezekiel dozens of times. After summoning Cain and feeding him algorithms, I’d played hundreds of times.
But under these exact conditions, I had never once succeeded in defending.
If I did stop it, that would be strange.
In my hand was ten coins.
The opponent’s attack cost twenty.
Even so...
“Well.”
Today would be different.
“Do you have a way, Professor?”
“I do.”
I closed my eyes and focused on the inner status window.
⋮
< Board Game │ You have selected 『Hiaka Royal』. >
< Cost to reach proficiency 99.99% is 72 Shards of the Star. Invest? >
⋮
A lavish investment just to improve at a board game—but if it’s the bedridden King’s only hobby, the circumstances change.
⋮
< Investment complete. >
< Shards of the Star on hand: 31 (▼72) >
⋮
After the Shards of the Star shooped away inside me, complex sensations bored into my mind.
Understanding of income flow.
Understanding of unit traits.
Understanding of card cycling.
Understanding of terrain...
They flooded in like a tide.
I used defense towers positioned in exquisite spots to drag the Alligator Bomber out of the pack.
With tiny units, I lured the Wind mage away.
“Ah.”
Rebecca let out a soft exclamation.
‘The reason a one-shot is terrifying is because it is compacted.’
Things that are strong when clumped become weak once scattered.
As units spread and were cut down one by one, the ease drained from the King’s face.
“......”
He pressed the offensive a little harder after that, and by a hair he broke through me and claimed victory.
“His Majesty wins.”
The tense chamberlain exhaled with a laugh. Rebecca, on the other hand, stared at the board, unable to smile.
“A complete defeat. Your Majesty.”
“...I owe Father an apology. Dante.”
“Yes. I was presumptuous. I beg your pardon.”
I bowed my head.
No answer came.
So when I slowly raised it, I was mildly surprised inside.
“......”
Hiaka III was boring into me with those dragon-like eyes.
“One more game.”
“Yes.”
The next game unfolded the same. I sent in assassins with an “Assassin Strategy” to constantly harry his base, but I ate a single blow and lost.
“Again.”
“Yes.”
The next one wasn’t much different. This time with a “Goblin Strategy,” I ran nickel-and-dime guerrillas to get under his skin, but I took a single blow and lost.
“Again.”
“Yes.”
“Again.”
“Yes.”
“Again...”
⋮
Thus we played ten straight, and I did not defeat him even once.
Spectators’ reactions split.
“Seems the professor still can’t match His Majesty.”
“I suppose it can’t be helped. Father can hold even against professional players, and this man has only just begun.”
“But he’s a man famed as a genius professor, isn’t he? If he works at it, he’ll reach the realm soon enough.”
But not yet, they added. Rebecca turned her eyes aside with a bland face.
The King himself, however, was quiet.
“......”
Despite a ten-game streak, his expression was not good.
No wonder—through repeated wins, he would have felt something off.
“Shall we stop for today, Your Majesty? It’s nearly time for those with reports to arrive.”
In fact they had already come and were waiting outside.
But the King didn’t care.
When he fell silent and gazed down at the board, the chamberlain also closed his mouth.
A strange stillness descended on the sickroom.
The King was replaying.
“Professor Dante.”
“Yes.”
“That last tower placement—you put it there on purpose.”
“No, Your Majesty.”
“No? You placed it in the same spot six times, then on the last, one tile to the side.”
“A mistake.”
“Then why did you cast the Whirlwind spell earlier than usual?”
“...It seems my focus wavered at the end.”
“No. No, that’s not it. You chose to cast early. Looking back, the assassins’ positions were odd as well. Are you toying with me?”
The King asked, expressionless.
“How could I be.”
I answered, also expressionless.
“It seems a matter of finishing strength. Tomorrow I won’t lose focus to the end.”
“......”
The visit ended there.
“...Half a success.”
Once outside, Rebecca spoke. I nodded.
“His Majesty must be angry.”
“Yes. Father licked his lower lip.”
They say when the King flicks his tongue, he’s really pissed.
“......”
To put it plainly, yes, I lost on purpose.
The chamberlain, even watching, likely didn’t notice.
But the person involved definitely felt it.
He is the King. The living history of Hiaka. But in the end, just one man— and when playing a game, just a gamer.
And I understand gamer psychology better than anyone.
When do gamers get angry? When they feel an overwhelming gap? When they lose to a comeback? No.
When they feel the game is unfair.
For instance, when the rules are wrong. When the referee makes a bad call. When the opponent uses cheats or exploits. Then a gamer feels rage he cannot endure.
“But how did you do it? The mood flipped right from the middle of the first match... Father’s face suddenly hardened then too.”
Rebecca asked.
“Secret.”
What—am I supposed to say I boosted my skill with Shards of the Star?
I’ll admit it. Using Shards of the Star to raise skill is an exploit. A cheat. Not a fair contest.
But I wasn’t playing a board game with him to compete in the first place.
The rage of unfairness is terrifying. In Brazil, during a soccer match, a referee stabbed a player, and spectators killed the referee.
Even a lukewarm old man would be driven to many thoughts. Follow those thoughts, and he may reach a certain conclusion.
“But still, only half a success.”
“Half?”
“The goal is to agitate Father, right? To break the peace and open the gate for movement.”
She said that because she hadn’t read the flow of the match.
“Let’s wait and see.”
If I was right, the King would realize more than that.
***
Chamberlain Lutemin watched the King’s mood. “Your Majesty...” he called, but received no answer.
After finishing all business, Hiaka III sat on the sickbed, staring at the board for hours.
Using the recall function, he kept replaying his game with Dante Hiakapo.
It puzzled the chamberlain.
‘...Was there something I don’t know?’
He narrowed his eyes. He had long been the man closest to the King, serving at his side. And it was rare for the King to be this grave—over state affairs or anything.
He was a man who knew answers. Even when the whole world opposed him, the King had many cases where he rammed through and succeeded.
For example, taking Rebecca in as Princess was one. From the Elder Council to all vassals, everyone objected, but trusting a single hunch, the King brought her into the palace.
For over ten years, that had stood as the King’s only misjudgment, a matter of constant gossip—but now the evaluation had flipped.
Rebecca had been publicly declared by a great magician to have “magical talent to contend at the world’s summit,” and the kingdom had taken as son-in-law the greatest young professor.
Thus a man who knew answers now stood halted before a problem, thinking.
“......”
Then it happened. Suddenly the King’s eyes widened.
“What is it, Your Majesty?”
“...The brat was testing me.”
“Pardon?”
A rare, flustered tone escaped him.
“When he attacked me, I thought I kept taking the hits. But that wasn’t it.”
“Then...?”
“The reason I prepared a one-shot was because I thought I could pierce him. Right before the sweep, I scouted and believed it would work.”
“Ah, yes.”
“And yet—what is this?”
At 0.5 speed, when he lit the entire field, something became visible.
In the darkness, one of Dante’s assassins looped behind... and started attacking himself.
“Ah!”
The chamberlain’s eyes went round.
“It wasn’t just one match.”
He replayed another.
In every game except the first, Dante attacked himself—in zones the King could not see.
“He kept luring me into an ambush.”
Because—
“Because he could block it. Because he was confident he could. Even if he took losses himself, he was sure he could handle me.”
The old King’s voice began to tremble, stained with anger. At first he had felt doubt at the sudden leap in skill, and disgust at the sense his field was being read. Once he grasped the truth, a greater fury surged.
“...Then why did he still lose?”
That was precisely it. At the chamberlain’s words, the King shut his eyes tight. He had understood. The impudent young professor’s message. He had structured the entire session for that one line.
“......”
An assassin stands inside the royal castle.
“...Lutemin.”
A fire rose in his chest.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Convene the Elder Council.”
The King rose to his feet.
