Chapter 30

The Dopamine Addict

Immediately after the training simulation ended, a letter arrived from the Commander.

Written across it in neat handwriting were the following words:

[Haydam Goodman is hereby authorized to participate in the subjugation campaign.]

Judging by how dry the ink is, he must have written this in advance.

It seemed the Commander had also expected me to pass the test.

It wasn’t that he didn’t believe my confession about being a regressor. Apparently, he simply wanted to confirm my abilities.

As everyone wrapped things up after the exercise, the cadets could no longer even meet my eyes, unlike before.

Plato was the sole exception. He stared at me with burning admiration.

Plato’s strategy itself wasn’t bad.

At the very least, he had correctly predicted that I would infiltrate their camp.

An ordinary ten-year-old would have fallen for it.

The problem was that I’m a player.

I was more familiar with this training ground than any of the cadets.

While clearing the Cola Zone in the game, I had even completely renovated this place once.

What else could cadets who haven’t even graduated from the academy have done here besides mock battles?

In other words, our respective levels of understanding of this training ground were fundamentally different.

Besides, I had never intended to win by planting my flag in the enemy camp in the first place.

There was a high chance that they would plant their flag in my camp while I was away.

In other words, total annihilation had been my only available route.

But I didn’t expect those guys to have no intention of planting their flag either.

Thanks to that miscalculation, Plato had remained behind, reducing their fighting strength and making the others much easier to dispose of.

Truthfully, I had memorized all the NPCs’ habits, weaknesses, and combat patterns, so I wouldn’t have lost even in a direct confrontation.

Plato, however, was an NPC who required caution.

Despite being a soldier, he was a stubborn fool who followed his convictions. Worse, he was highly capable—a potential coup waiting to explode—and there was no telling which direction he might turn.

Since Meursault was essentially an upgraded version of Plato, I had originally intended to treat Plato as a disposable piece.

But after seeing him predict my route and instinctively avoid my ambush, I decided he was worth recruiting.

That was why I trusted the sandbags I normally wore for training and chose a frontal confrontation with Plato.

Against the other cadets, however, I had used Operation 3B.

The 3Bs: Cowardly, Despicable, and Dishonorable.

In any case, it had been a truly enjoyable time.

The military academy route was something players only used in the very early stages, and no one used it anymore. Because of that, I had never encountered Plato during his cadet days.

For some reason, it felt as though I had returned to my roots.

How satisfying.

I hoped the cadets had learned something valuable as well.

***

After the training simulation ended in Haydam’s victory, Meursault summoned each of the participating cadets one at a time and demanded that they give an honest assessment of Haydam.

Their opinions of him were divided between two extremes.

One cadet who had fallen victim to Haydam’s ambush trembled with indignation and gave the following evaluation:

“I’ve never seen such a cowardly ten-year-old in my life!”

Meursault frowned slightly.

“Isn’t an ambush cowardly by its very nature?”

“I don’t mind that he hid and ambushed us. In fact, when the two cadets at the very rear were caught in the first attack and helplessly shot with paint rounds, I was impressed. But then…”

“But then?”

“Do you know what Lord Haydam did afterward?”

“What did he do?”

“He lowered his gun.”

“Hmm?”

“Then he approached us, saying that the Commander had secretly entrusted him with a message for us.”

“Ah…”

“Yes. Naturally, it was a trick to make us lower our guard. The moment we approached him, he opened fire.”

“Good grief.”

“I survived until the end and fled, but Lord Haydam, who was pursuing me, suddenly fell over with a loud cry.”

“Lord Haydam… fell? Don’t tell me…”

“Yes. That was an act too. I was terrified that he might have been hurt, so I approached him, and the moment I did, he stabbed me.”

“Hmm.”

“How could he exploit a cadet’s good nature like that? He only just turned ten, yet he can already be so cowardly! I fear for the future!”

Meursault thought that if they were going to discuss cowardice, then eight cadets on the verge of graduation ganging up on a single ten-year-old in a mock battle would be condemned first.

He did not say it aloud.

Another cadet offered a different evaluation.

“He seemed like a seasoned soldier.”

“Hmm?”

It was completely different from the previous cadet’s assessment, so Meursault asked with interest:

“What made you think that?”

“It wasn’t only that he saw us approaching, circled around, and came at us from the rear. It was also the way he deceived us by claiming he had a message to deliver after launching his ambush. Since he attacked from the rear, the cadets at the front would have fled and hidden behind the terrain if he had simply left them alone. Then Lord Haydam, whose position had already been exposed, would have been at a disadvantage. That’s why he tricked us into staying put so we couldn’t escape any farther. That aspect of him… felt like a veteran soldier.”

After saying that much, the cadet hesitated briefly over whether to continue before quietly adding:

“This may sound strange, but Lord Haydam seemed familiar with that training ground, as though he had already fought several mock battles there. No… ‘familiar’ isn’t strong enough. He looked comfortable there.”

“Hmm.”

Some cadets seemed to harbor nothing but resentment after suffering the humiliation of being toyed with by a ten-year-old.

However, there were also quite a few who, like this cadet, calmly and accurately assessed Haydam.

In truth, Meursault could understand the feelings of those who had given Haydam negative evaluations.

Haydam does have a tendency to disregard people as a matter of course…

Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he made no effort to win anyone’s approval.

Meursault believed that people might fear Haydam upon first meeting him, but they would find it difficult to like him.

Of course, there was also one cadet who gave an utterly baffling assessment.

It was Plato, Captain Anton’s son.

“Lord Haydam is a god.”

What the hell is wrong with this bastard?

Naturally, Plato—the one who had faced Haydam until the very end—was the only cadet to offer such an absurd evaluation.

Meursault compiled an overall assessment that included even Plato’s remarks and submitted the report to the Commander.

Until that moment, he had never imagined that there might be another motive behind suddenly ordering Haydam to undergo a training simulation and instructing him to organize and report the evaluations.

Meursault had merely assumed that the Commander planned to brag about his child somewhere.

Then, after reading the entire report, the Commander dropped a bombshell that left him horrified.

“I’m placing Haydam in charge of this subjugation operation.”

“What did you just say?!”

***

The Commander wasn’t in his right mind either.

“Who puts someone in command of a real operation just because he crushed a few cadets in a training simulation? Honestly, Father.”

“This is hardly the time to criticize His Excellency.”

Meursault stared at me with an indescribably troubled expression.

“Why didn’t you refuse, Lord Haydam?”

“Well, if he says he’s giving it to me, why would I bother refusing?”

Naturally, if the Commander publicly announced that he was placing a ten-year-old in charge, even the officers belonging to the pro-Hayden faction would object.

Therefore, Major General Meursault was officially listed as the commander of this operation.

That was why Meursault was here with me now.

Everyone else had been told that I was being brought along to observe and learn from Meursault.

In other words, even if the operation failed because of a plan I devised, Meursault would be the one blamed for it.

“Haa…”

Meursault stood there rubbing the bridge of his nose for a moment before asking me,

“Are you confident?”

“Confident?”

“A mock exercise and actual combat are completely different. To begin with, mock exercises are training against people, while real operations are wars against monsters. Of course, Lord Haydam killed a hippo-pig with a single shot, but the other soldiers can’t do that. That is what concerns me most.”

“You’re worried I’ll make a plan assuming everyone else can perform at my level?”

“You understand perfectly.”

“You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Don’t tell me you intend to devise a strategy suited to everyone else’s level. You, Lord Haydam?”

What the hell did this guy think of me?

“Of course not. I’ll only take people capable of operating at my level.”

“…That answer was so completely in line with what I expected that I have nothing to say. However…”

Meursault looked down at the route I had selected for the subjugation campaign and muttered,

“What the cadets said was true. You seem far too familiar with this.”

“Do I?”

“Yes. What’s more, this route… could never be known merely from having ventured outside the zone a few times to hunt. Are you saying you understood it just by looking at the map?”

I had no intention of telling Meursault that I was a regressor yet.

Nothing good would come from too many people believing that.

Even deceiving the Commander had taken considerable resolve.

If another player later reported to him that I was a player, my lie would be exposed instantly.

I would reveal that I was a player to the Commander only after we had built a bond too deep to undo.

Or after my faction had grown too powerful for even the Commander to do anything about it.

At that moment, the ring grew hot.

It was almost as though it were protesting my deception of the Commander.

Stay quiet. I’m doing all this to save him.

I muttered that inwardly without thinking, and the heat in the ring rapidly subsided as though it had understood me.

What in the world is this ring?

For now, it would be best to give Meursault a plausible excuse.

I deliberately spoke as though he were making a fuss over nothing.

“Meursault, you were overly surprised when I memorized everyone’s names at once too. Is it really that shocking that I know how to read a map?”

“But…”

“If I couldn’t do even this much, Father wouldn’t have entrusted me with the operation.”

“Hmm…”

A subjugation campaign.

Various alien monsters lived outside the zones.

Ideally, whenever we launched a subjugation campaign, we would drive the monsters as far away as possible. However, doing so would push the displaced monsters toward another zone.

That would cause the people of that zone either to flee into ours or to set their sights on our territory.

For that reason, subjugation forces always advanced only to an appropriate point before turning back.

Of course, barriers existed between the zones, so players could not cross them in the first place.

In any case, merely knowing that subjugation forces emerged periodically was enough to keep alien monsters from approaching the zone carelessly.

Small and medium-sized monsters such as antler rabbits and hippo-pigs were occasionally spared even when spotted, whereas large monsters were killed on sight. As a result, large monsters made their habitats as far from the zones as possible.

Unlike smaller monsters, which lingered around the zones in search of corpses and other refuse, large monsters also preyed on other monsters. Therefore, they had no need to approach the zones.

Large monsters only came close when they ran out of food.

That was precisely why we carried out subjugation campaigns regularly.

Large monsters driven far away from the zones inevitably faced limits in finding prey, causing them to move back toward populated territory.

And why did they arrive when snow began falling on the mountaintops?

Because alien monsters were highly resistant to cold but weak against heat.

When the weather grew warm, the monsters reduced their activity to an absolute minimum and buried themselves beneath the snow.

That caused visible prey populations to decline, and the large monsters that struggled to find food approached the zones.

In other words, a subjugation campaign was a battle against large monsters.

“Until now, you’ve been defeating the monsters first, then locating and destroying the gem, correct?”

“That is correct.”

“It should be easier to destroy only the gem. Killing a large monster consumes that many more resources, and it also leaves us with less edible meat.”

“You’ve only encountered small and medium-sized monsters, so you wouldn’t know. The location of a gem differs from monster to monster. Smaller monsters are simply too small for its position to vary much. Even among large monsters of the same species, the gem’s location is different.”

I chuckled as I listened to Meursault.

“Do you think I don’t know that?”

“You know, yet you still claim we need only destroy the gems…”

“No. I truly do know.”

“Know what?”

“The locations of their gems.”

“Pardon?”

“The key to this operation will be efficiency.”

Why were players able to ignore the monsters added in the Second Apocalypse and focus on battling one another in survival matches?

Because they knew how to target the gems that served as the monsters’ cores.

Although every gem appeared in a different location, patterns existed that allowed one to determine whether it was on the left or right, inside or outside the body, and so on.

For example, if a monster had a wound on one side of its body, the gem would be located on the opposite side.

If part of the monster’s body was aflame, the gem would be embedded near its horn.

The common thread was that these patterns had developed to protect the gem, the monster’s vital point.

That much could be shared with other NPCs.

There was also a way to determine the gem’s location with even greater precision, but that could not be shared.

Not because it was knowledge that only players were permitted to possess.

It was because it belonged to the realm of instinct.

Experience accumulated over repeated playthroughs.

Just by hearing a monster’s cry or watching the way it approached, I could think, Ah, that one has its gem in its navel.

It was difficult to explain—a kind of intuition born from experiencing the same things over and over again.

Only players who had completed multiple playthroughs could possess such an ability.

And among all players, my intuition was the sharpest.

That ability had also played a part in allowing me to tame the flying monsters that appeared during the Second Apocalypse.

The veteran players from the other zones were probably surviving through the same intuition, even if theirs was not as refined as mine.

…Except for the dentist from the Candy Zone, of course. That newbie had never even played the game before, let alone completed multiple runs.

Come to think of it, are they all still alive?

T-Bastard had always been the kind of person who replied only when he felt like it, but the other players had been far too quiet as well.

Thinking that, I opened the chat window and flinched in surprise.

What?

New messages had piled up in the public chat.

Why didn’t I notice them coming in?

I checked the settings and found that message notifications had been turned off.

I vaguely remembered disabling them because having messages appear in front of my eyes the instant they arrived had become annoying.

I opened the chat and checked the most recent message.

[TotallyPossible: So there are two Dopamine Addicts, then?]

…What the hell was that supposed to mean?