I love leveling up.
I love it, pure and simple.
I’ve always loved the process of grinding out levels for my characters in games, especially in the genre known as RPGs.
Of course, it isn’t that I don't enjoy the story or the battles against powerful foes. It's just that I love the act of leveling up more—even if that means the kind of repetitive, simple tasks that most would find painful.
I don’t think there’s much point in searching for a logical reason, but if I had to name one, it would be because the "level" system is perfectly fair to everyone.
Gaps in natural talent simply don't exist there. If you accumulate the necessary experience points, your level will always go up, and you’ll become stronger by that exact amount. It’s a kind, gentle system where effort is always rewarded.
—Back in elementary school, my dream was to go to the Olympics for swimming.
I went to a swimming school, worked my tail off, and entered all sorts of competitions. I even won a small regional tournament once. But as soon as I reached the major competitions, my results plummeted. There were just too many people who were faster than me.
Even accounting for the fact that I was born late in the year and was small for my age, there was still a cold, hard difference in talent that I simply couldn't overcome.
It’s not like those kids were faster than me because they weren't trying. They were probably putting in just as much effort as I was, maybe even more. I knew that.
Even so, the gap in talent is a cruel thing.
It was likely the first major setback of my life.
And so, in the winter of my sixth-grade year, right before entering middle school, I quit the sport I’d been practicing since kindergarten.
Now, having said all that, it isn't as if I became a bitter youth, crushed by the cruelty of reality and resenting the world’s unfairness. It really wasn't that dramatic.
It was simply that this experience became a factor in why I got so hooked on leveling up.
To be honest, even that "setback" wasn't the main reason. Maybe there never was a reason to begin with.
At first, I just got hooked on games like Dragon Qu*st. I’d enjoy the story, hit a boss I couldn't beat, go grind some levels, and then feel the thrill of using the sheer violence of my excessive stats to crush an enemy I previously couldn't touch.
Eventually, the act of leveling up itself became the source of my pleasure. Just as adults might seek out small daily hits of dopamine through cigarettes, alcohol, or gambling, I began to indulge in the act of leveling up as my own form of escapism.
Level up. The brain gets a dopamine hit. Level up. Another hit. Level up. Another hit—
In this manner, I, Takeo Samejima, transformed into a full-blown leveling addict.
Most RPG fans could probably relate; it’s a common enough symptom.
However, in my case, the degree of addiction was apparently quite severe.
During my third year of middle school, while worrying about my future, I agonized over whether I could somehow make a living just by leveling up in games. I wanted to live a life where I did nothing but level up without ever having to work. That was my honest, unvarnished desire.
Realistically, however, that was difficult. If I loved "games in general" instead of just "leveling up," there might have been a path to becoming a professional e-sports player or a gaming streamer—regardless of whether I actually had the talent for it.
But what I loved, more than anything else, was the grind.
A video of someone doing nothing but killing monsters and leveling up for hours...
Would there be any demand for that?
No. None. Even if there were a one-in-a-trillion chance of it going viral, people would get bored in an instant. It wasn't a viable way to put food on the table.
Which meant that, in the future, I would be forced to join a company I hated, do work I didn't care about, and spend my life having my labor exploited for low wages while enduring a boss's power harassment. I’d be just another slave to the corporate grind with dead eyes! (Bias intended.)
No, no, no! I didn't want that!
In the winter of my third year of middle school, just as I was despairing over my life, a turning point arrived—as if God Himself had reached out a hand.
And it happened on a global scale.
"We apologize for the interruption."
Accompanied by words that were the very definition of a template, the evening variety show switched to an emergency news broadcast. Behind the serious-faced announcer, TV station staff were scurrying about frantically.
Initially, it was reported as a series of simultaneous sinkhole accidents in various locations across Tokyo—on roads, in parks, and inside train stations.
That would have been unusual enough, but not necessarily enough to keep the emergency broadcast running. However, as the minutes passed, new information came flooding in, and the world was plunged into chaos.
The simultaneous sinkholes weren't just happening in Tokyo.
Reports were coming in from urban areas across Japan—and eventually, from every major city in the world. Similar sinkhole accidents had occurred almost simultaneously.
It was obviously no accident.
What was happening?
Had there been simultaneous terrorist attacks across the entire globe?
The first to answer the questions and anxieties everyone shared wasn't the television, but social media.
The discovered "holes" had been reported immediately, and while the police had cordoned off the areas, a certain number of people had been caught in the collapses and fallen inside.
Some of those people eventually crawled back out—and they began posting photos and videos to the internet that had been taken inside the holes.
The content posted by people of all nationalities, genders, and ages was absolutely shocking.
Vast caves and ruins stretched out inside the holes. There were Black Obelisks and glowing magic circles near the entrances. There were even videos of translucent water cakes the size of puppies moving around, and humanoid monsters the height of young children attacking with faces full of murderous intent.
But the real kicker was the photos and videos posted by the people who had touched the Black Obelisk.
Floating in the air was a hologram-like display, showing categories like 【Level】, 【HP】, and 【Skill】.
The resulting firestorm on the internet was incredible.
'What's this? An ad for a new game?'
'Tons of similar photos and videos are coming out from all over the world.'
'This looks way too real. Is it some kind of viral marketing?'
'Man, if this is marketing, they’re spending an insane amount of money.'
'Wait, TVs in every country are starting to broadcast this footage too. If it were just on the web, maybe, but at this scale, there's no way it's a promotion.'
'Does that mean this stuff is actually real?'
'Hey, wait a sec lol. Shinjuku Station underground lol. They weren't kidding about it being a maze lol. Now it's a literal dungeon lol rofl.'
'Holy crap, did you see that short guy! I saw the video and it's terrifying! His face looks like he's actually out to kill someone!!'
'Are those supposed to be Slimes and Goblins?'
'I figured it out. These are dungeons. There's no doubt about it.'
'Official notice: The world has ended.'
'Are you kidding? The world just got started!'
'Dungeons! Levels! Skills! Fantasy is finally here!! lol'
'Earth has been patched.'
'The time has finally come for me to be the hero... I'm heading into the dungeon.'
Like everyone else, I was busy gathering information on social media.
By synthesizing the flood of data, I understood everything.
Apparently, the Earth had been encroached upon by fantasy.
"...I'm going."
The moment I saw the photos and videos of the Status screens, my resolve was set.
I grabbed the wooden sword I’d bought during my elementary school field trip, left my second-floor room, and headed downstairs.
—But as I made for the entrance, my father, who had just stepped out of the living room, stood in my way.
"Takeo, where do you think you're going?"
My father—Gendo Samejima, a man who looked like the dictionary definition of a stubborn old-school patriarch—asked.
I answered him with the solemn expression of a samurai prepared for battle.
"Father-dono... I am off to the dungeon."
"I see... and what do you plan to do there?"
"Naturally, as a son of Japan, I go to do my duty on the front lines."
"I see."
It seemed he was convinced.
Then, to the front!!
As I tried to march proudly past him, he placed a heavy hand on my shoulder.
"The hell are you talking about?!"
"Gwah?!"
I was sent flying by a shout that sounded like it belonged to a ship's captain.
●◯●
On the day dungeons appeared across the globe, I was restrained by my father and forbidden from leaving the house.
At the time, I figured I could just go the next day, but to my shock, by the following morning, every dungeon in Japan had been sealed off not just by the police, but by the Self-Defense Forces.
Naturally, there was no way I could break through a military blockade to enter a dungeon. I could do nothing but suck my thumb and wait for them to be opened to the public, all while meticulously researching every new fact discovered about the "dungeons."
However, contrary to my hopes, the national policy leaned toward keeping them completely sealed.
There were several serious reasons for this.
One: For some reason, the effectiveness of firearms dropped significantly inside the dungeons.
Two: Dungeons consisted of multiple levels, and the strength of the monsters within them jumped exponentially the deeper one went.
Three: Even in countries like the US or China, soldiers who attempted to reach the lower floors were forced into a humiliating retreat.
Basically, the government had judged dungeons to be too dangerous.
However, those of us captivated by the dungeons didn't see it that way. A portion of public opinion loudly insisted that this new frontier should be explored. Their arguments—and the counter-facts to the government’s stance—were as follows:
One: Monsters could not leave the dungeons. Even if they were forced out, they would vanish within seconds.
Two: Dungeons were filled with untapped resources.
Three: Supernatural powers like 【Level】 and 【Skill】 obtained inside the dungeon could not be used on the surface.
The monsters couldn't come out.
In other words, the dungeons weren't a threat to human safety.
In addition, the concern every government likely shared—the fear of a collapse in public order caused by people with superhuman abilities—was mitigated by the fact that those powers didn't work on the surface.
Still, the world couldn't immediately adapt to the sudden existence of dungeons. With a few exceptions, most nations maintained a cautious, closed-door policy.
But then...
It wasn't as if the dungeons themselves had grown tired of waiting, but public opinion was soon given a massive boost by two items discovered within them.
The first was a power generation device using Magic Stones (this was the formal name confirmed by the Appraisal skill), which monsters always dropped when defeated.
The second was a communication device that utilized magic power.
These two items had extremely simple structures, making replication and mass production easy. Despite their simplicity, the power generation device far exceeded the efficiency of thermal or nuclear power, and the communication device allowed for seamless contact between the dungeon depths and the surface.
With the discovery of these two items, the global demand for Magic Stones skyrocketed.
The military personnel of any single nation simply didn't have the manpower required to collect the necessary volume of stones.
To fill that gap, governments were forced to open the dungeons to the public.
It had been only ten months since the dungeons first appeared.
Legislation proceeded at a breakneck pace worldwide, and those who dove into the dungeons to bring back Magic Stones and other resources were officially recognized by society as "Explorers."
However...
In Japan, perhaps because they couldn't stomach the idea of sending minors into life-threatening dungeons, they decided that one could not obtain an Explorer license until reaching the adult age of eighteen.
But for me, my future was now set.
In the real world, a profession where I could live just by leveling up had actually been born. Furthermore, I wouldn't just be raising a game character’s level, but my own. Any game lover would be losing their mind over this, right?!
Well, technically it was a job where you earned a living by collecting and selling resources, so it wasn't 100% just leveling, but that part sounded interesting too.
In any case, I knew what I had to do.
I would turn eighteen right after graduating high school (graduation is March 1st; my birthday is March 17th).
The timing was almost perfect. I decided that the moment I finished school, I would become an Explorer.
I immediately broke the news to my parents.
"Father-dono, Mother-dono."
"...Whenever you use those titles, it's usually nothing good... What is it?"
"I'm not going to college! Once I graduate, I'm becoming an Explorer!!"
"I see. Denied. Go to college like a normal person. Get a job."
Father shot me down without a second thought. But I had seen that coming. It would be a problem if he underestimated my resolve.
"Father—I refuse to accept your rejection!!"
"Wha—?! What do you think you're doing, Takeo?!"
My father slammed the table to intimidate me, but I didn't flinch. Instead, I leaned in and threatened—I mean, persuaded my parents.
"If I can't be an Explorer, I'm never getting a job! If I can't be an Explorer, I'm going to be a total NEET! I'll never work a day in my life! I'll sponge off you forever! I'll leech off you guys so hard you'll feel it in your bones!! Once I latch on, I'm not letting go until the day I die!!"
"Y-You brat...!"
"Oh dear, Gendo-san, I really wouldn't like that. Taking care of this boy forever..."
Mother’s "support" arrived. She looked genuinely disgusted at the prospect of her own son staying home forever!
But it seemed Father realized this was a serious threat.
"Hnnngh...!!"
As Father made a sour face, I pressed my advantage. I made it clear: either I become an Explorer, or he takes care of a NEET for the rest of his life.
In the end, the prospect of me being a permanent fixture on the couch was too much for him.
"...Fine. Do whatever you want. But don't expect a single cent of help from me. If you need gear, save up your own money and buy it."
He finally broke.
And so, it was settled that I would become an Explorer after graduation. This all happened during my first year of high school.
From that point on, I dedicated my youth to working part-time jobs, grinding away to save the funds I’d need for my Explorer gear.
Time flew by, graduation passed, and finally, the day for me to officially become an Explorer arrived—