"So... this is the Shinjuku Dungeon."
March 18th.
Just one day after my eighteenth birthday, I arrived at the Shinjuku Dungeon, located right inside Shinjuku Station.
Passing through the Dungeon Gate, I was immediately greeted by the sight of a black obelisk and a magic circle. It was a Ruins Type dungeon, just as the reports had said. I gave a firm nod of confirmation.
A dungeon.
This is a real dungeon...!
Ever since dungeons first appeared, I’ve been waiting for this day with every fiber of my being.
"It’s been so long...!!"
It really had been a long time.
I’d spent my high school years grinding away at part-time jobs. Even so, I never slacked on my training, preparing for the day I’d finally become an Explorer.
I ran every day to build endurance and practiced with a wooden sword in our cramped yard. I worked so much I nearly failed my classes. I put up with the judgmental looks of classmates—I was the only one with no plans for college or a "real" job—but somehow, I made it through graduation...!
The day after the ceremony, I immediately signed up for the mandatory two-week training course. Then, on my eighteenth birthday, I passed the Explorer qualification exam with flying colors.
Today, my life of leveling finally begins.
My research was thorough, and my roadmap for efficient leveling was flawless.
"Even the gear I bought with my hard-earned savings is top-notch...!!"
I looked myself over. For my debut, I’d equipped a monster-leather breastplate and a steel longsword. I wore steel-toed safety boots, carried a large mountain-climbing rucksack, and topped it off with a helmet featuring a built-in camera.
For a rookie Explorer, it was a solid kit.
The camera helmet wasn’t a fashion choice; it was actually a legal requirement.
In a dungeon, human remains and man-made objects don't last. After a short while, the dungeon absorbs them and they simply vanish. That means you can’t set up permanent surveillance. If a murder happens, the evidence disappears right along with the body. It’s effectively a lawless zone.
It doesn't take a genius to figure out what happens in places like that.
To combat this, the government—specifically the World Explorer’s Organization (WEO)—mandated that all Explorers record their activities. Footage is uploaded in real-time to DungeonTube, a platform run by the Explorer Association. If an incident or accident occurs, the data serves as vital evidence.
It’s basically a dashcam for people, acting as a deterrent against trouble between Explorers. It’s also used to track location if an Explorer goes missing or calls for rescue.
Explorers have the option to set their footage to public or private. Publicly broadcasting means your secrets are laid bare to everyone, not just the Association. Even so, many choose to go public for "certain reasons."
Since DungeonTube is often filled with gore, the site is strictly 18+. Some Explorers edit their footage into cleaner, all-ages versions to post elsewhere.
I’ll get into the perks of that later. Personally, I keep mine private, so it’s not something I worry about.
"Time to move."
High-spirited, I began my advance into the Shinjuku Dungeon’s First Floor.
The First Floor was a stone-carved ruins structure. Square niches lined the walls at regular intervals, each containing a magical candle that burned eternally. While the light was dim, the sheer number of candles made visibility manageable.
My footsteps echoed against the stone. Being so deep underground, the air had a distinct chill to it. As I walked, the groups of Explorers near the entrance thinned out until I was alone in the catacomb-like passages.
"Just as quiet as the rumors said."
That was the whole reason I picked this place. To be blunt, Shinjuku is an unpopular dungeon.
The first floor of every dungeon in the world always features Slimes plus one other monster type. It’s no exaggeration to say a dungeon's popularity hinges entirely on what that second monster is.
Inorganic and insect-type dungeons are the most popular, followed by animal-types. Humanoid-type dungeons, on the other hand, are dead last.
The psychological hurdle of killing something humanoid is just too high for most rookie Explorers.
Think about it. In our modern society, very few people have experience killing anything. Most might handle a bug or a fish, but a small animal? That’s a bridge too far for many. When the target isn't an animal but something that looks human, that instinctive revulsion is overwhelming.
Sure, bugs are gross, but you don't feel guilty for squashing them. With animals or humanoids, that hesitation can be fatal.
This means the "popular" dungeons are constantly overcrowded. On the first floors, you’re lucky if you even find a monster before someone else kills it. In contrast, the unpopular spots are teeming with mobs, even right at the start.
That’s why Shinjuku is ignored, despite being in such a prime location. Because here, the main attraction is Goblins.
But less competition means a higher encounter rate, which is the key to efficient leveling. That’s why I chose this place.
Once I can reach the deeper levels, the encounter rates even out across all dungeons, but for a beginner? Shinjuku is the place to be.
"First Goblin found...!!"
As I walked, lost in thought, I caught movement about twenty meters ahead in the dim passage. I squinted into the gloom. It was the size of a young child, but it was definitely not human.
It had long, pointed ears, a hooked nose, and a mouthful of jagged teeth set in a face twisted with malice. It was almost entirely naked, save for a scrap of hide around its waist. Its skin was a sickly mottled green and brown, and it clutched a crude wooden club in its right hand.
I drew my longsword.
A Goblin. In games, they’re just low-level fodder. But in a real dungeon, things are different. Goblins are dangerous.
First Floor Goblins don't have skills, and while they’re quick, they aren't exceptionally strong. Purely based on Status, a grown man with a weapon should be able to kill one even at level one.
The problem is that Goblins are stone-cold killers. They don't flinch. Even if you block their club, they’ll go for your eyes with their claws or try to rip your throat out with their teeth the second they see an opening. Small as they are, they are perfectly capable of killing a person. Many Explorers have died to Goblins since the dungeons opened.
But the real issue is...
"Gugyaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!"
The Goblin spotted me and shrieked, its intent to kill unmistakable. It lunged forward with the speed of a wild animal. I tightened my grip on my sword, my palms slick with sweat.
The resolve to kill. The lack of hesitation. That primal, merciless mindset is something modern people have lost. That psychological gap can easily overcome a slight edge in physical strength, giving the Goblin the win—just like it had for so many others.
Ten meters. Five. It closed the gap in a heartbeat. It was too late to run. My heart wavered—no, I was terrified.
Despite its bloodlust, it looked more human than any ape. Could I actually kill it? This was my first real test as an Explorer.
Could I do this? I’d killed a Slime during training, but a Slime doesn't even look alive. A Goblin is different. And a lot stronger.
I wasn't a psychopath or some freak who enjoyed killing. I was just an ordinary guy who wanted to level up in the real world. For someone like me—no, there was no time left for doubt.
"Gaaaaaaaah!!"
Two meters. Screaming, the Goblin brandished its club and leapt. My hands shook as I raised my sword—
"Hnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnh!!!!!"
I put everything I had into a full-force overhead strike, slamming the blade into the Goblin’s skull.
"Gogya!!?"
"Hnun! Hnun! Hnnnnnnnnnnh!!!!!"
I didn't stop. I swung again and again and again.
"Experience points! Experience points! Experience poiiiiiiiiiiints!!!!!"
I hacked away in a frenzied trance, trying to bury the guilt and revulsion under a mountain of violence.
"Hah... hah... hah...!"
I lost count of the strikes. When I finally came to, the Goblin was a mangled, twitching mess on the floor, surrounded by a pool of dark blood. It was definitely dead.
The body and the blood began to dissolve into particles of light. All that remained was a thumb-sized crystal. A Magic Stone—the guaranteed drop from every monster.
I tucked the stone into my rucksack and let out a long, relieved breath. "That was it? Man, those internet warnings had me all worked up for nothing."
Seriously, common sense dictates that the rush of gaining experience points is way better than feeling bad about some Goblin. They don't even leave a messy corpse; they just go poof like a video game. Honestly, knowing every kill brings me closer to a level-up? It’s practically therapeutic.
"Experience points~♪ Experience points~~♪"
Humming to myself, I headed deeper into the dungeon, looking for my next hit of XP.