A massive joint project between the public and private sectors was underway. It had been initiated by the government, which proposed distributing small samples of dungeon-produced drop items to various domestic companies for research. After careful deliberation, the recipient companies had accepted the proposal. Once personnel and secret funding were secured, the operation was set into motion.
"I wonder... what exactly are these drop items?"
One particularly Young Researcher among the members drafted for the project muttered a complaint while staring at the diverse array of items stored in the vault.
"How should I know?" the Senior Researcher replied. "We don't even understand why the dungeons appeared in the first place. Leave that debate to the specialists after they’ve reached a conclusion. Our job right now is to figure out how to put what’s sitting in front of us to good use."
"I know that, but still..."
Though the Senior Researcher—his superior—had scolded him for wasting time on idle thoughts, the younger man couldn't suppress his curiosity.
"The material that makes up a dungeon is sourced from local soil, right?"
"According to the reports, yes. Samples from the walls and floors show molecular structures and compositions we've never seen before, but I haven't heard anything about new elements being discovered."
"Exactly. So, where did it get the raw materials?"
"Where? Well, I suppose..."
"Did they appear out of nowhere along with the dungeon? Or did they trade places with whatever was there before?"
The Senior Researcher found himself listening in spite of himself. He realized that everyone had been so preoccupied with the sudden appearance of the dungeons—dismissing it as a mere paranormal phenomenon—that they had glossed over the finer details.
"If the material came from somewhere else, what happened to the soil that was originally at the site? Since the dungeons appeared, there haven't been any reports of hills suddenly forming nearby, or valleys and rivers being filled in. And there’s no word of the dungeons being found deep underground, either."
"That’s true. If they had manifested from elsewhere, there would be significant topographical changes at the site."
"Right. And the 'swap' theory has its own holes. If they traded places, wouldn't it be strange that no substances absent from the surrounding soil were detected in the dungeon's composition? Even forensic investigators use soil traces to determine if a place was a crime scene."
"Fair point..."
The Senior Researcher nodded, his brow furrowing as he weighed the logic. The appearance of the dungeons was indeed abnormal. Japan was filled with seismographs, yet there were no records of any tremors at the estimated times of appearance. If the sensors across the country had reacted, they wouldn't have had to wait for the United States to contact them to realize something had happened.
"That's why I think the dungeons were created by rearranging the local soil."
"Rearranging it?"
"I can't imagine a dungeon forming without some kind of catalyst. I suspect things like 'Dungeon Cores'—to use game terminology—were scattered across the world. They acted as a center point, rearranging the surrounding earth to build the dungeon."
"..."
The Senior Researcher puzzled over the idea. A trigger was certainly necessary, but was the cause truly something so game-like?
"Think about it. When a monster is defeated, it turns into particles of light and vanishes. Biologically speaking, that's impossible, isn't it?"
"I suppose. If it were a living creature, there would be a corpse. Though I heard they recovered at least some bodies of foreign explorers who died inside, even if not all of them."
"Precisely. I think monsters aren't biological organisms, but pseudo-lifeforms created by the dungeon. That would explain why they vanish without a trace, and why a drop item appears in their place."
"...Just like a game."
The Senior Researcher admitted there was some merit to the theory, but he felt a twinge of distaste for such a game-centric hypothesis. Regardless of how much the mechanics resembled a video game, people were actually dying inside those places. He couldn't share the Young Researcher’s optimism or his apparent excitement.
"But if that's the case... where do the raw materials for the drop items come from?"
"...Hey."
"I suspect the dungeon gathers the necessary materials from the surrounding soil, and the Dungeon Core reconstructs them into the shape of an item."
A chill ran down the Senior Researcher’s spine. The Young Researcher, having voiced the thought, also began to break into a cold sweat. If this hypothesis was correct, it meant that as long as items were produced, the underground resources surrounding the dungeons would eventually be depleted. The Senior Researcher turned pale, while the Young Researcher wore a strained, forced smile. An eerie silence filled the room as they stared at each other.
"Well, it's just a guess. No evidence..."
"Y-yeah. Just a theory..."
Their eyes darted around, unable to mask their growing unease.
Suddenly, the Middle-aged Researcher burst into the vault, his round glasses gleaming.
"Big news! We've found an energy resource among the drop items that could replace nuclear power!"
...What!?
The two stood frozen for a beat before shouting in unison as the weight of the words sank in. An energy source to replace nuclear power—for a country like Japan, which relied almost entirely on foreign imports, it was nothing short of a godsend.
"Meeting in twenty minutes! Get to the conference room, now!"
Y-yes, sir!
Having delivered his message, the Middle-aged Researcher dashed back out of the vault with the same frantic energy. The two younger men scrambled to tidy up their samples and ran toward the meeting, eager to forget the grim realization they had reached just moments before.
The Federation of Electric Power Companies—an organization formed by the nation's major utilities—was convening. Representatives from various power companies had cleared their packed schedules to assemble in a secure conference room.
Every eye in the room was fixed on the footage playing on the monitors: an experiment involving a Core Crystal. The test had been conducted in the twenty-five-meter pool of a decommissioned school in a depopulated area. A minute amount of powdered Core Crystal had been sealed inside a Hard-force Capsule. The camera switched from a poolside view to a roof-down perspective as a simple mechanism dropped the capsule into the center of the full pool. For a minute, nothing happened. Then, the water began to bubble violently. Within seconds, thick plumes of steam billowed into the air.
"Is this..."
"This footage is from yesterday’s thermal reaction test using a Core Crystal recovered from a dungeon," an official from the Ministry of Economy, Trade and Industry explained in a detached tone. "As you can see, the result was a total success. Please refer to your handouts for the technical data."
The representative from TOKYO Electric Power spoke in a daze, and the official inwardly sympathized. He had watched the footage dozens of times before the presentation, and it had stunned him every single time.
"Wait... the conversion efficiency from mass to heat is nearly one hundred percent!?"
"Good god! What are we looking at here!?"
"Is this even safe? It sounds more dangerous than nuclear fuel!"
The room erupted into chaos as the representatives grappled with the impossible data. The official stepped in to settle them.
"Please, calm down. Our investigation confirms there is no risk of explosion, and unlike nuclear fuel, it emits no radiation."
The official’s cool, professional delivery helped the attendees regain their composure. Once the room was quiet, he continued.
"The government is currently drawing up plans for a new generation of power plants using these Core Crystals."
"...As a supplementary energy source? Or as a total replacement for nuclear power?"
"The government intends for this to replace nuclear power... and eventually thermal power as well. Our goal is to end our reliance on foreign energy resources and achieve total energy self-sufficiency."
"!?!?"
A new wave of shock rippled through the room. Energy self-sufficiency was the ultimate dream for Japan—a way to secure stability regardless of the international climate. And now, that dream was within their grasp.
However, not everyone was on board.
"Now hold on! What happens to the nuclear plants!?"
"Exactly! We're in the final stages of preparing to bring them back online!"
"If we abandon nuclear power now, how are we supposed to recover the massive investments we’ve made!?"
The protests came from the representatives of KANSAI Electric Power, SHIKOKU Electric Power, and KYUSHU Electric Power. The other executives remained silent, but their sharp glares directed at the official suggested they shared the sentiment.
Expecting this, the official replied without missing a beat.
"Except for those currently active, all plants will be decommissioned. Active plants will follow once the new system has stabilized."
"..."
The sheer lack of hesitation in his voice silenced the room. They realized that for a mere representative to speak with such certainty, the decision had already been finalized at the highest levels of government. The three protesters lowered their hands, their faces drained of color.
"...The Ministry is currently overseeing the construction of an experimental reactor on national land near the Tone River," the official added. "We expect it to be operational for testing in two months."
"Two months? That’s impossible for any kind of reactor. Even for a small facility, just ordering the turbines and hardware would take a manufacturer a year."
"We are repurposing equipment originally intended for new nuclear plants that has been sitting in storage. The site is under twenty-four-hour construction. At the current pace, it will be finished in six weeks."
"...A hodgepodge facility built on the fly..."
The executives muttered their disbelief. To complete a project that normally took years in just two months was beyond reckless.
"It may seem reckless," the official conceded, "but the government is determined to establish a proven track record for this new method before foreign powers can intervene."
The weight of that statement hung heavy in the air. The executives understood the subtext. While they were shaken from the perspective of energy providers, the global impact would be far more volatile. If oil-producing nations—countries whose entire economies relied on fossil fuels—learned of this, the reaction would be extreme. Economic collapse for entire nations was a real possibility.
History had shown that when the world transitioned from coal to oil, British maritime dominance crumbled. Most post-WWII conflicts were, at their core, battles over oil. If this information leaked before the government could present a fait accompli, sabotage and interference were guaranteed.
Several executives swallowed hard. The sound echoed in the tense silence of the room.
"Furthermore," the official said, "if this test succeeds, we will secure a rated output of one million kWh. During the experimental phase, we can use that capacity to sequentially take our existing thermal plants offline for long-overdue overhauls."
"!?!?"
This was the most enticing bait yet. Since the nuclear crisis, Japan's thermal plants had been pushed to their absolute limits, running at maximum capacity twenty-four hours a day to compensate for the shortfall. They were relying on aging facilities that required constant patchwork, with no window for the deep maintenance they desperately needed.
It was like driving a car with the pedal to the metal indefinitely. They were living on borrowed time, and everyone in the room knew a catastrophic failure was only a matter of time.
"Is that... actually possible?"
"Yes. The generators repurposed for the experimental reactor have a rated output of one million kWh. Once the test run succeeds, we will transition into long-term operation under the guise of data collection and begin feeding power into the grid. We’ve already secured enough Core Crystal fuel to last four to five years."
The government had realized they needed to act before a major blackout or disaster occurred. By establishing the Core Crystal reactor as part of the base load, it would be much harder for critics to shut it down later.
"Upon a successful test, we will officially adopt this as the successor to nuclear power. We will require your full cooperation at that time."
It was an order phrased as a request. Knowing they had no choice, the representative of TOKYO Electric Power tried to save a bit of face with a final question.
"...We can wait until after we see the results of the test run?"
"Of course. If the test fails, the project is dead anyway."
With that, the Federation reached its consensus.
Two months later, the experimental reactor near the Tone River performed flawlessly. Following a series of tests, the reactor began its long-term operation, pumping electricity into the national grid. This allowed the various power companies to finally take their thermal plants offline for comprehensive inspections and overhauls. The technicians discovered numerous critical issues that had gone unnoticed during their hurried patchwork repairs—disasters that had been narrowly avoided.
Relieved and emboldened, the power companies threw their full support behind Core Crystal power generation. To ensure a steady supply of fuel, they used their influence as major sponsors and shareholders of TV stations and magazines to push a specific narrative. Suddenly, the media was flooded with programs and articles designed to stir up "dungeon fever" among the general public.