Half a year after the dungeons appeared, the ones in Japan were finally being opened to the general public.
In conjunction with this, the government moved to create a cross-departmental organization to manage the explorers venturing into the depths. This organization, staffed by personnel pulled from various ministries and agencies, was the Japan Dungeon Association. Its duties spanned a wide range, from conducting safety training for aspiring explorers and issuing exploration permits to selling recommended equipment and purchasing drop items. Its headquarters was located in Kasumigaseki, while local branches were established in cities near the known dungeons.
Entering a dungeon required an Association-issued permit—specifically, the Armed Exploration Permit for Special Underground Structures. To obtain it, one had to attend a practical training course and pass a written test. As soon as the Association opened its doors, applications flooded in from across the country. However, the government declared that it would not permit anyone aged fifteen or younger—those still within the period of compulsory education—to enter. This policy met with significant pushback, with many arguing that dungeon entry should be restricted for all minors. However, the government countered that since the Labor Standards Act allowed for the employment of individuals aged sixteen and older, they should not impose regulations that would narrow an individual's career choices.
Despite the lingering controversies, the Japan Dungeon Association began its operations, and the full-scale conquest of Japan’s dungeons commenced.
The TV news was reporting that the Japan Dungeon Association had been established and was now accepting applications for the commonly known Explorer Cards. I watched the broadcast while eating breakfast and spoke to Mika, who was sitting across from me with her cheeks puffed out in a pout.
"Mika, why the long face?"
"What do you mean, 'why,' Big Brother?! I’m not allowed to go into the dungeons!"
"Well, you aren't old enough yet."
Mika was fifteen and in her third year of middle school; she would have to wait until next year to qualify for a permit.
"Besides, aren't you supposed to be studying for your entrance exams? You're making all this noise about dungeons, but can you really afford the distraction?"
"Ugh! Uh, well, that’s..."
"Focus on getting through your high school exams first."
At my pointing this out, Mika fell silent, a bitter expression on her face. She had poured all her energy into her club activities until the summer of her third year, and she seemed to be struggling with her studies now. Since she hadn't achieved the kind of tournament results that would earn her a sports scholarship, she had no choice but to take the general entrance exams. I just wanted her to forget about dungeons for the time being.
"He’s right, Mika," Mom chimed in. "Even on your last mock exam, your results were right on the borderline for your first-choice school. Do as your brother says and study before you start talking about dungeons."
"Ugh, not you too, Mom..."
"Besides, registration applications for minors require parental consent, you know."
"..."
With Mom joining the fray, Mika seemed to give up, albeit reluctantly. She quietly finished the rest of her breakfast, looking dejected. I didn't think she needed to be that depressed about it.
"Look, isn’t it better to just wait and see how things go for a while? There’s going to be a lot of chaos with all the new recruits, and the Association will probably be a mess until they get used to the workload."
"But if I get a late start, the gap will only get wider..."
"This isn’t a game, Mika. You don't necessarily need a head start."
My sister was always a bit reckless in this regard. I wondered if she was conflating reality with games. This was real life; if you died, that was the end. You couldn't just hit a restart button.
"Hey, you two. Don’t just sit there talking, finish your food. I need to clear the table."
At Mom's prompt, I looked over to see that her and Dad’s plates were already empty. Mika and I caught each other’s eyes, checked the clock, and immediately sped up our eating.
Crap, it was later than I thought.
"Thanks for the food."
"Thank you for the meal."
After finishing breakfast and taking a quick breather, we grabbed our school bags and headed out.
I was running a little late today, so by the time I reached the classroom, it was already bustling. I slipped inside, blending into the noise, and made eye contact with Yuji.
"Morning," I said.
"Yo, morning. You’re cutting it close today."
"Things were a bit hectic at home..."
My seat was at the very back of the classroom near the windows. As I set my bag down, I chatted with Yuji, who sat right in front of me.
"What happened?"
"Mika saw the news this morning."
"Ah, the explorer applications?"
"Yeah. She was throwing a fit since breakfast about the age limit."
I sighed as I explained the situation, and Yuji wore a complicated expression.
"I see. It looks like Mika-chan’s dungeon fever hasn't cooled down at all."
"Yeah. Even though she’s got entrance exams this year, I don’t know what she’s thinking."
"Well, well. She’ll probably settle down once she gets into high school. A change of environment usually changes a person's perspective."
"You think so? Even with... this?"
I looked at Yuji, then glanced around the room. Our classmates were gathered in groups, excitedly discussing their plans to apply as explorers and dive into the dungeons.
"Sorry... I guess that was wishful thinking," Yuji muttered, averting his eyes. An awkward silence settled between us.
"What are you two moping about?"
The person who shattered the atmosphere was Hiiragi-san, who sat to my right. She was calmly preparing for the first period, directed an exasperated look our way.
"I’ve heard that Kokonoe-kun’s sister is obsessed with dungeons, but I don’t think you need to worry that much."
"What do you mean by that, Hiiragi-san?" Yuji asked, curious about her reasoning.
Hiiragi-san spoke in her usual detached tone. "It’s simple. Before Kokonoe-kun’s sister even becomes eligible to apply, she’ll be forced to face reality, whether she likes it or not."
"..."
"You mean..."
I had a feeling I knew what she was getting at. Yuji’s face went pale as he caught on as well. Noticing our reactions, Hiiragi-san hesitated for a second before delivering her conclusion.
"...Of the aspiring explorers who enter the dungeons, a significant number of them are going to fail and die. The odds that none of those victims will be related to someone at your sister’s school are very low."
It was a grim but logical prediction. As Hiiragi-san said, a fair number of students from our own school were likely already submitting explorer applications. The mood in our classroom alone proved that.
And among those applicants, the probability of them having younger siblings at Mika’s middle school was high. If even a few of those people died, the reality of the situation would hit home. Mika would be forced to see that dungeons weren't just a fun trend.
"...You're probably right," Yuji whispered, and I nodded in silent agreement.
No matter how many training sessions or tests the Association held, people were going to die. Very few people in Japan had experience facing an enemy that held clear, lethal intent toward them. Until now, only the Self-Defense Forces and the police—people trained to handle such threats—had been challenging the dungeons. Even then, there had been casualties. What would happen when amateurs with only a few hours of orientation went in?
It was obvious.
I stared blankly at the classroom, which was still buzzing with excitement.
"Maybe even some of these guys..."
The dark premonition crossed my mind, and I shook my head to clear it. But in a few months—maybe even a few days—it could become a reality. Yuji and I shared a look; he was clearly thinking the same thing.
"Maybe we should try to stop them..."
"It’s probably no use," I said.
"He's right," Hiiragi-san added. "Until a victim actually appears from our school, anything we say will be treated as noise."
Yuji wanted to do something, but Hiiragi-san and I knew better. To these people caught up in the fever, a warning wouldn't register as a warning. After all, they could participate in this attraction called a dungeon just by filling out a bit of paperwork.
They hadn't even begun to consider its true nature.
"And just so you know," Hiiragi-san continued, "advising them out of the kindness of your heart will only cause you trouble later. They'll just turn around and ask why you didn't stop them more forcefully."
She was right. At this stage, we would just be seen as killjoys or nuisances. And if someone did get hurt, they would likely play the victim and blame us, even though it was their own choice.
"In a perfect world, the school would step in, but..."
"Regarding part-time work, the rules only say it shouldn't interfere with studies. There are no rules about the content of the work," I noted. "Besides, even with the license requirement, being an explorer doesn't involve a specific employer. If they claim it’s a hobby, the school can't really do anything to stop them."
Even if the school made a rule, the teachers couldn't patrol the dungeon entrances every day. Students would always find a way to sneak in.
"There's really no way to stop it, then," Yuji said.
"Probably not," I replied. "You can't teach someone the mindset needed for a lethal combat zone in a few hours of training—especially not when they're blinded by the fantasy of it all."
From the government’s perspective, the licensing system was likely just a way to shift liability and make it look like they had fulfilled their duty to warn people. If they were serious about safety, the registration wouldn't be this easy. After all, it takes at least half a month just to get a driver’s license.
"...So there’s nothing we can do," Yuji said, letting out a heavy breath.
"To be precise, it’s better not to do anything," Hiiragi-san corrected calmly.
An uncomfortable silence hung over us until the Homeroom Teacher entered the room. Our classmates hurried to their seats, and we followed suit, watching them with heavy hearts.
I couldn't help but wonder if this was a scene that would be missing a few faces in a month's time.
The number of Explorer Card applications exceeded ten thousand on the very first day. The Japan Dungeon Association announced on the evening news that national universities would serve as temporary testing sites until dedicated facilities were built. They also scheduled the first Licensing Exam for the upcoming weekend.
Newspapers and magazines jumped on the trend, running endless dungeon specials and inciting the public's curiosity. Most of the coverage focused on the drop items—discussing how valuable they were and how much the Association would pay for them. It was blatant manipulation, but the public didn't care. They were swept up in the excitement, walking right into the plans of the government and corporations that wanted a steady supply of resources.
Applications continued to climb, primarily among those in their late teens and early thirties. More than fifty thousand people nationwide sat for the first Licensing Exam. Since the content was so simple, about eighty percent of them passed. Nearly forty thousand people were issued an Armed Exploration Permit for Special Underground Structures, and Japan’s first official explorers were born.
Equipped with Association-recommended weapons or whatever they could find at home, they headed toward the dungeons, their hearts filled with groundless confidence.