When I reached the classroom, it was even noisier than usual. Listening closely, I realized the primary topic of conversation was the new dungeon entry restrictions.
"Why the hell are they limiting entry? The number of reservation applications for weekend mornings is already insane!"
"No kidding. The odds are like trying to score tickets for an idol concert. Even if a whole group applies together, you're looking at ten-to-one odds at best."
"Exactly! We're students, so the weekend is the only time we have to go. With these odds, we'll never even get an entry ticket."
"People with free time will probably just go on weekdays, but even then, I bet it’ll still be overbooked. And how long is 'for the time being' supposed to last, anyway?"
It seemed the competition had already jumped to ten-to-one while I wasn't looking. It made sense—with a fixed capacity, if every member of an explorer group applied individually for the total number of slots their party needed, the total number of applications would increase exponentially. In other words, they were tanking their own chances of winning.
"Morning, Yuji."
"Oh, morning."
I spoke to Yuji as I set my bag on my desk. He was already in his seat, reading a paperback.
"Things have really spiraled, haven't they?"
"Yeah. It’s been like this ever since the news broke this morning."
Yuji tucked a bookmark into his book and looked up to discuss the morning's announcements.
"But well, they finally pulled the trigger on restrictions. Hopefully, this clears up some of the congestion on the surface floors."
"I think it’ll help quite a bit. At the very least, it should solve the problem where you can wander around for thirty minutes without running into a single monster."
"I hope so. I've heard that those annoying groups who monopolize the hunting grounds have been on the rise lately..."
He was referring to the pseudo-guilds. Every dungeon seemed to have a few of them; they focused on seizing control of hunting grounds, primarily on the surface floors. By identifying multiple respawn points and camping them, they could kill monsters the moment they appeared. They were one of the main reasons the monster population on those floors was being depleted.
Because of them, novice explorers who weren't strong enough were being forced to move down to lower floors prematurely, leading to a spike in injuries.
"Oh, those guys. I guess with things the way they are, waiting for a respawn is the most reliable way to hunt, but still..."
"They're a massive thorn in everyone's side. They won't listen to reason, and even if you try to stop them by force, they're large groups hunting together. Their numbers and levels are on a completely different scale compared to the novices trying to protest."
"And the high-level explorers who actually have the strength to do something about it dive in much deeper floors, so they don't bother getting involved. That's probably part of why those groups have gotten so cocky."
"The Dungeon Association generally has a policy of non-interference regarding what happens inside the dungeons, too."
The groups monopolizing the hunting grounds specifically targeted respawn points on the surface floors for a reason: to avoid conflict with high-level explorers. They knew perfectly well that if they tangled with the pros, they’d be the ones getting crushed.
Most of these campers were people who had hit a wall after fighting humanoid monsters like goblins or orcs—people who had realized they lacked the talent or had been traumatized by the experience. They had given up on deep-floor exploration but hadn't given up on making a quick buck. Even the drop items from surface-level monsters could provide a decent living if you gathered enough of them, especially since dungeon-sourced items were rare and highly valued right now. Magic items, in particular, fetched a premium.
Furthermore, to high-level explorers, the surface floors were just a hallway to get to the real hunting grounds. From their perspective, these groups were actually beneficial in a way, as they kept the path to the lower floors clear and safe. Unless they caused a major problem, the pros saw no reason to make enemies of them.
Essentially, they were a group of low-life adults taking over a children's playground.
"That's true. But my primary concern right now is whether or not we can even get an entry ticket," a voice chimed in.
"Ah, Hiiragi-san."
"Good morning, Kokonoe-kun, Hirose-kun."
With her school bag over her shoulder, Hiiragi-san joined us. Her expression was serious; she had clearly been listening to our conversation.
"If we dip into the stockpile I've entrusted to Kokonoe-kun, we'll be fine for a while, but we'll be in trouble if we're locked out of the dungeon indefinitely."
"I suppose so. But Hiiragi-san, look at it this way: with fewer people allowed in, the overall quality of explorers should improve. If more people start diving deeper, the supply of orc materials on the market will increase, and prices might drop."
"That's true. If the volume in circulation increases, procurement will get cheaper, but dungeon-grown ingredients are still high-end luxury goods. If we can source them ourselves, that’s always the best option."
I had to concede the point. Even if the supply increased, the price drop would be marginal. It wasn't like hundreds of thousands of tons were being circulated like industrial livestock; the price wasn't going to suddenly plummet to a fraction of its current value overnight.
"By the way, have either of you completed your reservation applications yet?"
"Not yet. Yuji?"
"Me neither."
At Hiiragi-san's question, both Yuji and I shook our heads.
We always go to the dungeon together on the weekends, so it didn't feel right to apply without coordinating first. It seemed Yuji felt the same way.
"I see."
"So, what's the plan? Should we put in for the weekend as usual? I heard the odds are getting pretty nasty..."
"We have to at least try. I'm sure the probability of winning is low, though."
The daily capacity per dungeon set by the Dungeon Association was 2,400 people. That averaged out to 100 people per hour. If the reservation odds for weekend mornings were twenty-to-one, the probability of winning was roughly 5%. That meant if we only aimed for weekend mornings, we'd only get into a dungeon once every five months or so.
"The slots before 5:00 AM or after 9:00 PM seem relatively open, but..."
"For us, relying on public transportation, those hours are impossible."
"Yeah. If we had our own way to get there, it’d be a different story."
We usually spent about six hours on a single dungeon dive.
Our routine was to enter around 9:00 AM and leave by 3:00 PM. If we tried to enter before 5:00 AM, the trains wouldn't be running. If we went after 9:00 PM, it would be the middle of the night by the time we finished, and we’d be stranded.
Technically, there were ways to move around without the trains, but...
"We could use bicycles or even just jog there..."
"I don't care how much my stamina has improved from leveling up, I don't want to waste energy before a dive," Hiiragi-san said flatly.
"I definitely wouldn't want to run a marathon after clearing a dungeon, either," Yuji added.
"Fair enough."
I agreed with them. Just as Hiiragi-san said, while our endurance was far beyond that of an ordinary person, tired was still tired. Running a marathon and then diving into a dungeon... what was this, a triathlon?
"We could use mopeds, but the school forbids students from getting a driver's license."
"And if you get caught, it’s an automatic suspension. I actually heard a rumor that a few guys got caught using mopeds to get to the dungeon and were suspended."
"I heard that too. I think they were upperclassmen."
"Then we definitely shouldn't risk it."
There was no reason to take such a gamble.
But this really left us in a bind. Public transport was out for off-hours, and self-locomotion was too risky or exhausting. Did we just have to quietly submit to the lottery during peak hours?
As we were agonizing over our next move, the classroom door opened and our homeroom teacher walked in. It was time for the morning meeting.
During lunch break, I checked the Dungeon Association's reservation page on my phone. The odds for weekend mornings had spiked to over twenty-to-one.
Looking at the screen with a deadpan expression, I spoke to Yuji and Hiiragi-san, who were also glued to their phones.
"...Let's just apply for now."
"...Yeah."
"...Okay."
We entered our Explorer Card registration authentication numbers and submitted reservations for 9:00, 10:00, and 11:00 AM.
According to the instructions, the deadline for applications was 48 hours before the desired entry time. At that point, winners would be selected at random, and a notification would appear on their reservation screen. Once you followed the prompt to confirm, the process was complete. On the day of the dive, you just had to tap your Explorer Card on a reader before passing through the gate.
Essentially, it was the same as scanning a mobile boarding pass at an airport.
"Well, now we just wait for the results. Think we'll get lucky?"
"The possibility isn't zero."
"It's probably closer to 'not zero' than 'likely,' though."
"The competition is twenty-to-one, after all."
It was better to wait without expecting much, like with the lottery. If you got your hopes up, the disappointment of losing would be soul-crushing.
After school, we discussed our situation while walking toward Yuji's house.
"By the way, what's our rank anyway?" Yuji asked.
"Hmm? Rank? Oh, the adventurer rank."
"It doesn't really matter, but I was curious. We've actually been making a decent amount of money, all things considered."
"Lately, we've been focused on stockpiling orc meat. In terms of actual cash earned, we might not have that much. I mean, we sold a few magic items like skill scrolls at the start to get our gear together, but..."
Yuji was being modest about our earnings, but Hiiragi-san shook her head.
"You're being too humble, Hirose-kun. Even split three ways, making over three million yen in just two months as explorers is an incredibly high income."
"I agree."
Two months... with roughly ten days of actual work, that was three million. Even divided by three, it meant we'd earned about a million yen each. If we kept that pace up for a year, our annual income would be six million yen. For high schoolers, that was a fortune.
When I broke down the numbers for Yuji, he looked genuinely stunned.
"...Now that you put it that way."
"So that's why I was wondering where we stand in terms of rank."
"The criteria for an explorer's rank are based on the number of dungeon entries, the floors reached, and the total earnings, right?"
"That's what it says on the Association's site."
"Is the actual formula public? If we knew how they calculated it, we could estimate it ourselves."
A formula, huh? I hadn't seen one on the site.
If I had to guess, it was probably something like (Total Earnings / Number of Entries) * (Max Floor / 100). The higher the result, the more efficient and skilled the explorer. With a formula like that, even if total earnings were high, the rank would drop if you had too many entries or didn't go deep enough.
"The site says if you show your Explorer Card at any Dungeon Association desk—even a small local branch—they can tell you your current rank."
"I see. Then let's just ask the next time we're at the dungeon."
"Sounds good. It's not something we need to know immediately."
If ranking up came with perks, I'd be more motivated. Things like a bonus on the price they pay for items, or free use of the Association's training facilities. If it’s just for the prestige, I don't really care. Yuji and Hiiragi-san seemed to feel the same way.
As we continued our conversation, we arrived at Yuji's house before we knew it.