After returning home from the trap training facility and finishing dinner, I sat down with Mika to start preparing for tomorrow’s dungeon trip. Since she had forgotten a few things last time, I wanted us to double-check our gear together.
“Mika, make sure you don't leave any of your tools behind this time, okay?”
“I know. I’ll make sure I have everything.”
“Good. And when you’re packing, check to see if your equipment is in good shape. Above all, don’t forget to change the batteries in your Light.”
“Got it.”
Taking my advice to heart, Mika inspected each piece of equipment one by one.
It took about ten minutes for her to finish her preparations.
“Finished! I’m all set for tomorrow!”
“Good job.”
“Yeah. But with all these tools in my pack, it’s a little heavy...”
Mika lifted the bulging backpack with both hands, a slight grimace on her face.
“Hey, don't look like that. Sure, it’s heavier now that you’ve added the stuff you missed last time, but think of it as the price of safety. It's not a bad trade, right?”
“Hmm, I guess so.”
“Besides, once your level goes up from dungeon diving, you won’t even feel a weight like this.”
At our current levels, Yuji and I could lift something as heavy as a car—roughly a ton—without much effort. Even a backpack stuffed with exploration gear only weighs about ten to twenty kilograms. That’s not counting the weight of any drop items we might bring back, though.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Once you reach a high enough level, you can really feel the difference.”
“What level is 'high enough'?”
“Let’s see... maybe Level 5? They say each level increases your physical capabilities by about ten percent.”
If your base physical capabilities increase by fifty percent, you’ll definitely notice the change. For instance, if your grip strength went from twenty kilograms to thirty, a girl would have the same grip as a boy. I used that analogy to explain it to her.
Mika tilted her head, asking a question that was, in hindsight, only natural.
“Hey, Onii-chan. How do you even check your level? It’s not like a game where your status just pops up. How do people know?”
“Oh, that...”
I pulled out my smartphone and pulled up the Dungeon Association's homepage.
“Look. It started fairly recently, but the regional branches of the Dungeon Association now offer a paid status appraisal service. They can check an explorer’s level and stats. You have to book in advance, though.”
“Oh, you're right.”
Apparently, they’d increased their supply of Appraisal Glasses. Since around April, they’d started offering this service. Looking at an explorer through the glasses reveals their basic status. It seemed limited to the first hundred people on Sunday mornings.
As a side effect—or perhaps this was the intended goal—deploying Appraisal Glasses to every branch meant that things moved faster. Previously, unappraised skill scrolls had to be sent to the Association’s headquarters in Tokyo, which took forever because of the massive backlog of drop items from across the country. Now, appraisals were being finished in less than half the time.
“Though, as long as you're just doing basic dungeon dives, you don't really need to get your status checked... unless you plan on using a skill scroll.”
“...What does that mean?”
“Using a skill requires EP—energy points. Your total EP increases as you level up.”
“So a higher level means I can use more skills?”
“Bingo.”
I opened a memo on my phone and made a simple table for level, HP, and EP to show her.
“See? As your level goes up, your HP and EP increase at a fixed rate.”
“Huh. And how does that connect to skills?”
“Like I said, skills cost EP to use. But if your EP runs out, you lose the passive physical enhancement that comes with leveling up.”
“What?!”
Mika let out a cry of genuine shock. Well, I expected that.
“Apparently, your EP is what maintains that physical boost. Once your EP hits zero, the enhancement shuts off.”
“...”
“In other words, if you spam skills and drain your EP, your physical strength will suddenly drop back to normal. You’ve been in a dungeon and fought monsters, Mika. You know exactly how dangerous that would be, right?”
“...Yeah. I haven't really felt the enhancement yet, but I can see why losing it would be bad.”
Mika looked appropriately grave.
I typed 'AS (active skill)' and 'PS (passive skill)' into the memo.
“With that as the foundation, here’s the next part. Skill scrolls—well, skills in general—are split into two types: AS and PS.”
“AS and PS?”
“Active skills and passive skills. Active skills are things you trigger consciously. Passive skills are always running.”
“Oh, I see.”
She sounded interested, but I could tell she hadn't quite put the pieces together yet.
“The problem is the passive skills...”
“If they’re always on, aren't they just better? Why is that a problem?”
“The fact that they’re 'always on' is exactly the catch. If a skill is constantly running, it’s constantly draining your EP. The same EP that keeps your physical enhancement active.”
“Oh...”
The realization finally hit her, and she looked stunned.
“If you use a high-level passive skill scroll without having the capacity for it, it’ll drain more EP than you have. You’ll be permanently stuck without your physical enhancement.”
I gave her a few examples of explorers who had used high-level PS scrolls recklessly and ended up essentially crippled as explorers. As I described these tragic stories, Mika’s face visibly tightened.
“Can’t you just... turn them off?”
“I’ve never heard of a way to unlearn one. Maybe a method exists, but it hasn't been discovered yet.”
“...I see.”
She looked discouraged. Well, I can't know everything, Mika.
“The skill scrolls that the Dungeon Association sells are safe because they list whether it’s an AS or PS and how much EP it consumes. They’re expensive, but they’re vetted. That’s why you should never use an unappraised skill scroll you find as a drop item.”
“...Yeah. I’ll be careful.”
“As a rule of thumb, don't learn any passive skills until you're at least level 5.”
“I won’t.”
Mika nodded solemnly.
Once I was done helping Mika prep and giving her advice on skills, I retreated to my room. I needed to get my own things ready.
“Though, I don’t really have much that needs preparing...”
I went through my usual routine, then flopped onto my bed and stared up at the ceiling.
“It’s almost time I told Mika and Saori-chan about the Slime Dungeon...”
I stared at the ceiling, turning my future plans over in my head.
“And if I’m telling them, I’ll have to bring Dad, Mom, and Juzo-san into the loop too.”
Juzo-san probably suspected we were hiding something already, so talking to him shouldn't be too hard. My parents, though... I wasn't sure how to handle them. If I could move the desk containing the Slime Dungeon, I could always hand it over to the government as a last resort. But if it couldn't be moved—or if moving it made the dungeon entrance manifest in the middle of my room—my family would have to leave this house.
“Even then, if it just ends with us moving, that’s a win.”
If the whole neighborhood had to be evacuated, the locals would never forgive us. At worst, we’d have to flee the city under a cloud of resentment.
Last year, there was an incident where a dungeon appeared on someone's property, and the neighbors sued for damages caused by the evacuation. The court threw out the case before it even reached trial, though. The issue was eventually settled when the government declared ownership of all dungeons and provided compensation or land buyouts for those nearby.
“I have to play this smart so we don’t end up in that situation...”
I kept staring at the ceiling.
But...
“No, forget it. Overthinking this on my own is just going to lead to a dead end.”
I sat up on the edge of the bed.
I glanced toward my desk—specifically, the drawer that held the entrance to the Slime Dungeon.
“First, I’ll talk to Dad and Mom... No, wait. This is too much for them to handle.”
My dad was an ordinary salaryman and my mom was a housewife. I didn't think they’d have any easy solutions. It wasn't that they were incompetent; it was just that the problem was too massive.
Dungeon matters were issues of national security.
“Ideally, I’d talk to someone in the government with actual decision-making power—cabinet level—before the story spreads.”
Through normal channels, the information would leak everywhere before it ever reached the top. But if I could bring it to them directly, the risk of a leak would be minimal.
Of course, a normal person had no way to do that. Normally.
“I’ll just have to tell Juzo-san about the Slime Dungeon and go through Genya-san.”
During our training, we’d heard Genya-san talk about his days as a bodyguard. He’d mentioned guarding high-ranking government officials.
Plus, the three assistant instructors were still active in that field. It was a long shot based on a lot of optimism, but I didn't have any other route. I had to take it.
“That means moving the desk experiment will have to wait until I’ve talked to Juzo-san and helped Mika and Saori level up a bit more.”
I stood up and walked to the desk. I sat down and pulled open the bottom drawer. Inside, a slime was sitting there, same as always.
Wait...
“That metallic sheen... it’s a mithril slime.”
Mithril was a rare ore produced in tiny amounts within dungeons. A mithril slime was a monster that dropped that ore at a high rate. I pulled a small bag of salt from my Spatial Storage and tore it open.
I held the salt over the slime and dumped it. The salt showered down perfectly onto the mithril slime.
The creature began to writhe and contract in agony, its body shrinking. When it had withered to less than half its original size, the mithril slime shattered into particles of light and vanished. It left behind a piece of ore the size of a ping-pong ball.
“Mithril acquired... I guess. I wonder how much this single chunk is worth.”
I used Psychokinesis to bring the mithril to my hand and rolled it around my palm. Fantasy metals like mithril were considered rarer and more valuable than gold or platinum. Given their rarity, they almost never reached the general public.
“It’s a perfect bargaining chip, but it’s almost too easy to get.”
Common sense dictated that a dungeon where rare items were this easy to find would be a prime target for a power struggle if it were ever discovered. That was exactly why the secret had to be guarded so tightly.
“Whatever. I’ll start by talking to Juzo-san.”
I felt a bit guilty about hiding the Slime Dungeon for so long, but considering the stir we’d caused at the trap training facility today and the Dungeon Association’s growing interest in us, I knew I had to move soon. Plus, with the school plans in motion, we were only going to attract more attention.
I was reaching the limit of how long I could keep this hidden.
“If we get back from the dungeon early tomorrow, I’ll take everyone and go talk to Juzo-san.”
I closed the drawer and pulled out my phone to call Yuji and Hiiragi-san. I had things to discuss with them.