Chapter 40 - Dungeon Archives
“Welcome back, Vihita. I heard the staircase to the twelfth floor of the Hot Spring Dungeon has appeared?”
As I returned from the monthly inspection of the eleventh level, Lady Auf greeted me with a bright voice.
“Yes, I’ve returned, my lady. Throughout the six months of training, we kept circling that level and found absolutely nothing, but during this most recent expedition, the staircase suddenly appeared.
“We plan to head back down to investigate the twelfth level as soon as we’re fully prepared for deeper exploration.”
“Oh, and while you were away at the Hot Spring Dungeon, some new food item showed up on the tenth floor of the No-Hunger Dungeon. Want to try it?”
With that, my lady rang a little bell, and a maid promptly brought over a plate with something on it.
“Oh? So that’s what’s on this plate... Wait, what is this pitch-black slab? This is food? Really?”
“Yes, and it’s delicious. It seems to only appear on the tenth floor for now, so currently only the field personnel, the royal palace, and the ducal family get to eat it.”
Wow... Was this really something someone like me should be eating? The thought crossed my mind, but then again, if it was just a tenth-floor drop item, experienced adventurers should be able to gather it eventually.
It was only a top-grade delicacy for now. Reassuring myself with that logic, I took a bite without hesitation.
...It was bitter, yet incredibly sweet, with a rich, indescribable oiliness that melted on the tongue. What was this? It was unbelievably delicious.
More than the sweetness, it had that overwhelming satisfaction—like when you bite into juicy, perfectly fried chicken. It wasn’t just tasty, it was the kind of flavor that sent signals of joy straight to your brain.
“Ahh... this is dangerous. It makes me want to dive into the No-Hunger Dungeon myself.”
“Right now, we’re testing how well it preserves. Whether it’ll spoil if left in a slightly damp tool pouch for long periods. If it holds up well, we might be able to carry it as a portable ration for dungeon expeditions.”
“I’m hoping the day comes when I can bring a few of these with me.”
“But that’s just a bonus. The real news is that a new gemstone has appeared.”
“A gemstone?”
“Yes, but so far, only one has been found. It’s already been donated to the royal dungeon archives. So, Vihita... I hate to ask right after you’ve returned, but...”
“Of course, my lady. I’ll escort you there.”
The investigation of the eleventh level hadn’t tired me in the least, so I was more than happy to accompany her with a smile.
Really now—after that half-year of hell with Captain Touji, there was nothing left in this world that could scare me.
ーDungeon Archivesー
In countries where dungeons existed, it was almost a given that a facility like this would be established.
These archives served as hubs of information, selling maps, detailed data on the country’s dungeons, characteristics of the monsters within, and even information on drop items. For adventurers visiting from other nations, it was the very first stop before setting foot into any dungeon.
By registering a newly discovered item with the archive, the name of the first adventurer to find it would also be officially recorded.
While this practice helped fuel adventurers’ thirst for fame, the reality was that most newly dropped items were of uncertain value.
Even if something looked beautiful, there were plenty of cases where it turned out to be nothing more than a common stone easily mined elsewhere.
That’s why it was important to display the item at the archive first, where experts could evaluate it—otherwise, it would be impossible to assess its worth.
Once a fair value was established on the market after public display, a policy was in place to buy the item back from the original discoverer at three times its appraised price.
For that reason, adventurers who made a fresh discovery would almost always choose to donate it to the archive, considering the practical benefits.
“Welcome, Auf-sama. This is the newly discovered gemstone. Please, have a look.”
The man who appeared to be the director of the archive respectfully introduced the gem, said to have come from the No-Hunger Dungeon.
Auf gazed at it with interest.
“How beautiful... A dense, transparent blue gem... A blue sapphire? Maybe lazurite? Hmm... I can’t say for sure—only a true expert could tell. What do you think, Director?”
“Experts are saying it may be hauyne.”
“Hauyne... I’ve only seen the name in books. But the real issue isn’t the type of gemstone, is it?
It’s the cut.
There’s no way something like this could’ve come from anywhere except the Gem Dungeon of the Kingdom of Kenma. That’s the only place in all dungeon history that’s produced cuts this refined. So what’s going on here?”
The director blinked in surprise, realizing that Auf possessed a far deeper knowledge of dungeons than he had expected.
Given that she’d spent years secluded deep within her family’s estate, her name wasn’t widely known despite her noble standing.
To the director, she had simply been the sickly daughter of a ducal house who had finally recovered—and who’d only come by out of curiosity to see a pretty gem. That had been his assumption.
“Y-Yes, you’re absolutely right. Normally, dungeon gemstones appear as raw ore, crystal formations like quartz, or in some cases, polished into smooth spheres or ovals.
“But this gem has a precise, artistic cut—something only a skilled lapidary could achieve. That kind of craftsmanship has only ever been seen in the Gem Dungeon of the Kingdom of Kenma.”
“More than that... doesn’t it look like it was cut by the same person? The arrangement of the facets, the proportions—they’re so incredibly similar.
Wait, does that mean the No-Hunger Dungeon can communicate not only with the Hot Spring Dungeon but also with the Gem Dungeon?
No, maybe... maybe that old theory is right—that all dungeons can communicate across distances, ignoring space entirely... hmm...”
What is with this noblewoman...?
Is she really the daughter of House Nausa?
A faint sense of unease began to creep over the director.
Following her visit to the No-Hunger Dungeon's archive, Auf extended her steps toward the Hot Spring Dungeon's archive as well.
Unlike other dungeons, the Hot Spring Dungeon offered almost nothing tangible to bring back, so the exhibit was quite barebones. It consisted mostly of written descriptions detailing the various hot springs, the structure of the dungeon, and the characteristics of the monsters found within.
While each floor’s spring water had been carefully bottled and displayed in clear honey jars, they all looked identical—just lukewarm, colorless liquid. With the heat long gone, they weren’t even recognizable as “hot” springs anymore.
Even the director himself had come to think: Of all dungeon archives, this might be the dullest one in existence, at least in terms of the exhibits.
And to be fair, the director wasn’t exactly the most motivated man in the field.
After all, things had only suddenly gotten busy starting a year ago—when the Hot Spring Dungeon was created.
Before that, he had merely inherited the archive of the No-Hunger Dungeon, which hadn’t seen any changes for nearly forty years. There was hardly any work to do.
Assigning a driven and talented individual to such a backwater post would've been a waste—he, at least, had been a fitting match.
But none of this seemed to matter to Auf. She moved along the rows of identical jars with a focused gaze, examining each one earnestly, straining to find even the slightest variation between them.
Seeing her like that, the director came to a firm conclusion:
Ah... she’s not here for idle sightseeing. This girl is the real thing—a genuine dungeon scholar.
There was only one item in the archive that could be considered remotely eye-catching: a portrait of the demon allegedly sighted on the eighth floor.
“Vihita, does this really resemble the thing?”
“Hmm... well, the one who actually saw it was a scout from Captain Bantu’s unit. It was just a fleeting glimpse, really—one of her sharp-eyed subordinates spotted it flying far in the distance. So we’re relying entirely on Nico’s description.”
The portrait depicted a small, adorable demon girl, her hair wildly flaring outward, wearing a smile as relaxed and delighted as if someone had just placed her favorite snack in front of her.
While the general features were a loose match, if this was shown to the Hot Spring Dungeon Master, he would immediately go, Who the heck is this? It was clearly not the same person.
“If we go by the theory that the dungeon’s will and its demon are one and the same... this just doesn’t match the image at all. Did the witness really say it looked like this?”
To Auf, a demon like this—innocent, clever, childlike—was more in line with her mental image of the No-Hunger Dungeon’s will.
That dungeon felt like something designed by a bright, curious child doing their best to entertain people.
The Hot Spring Dungeon, by contrast, gave off no such naïveté. It felt like something crafted by a seasoned merchant who deeply understood how to exploit human desire.
“Nico did say that the demon didn’t have the look of a child seeing a treat,” Vihita replied. “According to her, it had the gentle eyes of someone watching livestock they were raising for slaughter.”
“...That’s quite the description.”
“Exactly. That’s why we haven’t asked for the painting to be redone. The sighting was so brief, and we can’t really say the knight’s memory was all that reliable to begin with.”
The director added his own half-apologetic follow-up regarding the portrait.
“It’s when people start saying ‘Eh, this is good enough’ that the gap between what’s in the archives and what’s really out there starts to widen...”
The words of the daughter of Duke Nausa stung, and rightly so.
Dungeon scholars and deep-level adventurers had long criticized the disconnect between the data presented in archives and the actual reality within the dungeons.
However, the frustrating thing was that no matter how meticulously one tried to trace vague eyewitness accounts or personal anecdotes, it still didn’t seem possible to create anything truly accurate.
Even the Gem Dungeon archive in the Kingdom of Kenma housed a portrait of a demon, supposedly based on sightings within the Gem Dungeon.
It was believed that the demon’s purpose in revealing itself had been to flaunt its body adorned with exquisite gemstones—likely only obtainable from the deeper levels of the dungeon—in order to tempt adventurers by stirring up their greed.
That depiction, painted based on the testimonies of petty adventurers who had barged into the dungeon in search of a quick fortune, showed a voluptuous, dark-skinned demon wearing nothing but jewel-encrusted underwear, with an expression as lascivious as a succubus—more like something out of a porno than a proper record.
...Most likely, the fault lay in the less-than-decent personalities of the eyewitnesses themselves and the way they had described what they saw.
Or perhaps the portrait had been designed to appeal to bored husbands being dragged along on a museum visit.
Truth, after all, has a way of becoming distorted like this. It couldn’t be helped. It simply couldn’t be helped.
At least, that’s how the director justified it to himself.
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