Chapter 69 - Investigation Report
After hearing various training methods from Auf, Captain Touji had to suppress the urge to immediately dash down to the deepest level of the Hot Spring Dungeon.
“Since we might be able to cook new buff meals using the ingredients found in the new layer of the No-Hunger Dungeon, wouldn’t it be wise to wait for Vice-Captain Yunev to return?”
“She probably assumes I’ll be rushing back in a hurry, so I bet she’s deliberately taking her time...
Still, I can’t wait around any longer—I need to test this out as soon as possible. Vihita, if that girl shows up, can you pass along a message for me?”
I’ll be waiting in the lower levels of the Hot Spring Dungeon.”
Vihita interpreted that as: So basically, until Vice-Captain Yunev returns, we’re free to take it easy up here on the surface, huh?
“Understood! Leave it to me!” she responded cheerfully, her voice brimming with energy and her face glowing with hope.
“If the training shows good results, I’ll put you all through the wringer again and forge you into something even stronger.”
“......Yes,” came the reply, slow and utterly drenched in despair.
♨♨♨♨♨
About four days later, the First Unit returned from the No-Hunger Dungeon.
Currently, in order to deliver their report, they were meeting with Vice-Captain Yunev and Auf inside the Dungeon Archives.
‘That was fast... I kind of wanted to relax a bit longer at the estate,’ Vihita thought.
It seemed that since Captain Touji hadn’t hurried back to the No-Hunger Dungeon even after two full days had passed, Vice-Captain Yunev prioritized the new layer’s investigation report and returned earlier than expected.
“There are chickens in the new floor of the No-Hunger Dungeon.”
“Chickens...? Really?”
“Yeah, but their size is completely abnormal. Compared to the chickens raised on the surface, they’re on a whole other level in terms of bulk and meat yield—and the flavor too.
They’ve taken over the new floor and are breeding freely. In other words, it’s an all-you-can-eat meat paradise down there.”
The chicken conjured by the Hot Spring Dungeon Master was unmistakably a broiler breed from modern-day Japan.
After repeated rounds of modification, their growth rate and meat output far surpassed any livestock known in this world.
“Can chickens really survive inside a dungeon? Wouldn’t the monsters eat them?”
“Vihita, dungeon monsters only kill—they don’t eat.
Most likely, those chickens are considered part of the dungeon itself, so the monsters don’t attack them.”
Auf offered this explanation casually.
“But that also means we won’t be able to bring them back alive to the surface.”
Upon hearing this, Vice-Captain Yunev gave Auf a curious, almost impressed look.
“As you guessed, here are the chickens in question.”
A few plump chickens were placed on the table.
They were undeniably chickens, but their hefty build made them look like an entirely different species compared to the ones commonly raised in the Kingdom of Sepans.
“We tried bringing one up to the surface alive, but it started gasping for air around the fifth layer, and by the time we were midway up the stairs to the fourth layer, it was already dead.”
“Most likely, the dungeon’s creatures need miasma the way we need air. It seems to be an essential element for them.
That applies to the monsters and crops too—they can’t survive on the surface.
That said, I suspect that unlike monsters, the crops and chickens have been specially designed by the dungeon’s will so that even after death, they don’t dissolve back into miasma and can be safely eaten.”
Creatures from the dungeon couldn’t live without its miasma.
Historical records told of a certain curious king who once attempted to bring a dungeon monster back as a pet. But the creature had suffered and died shortly after being brought to the surface, making the endeavor a failure.
This was also believed to be the reason dungeon monsters didn’t appear on the surface, and why vicious monsters from deeper levels never rose to the shallower floors.
“Then, would it be possible to release those chickens into the Hot Spring Dungeon and let them multiply there?”
“Even if they die from a lack of oxygen—or rather, a lack of miasma—when taken to the surface, maybe there’s still hope...
...What about their eggs? We were able to transport crop seeds, after all.”
It seemed to her that the will of the Hot Spring Dungeon welcomed the introduction of crops from other dungeons.
She couldn’t help but think that perhaps those chickens had been placed there with the intention of offering a loophole: if the chickens couldn’t be transported, maybe their eggs could.
After all, cattle and pigs couldn’t be moved from the dungeon to the surface alive, so bringing them into the Hot Spring Dungeon in the first place wasn’t feasible.
“Well, we did manage to collect a few of the eggs... Are you saying you want to try bringing them into the Hot Spring Dungeon?”
“Yes, I’d like you to do that. I’m not sure if dungeon-born livestock eggs need to be warmed like ordinary ones...
But it might increase the chances of them hatching if you wrap them in cloth and keep them somewhere warm using the heat from the hot springs.”
“...Ah. Y-Yes, I see.”
Before anyone could even raise the obvious question—Who exactly is supposed to keep the eggs warm the whole time?—Auf had already given out instructions to use the hot springs’ heat source.
Well, this was the Hot Spring Dungeon, so something like that was certainly possible.
No wonder Her Majesty Yuzha entrusted her with analyzing dungeon mechanics,’ Vice-Captain Yunev thought with a hint of admiration.
“Any new item drops?”
“Right here.”
Vice-Captain Yunev pulled out a small metal box.
To someone from this world, it was an unidentifiable object—but in truth, it was a can of luncheon meat.
“It contains processed minced meat. We’ve secured about fifteen of them so far, so you’re welcome to open this one and try it.
It’s safe to eat even without heating, and we’ve already confirmed there’s no toxicity.”
Judging by her words, they had already eaten a few inside the dungeon.
Auf took the can into her hands and examined it with great interest.
“Shall I open it for you?” Yunev offered. But Auf declined, saying she wanted to observe it just a little longer.
After inspecting it thoroughly, she picked up the strange tab on top, bent it, and the edge of the lid peeled open easily.
Despite the can being made of metal, she had managed to open it effortlessly with her delicate arms.
“Wow... This is incredible! What precision metalwork! Who came up with this mechanism? They must be a genius!”
Though she struggled a little with the strength needed to fully peel back the lid, Auf eventually managed to open it completely, her eyes sparkling in awe at the brilliant design.
Meanwhile, the members of the First Unit turned bright red as they watched her.
Some even buried their faces in their hands, blushing all the way to their ears in utter humiliation.
‘We had been opening them... with swords.’
‘We—we had been using swords... to hack open the cans!!’
‘Thank the heavens she didn’t say, “Please, go ahead,” earlier when I offered to open it!
If she had, I would’ve drawn my sword, focused my energy into a perfect iai slash, sliced clean through the top... and then stood there, smug and proud.’
Just imagining it was enough to make them want to crawl into a hole.
Completely unaware of the silent agony washing over the First Unit, Auf and Vihita took a bite of the now-opened meat.
It was a deliciously seasoned, salty processed meat.
“Ahh~ This really is delicious... If it turns out to have a long shelf life, this could be revolutionary, you know?”
“Absolutely, Vihita. Without a doubt, this could mark a turning point in the world of preserved foods.
Vice-Captain Yunev, I believe the most crucial thing now is to verify the preservation capabilities of this item.
We’ll need to store it under various conditions for extended periods and test how the quality deteriorates over time.
That said, the most relevant preservation condition would be the state in which you’re carrying it during your expeditions.
So I believe the best approach is to record the date on each can, carry them around as much as possible during operations, and observe how well they hold up over time.”
“Indeed. If something like this could be transported and remain edible for weeks—no, even months—then it would revolutionize our entire concept of military rations.”
In reality, canned luncheon meat could easily sit untouched for three years without significantly degrading in taste.
But not even Auf, let alone Vice-Captain Yunev, could have imagined that.
“Still, I wonder what this can is made of? It feels way too light to be iron.”
“Now that you mention it, it doesn’t feel quite like iron either... But strange materials in dungeon loot aren’t exactly rare.
Plenty of weapons and armor in the Weapon Dungeon are made from stuff we can’t even identify.”
Listening to Vihita and Yunev’s exchange, Auf reflected.
To her, this item felt distinctly different from the usual magical objects produced through the dungeon’s supernatural phenomena.
There was something about the design of the can, the concept of how it opened, that reeked of civilization—of culture and technology.
It reminded her of the lids on honey jars or the paper cartons for alcohol.
In other words, Auf suspected that this can was a commonplace product from the world where the dungeon’s will once existed.
If that were the case, then the material used in the can—something that felt like iron but lighter—would be a naturally occurring substance from that world as well.
Auf tried to guess what kind of metal it could be, but nothing came to mind.
After all, aluminum hadn’t been discovered in this world yet.
No matter how long she thought about it, she couldn’t possibly reach the answer.
“I’d like to collect more of these cans and study their properties. Maybe they could be melted down and reprocessed like honey jars.
It might be a bit bulky, but... would you mind bringing back the empty cans instead of throwing them away after you eat?”
“Huh? Ah... Y-Yes, understood.”
Vihita and Vice-Captain Yunev both grimaced slightly.
On one hand, carrying around trash was a nuisance during dungeon exploration and clearly annoying.
On the other, they couldn’t argue with her—after all, bringing back metal from the dungeon was undeniably beneficial to the nation.
They both knew that, just like the Weapon Dungeon sometimes yielded gear of no combat use but valuable as raw material, there was merit in salvaging these cans.
Why did they descend into the dungeon in the first place? For the sake of national interest.
Bringing back empty cans, in that sense, was equivalent to recovering dungeon drop items.
It was the same…
Even if they understood it in theory, the reality was still hard to swallow.
Unlike carrying out fine weapons or sturdy armor, hauling back trashy, used-up cans just didn’t inspire much pride. That, too, was an undeniable truth.
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