“According to the results of our research, there is a clear causal relationship between the number of humans who have died inside dungeons since their emergence and the increase in the number of monsters appearing within them.”
Sipping the coffee that had been prepared for us, Yuda-san launched straight into an unexpectedly complicated explanation.
I listened while taking a sip of my own coffee, but honestly, having the main issue dumped on me so suddenly left my brain struggling to keep up. Still, I couldn’t help thinking that what Yuda-san was saying sounded vaguely similar to the kind of chūnibyō-esque setting I’d heard from the Dungeon Master back in the Beginner Dungeon.
“So basically, when an explorer dies inside a dungeon, they turn into a monster?”
Mina-chan boiled down Yuda-san’s complicated explanation and asked for confirmation.
Yeah. I was pretty sure the Loli Goddess had told me something along those lines, too.
“Well, broadly speaking, yes. That understanding is correct. But that’s merely the premise. In fact, in recent years, we’ve proven another important causal relationship that can’t be ignored.”
Yuda-san set his coffee cup down on the table and began fiddling with a small remote control. A moment later, the enormous white wall behind their chair lit up, transforming into a presentation screen covered with graphs, charts, diagrams, and all sorts of other data.
“Let’s see… it should be around here somewhere… Ah, here we go. I want you to look at this.”
Yuda-san pressed the remote a few more times until the desired image appeared. He zoomed it in, then used brightly colored gridlines to circle two particular figures.
“The figure on the left is the country’s total fertility rate thirty years ago, the year dungeons first appeared in this world. The figure on the right is this year’s number. It’s our country’s statistics, by the way, but the trend is the same across the world. I won’t bother explaining what ‘total fertility rate’ means here. You’re all adults, so surely you know, right?”
Ha ha ha! Of course I know!
The total fertility rate is…
“…Uh…”
It’s the approximate number of children a woman has over the course of her lifetime, right?
“Let’s see… The figure on the left is 1.5 from thirty years ago, and the one on the right is… Wait. 0.5?!”
Satsuki-chan stared in shock at just how dramatically the number had fallen.
Huh? Did Satsuki actually understand what the hell “total fertility rate” meant?
That was kind of a blow to my pride…
“That’s strange. These figures are drastically different from the data published by the Ministry of Health.”
“Heh. I didn’t expect someone like you to be so adorably trusting, Kusakabe Shion. You actually believe that collection of blatant lies without questioning it?”
“It’s government data.”
“The moment you slap the word official on something, the ignorant masses stop caring about whether the evidence is actually credible.”
I was impressed by the sheer amount of knowledge Shion possessed, but Yuda-san spoke of government statistics as though they were nothing more than an enormous pile of lies, practically sneering at her for believing them.
Shion’s expression darkened slightly.
Wait, wait. By that logic, shouldn’t Yuda-san’s numbers be just as unreliable?
Personally, I still trusted government statistics more.
“Isn’t it simply because everyone’s been saying we’re suffering from a declining birthrate for years? Why would that be unusual?”
Mina-chan offered a perfectly reasonable take.
Exactly.
The country’s population had been declining for years. There is nothing particularly strange about a number like that.
“It has declined far too much. The drop has deviated drastically from the range of decline that the government had originally been adjusting for. As people die inside dungeons and the number of monsters increases, the relative likelihood of humans being born has also decreased. The causal relationship is undeniable, and it was clearly something we never anticipated.”
Yuda-san had been throwing one outrageous statement after another at us.
Government statistics were fabricated, and the birthrate had been deliberately adjusted?
If what Yuda-san was saying was true, that would mean the government had been intentionally promoting population decline… could something like that really be possible?
Yuda-san continued their explanation.
“Furthermore, the number of dungeons themselves has continued to increase year after year. Based on these facts, we have reached one simple conclusion: The world is on the verge of destruction because of dungeons, so we need to destroy every last one of them.”
Yuda-san finished speaking while staring expressionlessly at the coffee that had long since stopped steaming.
His face was like an iron mask. It was… kind of intimidating.
“Let’s assume, for the sake of argument, that what you’re saying is true. Wouldn’t the obvious solution be to simply stop sending explorers into dungeons in the first place? Isn’t managing things like that supposed to be the Guild’s job?”
Mina-chan pressed Yuda-san even harder, firing off her criticism without letting up.
And honestly, she had a point. If nobody went into dungeons, nobody would die in them.
Come on, Guild! Do your job!
“It isn’t that simple, Kisaragi Mina. The resources obtained from dungeons are extremely valuable. They’ve allowed humanity to solve, almost overnight, energy and environmental problems that had remained unsolved for generations. If explorers disappeared, that entire supply would vanish. Humanity would once again be forced to spend its time arguing over problems we can no longer solve.”
So… basically, if there were no explorers, everyone would be screwed?
Yuda-san had a habit of talking in such roundabout ways that my brain could barely keep up.
Ugh…
Judging by the way they were continuing, this wasn’t going to end anytime soon.
I am starting to get sleepy.
Could we please wrap this up already?
“Until now, the acquisition of resources has always taken priority over human lives. The Guild’s true purpose was to continue producing capable explorers and have them extract ever greater quantities of resources. To accomplish that, we created a system resembling a game, dulled people’s fear of death, and turned dungeon exploration into a desirable profession.
“But in the end… that was a failure.”
Yuda-san drained the rest of their cold coffee in a single gulp.
Apparently, the speech is still going.
Yaaawn…
Ah, crap. I actually yawned.
“At this rate, humanity will eventually perish. So we gathered together the vast amount of data we had accumulated from countless explorers and succeeded in creating a single experimental subject—one designed specifically for the purpose of destroying dungeons.”
“[Yaaawn…] Huh? W-Wait, don’t tell me…”
I’d been listening absentmindedly, but those words instantly woke me up.
An experimental subject… it’s that guy, right?
“You have someone in mind, don’t you, Daishi Ajiri?”
Yuda grinned. It was a knowing, deeply unpleasant smile.
“Yes. That experimental subject… was the Hero. Right?”
This is translated by Yume Neiji. Kindly read at yumeneijiworks.com
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