The leader of the A-rank explorer clan Anthem, Saitou Megumi, was aware that she wasn’t particularly exceptional as an explorer.

In terms of raw ability, she probably ranked near the top—but she knew she wasn’t cut out for it.

Back in middle school, there had been classes where students entered D-rank dungeons to fight monsters. For Megumi, as part of the so-called otherworld generation, it had just been “something you did.” But for those who remembered the world before the Fusion, it probably seemed like a cruel joke.

However, humanity, having endured the early 2000s’ “chain stampedes,” had been forced to justify these cruel exercises as a way to identify outstanding talent among children.

Through that process, Saitou Megumi had manifested a talent for adapting to the “otherworld.” She had become stronger than anyone else in her school after just a little monster combat.

Naturally, the government had taken notice.

The goal was simple: gather the discovered prodigies during compulsory education, form elite groups to refine their skills, and thereby reduce harm to ordinary citizens.

The plan itself seemed reasonable to Megumi. Life in middle school after fighting dungeon monsters had not been comfortable. People had looked at her as if she were a monster, and even small jokes could make others react with fear. It had been an environment capable of scarring a girl in her adolescence.

So being gathered with peers who were in similar circumstances had actually been a relief.

The first friend she made was Midou Airi, who was gentle, reserved, and possessed incredible healing magic.

The next was Kagurazaka Chizuru. Megumi had been surprised to learn that Chizuru came from a samurai family, but she had a straightforward personality and a swordsmanship talent sharper than anyone else’s.

Together, they grew, and eventually formed “Anthem”.

At first, Megumi hadn’t been very enthusiastic about streaming. But at the suggestion of the A-rank explorer who had become their guardian—their “teacher”—they decided to give it a try.

Initially, Megumi had thought, why show these people, who once treated them like monsters, what they now looked like as “monster-like” explorers?

Yet, to her surprise, they had become popular. Eventually, they were treated almost like idols. The “teacher” had only been able to smile wryly, while the government officials seemed overjoyed.

Explorers were indispensable to modern society.

Just as coal miners had once powered society, countless explorers now contributed—often unconsciously—to the functioning of the world.

And if explorers like Megumi, under the state’s protection and given certain privileges, could make ordinary people think, “Explorers are amazing,” then the experiment could be considered a success.

Still—Megumi couldn’t shake the thought.

She had no real talent as an explorer.

◇◇◇

The reason they were entering Kamioaka Dungeon was a government request.

Megumi didn’t know all the details, but it was likely that a powerful prefectural assembly member had leveraged connections with a national legislator to put pressure on the Dungeon Agency.

In any case, there was no choice but to accept a request coming from government channels—of course, if it were truly unreasonable, their guardian, the “teacher,” would have vetoed it. Megumi, as the leader of Anthem, now a fairly large group, selected the two long-time companions and their specialist cameraman to join her on the mission.

It wasn’t unusual for them to receive assignments to explore regional dungeons.

And while they were at it, it had become customary to take advantage of Anthem’s idol-like popularity to film segments resembling a travel show—highlighting local products or scenery—alongside the exploration.

Even so, just streaming themselves having fun on a small trip for their fans felt a little strange to Megumi.

Each member now had their own fanbase, and there were some long-time fans who they interacted with over SNS but not in person. But if they met in person, would those fans still treat them like monsters?

Megumi’s inability to quell that worry meant that all events involving direct fan interaction were strictly off-limits. Fortunately, there was no complaint from the members. After all, Anthem was an explorer clan, not an idol group.

They stayed in what could be considered a high-end hotel in the prefectural capital, met the prefectural assembly member and the mayor for greetings, and the following day, prepared to enter Kamioaka Dungeon.

It was an unremarkable, ordinary dungeon.

Some rare dungeons could have surreal features—like an underground chamber that still displayed the open sky, or descending stairs that led to another expanse of blue—but this one was conventional: stone-like walls, floors, and ceilings, all faintly glowing, forming a convoluted maze.

If anything, there might have been slightly fewer weak monsters than usual.

As usual, they streamed the exploration, interacted with comments from viewers, and shared casual conversation among themselves—so much so that, for the A-rank explorer clan Anthem, the streaming was almost more work than the dungeon exploration itself.

That was—up until a certain point.

Kamioaka Dungeon was still only partially unexplored, a quasi-unexplored dungeon. Its lowest level had been mapped—nineteen underground floors. If they rushed through the upper layers, they could defeat the bottom-level boss and return within two days.

They hadn’t intended to rush, but clearing weak monsters didn’t make for interesting streaming footage, so the upper layers were effectively skipped over in their exploration.

Things started to feel off at the twelfth floor.

Subtle differences appeared between the printed map of Kamioaka Dungeon they had brought along and the actual layout of the dungeon as they walked through it.

Even though it was a B-rank dungeon, being a quasi-unexplored dungeon in a regional city, it was likely that few people had explored it thoroughly. Many of the monsters that appeared weren’t particularly “worthwhile,” and there were other “better” dungeons, so perhaps the maps weren’t precise. Megumi discussed this with the viewers on the stream.

Then—floor fourteen.

Where a maze should have continued, the long staircase led to an unusually vast space. It was the type of floor called a “large chamber.”

The faintly glowing walls of the dungeon were a bit brighter than in the maze floors, but it was still so enormous that the far wall wasn’t visible.

“Megu-chan… could this be a dungeon mutation…?”

Airi asked, looking worried.

Dungeon mutation, as the term implied, was a phenomenon where the internal structure of a dungeon changed. The mechanics and causes were unknown, but one theory suggested that high-rank yet “low-attraction” dungeons were more prone to mutation. B-rank unpopular dungeons may mutate more easily than unpopular D-rank ones—though at this point, no one really cared which theory was correct.

“With a space this big… could it… be the boss room!?” Megumi muttered in surprise.

“That’s exactly it, leader,” The swordswoman Kagurazaka Chizuru gave a sharp agreement, pointing the tip of her drawn sword toward the far side of the vast chamber.

And there it was—a dragon.

A dragon, though too far away to identify the exact type, easily more than a hundred meters distant. But the pressure it radiated, a tingling deep in the gut, made it clear it was no lesser drake—it was a real dragon, a monster on par with bottom-level bosses of A-rank dungeons.

Glancing back, the staircase they had come down was gone.

Boss rooms sometimes prevented retreat. Not always, but the stronger the boss, the higher the likelihood that escape was impossible.

“…In that case, staying against this wall isn’t going to work. Chizuru, take the front with me, moving to the center of the boss room. Airi, protect Sanagi-san in the rear. Cover me and Chizuru while we engage.”

It wasn’t exactly a detailed strategy, but they needed a plan for the group. No one objected; all nodded. Megumi gripped the hilt of her trusted greatsword and ran forward.

…Up until now, everything was still manageable.

No one could have guessed that, in addition to the dragon, a Black Knight was waiting for them.

◇◇◇

At first, things went smoothly up to the point where they avoided the dragon’s breath and managed to land a single hit.

However, the defensive power of a dragon’s scales was overwhelming. With hit-and-run tactics, Chizuru’s slashes barely got through at all, and while Megumi’s greatsword was effective as a blunt strike, it was nowhere near decisive. Even so, they somehow managed to maintain a stalemate on the front line.

That balance collapsed all too easily when the knight clad in jet-black full armor appeared.

This was not a great hall belonging only to a dragon.

It was a great hall of both dragon and knight.

The knight targeted the camerawoman, Shinguu Sanagi, and Airi moved to shield her. In the opening created by that moment, the dragon unleashed its breath once more.

Worse still, it was a cleverly laid decoy. As Airi tried to protect Sanagi from the breath, the black knight struck her down, knocking her unconscious—and carried her away.

It was intelligence unbefitting a monster, but intelligent monsters did exist.

Yet in this situation, the most disastrous part was not that Airi had been removed from the battle, but that there was no longer anyone protecting the camerawoman, Sanagi.

They managed to cut apart the subsequent breath with sword strikes packed with enormous amounts of mana, Megumi and Chizuru together—but no matter how one looked at it, it had been a terrible move.

The dragon, perhaps having overused its breath, let out a low, rumbling growl as if fatigued… but the degree of exhaustion was far worse on their side. Sanagi still hadn’t regained consciousness, and as long as they couldn’t abandon her, Megumi and Chizuru couldn’t coordinate properly.

While carrying Sanagi, they dodged the sweeping strike of the dragon’s tail and deflected its wide, slashing claws with their swords. Just as Chizuru tried to break away and rush to rescue Airi, the dragon moved to block her path with ease.

From there, several minutes of steady attrition followed.

Time passed in which only their side was being worn down—until it came to an end with Airi’s scream. The black knight had roused the unconscious Airi, then, as if to toy with her, stabbed his sword into her body. He had even gone out of his way to move to a position where Megumi and the others could clearly see it.

“No! Airi! Airi!”

Megumi nearly charged forward in a half-mad frenzy, but Chizuru yanked her arm back with all her strength. When Megumi turned around, demanding to know why she had been stopped, Chizuru’s face was right there—her lips bitten through, blood running down them. That was what it took for her to keep her reason.

“Calm down, Leader! Screaming won’t help! Handling that dragon and the black knight at the same time is impossible with just us! Sanagi-san is unconscious too!”

“But Airi—! I know, but—!”

“The only option is to somehow land a blow, rescue Midou-san, and escape. Rationally speaking, we should abandon her, but… damn it, I’m still too green. I don’t think I can choose that option. Leader, we’ll probably die here.”

Even if they spoke of escape, the path they had come from was sealed.

Which meant that, slim as the chance was, they had no choice but to search for a way forward—one that might, just might, still be open—and throw themselves into it.

Because they could not go back, they would advance.

The boss never leaves the boss room.

It was one of the strange, unspoken rules of the dungeon.

If they could make it down to the fifteenth floor—maybe help could reach them. The camera for the stream had gone missing, but the abnormal situation should have been transmitted to the outside anyway. The “teacher,” Anthem’s guardian, would almost certainly be too late, but the city’s Dungeon Department had people who could respond.

Yet…

“No! But—leaving her is wrong too! Chizuru, please… I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Chizuru. I’m such a terrible leader…”

Her own words sounded incoherent. She couldn’t die, and she couldn’t abandon anyone. She knew she was steadily lowering their chances of survival—but she had no intention of retracting.

If it were only Megumi and Chizuru, they might make it to the fifteenth floor about half the time. That, of course, depended on the way downward being open.

But she didn’t want to do it that way.

Carrying the unconscious Sanagi, rescuing Airi as she was tormented by the black knight, evading the dragon and knight’s pursuit, and making it down to the fifteenth floor… it was impossible.

She knew it. She knew it, and yet—

“Because you’re this kind of leader, we made it this far. Hold your head high.”

Chizuru smiled wryly. What a woman. If Megumi were a man, she might have pushed her down right then—well, if it weren’t the boss room.

Megumi returned the tearful smile, they nodded to each other, and steeled themselves.

No signal was needed. The moment their breathing synced, both of them charged. Megumi held Sanagi while keeping her greatsword in one hand. Chizuru had her sword sheathed but ready for an iai strike, sliding forward with lethal precision. First a blow at the dragon, then reclaiming Airi from the black knight.

How would they do it?

She had no idea.

That was why Megumi Saitou was not suited to be an explorer.

The next moment, light shot forth.