That’s Just How This Dungeon Is*4
Alright then.
So, there’s a bit of hope on the horizon now.
For the first time, I could see a path to solving that huge issue that had been pending forever, and it fired me right up.
“Okay… let’s get to it already.”
I decided to take another good, hard look at how this dungeon actually works!
First off, a quick review—this dungeon has three main functions:
Decompose, Absorb, and Reconstruct. Those three.
For Decompose, it seems I can break things down into—uh, probably elements and mana. Yeah, even at that point, it’s already full of mysteries… but whatever. Let’s just accept that’s how it works for now.
When something’s decomposed, I can get its information. Down to the elemental level—meaning I can tell what elements an alloy contains, or what ingredients are in some food.
And since I can also perfectly read its structure… that means even complex machines can be completely analyzed, or if it’s damaged armor, I can see exactly where and what kind of scratches it had.
Then there’s Absorb. Honestly, this one’s kind of paired with Decompose.
You break something down, then absorb and store it away.
… Yeah, don’t ask where or how it’s stored. Thinking about it’s pointless. Just one of those “it is what it is” things… Seems like I say that a lot lately.
Anyway, I can basically pool the decomposed elements and magic within the dungeon, ready for use whenever I want.
… Though it kinda feels like some of that stored magic is being consumed automatically.
Slimes keep popping up on their own, after all.
And the World Tree keeps growing all by itself.
… Well, I guess that’s fine. It’s fine. But yeah, they do need magic to live healthy lives, so it makes sense.
Now, Reconstruct. This one’s self-explanatory. It lets me take the stored elements and stored magic, and use them to create anything I want.
If I’ve already decomposed and absorbed something once, I’ve got its information perfectly, so I can reproduce it exactly as it was. Like how the Holy Knights’ armor I re-created even included all the same scratches.
On the other hand, as long as I’ve got the blueprint in my brain, I can also create stuff within the limits of my own knowledge. I can make blocks out of stone, or flowers out of crystal, for example.
… But, the more complex something’s structure is, the more mana it eats up. And the further the finished form is from the original material, the more mana it costs.
Like, if I try to make bread out of the carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen in a rock, it burns through a stupid amount of mana. Totally not worth it.
But if I try making starch out of cellulose from tree roots, that goes pretty smoothly. So yeah, that’s kinda how it works.
Now, if I tried to turn hydrogen into helium or lead into gold… that’d need nuclear fusion or fission, right? I wonder what would happen. Haven’t tried that yet, though.
… Anyway, I’ve never changed the elements themselves, but I’ve confirmed I can alter molecules. Not just rearranging molecular structures, but even changing one type of molecule into another. So I can split water into oxygen and hydrogen, make quartz into transparent crystal, or collect olivine grains from granite and turn them into big, high-clarity peridots.
Turning charcoal into diamond? Easy. Seriously, this power makes no damn sense. What even is this? It’s way too strong.
Oh, and there’s another weird thing about Reconstruct… you can decide the state of what you create.
… Basically, you can choose whether it’s solid, liquid, or gas.
That means you can adjust its temperature, or the pressure acting on it—pretty much however you want. Yeah. This power’s way too busted!
But hey, it’s saved me plenty of times. I can make water at just the right temperature—endless hot springs! Or I can create compressed air to power various contraptions.
Yeah, compressed air’s the real cheat here. I mean, that means I can just imagine up a steam engine that runs without water or fuel—just magic power. It costs some, sure, but still.
… Alright. That’s basically the main set of powers I’ve got as the dungeon’s master.
I can also “move” my sight and hearing within the dungeon and such, but that’s beside the point…
“Mana—yeah, I should gather as much of that as possible.”
Magic. Mana itself.
The World Tree’s using it to grow, slimes are using it to spawn and get bigger, and Reconstruct eats through it fast when I push the limits.
So, yeah. I need a reliable way to gather a lot more magic.
For the dungeon’s defense, for all the living things inside it to thrive, and for me to get back home… I need mana!
So—time for experiments!
“If books have tons of magic in them, then maybe making books will use a stupid amount of magic too…?”
First up: reversibility vs. irreversibility. Gotta check that before anything else.
Basically, I’ll make a stack of paper and some ink, then measure how much magic it consumes.
Then I’ll try a TOEIC prep book made from the same materials and… huh?
“Wait—magic consumption’s actually not that high.”
… But when I decomposed and absorbed it before, it had a ton of mana in it. Huh? What’s going on here? Damn, I already hit a snag right from the start!
This is getting interesting. So I tried making a holy scripture too, but again, the magic levels were nothing like when I first absorbed one.
“So, maybe only books that were obtained outside the dungeon have a lot of magic in them?”
… Thinking it through, that’s one possibility. Only books brought in from outside—ones untouched by dungeon power—contain mana.
But there’s another idea…
“Or maybe… only the very first one counts.”
So, experiment time. I squeeze every bit of my brainpower to recreate a book completely from memory.
… But I don’t have that many books memorized word for word. So this time, it’s just the famous opening passage of The Pillow Book. Still, that’s a fair amount of text.
“… Yeah, normal mana consumption.”
Made it just fine. So, it’s only using as much magic as paper and ink would. Then I decomposed and absorbed it, and—
“What the hell!? The mana just shot up!?”
… It increased! Suddenly! What is this!? What the hell is going on!?
After a bunch more tests, I confirmed it: “Books give off a ton of mana, but only the first time they’re decomposed and absorbed.”
Seriously, what’s with that ‘first-time bonus’ thing…?
Alright, moving on.
“Mishisia-san, Lisas-san, Edele-san. I called you all here for one reason…”
I decided to bring everyone else in on this. This was beyond what I could handle alone.
“I want you three to draw some pictures.”
“Okay, but why…?”
… Because I wanted to test how much information, and thus mana, an art book would contain.
It’s kind of a weird request, and I felt bad, but they humored me and drew something. And—
“Whoa!? Mishisia-san, you’re really good at this!?”
“Hehe, thanks.”
Mishisia’s drawings are amazing! She’s drawing flowers right now, and honestly, they’re so good they could sell in an artbook!
“I used to paint a lot back in the elven village…”
She’s a little embarrassed, but I’m just impressed, watching her work.
“… Lisas-san, hey, everyone’s got their strengths and weaknesses, man. Don’t worry about it.”
“… My apologies.”
Yeah… he’s not good at drawing. But that’s fine. Neither am I. No need to shrink up like that, dude. Sorry, my bad for asking in the first place…
Oh, that fluffy round thing’s a flower? Yeah, sure looks like one! Kinda cute, actually.
… And then—
“Edele—gah!?”
“Sorry, I’m not that good at drawing either…”
No comment! Absolutely no comment!
I swear, for a second I saw something that looked like an idol statue of a dark god, but I’m just gonna pretend I didn’t. I saw nothing.
“Anyway, sorry, but I’ll have to decompose these now.”
So I decomposed and absorbed all three drawings.
“Ohh… not as much as text, but still a fair bit of mana.”
Yeah, more than just the paper and ink alone. Interesting.
“Alright, next—write something. Anything you like, just a bit of text.”
“Sure, I’ll write about what happened yesterday…”
“Writing? I’m not that good at that…”
“If it’s a report, I can manage…”
So they each wrote something. Seems like their skills flipped from before, haha. Everyone’s different.
And when I decomposed their writings, yep—text had more magic than drawings.
Then I started thinking—what about sculptures? Or official reports? Or maybe that church donation flyer Edele was about to burn? Tried them all.
Result:
“So far, written text gives off the most mana…”
Yup, confirmed. Writings—books, letters, flyers—they’re all packed with magic.
“Yeah, they’re all text-based, after all.”
“True… but there’s something else that’s bugging me.”
And the one that gave off the most mana of all was…
“A tomato seed I wrote sutra on. That had the biggest mana output.”
You know how people write sutras on rice grains? I’ve always wanted to try that. So, since I didn’t have rice, I used some tomato seeds I had lying around, wrote “In spring, the dawn—when the mountain ridges grow slowly lighter…” all over them, recreated that, and decomposed it.
And boom—massive mana surge.
… Yeah.
“Plant seeds… have a lot of mana too?”
“Oh really? How strange…”
Mishisia tilted her head, but… I think I’m starting to get it.
“Also, I’ve noticed something for a while now…”
“When we’re talking like this, my mana seems to increase.”
By now, I’ve gathered enough info.
Yeah. Information.
Text is information. For me—or for the dungeon—it’s new, unknown data.
Tomato seeds contain genetic information, so they’re literal chunks of data.
And our conversations—sound waves, not matter, not substance—when people are talking, even that seems to generate magic, little by little.
Villagers chatting, adventurers gossiping—it all adds up.
And more importantly—
What disappeared when I came to this world?
My PC, smartphone, smartwatch… all gone. Every “information storage device.”
Well, my underwear too, but… that’s another story.
So, I formed a hypothesis:
“Mana is information.”
—or—
“Information can be converted into mana.”
What do you think about this chapter?
