LIGHTNOVELWORLD Chapter 251.1
Chapter 251.1. Hakata
In northern Kyushu, the Hakata district was once a major city before dungeons appeared. Hakata was a center of maritime trade that had flourished for centuries, conducting business with various countries, including China. It was also a popular tourist destination, attracting many visitors.
Was—that’s past tense. Like many other cities, after the dungeons emerged, walls divided it into inner districts, outer districts, and ruin zones, where people tried to live.
Tried to live—again, past tense.
The ruin zones that had stretched around the city’s outskirts were now nothing but piles of rubble. Four years ago, the area had been dotted with half-collapsed buildings, decayed homes, and abandoned shops, resembling Tokyo’s urban segregation.
But now, it’s just a mountain of rubble. The ruins are no longer habitable, with giant rats scurrying between the debris, and large red-scaled lizards basking in the sun. Monsters freely roam here, and strange fields of flowers bloom unnaturally amid the rubble, adding a sinister beauty to the eerie landscape.
Even in the cold winter winds, these flame-like flowers never wither. Their petals display fiery patterns, and the air above them shimmers, distorting like a heatwave. At the center of the flower field, the earth gapes open—a clear sign of a dungeon.
The flowers appear beautiful, and they seem to radiate warmth, even in the heart of winter. A large rat ventures into the field, trying to nibble on a flower. As soon as it takes a step in, sparks fly from the flower’s core, and a blaze erupts like a flamethrower, engulfing the rat.
“Chuu!”
The rat tries to flee, but it’s too late. The flames move unnaturally, coiling like a snake, and quickly consume the rat. Its dying shrieks fill the air before it collapses, charred black. Vines slither out from the flower field, wrapping around the dead rat, and dragging it deeper into the flowers.
All that remains is the field, swaying gently in the breeze, deceptively peaceful once more.
A soldier standing atop the outer wall of the city watches the scene with disinterest and sighs.
He wears a sturdy-looking helmet, along with a dirty, tattered combat uniform—so filthy it’s unclear when it was last cleaned. His uniform is frayed, with holes ripped in several places.
“Look at that flower field. It looks warm, doesn’t it?”
The thick concrete wall beneath him is about ten meters wide, and similarly clad soldiers sit slumped against it, exhaustion etched on their faces. They endure the winter cold atop the ten-meter-high wall, exposed to the biting wind.
“Maybe we should sneak into that field. It must be warm~.”
One soldier lifts his head, his weary face curling into a grin—though it’s more of a grimace, as if he’s forcing a smile through tears.
“If you step in there, you’ll burn to a crisp in an instant. It’s an easy way to end things.”
“Ah… I wonder if heaven really exists.”
The other soldiers chuckle dryly, joining in the conversation to distract themselves from their grim reality. They speak lightly, but their words carry a tinge of hopelessness.
“Man, it’s freezing. Can’t we light a fire or something?”
“Have you already forgotten what happened last time?”
“You mean that incident in Sector 6? That was just bad luck.”
“Then go ahead and do it alone. Far away from us.”
The soldiers huddle together against the cold, muttering complaints. When one suggests starting a fire, the others scold him, and he shakes his head, giving up on the idea.
A moment of silence falls. Then the first soldier, who had been staring at the flower field, hesitantly speaks again.
“Isn’t the wall about to fall apart? When do you think reinforcements will arrive?”
He gestures toward the wall they sit on, his voice tinged with fear. Beneath his helmet, his face looks young—almost like a child’s.
The wall is sturdy. A ten-meter-wide concrete structure reinforced with steel, far from the ancient stone walls of old fortresses. It can withstand bombardments, but parts of it have already crumbled, reduced to rubble.
Rather than clearing the debris, more rubble is piled on top to create makeshift barricades—a clear sign that the Hakata district is running out of resources.
“Tachibana… What you’re holding—that’s your reinforcement. That’s all we’re getting. Having bullets is already a blessing.”
“Oh… So this is our support?”
The boy called Tachibana looks down at his rifle, slumping his shoulders. He can’t even remember the last time it was maintained. He thinks he should clean it soon, but there’s no time for that. When his shift ends, he’ll eat a stale bread roll and potato soup, collapse into bed, and sleep like the dead.
He realizes now—this rifle is the support. Without it, they couldn’t fight the monsters. He opens his mouth, as if to ask about other supplies, but closes it without saying anything.
Even soldiers from the inner district are now stationed here. The inner city, too, is nearing its breaking point.
After all, the ruin zones are destroyed, and even the outer and inner districts are beginning to suffer damage.
“Man, I hope this shift ends soon. I’m freezing.”
A soldier stands up with a groan, visibly irritated. He’s only slightly older than Tachibana, with hair that’s unevenly brown—the remnants of an old dye job.
Tachibana guesses he must have come from a wealthy family. As the older soldier vents his frustration, shouting to no one in particular, Tachibana watches silently.
“I’m from the inner district, damn it! Why the hell am I stuck on patrol duty out here?!”
“There are plenty of people like you, kid. Just ask around.”
An older soldier waves dismissively, mocking the young man’s complaints. Tachibana agrees inwardly. Many of those with haughty attitudes are from the inner district. It’s probably their pride, he thinks.
At first, they act superior, but it doesn’t last. They quickly learn that monsters don’t care if you’re rich or poor—they kill without discrimination. If you don’t work together, you’ll die.
This particular soldier was only deployed two days ago. He’s from the inner district, but that’s not unusual anymore.
“If only… if only I had money… Damn it. Why didn’t my old man pay the conscription fee for me?”
The young man curls up in fear, his face twisted with despair. Tachibana watches with detachment—it’s a familiar scene. The Hakata district has begun drafting soldiers to replenish its dwindling forces after repeated battles.