The Legendary Old Man Becomes a Dungeon Streamer: When the World's Strongest Tried Streaming in His Second Life, He Instantly Went Viral and Gained S-Class Disciples. - Chapter 1

“I want to quit the Dungeon Countermeasures Special Task Force, you say?”

“I’m sick of being kept on the shelf like this.”

I, Tatsuya Kamiya, declared this to my uniformed superior standing before me.

I currently belong to the Self-Defense Forces. And now I’m saying I want to quit.

Thirty years have passed since the world became connected to another realm, the dungeons.

I’m already 42 years old.

Thirty years ago, when I was 12, dungeons connecting to another world appeared, transforming everyday life. After various events, I joined the Self-Defense Forces and took up the job of exterminating magical beasts.

Because that was the best way to protect my family and friends.

I fought recklessly, with single-minded determination.

At 20, I was recognized by the government as Japan’s strongest.

At 25, I participated as Japan’s representative in a UN-led dungeon conquest, slaying 20 S-rank magical beasts. This record remains unbroken to this day.

At 30, I was selected as one of the world’s top ten strongest by the UN.

Then, as the ace of the Self-Defense Forces and by extension, the Japanese government, I became the captain of the Dungeon Countermeasures Special Task Force. But gradually, the government became passive about dungeon conquests.

The reason was simple. Thirty years after dungeons appeared, private companies had established successful dungeon conquest operations. Nowadays, magical beasts nesting in dungeons are exterminated daily, often paired with streaming activities.

There was no longer any need for the Self-Defense Forces to intervene.

For the past few years, there have been no proper deployments, and no new recruits have been hired. Naturally, I’ve been left with too much free time.

This past year has been even worse. I’ve spent it entirely on self-training within the base. I wasn’t even permitted to challenge the lowest-ranked dungeons. Apparently, since we’re the ace in the hole, we’re not supposed to be used. It’s downright ridiculous.

And after passing 40, I began to think one thing:

“I want to nurture someone.”

Power and knowledge must be passed on and inherited. What can be taught should be taught and shared. I came to believe that’s the responsibility of those with power. Even though private dungeon conquests have grown, there must still be things someone like me can do.

But as long as I remain in the Self-Defense Forces, I can’t teach others the combat skills I’ve honed. It seems to be legally prohibited.

Letting my abilities rot like this is nothing but a waste.

So, I’m quitting.

General Ogata, the head of the Self-Defense Forces’ Dungeon Countermeasures, lets out a sigh.

“Fine, I understand. I’ll speak to the minister about it.”

“I’m surprised you’re agreeing so easily.”

“Knowing how stubborn you are, once you’ve made up your mind, there’s no changing it. And… I can’t say I didn’t see this coming. I understand your reasoning.”

“I’m sorry… Thank you for everything.”

“No, it’s us who should be thanking you. Who knows how many lives you’ve saved? It’s regrettable that it’s come to this, but I wish you the best in your future endeavors.”

General Ogata stands and salutes me.

I’m not quitting out of resentment. I have no complaints about my salary.

I just don’t want to end up doing nothing like this.

I return the salute and leave. That was my last day in the Self-Defense Forces.

And the very next day after quitting, I received a message in my personal inbox.

“From the U.S. Embassy. We would like to meet with you urgently.”

The Americans are quick, as expected. But I have no intention of leaving Japan. If I’m going to give back my experience, it should start within Japan first. It’s not that I dislike traveling by plane or anything. So…

“I think I’ll pretend I never saw that message from the U.S. Embassy.”

Now, what to do next? There are numerous private dungeon conquest companies now.

But most of my personal data and records were erased when I joined the Self-Defense Forces for confidentiality reasons.

To the outside world, I’m just an unemployed middle-aged man bumming around. How sad. My true records can’t be accessed without clearance to international classified information databases.

“In other words, I have no records or achievements to show…”

It’s like starting over from scratch.

With no verifiable past achievements, any private company would likely turn me away at the door.

But I felt strangely refreshed.

How many years has it been since I wasn’t part of an organization?

First, I need to overcome this blank period and regain my instincts.

After some research, I found that having recorded footage of dungeon dives is helpful for getting hired by dungeon conquest companies. It serves as a substitute for a resume, I guess.

So, I immediately went to Akihabara and bought a drone for video recording.

It’s a small, round, white drone that fits in the palm of my hand, somewhat resembling a hamster. Despite its size, it can fly, dive, and record high-quality video for up to 100 hours. It even has built-in AI and can hold conversations.

Moreover, if I’m in danger inside a dungeon, it can instantly teleport me back to the entrance.

It’s practically perfect.

Such high-performance, all-in-one devices are possible thanks to mana materials obtained from dungeons. Mana materials have led to astonishing advancements across various technological fields, and this drone is one of them.

Right after buying it, I sat in a small park in Akihabara, inputting my ID and initial settings while reading the manual. Hmm… click, click…

This kind of task wasn’t something I did in the Self-Defense Forces, so it took some time. I’m not great with the latest gadgets. After several dozen minutes, the drone finally activated and began flying around me.

“Beep beep! Initial setup complete!”

“Good… What’s my name?”

“Cross-referencing with the data bank… Mr. Kamiya, correct?”

“That’s right. Let’s get along from now on.”

“Beep! Likewise, I look forward to working with you!”

Enough information remained in the data bank for synchronization, so linking with it wasn’t a problem. With the drone set up, it was time to start recording.

There’s an F-rank dungeon nearby. F-rank dungeons pose no danger, and anyone can enter freely. Perfect for warming up.

“Switch to video recording mode.”

“Beep beep! Understood! Should I set it to public mode?”

“What’s that?”

“It will broadcast to ‘D-Watch,’ a streaming site partnered with this drone. Since you’re synced with the data bank, Mr. Kamiya, you can start live streaming immediately. Public mode is recommended by default.”

“I see…”

D-Watch is the world’s largest video and streaming platform for dungeon-related content.

Every private dungeon conquest company uses it nowadays.

The Self-Defense Forces never did videos or live streams, so I’m not entirely familiar with it. But public mode should be fine, right?

“If you want to use dungeon conquests for employment purposes, live streaming is highly effective. It serves as verified proof of your abilities.”

“That sounds good. No need for editing or anything?”

“Also, enabling the public setting for the mana counter which displays your remaining mana is recommended. It helps when reviewing later.”

Mana is a resource unique to those who have gained power in dungeons something like magical energy or mental strength. Nowadays, even mana levels can be tracked by drones. What a convenient era.

“Then enable that too.”

Without overthinking it, I turned on all the recommended features. Might as well do everything now. Regretting not doing something later is the worst. With the settings complete, I headed for the dungeon.

At that time, I had no idea.

About the staggering reach and influence of live streaming.

“First time seeing this guy.”

“Never seen this old man before.”

“The mana counter in the top right shows 20 million mana for this old man… Is that a bug? Japan’s S-ranks usually have around 8 million, right?”

“D-Watch’s mana counter is supposed to be accurate.”

“Maybe it’s rigged?”

“Can’t rig a live stream.”

“If it’s rigged, that’s even crazier.”

“Broadcasting your mana counter too? What an amateur.”

“Whoa. 20 million mana? Seriously?”

“LOL If real, he’s Japan’s strongest.”

“Does he even notice the comments?”

“Normally, the drone would show holograms, but he probably turned it off.”

“Recommended setting is off, but most people leave it on.”

“Total amateur.”

“First time here. Heard Japan’s strongest is streaming.”

“Calling the verification team.”

“Something insane just started.”

“The legendary old man begins.”