"Raaaaagh!!"
I swung my sword with full force to vent frustration, cutting down the monster.
Somehow I managed to finish off the whole pack.
(Damn it! So irritating!)
The main reason for my irritation was Philly—our new enchanter—who kept letting buffs drop mid-fight.
At first I was thrilled by her support magic, which far surpassed Orun's in potency.
But having my body's rhythm shattered repeatedly in combat built up nothing but frustration.
When a buff expires, physical stats snap back instantly—not gradually.
Fine when standing or walking, but in the middle of intense movement?
It feels like someone suddenly strapped massive weights to every limb.
Light as a feather one second, then crushed by lead the next—over and over.
Do that enough times and it wears on both body and mind.
Orun had mastered mid-fight refreshes on his very first day—never let one drop during combat within an hour.
And we've been down here for hours now?
"S-sorry! I'll get the timing soon, I promise!"
Philly bowed apologetically, looking genuinely remorseful.
…To be fair, Orun's adaptability had been freakish.
Maybe most enchanters needed longer to adjust.
I acknowledged that much.
"I'm counting on it. Also—Derrick and I are frontline. We've got blind spots. Call out monster movements behind us. An enchanter has full view—that much you can do, right?"
"I-I can't! Right now just keeping buffs up is all I can manage…!"
This was her first dive in the southern labyrinth.
I knew my own magic resistance was high.
Even for a top enchanter, expecting her to match Orun's decade of synergy right away was unfair.
I couldn't blame her—so I turned my anger toward the next source: Aneiri.
"Aneiri—this is the deep layers! Even if it's just synergy testing, you know this isn't playtime!"
Aneiri hadn't landed a proper hit all day.
Her attack spells fired, but they barely scratched lower-layer monsters—weak, perfunctory blasts.
The burden fell on Derrick and me.
"I'm doing it properly! Same as always! So why!? Why can I only cast garbage spells like this!?"
Aneiri screamed hysterically.
She didn't seem to be lying. What was going on?
"Don't take it out on us, Oliver. You're off your game too. Me too. Slump, huh? Three of five suddenly slumping—talk about bad luck."
Derrick was right.
My own attack power felt dulled. Normally my decisive swings cleaved through anything.
Today? Nothing.
My stats should be boosted way higher thanks to Philly's buffs—so why?
Derrick too—usually unshakable no matter the hit.
Today he staggered constantly, even took clean blows.
"Damn it! I never skipped solo training! So why am I this weak!?"
As leader I tried to hide weakness—but frustration had eroded my calm. The complaint slipped out.
"…You really don't understand?"
Luna—silent since the welcome party two days ago—spoke up in utter disbelief.
"Luna—you know why we're off!?"
Derrick jumped on it immediately.
If she knew the cause—please, tell us.
I had to conquer this labyrinth.
I couldn't stall here.
"…Sigh. You truly don't get it. I'm speechless."
Then she clammed up again.
"Hey! Tell us! Your teammates are struggling—how can you act like that!?"
Aneiri snapped at Luna's attitude.
"…Teammates? I suppose we still were… Sigh. Fine. The reason you've all weakened is—"
A thunderous roar split the sky overhead.
"Why…?"
Someone muttered—maybe me.
We looked up.
There it loomed—a massive reptilian beast covered in glossy obsidian-black scales.
Enormous wings spread wide enough to eclipse its body.
Malevolent in every line.
I knew this monster.
"Why the hell are you here—Black Dragon!!"
The ninety-second floor boss glared down at us from far above.