The interior of the Labyrinth was a sprawling maze of interconnected halls and corridors made of artificial stone. Luminescent ores lined the walls at regular intervals, providing enough light to see several meters ahead without any trouble.
I proceeded with caution for a while, but it seemed the area was free of traps. As I entered a large, hall-like space, I caught a glimpse of movement ahead. A closer look revealed the shadow to be a Horn Rabbit.
The Horn Rabbit was a rabbit-type Magic Beast with a single horn. While they were quick, their lack of durability made them easy prey even for novice Explorers.
I activated the magic bracelet on my left wrist, triggering the storage formula sealed inside. I summoned the sword I’d kept stored away and gripped the hilt as it materialized in my right hand.
It’s been a while since I’ve held a sword.
Against a Horn Rabbit, there was no chance of me falling behind. I decided to test my raw physical abilities rather than relying on Support Magic.
As I approached slowly, the rabbit noticed my presence. It lowered its head, aiming its horn at me, and lunged.
"Too slow."
I had spent my days fighting Magic Beasts in the Lower and Deep Floors of the Great Labyrinth. Compared to them, this rabbit moved in slow motion.
I let it draw close, waiting until the very last second before stepping half a pace back to dodge. As the rabbit soared past me, I swung my sword in an upward arc. The blade traced the exact trajectory I’d envisioned, slicing through the rabbit’s belly with zero resistance.
The Horn Rabbit’s body dissolved into a black mist, leaving only a small Magic Stone behind.
"...My body still remembers how to swing, even after all this time. Maybe I’m being a bit too cautious. I should pick up the pace and head for the lower floors."
It was a simple, monotonous fight, but being able to swing a sword again filled me with a quiet sense of satisfaction.
After that, I encountered a few more Magic Beasts like Goblins and Slimes. Since they only appeared one at a time, I dispatched them with minimal effort. I continued deeper, reaching the 3rd Floor without ever losing my way.
The layout was supposed to be a maze, but compared to the Lower and Deep Floors of a Great Labyrinth, this was child’s play. There were far too many tells—air currents and other subtle hints—to get lost.
Starting from the 3rd Floor, the enemies began appearing in groups. Even then, it was just small clusters of the same species. The Magic Beasts in this Labyrinth possessed low intelligence. I could have easily handled them without my buffs, but I wanted to get back into the rhythm of casting, so I applied Support Magic to myself.
Support Magic is exactly what it sounds like: magic that supports your allies by enhancing their physical abilities or the performance of their equipment. Conversely, it also includes magic that debuffs enemies, though such spells are rarely used since they are largely ineffective against powerful Magic Beasts.
Those who specialize in this field are known as Enchanters.
The Enchanter is an unappreciated class. Having spent several years as one, I feel confident in that assessment. An Enchanter is constantly racing against the clock.
Take a basic spell like Strength Up, for example. Its effects aren't permanent. It will eventually wear off, but the exact duration varies from person to person. This is attributed to the differences in an individual's innate magic resistance.
Essentially, an Enchanter has to juggle the timers for every party member, reapplying buffs the moment they flicker out. On top of that, members of other classes often assume that Enchanters have it easy since they just stand in the back while everyone else does the heavy lifting. Because they "aren't fighting," the vast majority of parties dump the responsibility of battlefield command onto the Enchanter as well.
The Hero Party was no exception.
Well, I suppose the emergence of a few "genius" Enchanters contributed to that expectation. They can track the remaining time on several allies' buffs, reapply them perfectly, activate new spells based on the shifting tide of battle, and issue commands all at once.
Since the work is rarely flashy, it goes largely unrewarded. It’s a thankless job where the sheer level of effort never matches the social standing or evaluation.
With my physical abilities bolstered by magic, I cut through the groups of Magic Beasts in an instant. Once they were gone, I stayed put and kept watch, waiting for the spell to expire.
"Exactly 180 seconds. Nice and easy to track."
The duration of Support Magic on myself was exactly three minutes. I had buffed myself before, of course, but I’d always been so focused on my teammates' timers that I never bothered to track my own.
Once I had a handle on my own timing, I began experimenting with different combat patterns. I tried initiating combat just as a spell was about to expire to practice refreshing it mid-fight. I also experimented with weaving attack magic into my melee combos and testing the feel of my Original Magic.
One of my Original Magics provides a massive boost but has an extremely short duration. I used to struggle with timing its activation to match my allies' movements. However, using it on myself was a revelation; because I could control the timing perfectly, it became an incredibly potent tool.
Over the course of nearly twenty battles, I began to establish a new style—one that synthesized my past experience as a swordsman with the Enchanter skills I’d honed until yesterday.
"A jack of all trades, huh..."
My physical stats are average compared to the Explorer population at large. I don't hold a candle to A-Rank Explorers. When it comes to magic, for some reason, I can't even cast anything above the intermediate level.
I am an ordinary man.
But even a commoner like me has a saving grace: the ability to quickly pick up any technique that can be acquired through sheer effort. I only learn them to a baseline level of proficiency, and it takes a long time to truly master them, but I learn fast.
A "jack of all trades, master of none" indeed.
Still, I vowed to become strong when I became an Explorer. I couldn't afford to give up just because I hit the ceiling of my natural talent.
So, I did the only thing I could: I devoured knowledge and technique. I took everything an ordinary person could achieve through hard work and pushed it to the absolute limit.
As a result, my casting speed became significantly faster than that of most A-Rank Explorers. By deepening my understanding of magical theory, I even succeeded in developing my own Original Magic. As for my physical shortcomings, I learned to compensate by mastering body control and various martial arts, allowing me to somehow keep pace with the elites.
Right now, the "jack of all trades" label Anneri used might be accurate. It’s certainly not a compliment.
But if a jack of all trades keeps evolving, don't they eventually become "all-rounders"?
I’ll show them. I won't let anyone mock me as a "jack of all trades" ever again. One day, I'll be the kind of Explorer they call a true All-Rounder!
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