"Oraaaaaa!"
I swung my sword with everything I had, tearing through the magic beasts as I vented my mounting frustration.
Somehow, I managed to clear them all out.
Damn it! This is so irritating.
The primary source of my irritation was Philly, the new girl who had joined the party today. She kept letting her buffs expire.
At first, I’d been thrilled by the sheer potency of her support magic—it far exceeded anything Orun could produce. But when your physical equilibrium is shattered over and over again in the heat of combat, the frustration starts to pile up.
When a support magic buff expires, your physical abilities naturally return to their baseline. The problem is that it doesn't happen gradually; it happens in an instant.
It’s one thing when you’re standing still or walking, but during combat, you’re constantly in motion. If the buff drops then, it feels as if a massive weight has suddenly been dropped onto your entire body.
One moment I’m light as a feather, and the next, I feel like I’m dragging lead weights. Then I’m light again. Repeating that cycle over and over is a massive drain, both physically and mentally.
During his very first day of training, that guy had mastered his timing within an hour. He never let a buff drop during combat again. We’d already been diving in the Great Labyrinth for hours now—how had she not adjusted yet?
"I-I'm so sorry! I'll get the hang of it soon, I promise!"
Philly apologized, hanging her head in shame.
...Admittedly, that guy's level of adaptability had been nothing short of abnormal. I’d always given him that much. Perhaps it was natural for an ordinary support mage to take a little longer to keep their buffs active.
"Yeah. Just see that you do. Also, Derrick and I are front-liners, which means we have a lot of blind spots. Keep us updated on what the beasts in our periphery are doing. You’re an Enchanter; you can see the whole battlefield. Surely you can handle that much?"
"T-t-t-that's impossible! Right now, I have my hands full just maintaining the support magic..."
This was Philly's first dive with the party. Furthermore, I was well aware that my own magic resistance was exceptionally high. Even for a talented Enchanter, asking her to match the performance of someone like Orun—who had been with us for nearly ten years—might have been a bit cruel.
Since I couldn't rightfully blame Philly, I turned the brunt of my anger toward Anneri.
"Anneri! This is the Deep Floors! Even if we’re just here to test our coordination, do you not realize this isn't a place to play around!?"
Anneri hadn't contributed anything meaningful all day. She was casting attack magic, sure, but her spells were so pathetic we’d be lucky if they could even scratch a beast from the Lower Floors. The resulting burden was falling entirely on Derrick and me.
"I am doing it properly! I’m doing exactly what I always do! So why?! Why is my magic coming out so weak?!" Anneri screamed hysterically.
Judging by her reaction, she wasn't lying. But if she wasn't, then what was going on?
"Don't take it out on her, Oliver. You’re not exactly at the top of your game today either. Well, neither am I. I guess this is what they call a slump? To have three out of the five of us hit a slump at the same time... talk about bad luck."
Derrick was right. My own attack power had plummeted. Usually, when I swung my sword in a decisive moment, I could cleave through the toughest hides with ease. But today, I couldn't.
My physical stats should have been significantly higher thanks to Philly’s buffs. So why?
And it wasn't just me. Derrick, who usually stood his ground no matter what hit him, was losing his balance constantly. He was even taking direct hits from the magic beasts.
"Damn it! I haven't even been slacking on my daily solo training! So why have I become so weak?!"
As the party leader, I tried to avoid showing any signs of weakness, but my composure had finally snapped under the weight of my frustration.
"......You really don't understand?"
Luna, who hadn't spoken a single word since the welcoming party ended two days ago, spoke up. Her voice was thick with pure exasperation.
"Luna? Do you know why we’re off our game?! ...Now that I think about it, you're the only one performing like usual."
Derrick was the first to react, pressing her for an answer. If she knew what was wrong, I needed to hear it. I had to conquer this Great Labyrinth. I couldn't afford to be held back by something like this.
"......Sigh. You truly haven't realized. I'm so stunned I don't even know what to say."
With that, Luna fell silent again.
"Hey! Tell us! What's with that attitude when your own teammates are struggling?!" Anneri barked, incensed by Luna’s dismissiveness.
"......Teammates? I suppose we still are, for now. ...Fine. The reason you've all become so weak is—!?"
Just as Luna was about to explain, a roar like a thunderclap ripped through the air.
"No way..."
One of us muttered the words while looking up toward the sound. It might have even been me.
Towering above us was a creature covered in glossy, obsidian scales. Its massive, reptilian body was flanked by wings large enough to shroud its entire frame. It was a magic beast that could only be described as "sinister."
I knew this monster.
"Why the hell are you here?! The Black Dragon!!"
The Black Dragon—the floor boss of the 92nd Floor—was staring down at us from the sky.