A full week had bled into the rhythmic, humid pulse of the labyrinth, and finally, I stood before the iron-bound doors of the tenth floor once more. The scenery was as familiar as it was exhausting, but the air felt fundamentally different this time. I wasn’t alone. Standing just a half-step behind my left shoulder was Namo, his iron shield braced and his feline ears twitching at the low, ambient hum of the dungeon’s pale green veins. Many things had happened during this week of preparation, and as we faced the milestone of the tenth level, I realized we had both learned far more than just how to swing a blade in unison.

  I had spent most of our time in the lower corridors testing and practicing various combat maneuvers, focused primarily on strengthening Namo’s raw fighting prowess. After he equipped the Beast Warrior job, his movements underwent a radical transformation. He started to act less like a frightened villager and more like a true hunter, his reflexes sharpening and his footwork becoming more predatory. Thanks to the inherent stat boosts of the job, it was noticeably easier for him to dispatch the common enemies of the first five floors. However, as the week progressed, a mystery began to emerge. When Namo started to use his strength properly, I was genuinely surprised; his strikes were more powerful and his movements were significantly faster than I had anticipated, even accounting for his new job levels and beastkin heritage.

  I eventually solved this puzzle by delving into the mechanics of our party bond. Through the Party Panel, I discovered a passive link that was augmenting his growth. Namo was receiving a direct portion of the stat bonuses I gained from my own equipped jobs. It wasn't a total transfer—only about one-tenth of my bonuses bled over to him—but since I was currently running five different jobs simultaneously, the cumulative effect was staggering for someone of his level. Conversely, I also felt a slight sharpening of my own senses, receiving a tenth of the bonuses from his Beast Warrior role.

  The system seemed designed to reward cooperation in a very literal sense. If we were to fill a party to its six-member limit, and if every member possessed similar high-tier jobs, the combined stat bleed could effectively make every individual fifty percent stronger than they were alone. Even with our current two-man setup, the synergy was undeniable. Since my job bonuses were significantly higher than his, Namo was the one who benefited most from this "stat-sharing," turning him into a much more formidable vanguard than a standard Level 10 warrior.

  The experience distribution, however, proved to be a more complex hurdle that required careful optimization. I spent several hours during our rest calculating the most efficient way to grow. When Namo killed an enemy, the base experience was divided equally between us. However, my experience multiplier skills complicated matters. Because I had my Experience Requirement Reduction skill at Level 6, the effective experience I received for my jobs was multiplied by seven. But because that experience was then split among my five active jobs, each individual role only received a fraction of the total.

  For Namo, the situation was even more restrictive. With only one active job and no personal multipliers, his growth was painfully slow if he was the one delivering the killing blow. I realized that for both of us to thrive, I had to be the one to finish the monsters. If I struck the lethal blow, the total experience was multiplied by my seventh-tier bonus before being split. This allowed both of us to receive a much larger "chunk" of growth. The problem was that if I did all the killing, Namo would never develop the muscle memory or the tactical intuition required to survive the deeper floors.

  I had to strike a balance. I used Namo as an active participant, letting him distract, wound, and corner the monsters. I would occasionally act as the support, letting him take the lead until the enemy was nearly defeated, at which point I would step in to secure the kill and the maximum experience gain. He listened to every command with a silent, almost eerie devotion. His grasp of the common language was still rudimentary, which led to a few frustrating misunderstandings, but his willingness to learn was absolute. He was a man who developed slowly, possessing a solemn, almost dull air that made it hard for others to form a quick bond with him, but his loyalty was proving to be as solid as the iron shield he carried.

  Our financial progress was equally steady. By the time we reached the tenth floor, we had collected 86 silver and 80 copper coins from the standard monsters of the middle floors. We had also decided to go back and "farm" the mini-boss of the fifth floor—the Predator Serpent. This was arguably the most challenging part of our training week. At that point, we hadn't quite mastered the unspoken cues of a party, and the snake’s erratic, high-speed lunges were a terrifying test for Namo.

  During our third attempt at the serpent, disaster nearly struck. I had instructed Namo to act as a distraction while I prepared a finishing blow, shouting for him not to get any closer to the creature’s maw. But in the humid, echoing chaos of the cave, he misunderstood the command. He stepped directly into the serpent's strike zone. The massive beast lunged, its fangs catching Namo’s right shoulder just as I buried my steel blade into its skull. It was a shallow bite, and fortunately, the serpent wasn't venomous, but the sight of him being bitten sent a jolt of genuine fear through me.

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  I immediately utilized my Healing Touch and burned through two of my precious HP medicines to ensure the wound closed without infection. That incident was a turning point. It made me realize that being stronger didn't make us invincible; numbers, coordination, and split-second communication were the only things that would keep us alive. We stopped farming the serpent after that third kill, but the three iron fangs we collected sold for 150 silver coins at the Guild.

  We reinvested nearly all of our earnings back into Namo’s survival. I traded in his original wooden shield and copper sword, upgrading him to a full iron kit: an iron sword, a heavy iron shield, and a sturdy leather breastplate. The transaction cost us 220 silver coins, leaving us with a modest reserve of 20 silver and 80 copper. It was a steep investment, but seeing him stand in the iron gear, his feline ears alert and his posture confident, made every coin spent feel justified. We also made sure to restock our provisions, spending another silver on ten portions of dry nutrients after our first batch ran out on the fifth day.

  While we were focusing on the grind, something unexpected was happening on the surface. I discovered that I had become a topic of conversation among the raiders and guild staff. During one of our visits to the Dungeon Raiders Guild to sell the serpent fangs, I encountered Naela, the catkin receptionist, again. Her reaction was night and day compared to our last meeting. The moment I approached the counter, her slanted pupils dilated, and her tail began to thrash with a localized kind of excitement.

  “Oh, it is you again! Where were you all this time~nya?” she chirped, leaning over the counter so far her ears nearly touched the wood.

  “I was in the dungeon,” I said, baffled by her intensity. “Why do you ask?”

  “Don't play coy with me~nya! Why didn't you tell me you were that 'Lone Wolf' everyone has been whispering about? People have been coming in here for days asking about the 'Arrogant Bastard' who clears floors like a demon~nya!”

  I nearly choked on my own breath. It seemed my solo dives to the ninth floor had earned me a reputation I neither wanted nor anticipated. The raiders who clung to five-man parties viewed my singular progress as either a sign of madness or a display of extreme arrogance. I tried to point out that I wasn't alone anymore, gesturing to Namo standing behind me like a stone sentinel.

  Naela let out a long, theatrical huff, her mood swinging from excitement to a mock-pout. “Oh, these liars~nya! They said you were a one-man army. How dare they deceive me! You have a companion just like everyone else~nya.”

  “I bought him a few days ago,” I explained, though I knew it was futile. “I was alone until then.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m sure you were~nya,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. She had clearly decided that the rumors were just another set of "exaggerations" from people trying to make a name for themselves. I didn't push the issue. I had no desire to convince her of my "lone wolf" status; if people thought I was just part of a standard two-man party, it would draw less scrutiny to my actual capabilities.

  I sold the three fangs for the standard 150 silver, took the money, and left the Guild. I didn't care about the nicknames or the gossip, but the interaction reminded me that the deeper we went, the more we would stand out.

  Now, as the tenth-floor doors loomed, I felt the weight of the past week settling into my muscles. Our teamwork was no longer a theory; it was a reality forged in blood and iron. Namo’s Beast Warrior job was leveling steadily, currently sitting at Level 10, while my own roles continued their abnormal growth.

  ***

  Equipped Jobs:

  Swordsman Level 26

  Warrior Level 20

  Dungeon Raider Level 20

  Monk Level 16

  Hunter Level 29

  ***

  I was satisfied with the growth. My experience multiplier, currently at forty-nine times, was doing most of the heavy lifting. I found myself wondering if my skills that increased the experience dropped from an enemy would be shared with Namo now that we were in a party. If so, his growth would eventually match my own. I planned to test this tomorrow, but for now, the objective was simple. We were going to step through those doors, face the milestone of the tenth floor, and prove that we were no longer just a master and a slave—we were a force to be reckoned with.

  I checked our supplies one last time: my steel sword was sharp, Namo's iron shield was braced, and our mana and stamina reserves were full. I looked at Namo and offered a small, resolute nod. He didn't smile—he rarely did—but his ears twitched in acknowledgment. I pushed the heavy doors open, the grinding of stone against stone echoing through the corridor as we prepared to enter the heart of the dungeon.

  [Edited]