Stepping onto the tenth floor of the Targashar Dungeon felt like crossing a threshold into a new tier of reality. Even though the physical aesthetics remained stubbornly familiar—the same dark, oppressive stone corridors illuminated by those rhythmic, pale green veins of light—the atmosphere was noticeably thicker. This was the first floor I had ever set foot on that I hadn't cleared during my initial solo run. However, I didn’t anticipate any radical surprises in terms of monster species. Much like the fifth floor had been a "best-of" collection of the first four levels, the tenth floor served as a grueling consolidation of floors six through nine. The nimble wolves, earth turtles, long scythes, and green orcs were all here, but they had all been scaled up to a formidable Level 10.

  We moved through the first few corridors with a practiced, lethal efficiency. Our teamwork, forged in the fires of the previous week's grinding, had become a fluid extension of our intent. When we encountered the nimble wolves, whose high agility made them a nightmare to pin down alone, Namo acted as the anvil. He would use his iron shield to restrict their movement and bait their lunges, allowing me to circle around and deliver a finishing strike to their flanks. When the massive earth turtles appeared, Namo’s role shifted to providing the raw leverage needed to flip them onto their carapaces, exposing the soft, vulnerable tissue beneath for my blade.

  The real challenge of the tenth floor, however, wasn't the individual strength of the monsters, but their new social dynamics. On this floor, the concept of a "lone" monster had been entirely discarded. Every encounter was a duo or a small squad, and the dungeon seemed to have a perverse sense of humor when it came to pairing them up. The most frustrating combinations were the "well-suited" groups—monsters whose innate abilities covered for each other’s fatal flaws.

  It was a strange irony that the earth turtle, arguably the least threatening monster in a vacuum due to its sluggishness, became the most dangerous partner on the floor. To kill a turtle, I had to pause, holster my sword, and exert a significant amount of physical energy to overturn it. In those few seconds of vulnerability, the turtle’s companion was free to strike. The most lethal "couple" we faced was an earth turtle paired with a long scythe mantis. While I was occupied with the turtle’s heavy carapace, the mantis would unleash its terrifying seven-strike combo. Namo played his most vital role during these moments; he didn't have the offensive output to kill the high-level mantises quickly, but his job was to stall them—to be the shield that bought me the seconds I needed to finish the turtle and re-engage.

  We also encountered orc and nimble wolf duos that acted like a veteran hunter and his tireless hound. The wolf would circle our blind spots, nipping at our heels to keep us off-balance, while the orc looked for the perfect moment to deliver a heavy, overhead sword strike. As we faced these varied combinations, I felt a growing appreciation for Namo's presence. I had conquered nine floors alone, but the tenth floor was clearly designed to break solo delvers. The mental and physical tax of managing multiple high-level threats simultaneously would have eventually led to a fatal mistake.

  By my stomach's estimation, it was around noon when we decided to take a break. We had just finished a particularly exhausting fight against a long scythe and a nimble wolf duo. The mantis’s blades had been a blur of green chitin, and the wolf had been a persistent shadow at my back. Namo had been magnificent, intercepting the wolf's lunges and giving me the breathing room to parry the mantis’s "frenzy" state. We sat against the cool stone wall of a cleared intersection, far enough from the next spawn point to be safe.

  We ate our rations in relative silence, the only sound being the distant, muffled echoes of other delvers and the low hum of the dungeon's veins. I checked our progress and was satisfied to see that we had already defeated sixty monsters on this floor. The economic incentive was becoming impossible to ignore. Every monster now dropped fifty-five copper Obscura, meaning every duo we killed resulted in more than a full silver coin’s worth of loot.

  The total of 3,300 copper Obscura, the sheer volume of coins was a powerful motivator. It made the sting of the scratches on my armor feel like a fair trade. After we finished our rest, we stood up, checked our gear, and pushed toward the end of the floor. This was the final stretch covered by my current maps, and I knew I would need to return to the Guild soon to buy the eleventh-through-fifteenth-floor package.

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  As we neared the boss room, the number of other parties started to increase. I noticed four distinct groups waiting in the wide staging area before the massive black doors. Each group consisted of six people—the maximum party capacity—and they were all heavily armored. Many had partially metal suits and weapons that glowed with faint enchantments. They looked at the two of us with expressions ranging from curiosity to outright skepticism.

  I knew how we looked to them: a lone warrior and a single catkin slave, standing before a milestone that usually required a small army of coordinated veterans. If I were in their shoes, I would have thought we were either incredibly powerful or suicidal. But as I leaned against the wall to wait our turn, I ran through my mental checklist of why I was confident enough to be here.

  First, my stats were abnormal. Thanks to my five active jobs and the various bonuses I had accumulated, I was physically superior to almost anyone on these floors. Second, I was a hoarder of experience. I didn't want to share my gains with a six-man party because it would dilute my growth to a crawl. I preferred a lean, fast-moving duo that maximized every kill. And third, I had the ultimate safety net: the Warp spell. Unlike the Dungeon Walk skill, which failed the moment an enemy was nearby, Warp didn't care about proximity. If things went truly south, I could pull Namo and myself out in a heartbeat.

  The wait was grueling. It took two full hours for the four groups ahead of us to finish their attempts. The length of time suggested that whatever lay behind those doors was significantly more durable than the Predator Serpent of the fifth floor. When the glow around the doorframe finally faded for the last time, I stood up and nodded to Namo. It was our turn.

  We pushed the doors open and stepped into the chamber. As they slammed shut, the environment began to shift with a violent, grinding sound. This wasn't a standard cave or a clinical dome. Tree-shaped stone pillars erupted from the floor, their "branches" reaching toward a ceiling that was becoming increasingly jagged with stone protrusions. The floor became uneven, covered in a sticky, translucent film that shimmered in the green light.

  A silhouette began to manifest in the center of the room, but it didn't form on the ground. It coalesced among the stone pillars, its many legs clicking against the rock as it took shape. I had learned from my previous runs that a boss only stayed manifested if the previous party had failed to kill it. If the doors were closed and the boss was already there, it meant someone had died. But since this was a fresh manifestation, the room was a clean slate.

  The creature that finally emerged made my skin crawl. It was a spider, standing three meters tall, its abdomen bloated and pulsing with a sickly, internal light. It had eight multifaceted eyes that seemed to track both of us simultaneously, and a pair of dripping, obsidian-colored mandibles.

  ***

  Venomous Mother

  Sex: Female

  Status: Normal

  Level 10 Mini Boss

  ***

  The name "Venomous Mother" sent a cold spike of dread through my chest. Up until this point, I had treated the dungeon as a tactical challenge—a game of Strength and Agility. But "Venomous" introduced a variable I was entirely unprepared for: poison.

  I had spent my time learning about dungeon mechanics and city gossip, but I hadn't once asked about the specific abilities of the tenth-floor boss. I had wanted the "surprise factor" to keep my journey enjoyable, to savor the world fully as a fantasy explorer. But looking at the dark fluid dripping from the spider's fangs, I realized I had crossed the line between confidence and recklessness. If either of us were bitten, my Healing Touch might close the wound, but I had no idea if it could neutralize a high-grade toxin.

  The spider skittered along the ceiling, its weight causing the stone pillars to groan. It looked down at us, and for the first time since entering this world, I felt the true weight of my responsibility toward Namo. I wasn't just playing a game anymore; I was leading another living being into a poisonous nest because I had been too arrogant to ask for a scouting report. I tightened my grip on my sword, my mind racing through our inventory of medicines. We were in for the fight of our lives.

  [Edited]