The Expedition force advanced at astonishing speed, its efficiency unmatched.
Each squad engaged a wave of monsters, then rotated out immediately. Every team had ample time to rest and warm up before taking the field again.
After several rotations, the group had already descended from the upper floors to Floor 13. From here onward, the monsters grew stronger—their power tripled or even quadrupled compared to those on the first floor.
The appearance of Minotaurs, Hellhounds, and Killer Rabbits greatly increased the pressure on the shield-bearing Adventurers. The Minotaur relied on brute strength, the Hellhound on devastating magic, and the Killer Rabbit on agility and precision.
From this floor onward, each team's challenge rose sharply.
Not only did the monsters' strength increase, but their numbers as well, slowing the overall advance. Yet despite the growing pressure, the Adventurers showed no signs of strain—only mounting excitement.
"Incredible. The efficiency is unbelievable."
Alise watched their steady progress with genuine admiration. Judging by both pace and coordination, their advance could only be described as lightning fast.
"Warrior, shield, and archer—a perfect front and rear formation forming a compact battle circle. No matter how agile the enemy, someone can respond. The archer handles both suppression and finishing."
Kaguya observed the three-person cells closely, quickly grasping the essence of their formation. The combination of front and rear roles allowed flexible adaptation to any kind of opponent.
Moreover, once one squad finished their battle, they immediately yielded the field to the next. The archers could restock arrows between engagements, ensuring a constant supply and seamless rotation.
"In addition to their Dungeon training, their work inside the Challenge Space must have played a major role. This formation must've been tested and refined there."
From their precision and coordination, Kaguya could easily tell this tactic wasn't spontaneous. The three-man structure—with clear roles and a controlled rhythm—was the optimal configuration, allowing every Adventurer a moment to breathe after each fight.
She glanced back at her own team.
They, too, had clear roles, but lacked the same defined structure. In battle, there were often moments when the intensity offered no chance to rest. It was… inefficient.
Once this Expedition was over, she decided, they would need to rework their formations and refine their teamwork.
"Moo!!"
A Minotaur appeared—a humanoid beast with the head of a bull, its twin horns and massive axe radiating threat. Its style was wild and unrestrained, like that of a berserker. Facing such a foe required utmost caution.
The Minotaur swung its axe downward at a one-handed swordsman. Quick and nimble, the Adventurer sidestepped with ease and darted in close, slashing across its side. The monster retaliated instantly, raising its axe to strike again.
But its stationary stance made it the perfect target for the archer behind them.
Thwip!
The arrow flew straight and true, piercing the Minotaur's eye.
"Graaaah!"
The beast roared in agony, thrashing wildly as it swung its axe in blind rage. The shield Adventurer charged, shield-first, blocking the chaotic strikes head-on.
Meanwhile, the swordsman moved behind the creature, bringing his blade down sharply on the back of its knee.
The Minotaur's body was like a suit of armor made of muscle—dense enough to resist most blows. But the joint behind the knee was its weak point. The clean strike severed its strength, forcing it to one knee. The massive axe fell from its grasp.
Seizing the opening, the shield bearer rammed forward, slamming his shield into the monster's face with a heavy thud.
Off balance, the Minotaur toppled backward.
The archer stepped onto the shield bearer's back, vaulted high into the air, and loosed three arrows aimed squarely at the beast's throat.
Thunk!
All three hit their mark—but not deeply enough to kill. The shots pierced the flesh but failed to sever the windpipe.
The swordsman finished it. Gripping his blade in both hands, he plunged it straight into the Minotaur's throat. One decisive thrust ended the struggle.
The entire exchange took seconds—flawless cooperation, each action flowing into the next: suppression, imbalance, blindness, collapse, execution.
As they delved deeper, the number of monsters made it impossible for a single team to act alone. Dozens of squads fought side by side, maintaining perfect spacing.
The battlefield was cleanly divided; even when fights overlapped, the Adventurers shifted seamlessly, covering one another without confusion. Such coordination required a level of trust and practice few could achieve.
Yet for the Loki Familia, it all seemed effortless—so natural it was as if they were living out an ordinary day. No orders, no shouting, no hesitation. Even the timing of their victories was nearly identical.
This coordination turned efficient combat into a form of art.
"Wyrmling!"
At the shout, the front squad disengaged instantly, retreating as the next line advanced. This time, it wasn't a three-man team but a five-shield formation at the front, followed by three mages with staffs, and behind them, five dual-blade Adventurers rushing to flank.
"ROAAAR!!"
The young dragon's roar shook the air itself, its sound waves slamming into the shields of the front line, rippling across the metal.
As the shockwave passed, the dual-blade squad split to both sides, dashing out from behind the shields.
The wyrmling was among the most dangerous monsters of the middle floors—a young dragon, armored in thick scales that deflected steel and wielding deadly breath attacks. Its roars and fireballs could annihilate entire teams.
But while its scales resisted weapons, they were far less effective against magic. A wyrmling was still immature—its magical resistance not yet fully formed.
The five dual-blade Adventurers darted around it, drawing its attention and preventing it from gathering energy for a fireball. Behind them, the three mages seized the opening, completing their chants and unleashing their spells.
Three blasts of magic struck the wyrmling's head. In an instant, the explosion reduced it to nothing. The kill was clean, precise—executed in the shortest possible time.
Combat, coordination, and strategy—refined to perfection.
The art of battle itself.