"No, no—definitely not," Laevin chuckled. "If that had been a challenge-rated kobold, even just Level 1, there's no way we would've dodged that fireball."
Gauss felt a twinge of disappointment.
He'd really thought he had just taken down something stronger—something worthy of a proper monster rating.
But thinking it through, the bestiary also listed that elder kobold as a regular one. So clearly, it hadn't crossed that threshold.
"We've run into monsters like that before," Laevin continued. "Ones with minor spellcasting abilities. Usually they're just using magical items or relying on mutated organs. They're annoying, sure—but not impossible to deal with."
His strength might be far below Gauss's now, but in terms of field experience, Laevin was still leagues ahead—and happy to share.
Besides, passing on this kind of not-so-rare intel in exchange for the goodwill of a future professional mage? A no-brainer deal.
"Makes sense..." Gauss nodded, thoughtful.
No wonder he hadn't sensed any magic—just a sudden physical release. That elder kobold probably breathed fire using some kind of mutated gland. And judging by how it visibly aged after the attack, the strain must've been huge.
Magic really was a terrifying force.
Even a kobold, with just a crude imitation of a spell, could pose a serious threat to a party—if it struck at the right moment.
But Gauss was reminded of something else too: spellcasters were fragile.
If you let enemies close in, you were done. That elder kobold went down with one solid strike. Honestly, it probably died even faster than its kin.
All Gauss had done was disrupt its timing with Mage Hand, and it cooked itself alive.
"I'm glad I'm not that kind of caster."
Seeing a fellow "caster" die so pitifully only made Gauss more certain: survivability comes first. It didn't matter how strong you were—if you died, you were useless.
Once the group finished looting the central hall and confirmed there were no kobold survivors hiding in the adjacent rooms, they began the slow, painful crawl back out.
Roughly ten minutes later—
Sunlight.
Warm beams poured across their faces, making everyone instinctively squint after so long in the dark.
"Finally outside," someone muttered.
Even the abandoned, eerie ruins of the mine looked like a vacation spot compared to the cramped, stifling kobold tunnels.
There must be something wired deep in the human brain that hates narrow, underground places. No one had voiced it earlier, but everyone had felt the pressure of that claustrophobic darkness.
After a short break at their makeshift camp, they glanced up at the sun. Still plenty of daylight.
Time to start the trek back to Grayrock Town.
Best not to camp in the wild if you can avoid it.
Making camp meant building fires, taking watch shifts, and dealing with unpredictable dangers.
Gauss glanced at their packed cart, curious how much all this loot would fetch.
Kobold combat skills were whatever—but their trash hoarding skills? Top-tier.
Their base had been crammed full of weird odds and ends. Even Meva didn't know what some of it was worth. In the end, she just told them to grab everything that wasn't nailed down.
They also had the mutated elder kobold's corpse taking up a good chunk of the cart space.
That was part of why they were rushing back—leave it overnight, and it'd start to stink bad.
Eventually, they made it back before dark.
Upon reaching town, they were stopped by the gate guards, who gave their loot a thorough inspection. Once their identities were confirmed, they were waved through.
First stop, as always: the Adventurers' Guild.
"80 copper per adult kobold. 40 copper per juvenile. Total: 20 silver. Please verify the amount."
After turning in the proof-of-kill items, the receptionist handed over their mission payment.
Gauss leaned over, curious to peek behind the counter.
Unfortunately, the desk blocked everything.
It always seemed like guild staff did something under the table—some kind of checking process. When the materials were worthless, the receptionist would keep them. But if any of the items had value, they'd reappear alongside the cash.
"Is it magic?" Gauss wondered.
Most things that didn't make logical sense in this world were tied to magic in some way.
But even when he focused hard, he couldn't feel any magical energy during the check process. Either he wasn't skilled enough yet—or something else was at play.
With the reward in hand, they stepped away from the counter.
Laevin immediately started splitting the earnings.
Gauss received five silver, noticeably more than the others.
But no one objected.
If not for Gauss's quick thinking—and his elimination of the fire-breathing kobold—things might've turned out very differently.
Night Owl party had always operated by merit. Whoever pulled more weight, earned more coin.
Gauss didn't pretend to refuse. He simply thanked them and pocketed the silver.
Next up: unloading the rest of the junk cart.
"You guys sure took your time."
Doyle, who'd been stuck guarding the loot outside, grumbled when they returned.
"Let's hurry up and sell this crap. I'm starving."
Aside from a bit of rationed food during their midday rest, no one had eaten since yesterday.
Now that he mentioned it, Gauss felt it too—his stomach was growling harder than usual. He rubbed his belly.
Was he always this hungry?
Then he remembered: he'd recently gained the racial trait [Quick Digestion].
Huh. That might be the cause.
Not all upsides, huh?
"What if I end up becoming a bottomless pit..." Gauss thought with dread.
"If my food expenses go up, my Engel coefficient's going to skyrocket."
He instinctively reached for his purse and gave it a protective pat. He'd only just begun saving a little...
His sword almost seemed to twitch at his side.
In that moment, Gauss had a dangerous thought:
"Might be time to visit some old friends... you know, the green-skinned ones. Boost digestion... earn some coin... two birds, one stone."