Among the five party members, Rogue apprentice Meva and Cleric apprentice Daphne were least affected by him, simply because of the type of skills they practiced.
But for Laevin, Doyle, and Oliver, it was a different story. Gauss's efficient monster kills meant their own combat abilities had little opportunity to be used. Like him, they needed to hone their skills through real encounters.
But now? Most fights ended before they even finished warming up.
Over time, unused skills would deteriorate.
Their pride wouldn't allow them to ask Gauss to go easy and hand over easy kills. So, a temporary separation was inevitable.
Gauss had already vaguely sensed this coming.
He didn't feel any strong negativity about their decision—on the contrary, he understood.
Many adventurers were idealists, willing to risk their lives in pursuit of extraordinary dreams. Realistically, his progress had outpaced the Night Owl squad for some time now.
Even if it hadn't happened today, a split was always going to happen eventually. At least it ended on good terms.
Still, he was back to flying solo again. Gauss stretched.
Being a lone adventurer had its perks and drawbacks.
More freedom. More danger.
He'd take it one step at a time.
Compared to a month ago, he now had a decent grasp of self-preservation.
Among non-classed adventurers, he was definitely top-tier in terms of individual strength.
Low-tier adventurers didn't rely on flashy abilities. It was mostly about weaponry and going toe-to-toe with monsters.
Despite his cautious personality, Gauss wasn't timid. If he were, he wouldn't have dared charge at goblins with nothing but a wooden spear when he first arrived in this world.
…
By a patch of wheat fields where green faded into gold, a lone figure moved at a steady pace, carrying a rucksack on his back.
Under messy black bangs, a pair of emerald-green eyes scanned the landscape with alert precision.
Gauss kept his guard up, eyes flicking across the ridgelines of the farmland.
Now that he was back to operating alone, he hadn't bothered finding a new party.
Not out of loyalty to his last group—but simply because party formations and breakups were common in this world.
Honestly, he was just feeling lazy. The idea of making small talk with strangers again didn't appeal to him. He figured he'd start with some simple solo quests.
This time, he picked a mission north of Grayrock Town.
Why?
Because it was safer.
Geographically, Grayrock sat on the southern border of the kingdom, with the Jade Forest stretching to the south, forming a U-shaped natural enclosure. A cleared buffer zone kept the forest at bay.
The farther north you went, the stronger humanity's influence—and the less likely you were to run into powerful monsters.
Unless, of course, you were incredibly unlucky and bumped into a rogue high-level creature. But if that happened… well, that was just bad luck.
"Still goblins this time, huh?" Gauss looked over the quest sheet.
Even in the safer northern zones, goblins—like cockroaches—were everywhere.
At first, he didn't get it. But now he understood just how persistent goblins were.
When their tribe got wiped out, goblins would scatter. It was like they were hardwired for it. They'd hole up in remote mountains or forests, mate with whatever similarly sized animal they could find, and repopulate.
The offspring would be weak, sure—but they'd survive through numbers alone.
Even if humanity wiped out all goblins in the area, magical beasts from the southern monsterlands would still wander into human territory, unknowingly carrying pregnant goblin-spawn into their midst. A never-ending cycle.
It was said that newborn goblins could go days without food by drawing on nutrients absorbed in the womb. After a few days of growth, they'd be up and moving, eating fallen leaves, roots, seeds—whatever they could find.
Kind of like those documentaries Gauss had seen in his past life—tiny fish living in mountaintop ponds. Just as resilient.
Unless the southern monsterlands were completely destroyed, goblins would never go extinct.
"Found it!"
Suddenly, Gauss spotted fresh tracks on the ground.
Following them, he soon spotted a few goblins up ahead, sneakily harvesting unripe grain from the wheat fields.
Crop thieves.
Yes, some goblins had learned to steal human crops for food.
He'd heard that in the past, goblins couldn't even digest human-grown grains—they preferred rotten meat, bugs, or berries. But over time, their digestion improved. Now they could eat just about anything people could—or couldn't.
"Five goblins… the rest must be in the den." He waited patiently, watching.
When the goblins had filled their arms with stolen wheat, Gauss silently circled around to cut off their retreat.
The five goblins noticed him—one man, alone.
Their dull eyes flicked over him, and then lit up with savage glee.
A lone human!
Fresh meat was better than grain any day.
Gauss checked his Mage Armor—still intact.
He tossed aside his pack and drew his rapier.
Then he charged.
"Swish!"
A silver blur sliced through the air.
Caught up in their fantasies of feasting, the goblins didn't expect him to move so fast.
His blade swept through the wheat stalks like a scythe. The grains burst apart in golden plumes—and then the steel drove into a goblin's throat.
One down. The goblin collapsed—its body still clutching wheat.
Blood and chaff scattered like flower petals in the sunlit fields.
"First one."
Gauss turned smoothly, blade arcing in a half-circle.
The other goblins were weighed down by grain, unarmed, and sluggish. They never had a chance.
"Whoosh!"
With a clean sweep, three more goblins fell alongside broken wheat stalks.
The last one panicked, dropped its haul, and scrambled away on all fours.
Gauss didn't chase it. Instead, he calmly wiped the blood from his blade.
Of course, he'd left that one alive on purpose.
"Total Monster Kills: 82."
Four goblins here, and earlier, he'd taken out three slimes near a pond.
He was getting closer to the big milestone: 100 kills.
He planned to stick around this area for a while. The village elder had mentioned that several nearby farms were plagued by these "field rats."
Rats indeed—these goblins were perfect targets.
Skilled in hiding, cowardly by nature, and easy to pick off.
Exactly the kind of enemies he liked to squash.