"Something bothering you lately? You've locked yourself in your room the past couple of days."
Sophia's curiosity had been piqued by Gauss's unusual behavior.
Gauss shook his head.
"Just reading and thinking about training."
As soon as she heard it was about training, Sophia had nothing more to add.
Though her father had once been a fairly well-known adventurer in town, that was years ago, and she herself had never shown much interest in such matters.
"Then good luck," she said, offering verbal encouragement.
She didn't worry too much—after all, staying indoors reading seemed a lot safer than swinging a sword and brawling with monsters out in the wild.
But Gauss muttered to himself, "No, I really can't just keep thinking about it."
After cramming some spell theory, he decided he needed to get out.
Spells aren't learned through theory alone. Theory matters—but it still needs to be tested and absorbed through real combat experience.
As for his destination, he already had one in mind.
So after lunch, under Sophia's mildly concerned gaze, Gauss—who had finally been "well-behaved" for a couple of days—couldn't sit still anymore. He packed his gear, said goodbye to Sophia, and left Grayrock Town once again.
This time, he didn't accept any formal commission.
Instead, he paid a small fee to hitch a ride with a merchant caravan heading northwest to Wormwood Town, a slightly larger settlement known for its herbal trade.
More importantly, according to Andeni, there was a small spellcaster apprentice circle there.
Over time, apprentices from the surrounding towns had naturally gravitated there and formed a loose, open community.
A gathering like that was the perfect opportunity for someone like Gauss—still a spellcaster apprentice—to broaden his horizons.
Who knows? If he got lucky, he might even pick up a spellbook or two he needed.
Lounging on a wagon stacked with hay, Gauss chewed a blade of grass and stared up at the blue sky, full of anticipation for Wormwood Town.
Come to think of it, even though he'd seen a few adventurers in Grayrock who looked like spellcaster apprentices, he'd never actually spoken with any of them.
Maybe it's because of the diversity in magical paths—apprentices tend to be very guarded toward unfamiliar peers. Even if they pass each other on the street, they often keep their distance with a subtle nod, nothing more.
But in a place where apprentices gather? There's bound to be more interaction, right?
Gauss figured that should be the case.
Just as he was about to return his focus to the spell theory book, a commotion erupted up front.
The caravan ground to a halt.
Sensing trouble, Gauss carefully strapped on his gear and jumped down from the wagon.
He made his way to one of the caravan's guard captains and asked, "What's going on?"
The captain shook his head without replying.
Maybe it was because Gauss looked too young—or maybe the captain himself didn't have the full picture yet.
Gauss raised an eyebrow.
He didn't like not knowing what was going on. It gave him the same feeling as being blindfolded—no control over the situation.
From experience, he'd learned one thing: no matter what happens, gathering information is always the first step in making rational decisions.
He couldn't help but sigh to himself.
If only he were a Bronze-ranked adventurer, he could just flash his badge and everyone would be eager to share information.
Sure, he knew his combat ability was already at the top tier among rookies—probably as dangerous to the average person as an actual Bronze adventurer. Whether you lost in one strike or five didn't really matter in the end.
But without that Bronze badge, he was always at a natural disadvantage when it came to recognition. And it's not like he could just go around beating people up to prove himself.
That badge represented trust. Backed by the reputation of the Adventurer's Guild, it was recognized by everyone—peasants, nobles, and merchants alike. A single badge said more than a dozen arguments.
Gauss took out his white bone staff.
Then began walking toward the front of the caravan. At the same time, he activated Mage Hand, letting the spell float his rapier beside him.
At level 3, Mage Hand could still only lift around 10 pounds, but the speed and precision had improved significantly.
As he approached the front wagons, he saw several caravan supervisors and the head guard huddled together, whispering intensely.
Seeing a stranger approach, the head guard instinctively moved to wave him off.
But one sharp-eyed supervisor noticed the floating rapier beside Gauss and quickly stopped the guard.
Among low-level adventurers, spellcaster apprentices still held a certain level of authority. If there was no direct conflict, most people—supervisors included—were reluctant to offend them.
You never know what kind of spell a mage might be hiding up their sleeve. Some of them could kill without leaving a trace.
"This spellcaster sir—how can we help you?" the supervisor asked politely.
"I'd just like to know why the caravan stopped," Gauss asked directly.
Seeing the guard stand down, Gauss quietly sighed in relief. Once again, magic had saved him from potential conflict.
Without showing his spellcasting, the tension in the group earlier would've likely escalated.
The supervisor responded, "One of our scouts up ahead spotted a group of goblins blocking the road—dozens of them."
"Can't we go around?" Gauss asked curiously.
After all, if they spotted them ahead of time, couldn't they just reroute?
"We can't," the supervisor replied. "We're carrying a batch of special medicinal herbs. If we don't reach Wormwood Town before they lose potency, we'll take a huge financial hit. And taking a detour would add too much time."
"We've traveled this road over ten times before and never encountered anything like this."
Gauss nodded slowly.
He understood now.
In short, a goblin gang had blocked the road, planning to rob passing caravans.
The good news was that the caravan had received early warning thanks to their scout. The bad news? There was no time to go around.
A detour would require a complete turnaround and a long detour through less familiar routes—far too slow.
If the herbs weren't delivered on time, the merchant guild would suffer major losses.
Their overconfidence made sense: this route had a reputation for being safe. Dozens of trips without a single incident had lulled them into a false sense of security.
Now that Gauss understood the situation, he started thinking of what to do next.