Night blanketed the outskirts; a cold wind moved across the fields.
The column of evacuees trudged in silence, the mood so heavy you could hear only the shuffle of mixed footsteps and the muffled groans of the wounded.
Soldiers, cavalry, adventurers—and noncombatants like smiths, laborers, and merchants—every face was drawn with fatigue and gloom.
Gauss rode his chocobo. The Ironscale Bloodline had cooled; the scales and dragon-claw faded, his body returning to normal. A wave of weariness followed—not crippling, but real.
Alia passed him a few Goodberry she'd set aside. "Have some?"
"Thanks." No need for extra words between them—Gauss took the berries and ate. A gentle warmth spread through him, easing his tired limbs, though the weight on his mind wouldn't lift so quickly.
"Bad mood?" asked Andeni, the halfling sharing his saddle. The veteran adventurer heard the tone and kept her voice low.
"A bit."
Andeni shook her head, eyes going to the slumped soldiers and the adventurers leaning on each other. She sighed. "You're still young, Gauss. The road doesn't run smooth forever."
"I know. It's just… life is so fragile." He saw again the people who hadn't made it out in time, pounced by monsters, and a tangle of feelings welled up. Not long ago the camp had been quiet; in a blink it shattered like a mirage. Every dead soul had a family behind them.
"Good. Remember this feeling." Andeni turned and met his eyes; for once her gaze was solemn. "You have the potential to change it. Digest what you gained from this fight—especially that… new power. Gauss, I've seen all kinds of geniuses. You're different. Your potential and your knack for commanding power are the finest I've ever seen. Given time, neither these borderlands nor the wider world will be your horizon."
It was her first time seeing him fight for real; tonight convinced her—Gauss was a true prodigy. Growth speed and combat instinct—both far beyond the norm.
"Don't crush yourself with pressure. You're already more than good enough."
…
By the time they cleared the Jade Forest, the sky was paling. With the need to watch for ambushes and the wagons slowing the pace, progress was never quick.
Only when Lincrown's green outline rose ahead did the crowd ease a breath.
Taptaptap—
A convoy this large drew the town guard's attention at once. Several scouts rode out. When they heard what had happened, worry showed on their faces.
Outpost 11—uprooted.
The fallout would be wide. For Lincrown next door, even more so.
"How could this happen?"
"…"
Gauss had steadied himself. He listened to the talk nearby and glanced back toward the Jade Forest. The captains who'd covered the retreat through the night had made it back. But the President Ritchie and the other captains and cavalry who'd left earlier had never appeared—no one knew where they'd gone. From the scouts' shock, there'd been no word; they certainly hadn't returned to Lincrown.
And…
He suddenly remembered the noble scion's entourage. In the chaos, they seemed to vanish into thin air. The "Uncle Mo" leading them was at least master-tier. A man like that couldn't singlehandedly turn the tide, but getting one person out? Easy. Did they withdraw early? Or was it tied to the missing cavalry?
He shook his head. No one could answer. Gauss sorted his thoughts. After big events, he habitually replayed and reviewed—even without answers, the habit kept him clear.
He couldn't help linking this to the poison wyvern attack during the Winter Hunt. Different time, place, scale, target—but the timing of the strikes… too neat to ignore.
A mole?
He let his gaze pass over the crowd. If there was one, he wouldn't be surprised. Many people had been looped into the winter hunt and this defense; bad actors could hide in the noise. Or perhaps monsters had special reconnaissance or augury—advance warning. This was a supernatural world; anything could happen.
The human tide poured into Lincrown. News of Outpost 11's fall ran through the town like a grassfire—it was impossible to smother it.
Anxiety spread fast.
"A monster tide… how terrifying!"
"Will those man-eaters roll into Lincrown?"
"Should we hide in another town for a while?"
"So many adventurers, and they still couldn't hold it—how?"
"Is war coming again?"
Gauss slipped out of the column and walked the street, listening to the talk and shaking his head. In times like these, ordinary people were duckweed in a storm; fate rarely answered to them. Monster threats, lost homes, disasters that shatter calm—strong hands are needed to hold them back. Most folks didn't even have clean intel—only rumor through fog.
"Master Andeni—coming with us?" he asked, glancing at the halfling. She'd been yawning. Strong as she was, she was still a mage—less stamina than a warrior; a night on the road had left her tired.
"Mhm." She nodded drowsily.
He found a decent inn and they each took a room. Everyone went to rest. Gauss, oddly, still felt keyed up—Ironscale's afterglow, maybe. And the egg that had gone still inside him seemed to be stirring again now that Reptilian Strain had become Ironscale—stealing little sips of mana now and then.
Thinking of Ironscale, Gauss pulled up his panel. They'd been moving since last night—no time to study. Now, in safety, he finally could.
…
Racial Talent: Blue-tier [Ironscale Bloodline] (Elite)
Without compromising the purity of your own bloodline, you gain some of the advantages of dragons:
When Ironscale is active, Constitution and Strength increase significantly for a time; you adapt better to complex environments.
Gain the Ironscale energy shell: greatly increased defense and impact resistance; good resistance to physical and low-tier elemental attacks. (Note: Can combine with [Magic Resistance] and core skill [Omni-Armor].)
Superior darkvision and thermosense: enhanced vision, and limited perception of mana flow.
Predator's Instinct: you gain a predator's autonomous battle sense; your mental state will also be influenced by it.
Regeneration: faster wound-healing; improved resistance to poison and disease.
Dragonfear (faint): your aura triggers instinctive fear in lesser monsters (notably goblins and kobolds), and may exert slight pressure on sapients.
Dragon-Claw Mimicry: by weaving [Omni-Armor], [Magic Resistance], and [Ironscale Shell], you form a high-density energy dragon-claw with great destructive power.
…
He read it in silence. He poked his skin with a fingernail. Even inactive, it felt tougher. He suspected that even if he stood still and let a normal man chop him, anything but a vital spot would be hard to crack.
And this was only blue-tier…
Blue wasn't the ceiling. After Reptilian Strain advanced to Ironscale, the talent still said "Upgradeable." It could climb. Purple, gold, and beyond—what would it become then? Lesser dragon? True dragon?
He shook his head. If the last advance was any guide, pushing Ironscale higher would take monsters only master-tier professionals could handle. That was far off.
And even at blue-tier, he felt it already a bit beyond his current frame's comfort. Two blue-tier talents now: [Ghoul Form] and [Ironscale Bloodline]—each with its own downside.
Ghoul Form drains too fast and can't be throttled—you must end fights quickly.
Ironscale, meanwhile, brings that Predator's Instinct—an aggressive tilt that, at the start, had his beast-brain trying to shove reason aside. If Ironscale climbed faster than his stats, he worried about… issues.
So for now: keep killing monsters, level up, grow.
He drummed his fingers and thought. Once he'd sorted his gains, he lay down and slept.
Morning brought a lift to the air in Lincrown—cool and fresh, washing away some of the fatigue. Gauss cracked the window. More soldiers and cavalry patrolled the streets; tension hung over the town. The outpost's fall had set it on guard.
"Morning." Alia and Serandur were already up. Rest had done them good. Gauss noticed several small, fluffy black ravens clustered at Echo's feet—when had those appeared? Their down was glossy; their eyes, bright and wary. They stuck to Echo like he was a rock to hide behind.
"New pets?" he asked, thinking Alia had gone to the market.
"No," Alia said, a little helpless. "When we rested yesterday, Echo slipped out and brought them back. Orphans, it seems."
Feeding nestlings is a chore—but if Echo brought them, she couldn't just toss them back out. Echo lifted his head proudly and gurgled, clearly fishing for praise.
"Oh, I see…"
Gauss studied Echo's plumage—obsidian-bright. Without him noticing, the raven had grown; the talons looked like polished onyx; the body was bigger; the air about him—more than natural. "Then keep them," Gauss said. "Hand-raised ravens mind better. Raise more later—use them to scout."
"Alright," Alia brightened. She loved small animals; with Gauss's nod, she could let herself. The fledglings shrank further behind Echo at Gauss's appearance—Ironscale's after-scent, maybe.
"Breakfast," Andeni yawned, shuffling out swaddled in a robe two sizes too big, rubbing sleep from her eyes—looking harmless and lazy. Alia and Serandur still carried a trace of awe for her; they'd seen the storm she could call down.
They ate on the inn's ground floor. As they finished, several soldiers in Lincrown uniforms approached, nervous respect in their eyes for Andeni.
"Lady Andeni—apologies. The mayor and Captain Firon have called a meeting in the council hall to learn the facts of the beast tide. Your presence is requested."
"Of course. I'll come at once." The soldiers bowed in relief and hurried off.
"So much for a restful morning," Andeni said, then took her leave. Gauss and his team weren't high enough rank for such meetings—so they had time.
"I wonder if our contract still stands," Gauss murmured, holding the Black Forest scout writ from President Ritchie. He'd planned to turn it in—but Ritchie hadn't returned. Someone had to give them an answer.
"Let's ask at the Lincrown Association."
Back on the street, Gauss noticed people whispering about him. Words like "dragon," "don't provoke," and "transformation" drifted to him; some were calling him "dragonkin."
"Captain, looks like that fight gave you a bit of a name," Serandur said. A normal Level 3 didn't get that treatment; Gauss's power had surged past that box. Famous adventurers always earned it in blood—with crisis after crisis, wars that turned them into names.
Titles hung on the strong like medals; the stronger the adventurer, the louder and longer the epithets. Like a noble's string of honorifics—but nobles' titles meant status; adventurers' meant strength and deeds.
Just before they reached the Association, Gauss stiffened and swung a look over his shoulder. The street bustled.
"What is it?"
"Nothing." He frowned and looked ahead. "Feels like someone's watching."
"Maybe they want a look at the 'dragonkin' from the stories?" Alia teased.
"Maybe," he said, scratching his head. But his gut said otherwise—the stare felt wrong, not the curious attention of a bystander but the prickly malice of a spy.
He couldn't place it. The street was crowded; there was no way to confirm.
They stepped into the Association hall. After his figure vanished, a small gray-furred mouse peeked from the shadow of an alley.
Chirr-chirr—
A chorus of sharp squeaks followed deeper in the lane. In the dark, the shadows writhed. Countless black motes spun together in the air, weaving toward the alley's end—blurring, warping—slowly merging into a twisted human silhouette.
~~~
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