A few days slipped by.
In that time, Gauss led the villagers on several more goblin-clearing runs nearby. With each fight—and the focused feedback that followed—their teamwork and killing skills sharpened fast.
Gauss's Total Monster Kills count quietly ticked up to 5,631—nearly two hundred more without noticing. Besides training by day, he hunted at night. He'd warned the villagers never to fight night-vision monsters like goblins after dark—but his own strength let him ignore that rule.
His night sight far surpassed a goblin's. Night hunts were his way to thin the local herds and leave Goat Village safer for longer.
On the threshing ground that served as a training yard, Gauss, Alia, and the others made a quiet inspection—hearts full. The trainees who'd once flailed and mangled forms now split into squads and ran mock engagements that looked the part. Progress you could see.
Clack! Clack!
Wooden weapons thudded and short, sharp shouts punctuated the air. Shields up front, eyes fixed on the "enemy," with spears, forks, and swords staggered behind to support and guard the flanks, archers screened within the shape.
Even Rhein marched with a light crossbow—unstrung of real bolts, loaded with a soft-headed practice dart Gauss had rigged so she could drill. In private, he and Shadow had shown her how to use a crossbow. Until she learned magic, a crossbow was fine self-defense. A good one wasn't cheap.
Up front, the chief's grandson, Eric, slid in on a shield-bash opening, eyes locked. When his opponent's heavy vertical chop came down, Eric's footwork shifted; he slipped past the edge and traced a clean arc—tagging the wrist his foe had overextended.
Smack!
A yelp; the wooden blade flew.
Clap, clap.
"Good," Gauss called. "Eric, that's timing and footwork. Keep that feel. In a real fight, brute force isn't everything. Break balance and seize the moment—that beats swinging first."
He scanned the other drills and nodded, taking stock:
"Discipline and teamwork up sharply."
"Basics—no one's condensed a true 'skill' yet, so they're not quite entry-level adventurers, but with proper formation they're enough for common goblins and kobolds."
"And…" he rubbed his chin, "some are close to condensing. Another month and they might break through?"
As he mulled, Serandur spoke. "They're learning faster than I thought."
Even picking a dozen "best" out of over a hundred and having real pros teach them, the yield was impressive. He glanced at Gauss—surely the reason.
Serandur had taught outsiders before; it had never gone like this. He looked back at the yard, privately moved. Luck favored these kids. To outsiders it looked like "fast or slow"—but for ordinary people it's often "possible or not."
Most don't have the luxury of failing for months or years; life and labor wear them down. Without clear progress, practice decays. Shorten the timeline and give quick, visible results—persistence goes up.
"Maybe some truly do have the makings of adventurers," Gauss said, smiling. Not that all would choose that path—but any strength they won meant a calmer, safer village.
"Time to head for the next village?" Alia asked.
Gauss was silent a moment. They'd been here longer than at any one stop. Training was nearly done—time to move on. "Soon. Once I have Fireball. I'm close."
His gaze found Rhein in the ranks; she glanced back, shy smile flickering.
…
On a field outside the village, Shadow and Alia stood with Rhein, giving Gauss plenty of space.
"That guy really is a monster," Alia said. "Tell anyone a Level 4 caster has Fly, and is about to learn Fireball, they'll call you a braggart." Even as a teammate, she found it unreal.
A Level 4 learning a Level 3 spell is rare; even Level 5s sweat for it. The difficulty is the model's complexity, class mismatch, and the mind's capacity to host it. Gauss had one—and was about to have two. It was as if magic's common sense didn't apply to him.
She tried counting his spells on her fingers and gave up—too many.
Rhein said nothing, eyes round on Gauss. In days she'd gone from knowing nothing to grasping the basics—and could now appreciate just how formidable her teacher was.
"Haa~" She yawned. Tired… Even though Gauss had said she couldn't cast Firebolt yet because of her age and mana, she hadn't given up; every night she snuck out to practice. He could leave at any time—she wanted to surprise him first. Sadly, no clear results yet.
Out on the field, Gauss stood still, eyes closed. In his mind, the Fireball model clicked into place. He clenched the White Wand; the ambient mana grew restless. He lifted the wand hand; power massed at the tip, warping air.
He eased his breath and, when everything was ready, let it go.
Mana roared from the wand. Far ahead, at a point he'd fixed, a red spark appeared in midair. His power clasped it and drew on the world. Flame rotated and compressed at a savage rate, drinking energy.
In a blink the spark swelled to a smooth, white-hot orb. Strange sigils shimmered on the skin—a binding shell clamped around the still-accumulating force. At the core, a pin of brilliant white burned like a tiny sun: energy at its limit.
Sensing it was primed, Gauss willed: "Detonate."
The orb snapped inward for a heartbeat—then swelled too fast for the eye. Wind moved. An unseen hand squeezed the sphere; compressed to the edge, it finally showed its teeth.
In a tenth—no, a hundredth—of a second, a fist-sized globe ballooned into a ten-meter fire-sun hanging in the air. Deep crimson flame stormed outward.
BOOOOM!!!
A soul-shaking report. Heat waves devoured everything within the cone. The ground beneath the blast hammered down as if by a titan's mallet; dried earth sagged, spiderweb cracks racing outward. The shockwave slapped the soil back up: stones and clods leapt skyward, smoke and dust billowed for dozens of meters and rolled on.
The earth shuddered; Rhein stumbled and Alia steadied her, raising an arm against wind and heat. Even far away, under Gauss's ward, the sheer force stunned them. Shadow's face barely changed—but her fixed stare told the story.
Too strong.
Dust took a long time to fall. When it cleared, a deep crater marred the field. Soil still steamed; roots and scraps were still burning. The core kill-zone was about twenty meters; the blast ripples had reached far.
Feeling the hollow in his mana, and even in his stamina and sword-qi, Gauss swallowed. Against high-tier, well-protected monsters, who knew—but the area was undeniable.
On the Seagull against goblins, just one Fireball from a hundred meters might have holed the ship and killed every one aboard. Used right, a single cast could end hundreds of mobs in a blink.
The drawback: it didn't care who was who. Timing would be everything. And enemies with fire resistance or immunity—some devils, fire elementals—would shrug much of it.
Still—he was thrilled.
"That's terrifying. Do other people's Fireballs hit like that?" Alia asked as they came over.
"Don't know. I can only throw one right now," Gauss said. He still had mana left—but not enough for another Fireball. The spell drank deep; it wouldn't be a staple—more a trump card. (Body mana, anyway; he had a backup bar he could tap after a breath.)
He smiled. After grinding Fly and Fireball for a while, he'd crossed the level gap and made them both his. The sense of achievement was real. With them, and a shelf of 0–2 circle spells and tricks, his kit had a shape at last. Next: grind proficiency, get them combat-ready.
He talked quietly with Shadow and Alia about Fireball's team handling—especially with Shadow: could her extraction yoink allies clear so Fireball only hit enemies? In the real world, clean lines between sides are rare; you make your own windows.
When they finished, he looked down at Rhein—silent for a long time. He thought she'd been scared by the blast and moved to reassure her.
"Teacher… are you leaving?" she whispered first.
Alia and Gauss traded a look. He hadn't said it—but she'd felt it.
"Yes." He touched her hair. Parting comes. He'd like to take her—but she was too young. She'd learn little at his side and face needless danger.
"I'll come back to see you."
Alia crouched and took Rhein's hand. "That's right. And if Gauss forgets, I'll remind him. We'll see each other again."
Rhein nodded, lip caught between teeth. Her eyes stung; she tilted her head up and forced a smile. "I'll be here, Teacher."
She'd thought of asking to go with them—but one thought of her parents and the words died. She knew she'd only be a burden; the idea never left her heart.
They walked back in silence. In the village, Serandur felt the distant detonation while drilling the last group and smiled: the captain had Fireball now.
"Sir Serandur—what was that?" the trainees asked, alarmed. Serandur had earned their respect; the fear that had greeted the half-serpent's face had softened into genuine regard.
"Nothing. Don't panic. My captain's practicing outside."
Practicing… magic?
They swallowed. The ground had shaken. What kind of force could do that from outside the village? What if it had been used inside…
Their sense of what "a mage lord" could do climbed a rung.
Back in town, Gauss and the others announced they'd leave at dawn. Faces fell. With them here, the village had felt safer than ever. Gauss had even hunted boar or deer now and then for a feast. Many never found the nerve to speak with him—but they wouldn't forget his kindness. People have hearts; sincerity is felt.
"Sir Gauss, take these eggs—for the road."
"Sir Gauss, some flatbread—still warm."
"Smoked meat—nothing fancy, please don't mind…"
Word spread; by early afternoon a crowd gathered at the folding house with eggs, vegetables, bacon, roughspun clothes and crafts—humble gifts, heavy with feeling.
Gauss looked at the honest faces and felt warmth rise. He almost refused—then smiled and took a little from each, and waved the rest back. "This is enough. I can't finish more."
"Alright, alright—does he look like he needs your rations?" the chief barked fondly, shooing them so the party could pack. "Don't put him on the spot."
"Sir Gauss… all of you… Goat Village will remember your help. Thank you," the chief said gravely when the crowd thinned. His gratitude had only grown since Eric told him he might soon grasp adventurer's power.
Risk and all, strength was what ordinary people chased. He'd bought skills for Eric before, pushed him to self-study—nothing came.
When they'd both given up, Gauss had arrived and the progress was immediate—especially for his grandson. How could he not be grateful?
"Then please look after Rhein," Gauss said, waving a hand. "I'll come back for her."
The chief's face sobered; he thumped his chest. He'd thought Gauss simply liked the girl—and, as the village's one likely mage—gave her extra care. But a parting charge changed everything.
For Gauss's sake alone, he'd make sure nothing ill befell Rhein's family; otherwise, how could he face him next time?
When even the chief had gone, Gauss looked to the door.
"Waiting for Rhein?"
"Mm." He sighed. "She's young—it'll be hard on her." They couldn't take a child—not now. And what right did they have to pull a ten-year-old from her parents?
"I'm going for a walk."
He stepped out. He wanted to leave one last gift, prepared days ago: his notes on magic, a few books, and the teleport charm Andeni had given him. He meant to pass them to Rhein.
The notes and books would build her knowledge; he'd already started her reading, and with a mage's help that came quickly. The charm—a one-use escape: crush it and a ward would form and fling you several hundred up to a thousand meters away.
In a pinch, it could save a life; a sudden jump that far, with terrain, buildings, and trees breaking line of sight, would shake most monsters. He didn't need it now; better in Rhein's hands.
He hoped, sincerely, that when he saw her again, the charm would still be whole. By then, he'd be stronger.
~~~
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