On one bright, sunny day, the Gauss squad gathered inside the residential house on the Red Dragon Company estate.
Even on days when they weren't out taking commissions, they still made a point of meeting once a day.
Mostly, it was to swap notes on recent situations or problems—one mind has limits, two minds are stronger.
Sometimes, collective brainstorming really did solve issues faster.
Of course, more often than not, it was just casual chatter with no real agenda.
"Captain, try it again."
Serandur set two loaves of bread in front of Gauss—both produced with his Create Food spell.
Lately, Serandur had been trying to optimize the spell, studying how to make food that tasted better and provided more energy.
Magic was complicated.
Normally, even after you'd "mastered" a spell, each cast produced slightly different results. It wasn't a fixed output—it was more like a fluctuating range.
With Create Food, that meant the bread could come out harder or softer, slightly sour or pleasantly sweet…
How well a caster controlled a spell often showed up in details like those.
Seeing the hunger for knowledge in Serandur's eyes, Gauss didn't refuse.
His teammates frequently came to him with professional roadblocks. Maybe it was because he was stronger, or because he was more well-rounded—but he usually could offer solid advice.
He picked up each loaf and took a bite.
"This one tastes better."
"Do a few more. I'll watch."
Gauss was never stingy with feedback when it came to his team.
As he spoke, the color of his irises shifted abruptly—emerald fading into a slow-flowing gilded gold.
Those eyes helped him "see" the movement of magic.
Not purely through sight, though. It was really his sense of mana flow and structure—just sharpened by Dragonseed, and supported by his naturally high Intelligence and Perception, until it resembled a kind of "mana-vision."
"Go ahead."
Serandur began practicing in front of him.
Gauss memorized the flow patterns of each cast, then compared them to the resulting food quality.
After thinking for a moment, he started offering adjustment directions.
"…And besides that, you need to focus harder. Trust mana. Trust yourself. Magic moves with the mind."
"I understand. Thanks, Captain."
Serandur didn't even start drilling yet, but he already believed Gauss completely.
That wasn't blind worship—it was the natural result of many past pointers proving correct.
A few minutes later, Serandur's confusion was resolved. Gauss turned to the others.
"Gauss… I want to withdraw fifty gold."
Shadow met his gaze, hesitated, then spoke.
"Sure. There should be sixty or seventy gold here."
"You're not going to ask what I'm using it for?"
"Spend it however you want. When it's gone, come get more."
Gauss shook his head and didn't pry.
The shared fund belonged to everyone. It was just sitting with him for now because no one had major expenses—and because it doubled as operating capital for Red Dragon Company.
If a partner needed money, he'd pay it out.
Fifty gold was nothing.
If it were a much larger sum, he might ask—more as an adviser than a gatekeeper. Like when Alia bought magical plants and research materials, he'd offered suggestions.
Honestly, even if Shadow hadn't said anything, Gauss could guess why.
She'd probably run out of the money she used for charity.
She seemed to keep an eye on the city's orphanages—checking that donations actually reached the children—then regularly bought necessities, books, and toys to donate anonymously.
He only knew because he'd once stumbled into it while practicing Any Door—and Shadow hadn't noticed him.
With the coin pouch in hand, Shadow looked quietly pleased—whether from Gauss's trust or from being able to restock supplies.
Gauss chatted a bit more with Albena and Alia, and the morning "meeting" wrapped up.
After Gauss left, Alia went straight to the garden to continue her research.
Gauss had given her an idea: could she, as a Lunar Aspect Walker, create a defensive plant that could attack intruders?
Her most familiar offensive tool was Moonlight Glow. If she could embed that into a magical plant, the results would be huge.
"I need to buy more luminous plants for targeted cultivation."
Once she had a direction, her thoughts snapped into clarity.
She asked Red Dragon Company staff to contact merchant channels. Not long after, several wagons rolled into the estate and unloaded pots and pots of glowing plants.
Since founding the company, the squad had benefited constantly—chores handled by staff, time and energy saved.
Alia dove into experimentation.
What she needed was a plant capable of: autonomous energy absorption, energy storage, basic intelligence, offensive output, and binding control.
"Plant Growth!"
After reaching Level 5, her life energy felt far stronger—plus she had Gauss's ideas and the vine-creature materials from earlier.
She sank into the work, and this time the process moved smoothly.
Back when she was Level 4, her life energy had already rivaled a Level 6 druid's.
Now at Level 5, it had surged again.
"Hah—got it!"
When night fell and the first silver moonlight spilled from above, Alia laughed with her hands on her hips.
She didn't even care that dirt had smeared her clothes. Her eyes were locked on the Moonlight Ground Ivy in front of her.
This new magical plant absorbed and emitted moonlight, attacked intruders, and—like a vine-creature—could wrap and bind targets with its stems.
Once planted, it would spread along the perimeter fence. Anyone entering anywhere but the main gate would be detected and bound; if they resisted hard, it would burn their stamina with painful moonlight.
All that remained was to register it through the Adventurers' Guild, and Red Dragon Company would have a 24/7 botanical guard.
Alia brought a finger close. Fine tendrils curled around her fingertip like a clever baby animal nuzzling her.
"Looks like you're pretty smart, little one."
She stroked its leaves.
The next day, after registration, Moonlight Ground Ivy officially took up residence.
With another cast of Plant Growth, it expanded at visible speed, and soon the entire outer ring of the estate was covered.
"Much better."
Gauss reached out. The silvery ivy trembled faintly but didn't attack.
Magical plants weren't normal plants—they had a degree of intelligence.
This one seemed to recognize him as the creator's trusted companion, letting him poke and prod freely.
Gauss assessed it.
If he had to classify it, it was roughly a Level 3 creature. Artificially cultivated, its aggression wasn't very high.
And while it covered the whole perimeter, it was still fundamentally one "individual."
That made Gauss drop the fleeting thought of "adding one more" to his bestiary.
Alia had spent a long time on this. He wasn't about to kill her work just to pad a number.
"Can you control it?" Albena asked.
"I can." Alia nodded proudly.
She moved her hand. The entire sheet of ivy surged like a wave—then, with another gesture, it calmed again.
"And it can remember the commands I leave."
"Good." Gauss approved.
If it couldn't be controlled, he'd rather not plant it at all. He wanted something that could catch petty thieves and low-level intruders, restrain them, and hold them until the patrols arrived.
In recent weeks, there'd been multiple attempted break-ins.
Money tempted people. There were always those willing to gamble.
Not dangerous—just irritating.
With the ivy, that should improve.
At that point, the estate's security finally felt complete.
Gauss remembered Ivan's report: the loot from the 2,000-goblin nest was mostly processed now.
So he said, "Let's hold a banquet tonight."
"Reward the staff and temps who've been working hard."
"Great idea, Boss. I love banquets," dwarf Bruno rumbled.
"I think you mean you love drinking," his fiancée Torga shot back immediately.
With Gauss's order, the whole estate sprang into motion.
By sunset, the central plaza was lined with long tables.
White tablecloths, piles of food and drink that made mouths water.
This wasn't even the first banquet. Gauss threw one every so often.
Usually on days with meaning: the estate's official opening, a major successful hunt, store openings, things like that.
For workers, it was an unspoken perk—free feasts from a generous boss.
And not just workers—families were invited too.
That was part of why Red Dragon Company loyalty rose so fast. In an environment like this, it was hard not to feel belonging.
Ivan had once tried to "advise" against it for budget reasons. Gauss shut him down.
Eat. Eat freely. How much could it cost?
As long as he was here, the team would never lack money.
If they ran short, they'd go collect from monsters.
As lights came on, families began arriving at the estate gates.
Outside the fence, a woman in plain but clean clothes clutched her husband's arm and whispered, "Am I seeing things? Are the plants on the fence… moving?"
"Oh, that?" her husband said. "You're not imagining it. They really move. I told you—one of our big shots, that elf lady… those plants are her pets."
The woman shrank back. "Your place is… intense."
To ordinary people, a living wall of plant life was scary—and it added an eerie mystique, like a witch's house or a magic academy.
"Of course." Martin—the newly promoted workshop Team Leader—stood a little straighter, pride swelling in his chest.
Joining Red Dragon Company had been the brightest period of his ordinary life.
He'd seen dragons, magical plants, all kinds of monster corpses…
And his family's finances had climbed with his job.
He glanced at his daughter Tessa's new little dress and thought quietly, Thank you, Captain Gauss.
Nearby families were similarly amazed: the moving ivy, spotless roads, clean air, comfortable temperature—everything screamed "not ordinary."
Many first-time guests stared, stunned.
When they reached the plaza and saw the feast, they swallowed hard.
Roasted legs, roast chicken, spiced stews, honey bread, salads, cheese platters, ale, fruit wine…
Pick up a plate, take what you want.
Still, many people ate carefully—almost unconsciously more polite than usual. The place itself seemed to shape behavior.
It felt like the air carried some subtle magic.
"Careful—don't embarrass yourself."
"Only take what you'll eat."
Some temporary workers' families whispered anxiously: "Warren… do you have a chance to stay here?"
Their partners' faces often tightened. Everyone knew Red Dragon Company paid well. But jobs were limited, and the old staff worked hard to keep theirs.
The temps only got shifts when the estate was busy.
Still, they worked like their lives depended on it—hoping to be hired permanently.
At a corner table, Gauss ate and watched the celebration, quietly pleased.
"Ivan—make sure the roasted whole sheep get delivered to Hephaestus. Otherwise he'll throw a fit."
"Understood, Captain."
"And stop hovering around me. Go eat."
The estate was wrapped in warmth and laughter—and somewhere in it all, Gauss's Proof of Leadership quietly did its work, gently influencing everyone present without them even noticing.
~~~
Patreon(.)com/NotEvenMyFinalForm
— Currently You can Read 100 Chapters Ahead of Others!