Fortunately, the egg didn't keep devouring his mana for long.
After sending a feeling of satisfaction, it went quiet again—as if falling asleep.
Gauss exhaled and stopped eating. He felt the lively thrum of mana inside him, rubbed his chin, and thought.
Sometimes, spending a bit of mana isn't a bad thing; the process helps build class experience. Most of the time, the only effective way to burn mana is by casting spells—but that demands focus, and even with a full pool you can't sling spells forever.
Did this mean he'd just found an easy training method?
"Next…"
He glanced at the unfamiliar forest around him. Alia and Serandur should have gotten out too, but he had no idea where they were now. To keep them from worrying or trying anything reckless, he decided to head back to Outpost 11 as soon as possible, link up with them, and turn in the contract.
It was, after all, done. He'd scouted the monster groups and habitats. All that remained was to submit.
He checked the map, fixed Outpost 11's direction, and, without resting more, set off.
On foot and far from the outpost, he didn't arrive until past noon.
Taptap—
Hurrying toward camp, he watched squads of armored cavalry ride out one after another. A flicker of puzzlement crossed his eyes.
"What happened?"
Surely not the commotion he'd stirred up in the Black Forest?
He chuckled and shook his head, then strode into camp. Inside and out, laborers were throwing themselves into building the outpost. Near the temporary Adventurers' Association office, he spotted Alia and Serandur out front, just as he'd hoped.
"Alia! Serandur!" he called.
"Gauss! You're safe—thank goodness!" Alia, who'd been pacing with her head down, looked up at the sound. The gloom on her face broke into delight.
"You two aren't hurt?" Gauss came over. Urfin trotted up, tongue out, and licked his palm.
"No. Once they locked onto you, they ignored us," Alia said, shaking her head. "Are you okay? Did you lose them?"
She looked him up and down. Aside from travel dust, no obvious wounds—she relaxed, though questions lingered. Gauss sketched what happened—lightly.
"Good." Alia patted her chest. "Is it… still on you?"
"Mm." He nodded. The egg lay quiet inside him, asleep after feeding. Out here at the office doors wasn't the place to say more. They shared a look—the same understanding. Message was fine for small things, but it was just a cantrip; who knew what could "crack" it? You kept the important parts close.
"Let's go in and turn it in?"
"Right." Alia nodded. She and Serandur had only just gotten back; they'd planned to wait a bit longer and, if he hadn't shown, go in to report and request help. Now they could skip that.
Inside the hall, tables and benches were set out; some adventurers browsed postings as they ate and traded intel. Staff didn't mind—someone was even selling drinks.
Gauss glanced away. Teams like theirs didn't submit in the hall; they went to President Ritchie's office.
Knock, knock.
He rapped on the door—and waited. Nothing. A clerk noticed, came over, looked them over, and bowed.
"Here to see President Ritchie with a report?"
"Yes," Gauss said.
"I'm sorry—President Ritchie stepped out at noon on short notice. Perhaps you could return a bit later?"
Stepped out at noon? Gauss blinked. Ritchie had said that barring special circumstances, he'd be in the office. Not because they needed him there to shuffle papers, but because he was himself a key part of Outpost 11's high-end defense. He couldn't leave lightly in case a monster strike hit.
Thinking of the cavalry squads he'd seen riding out, Gauss began to suspect. Somewhere needed elite—and above. Wyverns at the roost on the move?
He could only guess. This was the strongest threat nearby, after all. The clerk wouldn't know, so he let it go.
Back outside, he saw the outpost had far fewer cavalry than before and frowned. What needed that many pulled out? And besides—the Association and the cavalry were separate chains. Even President Ritchie couldn't command them; they had their own officers. They were lateral at best; the cavalry captain ranked higher in the province's structure.
"Let's find a place to rest," Alia said.
"Yeah." He was tired. A long run, creeping scouts, an all-out flight, then the hike back—iron men would feel it.
"Anywhere to stay?"
"There is." Alia nodded. "On the way, I saw a few merchant-run inns and taverns open for business."
Where there are people, there's demand—and profit. Especially in a newly staked outpost full of danger and opportunity, sharp-nosed traders arrive first, selling essentials to adventurers, soldiers, and laborers: blades, beds, hot meals, a mug of ale, a soft pair of arms to ease the load.
They followed the muddy main path, stepping aside for a string of pack-beasts hauling timber. On a leveled patch stood a cluster of buildings with slapdash signs. Stone-and-wood shells with crews still finishing the faces—but by the bustle through the doors, already open.
Most customers were adventurers, though a few laborers lounged with bowls.
"Hey handsome, want to come in and unwind? I'll make you feel real good."
A scantily dressed woman leaned on a porch post and threw him a look, tongue flicking over red-painted lips as she tugged her neckline lower. Her eyes lingered—good gear, a handsome face even through travel-weariness: a client who could pay. Adventurers ran handsome and pretty often enough, but most were rough. Men like Gauss—high Charisma, high polish—were rarer.
He didn't break stride; he spared her a glance and shook his head, pitying. Overkeen senses aren't all upside. He could smell the cheap powder, the sweat, the faint tang of sickness; he could feel the hollowness of her life force. None of it left him in any mood.
Alia frowned and gave the woman a longer look, then stepped up, quietly moving between her and Gauss. Serandur wasn't bothered either way. The woman wilted a bit at Gauss's lack of interest, then switched targets. A pretty face didn't feed you; she needed a paying customer.
They browsed a bit and picked a place that looked respectable—a wooden cup and bed carved on the sign: The Lucky Rabbit's Foot. Inside was small and close with beer, smoke, and boiled meat in the air. A dozen rough tables, a few adventurers eating and murmuring. Behind the counter, a plump man in an apron polished cups. He brightened and waved them in. "Welcome, masters! Eating or lodging?"
"Both. Three adjacent rooms. Food and hot bathwater. Quickly." Gauss glanced at the price board, set a small pouch on the counter, and kept it simple. He wasn't that hungry, but the others were.
"Right away." The owner's smile widened as he fished out keys. "Second floor, end of the left corridor—three in a row. I'll have it sent up—fresh venison stew and bread today. Plenty for all."
Gauss nodded and took the keys.
After they ate and bathed, the fatigue hit harder.
"I'm going to lie down. If anything comes up, wake me," he told them.
"Rest. We've got it."
He went to his room and shut the door. Bare, but clean: hard cot, wooden chest, table, chairs. He checked, relaxed, and flopped onto the bed. Eyes closing, he reached for the quiet egg inside him. It rested near his chest, a faint warmth. No more nibbling—sleeping, sated.
"What are you, exactly?" he asked silently. The racing heartbeat it had stirred up—he'd only felt that once before, when he first met the bone staff. Was there some special link?
He couldn't talk to it now. At best, when it "woke," he'd get simple impulses—not real answers. Still—whatever it was, it was priceless. It had stilled a host of monsters at once. Yes, the creatures were tied to it—but even so, the level of command had been absolute. Far beyond common magical items or beasts.
No one could know about it. Not yet.
The thought sank into him.
His mind spun; nothing settled. Then fatigue surged like a tide, and sleep took him.
…
Night dropped its veil. Torches lit the road.
A very short woman—no taller than an adult's waist—folded her map by the roadside.
"Hey, kid—beat it. This isn't for you."
A drunk lurched out of the inn and nearly plowed into her, barking as he reached to shove her aside. She slipped past his hand, sharp eyes sliding over him. A staff taller than she was appeared in her grip. She flicked it—just a tap to his belly.
A breath shivered the air. The man flew several meters and faceplanted in the dirt.
"Who are you calling a kid?" the small woman said, not even turning to look. She tugged her hat brim down and walked past, expression flat. The onlookers stared, surprised; the drunk, now sober, didn't dare breathe. He was a Level 1 warrior; to be tossed like that—even drunk—meant she far outclassed him.
When she vanished inside, he scrambled up. "What are you looking at? Get lost!" he snapped, and the crowd laughed. He didn't try his luck again; with a snort, he scurried off.
Upstairs at the Lucky Rabbit's Foot, Gauss stretched and sat up. He'd slept like a stone. Outside was full dark; the hall below burbled with noise. He rapped on the next door.
"It's me. Gauss."
Alia opened it. She'd been up longer; a book lay open on the table. "Sleep well?"
"Yeah."
"Where's Serandur?" Gauss had checked his room—empty.
"He took Ulfen and Echo out to look around and fish for news," Alia said. "Sounds like a new batch rolled into camp this afternoon."
"Then let's get something to eat."
They went down. The first floor was nearly full—adventurers swapping notes on the day. Others had noticed it too: cavalry marching out in force. Most seasoned adventurers understood the value of intel—especially at a front where fighting could spark any minute. Nothing went unnoticed.
"…didn't look like the wyvern roost…"
"Yeah—their heading matched the Mist Trail."
"Wasn't that sealed by the cavalry days ago? Why send more now…"
"Who knows—maybe some treasure turned up."
"Unfair…"
"I heard the fog thinned—or even cleared."
…
Gauss sifted the buzz for detail and pieced the gist together, eyes sweeping the hall for an empty table. He froze, then grinned—surprise and pleasure in his face.
In a corner stood a small figure—smooth black hair, child-sized body, a strikingly adult, beautiful face. Proportions balanced—not at all like the burly dwarves.
He hadn't expected to run into her here.
He strode over, a smile tugging his mouth—like meeting an old friend far from home. "Master Andeni—didn't think I'd see you here."
Before him stood the Thorn Cottage's owner: the halfling mage, Andeni.
"You, Gauss." Andeni beckoned. "Sit. Eat. I ordered extra."
She was calmer than he was. One glance at the plates—mostly untouched—told him she'd felt him coming and over-ordered.
"It's been months, hasn't it?" Gauss led a slightly shy Alia to seats. "Where've you been, Master?"
Since autumn he'd rarely found her at the Thorn Cottage; she'd always been out when he came by. He'd assumed she'd gone traveling.
"Me? Long story." Andeni forked a bit of roast, her soft brown eyes sliding to Alia. "Aren't you going to introduce your teammate?"
Gauss realized she'd never met Alia. "This is Alia. We've been a party since last fall."
"This is Master Andeni—a powerful mage," he added. Alia, like Gauss, called her "Master." Andeni had masked her aura, but given Gauss's address, Alia had already pegged the "child" as anything but simple.
"I've got a serpentfolk teammate too. I'll introduce you when we have time."
"Alright." Andeni nodded. Her gaze paused on the three starred hexes on Gauss's badge; something like bemusement crossed her face. "Didn't think you'd hit Level 3 already," she said, with a touch of feeling.
Her thoughts drifted back to when they met—him a newcomer with little grasp of the professional world. He'd shown unusual talent, but talent isn't destiny. He'd left a mark on her memory because his mana happened to fit a bone staff she'd kept for years; that had brought them into contact. Now—so soon—he was Level 3. It made her feel as if a long time had passed.
"Not bad," Gauss laughed. "Pretty average pace."
"…," Andeni thought of her promotions and rolled her eyes. "I left Grayrock to visit some old friends—and stretch my legs. Wandered a bit," she said simply. "It's my habit. If I don't, my mana starts to stagnate."
She'd retired, but she wasn't old. If not for an accident that broke her party, she'd still be in her prime at fifty. Halflings live longer than humans—150 years is common; professionals who take care can go beyond.
"Oh—Andeni. Good news."
She arched a brow, chewing, warm brown gaze on him.
"The bone staff you gave me last year—I've restored the core."
"Cough!" Andeni hadn't been overly focused—until she heard that. She choked, then coughed again, disbelief on her face. "What did you say?"
He repeated it. When she was sure she'd heard right, she went still. How had the staff that sat unchanged for decades in her hands evolved so quickly with him?
…Sigh.
She was no longer fated for it—confirmed, and she sighed inwardly. She knew its pedigree. But the staff and she were oil and water.
"Take it ou—…forget it. Eat first." She'd meant to ask him to show it—but the hall was a jumble of people. Curiosity gnawed at her; she'd waited years to see what it could be. Now it was whole with Gauss; even if it wasn't hers, some old wish felt nearer.
They finished eating, and Andeni tugged Gauss upstairs. At the door, Serandur, fresh from walking the pets, scratched his head at the sight of Gauss being hauled off.
…
The outpost blazed with light.
Beyond the cleared ground, in the deep night, pinpricks of fire glimmered. Dark shapes moved fast in the black—surging toward the outpost like a tide.