Witch Megan was bitterly regretting her choices.
She had never expected that her perfect target body would come with an even more terrifyingly perfect soul.
Soul-level offense and defense were the most direct kind there was.
That one exchange just now had already made her realize something: in terms of soul strength, this young man standing in front of her surpassed her—someone who had specialized in this field for many years.
Of course, that didn't mean the hundreds of years she'd spent studying were inferior to his freakish talent.
The problem was: every time she performed another brain-transfer surgery, she was essentially starting from scratch.
So all her accumulated soul strength never really amounted to "hundreds of years" in any meaningful sense.
Her only real advantage over most professionals was experience—she simply understood and used spiritual techniques better than those who'd never had the chance to touch such things.
In the past, it was this very method that had allowed her to prevail again and again.
If an enemy lopped off her head, thinking they'd won, she would wait until their tension eased, then unleash a soul-roar at close range and shatter their spirit to pieces.
But…
"Don't you think you realized all this a bit too late?"
Gauss's water-weapon morphed into a gauntlet that wrapped snugly around his right fist.
A strange power different from mana gathered there—pure soul energy.
His soul was already much stronger than that of an ordinary person.
And ever since he'd broken through to Level 5 and his Intelligence stepped past 15, his soul had clearly grown tougher still.
On top of that, his Sword Soul sub-class let him channel soul-force offensively—attacking spirit bodies or weaving soul power into his strikes.
Despite the word "sword" in the class' name, its abilities weren't limited to just bladed weapons.
At the end of the day, a "sword" didn't have to be so literal.
On the defensive side, the Moonlight Robe he'd just won as the tournament prize provided a dedicated ward against curses and soul attacks.
That was precisely why the hag's "sure-kill" soul strike had fizzled.
She'd tried to ambush someone whose spirit was tougher than hers and whose offense and defense had no obvious gaps.
Without waiting for the witch to respond or make any further move—
Gauss' dragon-scaled right arm shot forward like lightning.
"BOOM!"
The moment his hand closed around that lone floating skull, clawed fingers locking it in a vice, soul-force exploded in his palm, laced with cutting Sword Soul energy.
The black miasma wrapping the witch's head shuddered like it had just met its natural enemy.
"Bzzz—bzzz—bzzz—!"
Two completely different soul auras smashed against each other.
One burned bright and hot, like a miniature sun.
The other was cold, clinging, like a maggot gnawing bone.
Below, where Albena and the others were still tangling with the twisted puppets and corpse-dolls, they all squinted up toward the ceiling.
They could feel the pressure bearing down from above.
There was no wind, no obvious physical shockwave—but it was like some heavy weight had suddenly been set on their hearts.
And that was just the spillover.
Soul-level combat might be invisible, but it was every bit as dangerous and bloody as blades at each other's throats.
In this unseen clash, Gauss unquestionably had the upper hand.
He clamped down with his scaled claws, pinning that skull in place.
Soul-shock after soul-shock hammered into her through his palm.
The witch's only option was to grit her teeth and desperately hold together the black barrier.
But that dragon-clawed grip was closing slowly, steadily, like a hand tightening around a throat. She began to feel as if she couldn't "breathe".
"Thud!"
Gauss slammed her head straight down into the dirt.
"PFF!"
She spat blood.
The double impact—body and spirit—was tearing her defenses apart.
Especially the latter.
Gauss was the first opponent she'd ever met whose soul strength was this absurd.
Up until now, she'd always been cautious, hiding far from the big city centers, living "obediently" out in the wilds, minding her own business and quietly studying, never provoking truly powerful foes.
She simply didn't have enough real combat experience.
Compared to the front-line professionals who fought all year round, the number of times she'd actually risked herself was pitifully small.
And that handful of "practical experience" was mostly just bullying ordinary people.
None of those torture-room victories were good preparation for dealing with a real powerhouse.
On top of that, she was in a transition state—like a bug mid-molt—at her absolute weakest.
"Spare… spare me!"
The witch howled through clenched teeth, pain tearing at her voice.
"THUD!"
Gauss didn't respond.
He simply smashed her head into another chunk of foundation stone.
"Crack, crack!"
Even that skull of hers—harder than metal—started to fracture.
With much of the black energy burned away, her head was no longer quite so "iron-clad".
"I—I can work for you! Like a beast!"
She clearly hadn't expected him to be this "unreasonable".
Panicking now, Megan shouted whatever came to mind.
With her soul-attack trump card failing her, the fear hit full force.
She'd lived a very long time. For someone like her, that was the problem—no matter how many lives she stole, she never felt like it was enough.
To keep going, she'd chosen to hide in barren places, spending most of her time and effort on prolonging life—surgery after surgery.
She couldn't bring herself to accept that it might all end right here.
"That's enough…"
She was smashed again.
The impact left her spinning, unable to tell up from down—and then she realized his grip had suddenly gone still.
In desperation, she screamed out one last card.
"Do you… want immortality?!"
"So long as you let me live—"
"I can teach you the secrets I've mastered over centuries!!"
"…"
For the first time, Gauss' hand seemed to loosen slightly.
Megan almost sobbed in relief.
As expected—no matter who you were, the desire to live forever was baked in from birth.
Whether you were a stunning, unparalleled prodigy admired by all, or some sad little soul struggling in the gutters, everyone wanted more time.
More years to live, to see, to own.
She stared up at him, terrified, clinging to this last hope.
"I've studied this for hundreds of years!" she babbled. "Brain-transfer surgery! All you have to do is find compatible bodies and you can keep being reborn in fresh, young flesh again and again!"
"If you spare me, I'll teach you everything—everything! We can share the secret, you and I!"
"With it, you'll have endless time to study magic's true essence, to obtain anything you desire—power, knowledge, influence…"
"With immortality comes infinite possibility."
Her voice dripped temptation, painting a picture she believed no one could resist.
When she finished, she stared into his eyes, searching for even a flicker of greed.
"So those portraits on the wall were all your 'past bodies'? And the girl in the cellar is your next one?"
"Yes." Megan nodded quickly, not seeing anything wrong with admitting it—as if she were a salesman proudly presenting her product. "I've lived dozens of lives. And I'll keep living more."
"You can too."
But to her mounting horror, Gauss' gaze remained utterly calm.
So calm it chilled her to the bone.
He… really wasn't tempted?
This was immortality.
Her greatest, most carefully guarded secret.
"Immortality, huh? You're disgusting," Gauss said quietly. "Like some parasite squirming around in the sewer."
"Don't you think so… Village Chief?"
He lifted his head and looked toward the trees, voice soft yet somehow carrying far on the air.
The woods were still at first.
But under that steady, burning gaze, the people hiding there finally realized they'd been caught.
In the sunset glow, Chief Hodel stepped out with several villagers, faces heavy, from the treeline.
Down below, Albena and the others—just finished smashing the last of the puppets—looked over.
"Village Chief?"
"You knew the moment we left the village, didn't you?" Gauss asked, tone flat but certain.
He wasn't surprised to see them here.
They'd left openly. If the chief had people keeping an eye on them, he'd know exactly when they left and in what direction.
And from their earlier talk, Gauss had already guessed that at least some of the herb village folk knew about this stone house.
Maybe even more than "some".
Hodel didn't answer immediately.
His eyes went from the slimy pool where Megan's body had landed, to the shattered head dangling from Gauss' clawed hand like a chick in a farmer's grip.
His Adam's apple bobbed.
Finally he looked up at Gauss, eyes full of awe and a bitterness he couldn't hide.
"G… Sir Gauss…"
"We… we did follow your trail out here," he admitted.
Gauss gave a small nod, neither confirming nor denying anything.
"Then if I kill this monster now, you have no objection, right?"
"…"
His gaze swept over them all, but lingered on Hodel.
The weight in that look was almost physical.
Hodel buckled.
He dropped to his knees with a dull thump.
"Sir Gauss… please… please spare Lady Megan."
Albena and the others froze for a heartbeat.
They'd heard Gauss and the witch talking during the fight.
They'd already pieced together what happened to York's missing daughter—that she'd been taken to be this thing's next body.
They'd assumed the villagers were being threatened—that Megan was holding their lives hostage to force them to aid and feed her.
They hadn't expected the "victims" to throw themselves down and beg for her life—and address her with such reverence.
"Lady Megan has watched over our village, protected us from monsters and beasts, and granted us spellcraft… It's all thanks to her that our herb village has stayed safe and prosperous," Hodel stammered.
"…"
"Even when she regularly takes one innocent from the village to extend her life?" Gauss asked, disappointment creeping into his voice.
He'd suspected something like this—but having it dragged into the open still left a bitter taste.
"What's wrong with that?" Hodel looked up hopefully, voice anxious. "One life in exchange for the safety of dozens of households and the prosperity of the village—that's a fair trade."
Gauss opened his mouth, lips moving, but nothing came out for a long time.
"…Sir Gauss?" Hodel ventured.
"Forgive me, but I cannot agree," Gauss said at last, shaking his head.
Sacrificing a few so the majority could live.
He couldn't accept that kind of "rational" calculus.
Did the girl in the cage downstairs, the one slated to die for them, feel that way? Did she see herself as a fair price?
More importantly…
"I'm sorry."
"But I only do what I believe is right."
"This is… the privilege of the strong."
His tone was polite, almost gentle, but there was no room for negotiation in it.
He had no interest in arguing or justifying himself to them.
He didn't wait for Megan's reaction, nor for any protest from the villagers.
His claw tightened.
A terrifying force erupted from his dragon-scaled fingers.
"BANG!!!"
The already-cracked head burst in his palm like an overripe fruit.
Witch Megan—dead on the spot.
"Don't—"
Hodel's shout barely left his throat.
Something warm sprayed across his cheek.
He slowly lowered the hand he'd reached out, mind blank.
Their "symbiotic" arrangement with Megan was the village's deepest secret.
Only a few elders knew—and had helped maintain it all these years.
By now, they were used to living under her protection, like sheep penned in a comfortable pasture.
He stared at Gauss, Adam's apple jumping, but he didn't dare say anything more.
The image of that head being crushed like a worm was still burning in his eyes.
Part of him was terrified Gauss would turn that hand on them next and "squeeze" them just as casually.
But he misjudged.
Gauss merely glanced his way, then looked away.
He didn't care what they thought.
He only cared about what he did.
None of these old men would ever have to fear being chosen as the next "vessel". No matter how they dressed it up as "sacrifice for the village", the blade would always fall on someone else.
It looked selfless. It wasn't.
As for killing them himself, that hadn't even crossed his mind.
They were, at worst, accomplices by neglect—not monsters that needed to be cut down on sight.
Of course, he had no intention of covering for them either. He fully planned to tell the other villagers what had happened, and to report it to the Adventurer's Guild in the next town.
As for Megan—her human experimentation was the kind of thing every kingdom condemned in public law, the sort of crime people were expected to stamp out.
Even the Adventurer's Manual approved.
"Brain-Thief Witch Megan Slain ×1"
[Commanders Path Progress: Slay 5 Commander-class Monsters (4/5)]
Yes.
The witch he'd just killed had been classified by the Manual as a monster.
This was Gauss' first time "killing a person"… but even that had counted toward his Index progress.
He hadn't expected that.
It said a lot about just how "inhuman" she'd become.
And, he had to admit, this probably wasn't about good and evil.
He'd cut down bandits and raiders before—men who'd done plenty of evil—but they'd never been added as Index entries.
The Manual clearly had its own line between "person" and "monster".