Gauss could feel that cold, sinister energy spilling out of the ogre chieftain was rapidly merging into his own Ghoul bloodline.
Even though he'd just finished an intense fight, he didn't feel tired at all. If anything, the influx left him feeling full—solid and energized.
He let out a long breath of relief.
Every time he used Ghoul Form together with the Ironscale Bloodline, the backlash after disengaging was usually brutal.
But this time, it seemed like it wouldn't be nearly as bad as the previous occasions.
He glanced at the ogre chieftain that had just crashed to the ground.
The dust settled.
It lay there, its body convulsing violently.
Each spasm forced more blue-black foul blood to gush from the bowl-sized, grotesque wound in its back.
The energy inside it had completely gone berserk.
The purifying power Gauss had driven into it was still surging through its body like a flood.
He raised a hand and recalled the sacred water, then lifted his palm.
Scorching magic gathered in his hand.
"Fireball!"
Boom!
A massive, blazing fireball erupted over the ogre chieftain's corpse.
Gauss hovered in the air, pale hair fluttering in the heatwave.
When it was over, he stared down at the burning remains of the giant beast, his expression flat and calm.
Ogre Chieftain (Ghoul-Touched) Slain ×1
Only when the Index notification popped did the rock in his chest finally drop.
He'd finally killed that powerful enemy.
If you didn't count the Dragon Cult Dragon Priestess Cecilia outside Longflute Fortress, this ogre chieftain was the strongest opponent Gauss had ever fought.
The duel had been short, and the decisive moment was that "godlike" strike—but the whole exchange had been razor-thin.
If his focus had slipped, if his reactions had been slower, he would've been minced into paste long ago.
That's how real fights often are.
Catch the moment, and a few moves are enough.
And it was the underdog—Gauss—who seized that moment.
He slowly deactivated Ghoul Form and Ironscale Bloodline.
The instant they released, a violent wave of weakness surged up from deep inside him.
His airborne body wobbled twice, then steadied.
His muscles ached, but he wasn't at the end of his rope—not even close.
"Charge!!!"
He looked farther out.
Sir Belrock, leading an elite cavalry unit, was smashing into the battlefield.
Many monsters on the ground had witnessed Gauss piercing and killing the ogre chieftain from above.
The monster army's morale collapsed instantly, panic spreading like a plague.
Even though holding formation might've given them a slim chance, they spun and fled in a stampede.
Only a handful of elite ogres were still resisting, roaring orders for their troops to keep fighting.
But with the formation already shattered, their commands meant nothing.
Worse—when those monster officers looked up and saw the human still floating in the sky, fear and shock flickered deep in their eyes.
If their chieftain—that monster—had died to that seemingly fragile human…
then if the "white reaper" turned his attention to them, it would be even more effortless slaughter.
"Run!"
In that moment, the Green Dragon Queen's authority and the tribe's "honor" meant nothing.
Gauss checked the little mana he had left, then dropped a few more fireballs into the densest clusters, harvesting extra kills.
On the outskirts of the battlefield, the human army surged forward in a final victory charge.
Hooves churned mud and monster corpses. Spears and sabers flashed cold light in the fireglow as they slammed into the fleeing horde.
This wasn't a battle anymore.
It was a one-sided massacre and pursuit.
Without leadership or morale, the monsters stood no chance against organized cavalry. They fell in swathes.
Gauss descended to the ground, boots landing on scorched earth that still held residual heat.
Serandur rushed up and caught him by the arm, steadying him.
Seeing Gauss looked better than he had after past overdraws, Serandur finally let out a breath of relief—then immediately began using healing magic to repair the tendon damage inside Gauss's body.
"We won," Gauss said, staying still and letting Serandur work.
His mana had been wrung dry.
And after killing enough enemies tonight, it was time to rest.
Night wind swept across the field. The shouts of battle still echoed in pockets.
Soon a cavalry squad formed a protective ring around Gauss while he was being treated.
To be safe—though it was probably unnecessary.
The monsters had already started fleeing the moment they saw him. No one would be stupid enough to run toward him now.
Belrock's riders had driven the rout far into the distance. The last scattered resistance was crushed quickly.
Monster corpses littered the ground everywhere.
But Belrock himself didn't continue the chase.
He led part of his cavalry back—straight toward Gauss.
Hooves thudded through mud until they arrived.
The old knight dismounted. His armor was scarred with axe and blade marks.
He lifted his visor, revealing a face flushed red with excitement.
Tonight was a great victory.
Yes—the ogre-led monster army had broken sections of the wall and killed plenty of soldiers, militia, and adventurers in the fight.
But the monsters paid a far heavier price, and they'd successfully held Grayrock Town.
Four thousand humans—many of them barely-trained militia and logistics men—had held against a force several times larger.
Defense had advantages, sure, but it hadn't been easy at all; the wall's advantage was limited, or it wouldn't have been breached so quickly in multiple places.
Belrock knew who the biggest contributor was:
the team that struck the monster command tent—especially the young man in front of him.
During his charge, he'd seen the massive clash in Gauss's sector.
He'd tried to ride over to support, but the fight had ended before he even arrived.
"Sir Gauss!"
"Please accept my deepest thanks! Thank you for slaying that monster leader— you saved this town, and countless civilians behind it!"
"You praise me too much, Sir. I simply did what had to be done," Gauss replied evenly, not taking all the credit. "And it was only possible because your soldiers struck from both flanks and fought in blood, tying down their forces—giving me the opening to break through."
Belrock smiled and shook his head. He knew that opening wasn't as simple as Gauss made it sound.
A monster that commanded such a massive army would never be weak.
Gauss had cut it down alone and shattered enemy morale—that was the turning point, and everyone had seen it.
…
Dawn crept in.
When the first sunlight spilled over the horizon, the townspeople—who'd spent the whole night terrified underground—lined up and filed out of the bunkers.
"We won!"
"Grayrock Town is safe!"
The news spread fast from soldiers and adventurers to the civilians.
They wouldn't be butchered if the town fell.
They wouldn't have to abandon everything and start over somewhere else.
Grayrock wasn't rich, but people had lived here for years. They had homes. Jobs.
Leaving would've meant half a lifetime gone.
"Three! Two! One! Lift!"
Soldiers heaved shattered boulders out of the streets, loading them onto carts.
The civilians hadn't seen the battle firsthand, but the collapsed stonework, dried blood, and scattered weapons made the night's violence obvious.
"Morgan!!!"
"You're alive—thank the gods!"
A couple clung to each other as if they could fuse together.
Morgan, wearing ill-fitting leather armor, was clearly militia.
His wife had searched for ages; seeing him alive broke her composure and she cried with relief.
But for every Morgan, there were other corners filled with stifled sobbing and desperate screams.
At the makeshift morgue along the edge of the square, people tremblingly lifted coarse cloth from the faces of the dead.
When they recognized someone, they crumpled, wailing.
Children stared blankly at the sheet covering their father, too young to understand what "death" really meant.
Young wives. White-haired parents. Faces in hands, shoulders shaking, hoarse sobs tearing out.
Even a great victory was paid for in blood.
The gate creaked open.
The horn blew.
Armored riders, smeared with gore, returned slowly into the town.
Hoofbeats shattered the morning hush.
At the front, the rider sat straight-backed.
Behind them were comrades laid out on flat wagons.
The cavalry—especially the first wave that rode out to draw fire and open the path for Gauss's strike team—had taken heavy casualties.
But unlike militia, most of these professionals didn't have families in Grayrock.
As townspeople cleared rubble, they straightened and watched in silence.
Gauss was among the returning column.
Beside him were his teammates, Sir Belrock, and Guildmaster Eberhard.
His gaze swept across the street—over unfamiliar, heavy faces, over rubble and blood.
For a moment, he felt dazed.
"Brother!"
A bright, excited voice rang out from the crowd.
He turned.
His little sister, Cicero, was being held up by their older brother, waving at him.
"Go on," Belrock said, gesturing for their hero to step away freely.
"Thank you," Gauss said.
He and the team peeled off to meet his family.
They inspected him from head to toe, and only after confirming he was truly fine did they finally relax.
"Brother, you're not hurt, right?"
"Cicero was so worried she didn't sleep all night."
"They said you went to fight something really scary…"
She hugged his neck and whispered in his ear, worried.
"I'm fine," Gauss said, rubbing her head. "Everyone made it back."
Under all her excitement, he could see her dark eye circles—she really hadn't slept.
Then she leaned closer, sniffed, and grimaced.
"…But brother, you stink."
She wrinkled her nose and complained.
"Go home and wash up!"
"Yes, yes," Gauss said, helplessly.
He really hadn't had the energy to care about details last night.
After Serandur's quick triage restored a bit of stamina and mana, Gauss had gone back out to help mop up.
Only once they were sure the area outside the walls was clear of enemy remnants did they regroup and return.
Under the respectful gazes around them, Gauss and the others headed home.
Total Monsters Kills: 15,111
In last night's battle, Gauss killed more than three thousand monsters.
Most fell to his fireballs, the Thousand-Thread Severing Domain he maintained during the tent strike, and the team's combined cleanup.
But beyond those thousands, he'd also killed two commander-class wyverns and one commander-class ogre leader—
especially that last one, which had been the true turning point.
Later, soaking in a hot, steaming bath, he stared at his Adventurer's Manual.
One night of war.
A huge haul.
First: the milestone reward for passing 15,000.
Total Monsters Kills: 15111/15000
Reward: Commander Points +30
Reward: Level 4 Spell [Ice Storm]
And because he'd slaughtered so many evil creatures, his talent [Duskfall Hour] triggered additional drops:
Skill: Beast Breath
Skill: Sprint
Skill: Body Enlargement
The first two, he wasn't sure what small fry they came from—too many died at once to trace it.
But the last one, he'd noticed clearly: it dropped right after he killed the Ogre Chieftain (Ghoul-Touched).
It was the same ability the chieftain used—growing from a little over three meters tall to nearly ten during the fight, which had caused Gauss plenty of trouble.
"Body Enlargement…"
He stared at the skill.
It would definitely boost some of his melee capabilities.
But bigger wasn't always better. He'd need to test it in training and real combat.
Beast Breath let him recover some stamina and muscle power through a special breathing pattern, but at the cost of burning more stored energy.
On top of that, he gained 35 Commander Points from the kills:
10 from the first wyvern, 5 from the second—apparently a diminishing return.
And 20 from the ogre chieftain (Ghoul-Touched).
Add the 30 from the 15k milestone…
He now had 65 Commander Points.
Was that enough to upgrade a Blue-rank Racial Trait into Purple?
Gauss glanced at his attribute panel.
~~~
Patreon.com/NotEvenMyFinalForm
– Thank you! You're Welcome!