Time flew by.

Over these past few days, Gauss and the others first saw Andni off.

Watching her figure vanish down the road and feeling the sudden, uncertain thought of when they might meet again, Gauss couldn’t help but feel a touch of wistful melancholy.

On the fourth day, Gauss finally received the departure notice from the dwarf, Thorin.

The two groups rendezvoused, left Lincrest Town, and followed the planned route, officially heading toward the ruins.

Thorin’s mount was a common one: a hardy northern dwarf pony, barely four feet at the shoulder but with thick limbs and wide hooves perfectly suited for carrying loads through woods and rough terrain.

What stood out was a few small wine pouches hanging from the saddle;

they bumped together with the pony’s steps and made dull clinking sounds along the way.

This red-skinned dwarf would frequently take a swig of liquor. He tried to “recommend” some to Gauss, but the pungent, nose-burning smell made Gauss politely decline.

At best Gauss could stomach a low-proof fruit wine—more of a beverage than true alcohol—and even that he avoided when leaving town for adventures, trying to keep as clear-headed as possible.

The ruins lay some distance from Lincrest Town. This temporary team had to follow the border of the Emerald Forest for roughly two to three days, then enter through a forest entrance and proceed deeper into the Emerald Forest.

So the group wasn’t in any rush.

Sometime near dusk.

A hot wind swept across the wild trail;

grasses and shrubs bowed low, late-spring green waves rippling.

A bristly feral boar snuffled its way out of the bushes.

It was muscular with short stubby tusks, rooting hard at the soil for large plant roots. Occasionally it jerked its head up, alert and scanning the surroundings for possible predators.

After confirming nothing was amiss it lowered its head and continued its digging.

Whoosh!!

Suddenly the air grew scorching.

A streak of scarlet tore through the sky.

The boar had just noticed something when—pfft—the fiery red arrow pierced cleanly through both ears and through its skull. The intense heat took its life in an instant.

“Not bad, Gauss.” Thorin ambled over from a distance, more lively now. He grabbed the boar by the scruff, ignoring the prickly bristles, and lifted it off the ground with ease.

“About 150 pounds, enough to eat for two days. But why not take that big one over there? That big one’s at least 400 pounds.”

“Never mind, this is enough,” Gauss shook his head. The larger one would be harder to preserve and easier to get tired of—wasteful in the end.

“Fair point.” Thorin nodded and, single-handedly, slung the boar—whose size didn’t look that much smaller than his own—over his shoulder.

Dwarves were naturally strong even if they weren’t professionals;

Thorin was a level-5 Warrior, and this weight was nothing to him.

Even if I doubled my strength, I still couldn’t lift it like that with such ease, Gauss thought.

“Let’s find a river, gut it, start a fire and cook. Aren’t you a bit hungry?” Gauss asked.

Eck spread his wings and soon guided the party to a nearby stream.

They cleared a patch of ground.

Just as Gauss was reaching for his skinning knife, Thorin sprang into action.

He expertly set the boar down, drew his knife, and with quick, precise motions bled it, skinned it, removed the innards and the inedible parts all in one continuous flow.

While he worked, Thorin glanced at the knife in Gauss’s hand with a look of comparative respect—recognition between fellows who know their tools.

Usually a party has a cook.

Being a cook might sound mundane, but that’s a mistake. As the saying goes, you can’t adventure on an empty stomach.

A good cook makes delicious meals that raise morale and improve the party’s quality of life on the road. People are emotional creatures and easily affected by small comforts.

That’s why, although the group rotated cooking duties, Gauss often volunteered to help—his skills were the best among the trio.

Thorin, however, was clearly the team’s chef by trade and took great pride in it.

His butchering was professional;

he quickly sorted and packed the meat.

Then he pulled several small leather pouches from his pack, shook them boastfully—filled with ground spices.

“We dwarves don’t just forge iron. We also know how to enjoy food and drink.”

Soon everyone pitched in—fetching water, setting up pots, stoking flames, gathering wild vegetables and herbs...

The camp kitchen got underway.

Even Gauss, proud of his own culinary ability, had to admit this dwarf warrior was the better cook. Compared to Thorin, Gauss felt like an amateur who’d learned by trial and error.

The aroma rising was irresistible.

Gauss swallowed.

But since the food wasn’t ready, he restrained himself and continued helping Thorin.

“How’s it look? I wasn’t bragging, was I?” Thorin flashed a grin after finishing the preparations.

“If you opened a tavern, you’d do booming business,” Gauss praised.

“You bet.”

The ingredients were simple, but Thorin’s techniques worked wonders—stews, roast skewers, and peppered pork rind. His spice blends and handling removed the boar’s strong wild tang and brought out savory goodness that lingered on the tongue.

Thorin hefted his large cup and drank the strong liquor, eating with greasy delight. The others ate heartily too.

But Gauss ate the most.

“Can’t tell from looks—you sure can eat. Real man,” Thorin flopped onto the ground, rubbing his now-bulging belly and watching Gauss still going at it with genuine admiration.

He hadn’t expected this clean-faced mage to pack such an appetite. He’d thought he was unbeatable at eating, only to find someone even more ravenous—and a spellcaster below his level at that. It was bizarre.

Nancy and Elton, who had seemed composed, couldn’t help but glance at Gauss more often now. Their impression of him had deepened.

A mysterious male spellcaster who could transform into a Dragonkin and fight fiercely—and who could eat like a champ.

Full and satisfied, they resumed the journey.

Good food is the best social catalyst;

a single field meal had already brought this temporary party closer.

Thorin occasionally struck up small talk with Serlandul and Aria, who he hadn’t talked much with before—topics like profession, hometown, and how the team had formed.

The group continued along the Emerald Forest border;

the afternoon sun stretched their shadows long.

Clip-clop clip-clop.

The crisp, scattered sound of hooves approached from afar and grew clearer.

With the sun sinking, night neared.

A six-person party arrived from the sunset glow.

“We made it to the village before dark,” Nancy tugged on the reins, slowing the horses as they neared. “Find the village chief and see if there’s an empty house we can rent for the night,” Gauss suggested, pointing toward the dilapidated settlement.

He didn’t expect a proper inn in such a small village.

“Alright,” the others agreed.

They rode down the dirt track toward the village.

Hooves kicked up fine dust from the cracked earth. Fields on either side were barren, overrun with weeds;

the few rows of crops looked withered and neglected.

Old farm tools lay abandoned by the hedgerows, wood rotting and splintered.

The closer they got, the more dilapidated everything seemed.

Low, crumbling mud houses huddled together;

walls were split with ugly cracks. The crooked wooden sign at the gate had faded characters. The village was unnaturally silent—no evening clucks and barks, no children’s laughter—only a desolate wind whistling through, sending shivers down spines.

The arrival of Gauss and his group shattered that silence.

Dirty, tattered curtains were drawn back at the edge of the road. Shadowy figures moved behind them, and cautious eyes peered from dim windows at the well-equipped, dusty travelers.

No villager came forward to greet them;

instead they silently observed from afar.

“Something’s...off,” Thorin muttered, rubbing the back of his head and lowering his voice. One hand went instinctively to his warhammer’s haft.

Even his pony seemed uneasy and snorted, pawing at the ground.

This was hardly surprising. The village’s abandonment was apparent from outside—neglected fields, discarded tools;

it didn’t resemble a normal, functioning village, especially one that wasn’t wealthy to begin with.

Elton traced a prayer sign across his chest and frowned, subtly shaking his head at the others.

“Not seeing anything overt yet.”

As the six-man party paused in the village center, observing silently, the door of a relatively intact mud-brick house—probably the village chief’s—creaked open.

An old man shuffled out.

He was frail and thin, wearing patched coarse cloth. Deep wrinkles scored his face and his gaze was cloudy. He moved slowly with a cane and stopped in front of Gauss and the others.

He looked each of them over—each mount—pausing at Thorin’s armor, Nancy’s staff, Elton’s holy emblem, and the weapons Gauss and company carried. Then, in a dry, hoarse voice like an old bellows, he asked,

“Strangers...where do you come from? What do you want in our Rolling Stone Village?”

His tone wasn’t friendly;

it carried a hint of stubborn resistance.

“Good evening, sir. We’re adventurers from Lincrest Town. It’s late. Do you have any empty houses we can rent for a night? We’ll pay.” Gauss stepped forward to speak. The old man was the first villager to approach, so it made sense to get information from him.

No harm in gathering intelligence. Whether they would stay in this odd village for the night required more discussion—the area was remote and they had few options for shelter.

“Sorry. Our Rolling Stone Village...does not welcome strangers. There’s no empty houses to let. You should...keep moving.” His refusal was blunt and almost cruel—telling travelers to continue on when night was approaching.

Thorin’s brow immediately knotted.

“Hey, old man! We’re not planning on freeloading! We said we’d pay! Where do you expect us to go—sleep under the stars and feed the wolves?” the dwarf barked, loud and blunt.

The old man, startled by Thorin’s volume and fierce expression, took a step back but still shook his head stubbornly.

“No. No. It’s not possible. Money...won’t help. Please, leave while the light remains...”

At the end of his plea, his voice held a note of appeal.

Just then Elton’s voice interrupted the old man’s hurried dismissal.

He didn’t look at the elder;

his gray eyes scanned toward the other run-down houses.

“There are sick people in the village?” His tone wasn’t a question as much as a certainty. At first in the village he hadn’t noticed anything, but after a moment he’d sensed something.

The old man trembled and looked at them with fear and suspicion, gripping his cane tightly.

“Don’t say that!”

Elton stepped forwards, calm and resolute, lifting his holy emblem. Gentle pale light flowed around him, emanating a comforting serenity.

“Sir, please don’t be afraid. I am a priest who serves the Light. Perhaps...I can see these patients? Even if I can’t cure them, the Holy Light can at least ease their suffering.”

The old man watched Elton’s soft radiance and earnest, gentle face;

his resistance softened—until his gaze turned somewhere else and he hardened again.

“Please leave Rolling Stone Village quickly.”

Gauss and the others exchanged looks.

Thorin scratched the back of his head, then nodded to the group.

“Let’s move on for now.”

Under many watchful eyes, the party continued along the village road.

They hadn’t gone far when Thorin halted them.

“He seemed really scared of us,” Gauss recalled of the old man’s demeanor.

“Are they monsters? Or people influenced by monsters?” Thorin asked Nancy.

Nancy shook her head. “Just ordinary people.”

Serlandul, however, kept frowning as if pondering something.

Gauss turned to him. “Any idea?”

“They give off a familiar atmosphere. Let me think...” Serlandul murmured.

Thorin dismounted and put his hands on his hips.

“Let’s camp nearby.”

“Nearby? Maybe a bit further would be better,” Gauss checked.

The spot was just outside Rolling Stone Village.

Thorin scratched his head. “Camp here. There aren’t wolves or big cats near the village, so we can sleep easier.”

Can we really sleep easy? Gauss thought skeptically.

But Thorin had made the decision, and as the organizer of this expedition, Gauss didn’t want to overstep. He kept his doubts to himself.

He didn’t believe Thorin couldn’t sense the village’s oddness—but Thorin clearly had a reason to stay that he wasn’t sharing.

Soon they cleared and leveled an area outside the village, lit a bonfire and set up tents.

While Thorin prepared dinner, smoke curled upward and enticing aromas drifted on the evening breeze.

The dishes resembled lunch with a few more vegetable side dishes.

Gauss ate heartily and mentally mused that if he ever added another member to his party, he should prioritize cooking skill.

Just as everyone was focused on their meal, a slender figure flickered from the shadows near the bonfire.

It was a woman of about twenty, wearing a coarse linen dress faded white and patched, so frail she looked as if a gust could topple her.

Her face was pallid, lips nearly bloodless, but her eyes were huge and fixated on the food.

Her appearance was so abrupt Thorin almost spat his drink.

Nancy seemed to spot her first and shifted a few steps closer to where Gauss was seated.

“Can you spare me a bit?” she licked her lips.

Her tongue was thin and sharp—an unnatural shape—and her skin was beginning to peel and rot when examined closely.

Gauss assessed her silently then reached and grabbed a skewer of roast meat from the rack and, slowly, offered it.

Just as his hand neared her—

Crack!

Her skin burst as if from thousands of tiny claws tearing outward. A sharp clawed paw covered in slick, gray-black fur flashed forward like lightning, aimed straight for Gauss.

Clang!!!

A steel longsword appeared in Gauss’s hand;

blade met claw and sparks flew.

The woman who failed to strike Gauss recoiled. Her body contorted in unnatural ways—elongating and twisting, limbs touching the ground while her spine arched with sickening pops.

Around her, others had already closed in to encircle her.

Her transformation wasn’t finished.

Her face grew more horrifying;

her mouth slit to her ears, exposing pink muscle, spewing a thick black spray as her once-large eyes turned pitch-black, shimmering with a pinprick-red malicious light.

“It’s a demonic familiar!” Nancy warned.

By the time she spoke, the woman had fully mutated.

She tore off her human guise and became a terror about twice the height of a person, covered in writhing live rats and rotting fur. Her torso was grotesquely swollen and still vaguely humanoid, but her limbs had become long, hooked, rat-like appendages and she had a long tail formed from a tangle of rat tails, studded with barbs, that crashed against the ground.

A huge rat-like muzzle opened and shut, spewing green vapor and revealing countless needle-like teeth through the mist.

Gauss felt his skin crawl and his stomach churn at the sight—an instinctive human disgust.

He remembered the ratfolk slaying commission he’d taken with Aria last year. Back then in an abandoned church cellar he had encountered his first strange incident in this world. If he recalled correctly, that ratfolk elder who leapt into the poisoned pool had mentioned a name—Vespertilia. On the third day after returning, Gauss had a rare nightmare about it.

Could these events be connected?

Was this creature “coming after” him because of that commission?

Meanwhile Thorin, Nancy, and Elton exchanged a glance and quickly shared thoughts through their mental channel.

As expected, trouble always shows up once you start purifying.

Finish it fast.

They might be confused, but press on...

After a brief exchange, Thorin hefted his shield and gripped his warhammer, striding boldly toward the rat-monster.

With each step the ground dented beneath him.

“Roar!!”

He unleashed a deafening battle cry;

the compact dwarf seemed to explode with savage momentum, like a cannonball launched forward. His hammer arced in the moonlight with a ripping whistle and slammed toward the rat-monster’s skull.

The creature had just completed its mutation and raised its hooked forelimbs to block.

Thorin’s full-force blow was so immense the air itself seemed to compress;

the hammer, borne by a mighty pressure wave, smashed into the creature’s arm.

Crack!!!

The arm shattered in an instant. The remaining force drove into the rat-monster’s skull.

Crunch!!

A bone-splintering sound rang out. Green pus and bone shards burst outward!

The skull caved in, rammed into the body by the impact.

Yet to everyone’s surprise, despite such a grievous wound, the creature didn’t die. It screamed in pain and rage and a front paw lashed for Thorin’s head.

But Thorin reacted fast;

his massive tower shield rose just in time.

Clang!!!

The claws sparked against the thick shield, which shone with heavy golden luster, and the attack was repelled by that mountainous defense.

From another angle, Gauss seized the opening and surged forward like a grinding striker.

Thorin’s earlier violent blow had startled everyone and nearly made them think the monster had been utterly crushed.

Gauss, as his Sturdy Scale Bloodline activated, found scales of energy forming over his body with each step. At one moment his right hand shaped into a dragon-claw formed from magical power and racial talent.

The others—particularly Thorin, Nancy, and Elton—widened their eyes and watched Gauss’s assault closely.

To them the rat-monster’s threat was manageable;

Thorin alone could have defeated it, but it also provided a chance to observe Gauss’s strength. With several people nearby ready to support, they didn’t worry.

Gauss didn’t know Thorin’s thoughts. His plan was simple: Thorin had battered the creature half to pieces, now it was his turn to finish the job.

He had legitimate reasons—Thorin had been knocked back;

the front line now fell to him. It was reasonable for a frontline fighter to step up.

Gauss moved with terrifying speed.

Monstrous Strength and Enhanced Jump burst out from his legs while the Sturdy Scale Bloodline strengthened his physique. Coupled with excellent strength, dexterity, and constitution and without heavy weapons or armor, his short-term burst speed was frightening.

His figure left a dark silhouette with a hint of azure in its wake.

Because his frame was much larger than dwarf Thorin’s, his charge seemed even more imposing.

Near the rat-monster, his body was sheathed in energy scales and his right arm, shaped into a dragon claw, tensed with magical surge.

He raised his right arm high, coiled and then released with a blow combining 10 points of strength and the force from Monstrous Strength.

Boom!

The dragon-claw smashed into the rat-monster’s chest.

A sound far more dreadful and hollow than Thorin’s earlier hammer echoed!

The creature seemed as if it had been stuffed with explosives—it exploded from within.

Skull fragments, rotten tissue fluid, pus, and countless tiny chunks of meat sprayed outwards in a radial blast. The force knocked the creature back several steps, its body close to collapse, but a black mist swirled and it righted itself.

From a distance Thorin and the other two watched silently, communicating again through their minds.

Is Thorin’s strike not the strongest here? Nancy’s mental voice was slightly more lively than her spoken tone.

Ha. Ha. Are you serious? I’m a proper dwarf warrior! Thorin’s mind sounded embarrassed.

But he hadn’t used his full strength. Nancy pointed out that Gauss fought bare-handed and without Thorin’s elite-crafted equipment, yet the results looked more extreme.

Thorin felt like someone had shoved a thorn in him. He admired Gauss but was peeved at the suggestion his strength was inferior, and he fussed with his beard.

I didn’t use my full strength earlier, he thought.

Nancy, of course, knew Thorin had held back but pretended ignorance. She too was stunned by Gauss;

it was hard to imagine a level-3 spellcaster fighting like this. If Gauss closed in on her she feared for her safety.

Just as Thorin raised his hammer to vindicate himself with a finishing blow, Gauss had already entered the cleanup phase.

Realizing the rat-monster’s vitality was uncanny, he decided to fully unleash.

As his dragon-claw—like a heavy pile driver—smashed into the wound Thorin had made, Gauss’s left hand gripped the White Wand.

At the same moment, a brilliant blue light compressed between the fingers of his dragon-claw, swelling in an instant!

Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!

Five Magic Missiles condensed within the dragon-claw poured into the chest wound and detonated inside.

The hole the dragon-claw had made hadn’t had time to close before the five missiles exploded, enlarging the wound instantly!

The resulting shockwave was dampened by the monster’s bulk and Gauss’s solid defenses.

“Aaaah!!!”

The creature screamed in a piercing wail and seemed to recognize looming doom as black mist once again began to envelope its body.

Gauss wouldn’t give it time.

He tightened his grip and re-formed the dragon-claw into an even harder shape.

Second punch—delivered with crushing force—followed by a third and fourth in rapid succession!

Under his storm of blows the creature’s body kept erupting.

Finally, after the fourth punch came a catastrophic detonation.

The rat-monster could no longer hold form;

it exploded outward into a scattering of bloody chunks and viscous gore. The ground was smeared and stinking.

The flesh on the ground quickly turned to black smoke and dissolved into the air.

Gauss stood with his chest heaving beneath energy scales.

His magic had eaten well.

A moment later, text flickered before his eyes:

“Killed Elite Vile Rat Demon Familiar *1”

“Title [Ratkind Hunter], Effect:

“Receive 10 elite points...”

The title was the same as when he’d slain giant rats and ratfolk before. This pestilent rat demon familiar seemed related to those previous monsters.

So perhaps it had attacked because of that earlier commission?

He fell into thought.

A strange energy quietly slipped up through his feet and into his body without his noticing;

he felt a mysterious egg within him tremble, snapping him out of his rumination.

“What’s that egg messing about now?”

Around the camp a brief silence followed;

only the crackle of the bonfire sounded unusually sharp.

Thorin, who had wanted to prove himself, stopped mid-stride, annoyed—Gauss had finished the fight even faster than he’d imagined.

Or rather, the normal combat sequence had been extremely short: from the rat’s sudden attack to Thorin’s hammer, and then Gauss’s rapid finish, it had taken less than a dozen breaths.

For the first time Thorin thought that having a teammate so strong might not always be a good thing.

Nancy cocked her head and stared, reassessing Gauss with widened eyes.

She wasn’t merely surprised he had defeated the familiar—what shocked her was how easily he blended magic and brute force.

His command of power was natural. He could switch between melee and magic at will, take the blast of his own magical explosions head-on, and the mana in his hands behaved like a tame lamb.

What kind of monster is this!?