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Goblin Chapter 267: Start Up Village, Unknown Enemy
🕑 Added 2025-10-12 13:09:16 +0000 UTCDawn.
Through the thin mist, the village woke beneath the climbing warm sun.
Gauss was up early.
Since returning last night, the clay constructs hadn’t stopped—felling trees and hauling the smoothed logs to an open space in the village. They were tireless and immensely strong—though they constantly drained mana.
Fortunately, Gauss had plenty of mana, and his recovery was faster than a normal caster’s, so he could keep them running.
So when the first villagers stepped out and saw the square, they halted in disbelief at the mound of timber piled like a small hill. Some even rubbed their eyes, thinking they must still be dreaming.
In the fog, a few tall figures trudged in, each carrying a log larger than its own body. At first the villagers thought they were people—only when the shapes drew near did they realize they were uniform-colored monsters.
“Monsters—there are monsters helping cut trees?!”
Many instinctively started to run—until Gauss, nearby, called them down.
“Don’t worry. I created them with magic. They won’t attack you.”
They looked up toward the voice and saw Gauss sitting atop the woodpile like a small mountain, gazing over the village from above.
So that’s it…
Calmed by his explanation, they relaxed.
“Sir Gauss, we’ll let you get back to it,” they said, and—still deeply awed by a “great person” like him—dispersed after a greeting.
Gauss, meanwhile, was tallying the wood in his head.
Last night, after they brought the captives down from the mountain, he’d spoken with Chief Bruno: those who wished to go home would be escorted back to their villages; those with nowhere to return to would stay here.
The timber was for their houses and for defenses. It also gave Gauss a chance to practice clay magic—training that itself helps growth, especially while on the road.
More villagers drifted out, drawn first thing to the heaped materials. Soon, under Bruno’s direction, work began: hauling, staking, digging footings.
With help from Gauss’s party and the clay constructs, construction surged ahead. They didn’t do everything: skilled, careful tasks—joinery, packing wattle with mud and straw, roofing—were left to the villagers. The clay constructs took on the heaviest labor: moving logs, tamping foundations, digging trenches.
When people tired, they could go to Alia for a magic berry to ease hunger and fatigue, while Serandur supported them with spells. The village buzzed like an ordered anthill; everyone found work. Even those rescued yesterday—whom Gauss had told to rest and recuperate—slipped into the flow, urged on by the heat of collective effort.
Clumsy at first, they relaxed as sweat soaked their shirts and dirt packed their hands and feet—especially when Gauss promised some of the foundations being tamped were for their future homes.
The numbness in their eyes began to lift, a small light of hope rising as they realized they were building the place they’d live. The sense of belonging was unlike anything they’d felt in their passive suffering.
From the frame of the newly raised watchtower, Gauss surveyed the busy village and felt a quiet surge of accomplishment. This journey had barely begun, yet the first two villages had each given him different lessons—he even felt his experience gaining faster.
“Once the defenses are taking shape, we can start basic combat training,” he said.
Beside him, a shadow gathered—Shadow.
“I also scouted the monster distribution yesterday,” she said. While Gauss’s group rescued the captives, she hadn’t just waited—she’d gathered intel. “To the east, there’s likely a stronger monster. Fewer creatures there.”
“Oh?”
He hadn’t expected a true strong one nearby. “We’ll take a look in a day or two.”
At this point, elite monsters were no longer a match for him; with his teammates he could even test himself against Level 6–7. He rarely met anything higher unless he went looking in truly dangerous ground.
…
In two days, the village had a skeleton—literally. The power of professionals and magic is immediate: work that might have taken a month was mostly done.
Houses rose; a fence wrapped the settlement; twin guard towers flanked the gate. The place looked nothing like the low thatch hovels Gauss had first seen.
At last they had time to train. As in Goat Village, those who wanted to improve gathered in the square. Gauss and the others taught basic forms and ran class/apptitude checks.
This village had fewer than a hundred souls; remove women, children, and elders and there were not many of fighting age to train.
Watching the earnest young men and women, Gauss sighed. Compared with Goat Village, this community was behind—the headcount was smaller and, more worrying, the talent thinner.
Many clearly hadn’t had enough to eat while growing; weak blood and stunted bodies told on their gifts. He’d tried to improve their meals these days, but that doesn’t change in a week—and for adults, malnutrition leaves permanent lacks.
All he could do was teach with care so they all learned as much practical fighting as possible.
In front of him, three youths who might have the knack for skill-learning were working hard.
“Hah!”
“Yah!”
Iron swords captured from the bandits whistled in their hands. The other twenty-plus, without books, still watched and followed along.
Maybe because of the fight two days ago, the ratio of villagers willing to raise their own strength was much higher here. With Gauss allowing anyone to observe, many squeezed in lessons between building shifts.
“My hands are so sore.”
“Hold on. Didn’t Sir Gauss say? More sweat in training, less blood in battle.”
…
Gauss nodded at the gritted-teeth effort.
At the gate, Serandur dragged a huge stag into the village.
“Venison today?”
“Yes, Captain. Was going for boar—ran into this and didn’t bother to search further.”
The trainees swallowed. Meat was a luxury for the poor. Game here was faster and stronger than in Gauss’s past life; hunting it was hard for farmers—and the woods held monsters. Many hadn’t eaten good meat in a long time, not until this party arrived.
Gauss saw the eager looks and shrugged. “Then let’s eat.”
The central square exploded into motion. Cookfires roared; cauldrons hoisted; some skinned and bled, some butchered and sorted. They wouldn’t eat it all—some would be preserved.
Red chunks tumbled into rolling broth, with Serandur’s foraged herbs and coarse salt to sweeten and de-funk. Rich aroma swept the village, pulling at every belly. Children hovered at the fires, eyes fixed on bobbing morsels, throats working. Adults scolded them back—but their own eyes kept drifting potward.
When the stew was done, Bruno himself ladled a small pot for Gauss’s party first. At Gauss’s nod, he began serving the rest, portioning meat and thick broth fairly into every wooden bowl.
The square fell quiet—just slurps and chewing. It wasn’t their first meat since the party arrived, but faces still shone like it was, the moment sacred; a few eyes even wet. For the first time, life felt like it could be good.
Gauss sipped; the taste was primitive—gamier than he liked. But when he saw the rescued girls taking small bites as tears fell silently into their bowls, the broth was suddenly… different.
After the meal, he called Bruno over. “Chief, the village’s bones and basic defenses are up. I’m going to clear nearby threats. My teammate scouted a strong monster east of here.”
“Strong… monster?” Bruno’s face tightened. “What do you need of us?”
“My team will be out briefly. Just hold the village like we drilled—watchtowers manned, alarms the moment you see trouble. If something beyond you shows up, hide in the cellars.”
“Yes, Sir Gauss.”
The Guild’s commission meant they could only help so much—how far this village went would ultimately be on them.
…
With no intel yet on the target, Gauss brought no villagers. Once monsters break into elite rank, they either gather and command other creatures—or become loners who hunt the competition and squeeze their foraging space.
This smelled like the latter. Lone elites in the wild tend to be stronger—they must fight constantly, and both technique and level rise with it.
“Be careful. Shadow, be ready.”
“Understood.”
Even as he grew stronger, Gauss always found himself reminding the team—that first commission had left him a gift: plan for the worst. Shadow was the party’s safety net—she could snap them together on a thought, and Gauss could Fly them out.
They rode chocobos for a while; the land grew… quiet. Even goblins—the most common thing on the road—were gone, as if wiped away. Wild animals grazed, bolted at the sound of hooves.
“What is it?”
Something strange lay behind the silence. They stowed the mounts and moved in carefully.
“Gauss—there,” Alia said, pointing at a shape. They walked over to a scatter of stone shards—not ordinary stone. Gauss raised one with Mage Hand.
“An… eyeball?”
He could see clear biological hints in the fragments. “Some kind of stone statue?”
He shook his head. Out here, with no sign of habitation, who would drag a statue out and smash it? He could feel a faint, special energy flowing from the fragments.
“Could be petrification,” he said, sharing his guess.
