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Goblin Chapter 287: Officially Joining the Team
🕑 Added 2025-11-01 06:15:42 +0000 UTCAfter Gauss’s level-up to 5, he spent the next day testing what had changed.
First up: his Level 3 spells. A round of drills showed Fly and Fireball both came much easier. He’d learned them early at Level 4, but they had been… clunky. Now they felt natural. Especially Fly—speed, agility, and endurance were all markedly better.
He drifted down from the sky, pleased with the upgraded “air combat” feel.
The others trained in their own ways—except Shadow. She’d gone off alone to seek a quiet place for her breakthrough.
Every class—and every person—has a different way to push through. Gauss meditates; Alia communes with nature; some warriors find sparring partners and grasp the moment in a fight.
There’s no single “right” way—only what fits you best. Shadow didn’t need chaperones; she needed solitude.
“Going 5 to 6… should be a big jump,” Gauss mused. Albena’s experience said every 5→6 came with a random skill suited to the user, and a solid stat bump.
Who knew how long it would take? Shadow had said don’t wait—she’d find them after—but Gauss wasn’t about to simply walk off. He could use this time to settle into his own gains.
Boom!
Off in the distance, Albena dropped from the air—twin axe biting into a boulder. With a roaring crack, a cleft split the rock like a spiderweb—and the whole mass shattered to rubble.
She landed steady, slung the axe, and wiped sweat with a satisfied grin. She’d been too long at the forge; her edge felt rusty.
That was why she hadn’t pressed the attack much in the recent job. Now she wanted her offense crisp again.
Clap, clap, clap.
“Amazing,” Gauss walked over, not stingy with praise. A warrior’s destruction was terrifying—even he wouldn’t eat that hit straight up; in a real fight he’d dance around such a foe for openings.
His melee tools were for opponents weaker than his body. Everyone has strengths and gaps; you play to them.
“Haha, not bad. Been slacking a while,” Albena chuckled—and glowed a bit to be seen by Gauss.
“Ahem—Albena, come with me; something to confirm,” Gauss said, shifting to business. Albena followed his glance to Alia and Serandur waiting by the Folding House—her heart picked up. “C-coming.”
Inside the hall, tea and food were laid out. Stomachs were ready; talk began as they ate. He’d already checked with Shadow.
Gauss poured red tea for each. “Let’s make this a little meeting.”
Albena set her food down and sat straighter. Gauss looked to her. Though the job was over she’d stayed—everyone had a pretty good idea why. Still, it needed saying—joining or parting, or some other plan. Better to be clear.
“Albena—on behalf of the team: are you interested in joining us?”
“Yes, Sir Gauss—I want to join your party,” she said without a blink. Even expecting it, Gauss was surprised by the speed.
“And your forge?”
“Handled. I’ve been moving stock these days—just need a little more time to finish. I never meant to be a smith forever—just a stop since I left home. Gold & Silver’s too quiet—and with you all, I’d rather adventure.” She’d prepared for this. Ever the warrior-smith, she added, “And I’m not selling high-grade materials—I’ll forge gear for everyone when we get the right stuff.”
“How could we—” Alia smiled.
“No need to be polite,” Albena waved it off, riding the high of finally making it official. “Welcome aboard,” Gauss said, shaking her hand.
With a real front-line tank, his own options widened—less time “tanking” and more freedom to cast or cut.
“Next: the red drake. I intend to keep it,” Gauss said. Beyond a mount, it was their second “tank”—thick hide, obscene regen—and with a leash on it, little risk of trouble. A bit headstrong, but he was confident he’d house-train it.
“In the next couple days I’ll get it and Ulfen to get along,” he added; the beast bag situation was untenable. If talk failed—well, fists.
He’d mapped the drake’s “personality”: blustery, but “savvy”—could tell kings from pawns. A drake’s mind isn’t deep—crafty like a beast, not a schemer. The day Gauss hammered it and bound it in gold, it had bent.
Food runs had started rough—then it made peace with the “buffet.” In the kobold nest, it had eaten its own “loyal subordinates” for snacks; a few goblins and kobolds were less tasty than fattened prey, but meat is meat.
“Monsters Total Kills: 7,115,” Gauss glanced at the panel. A drake saved time—no need to burn or bury corpses. He was out killing often anyway; feeding it on the way was little trouble.
Between the eight hundred kobolds and now dozens to hundreds of monsters to feed the dragon, 8,000 wasn’t far.
And it needed to eat. To grow big, you eat and move—same with dragons. Goblins were the mushrooms of the wild—thriving wherever the world allowed. To them, “I don’t want to” was never an option.
He’d already seen it start to grow—clearly, his “breeding program” was on the right track. Sleep, hoard shiny trash—what a waste. A dragon needed to move and metabolize—to build muscle.
In Alia’s beast bag, the drake suddenly sneezed.
“Why not start today?” Gauss said. “I’ll fetch Ulfen and the others,” Alia nodded. With the “nest” monopolized, Ulfen had been ranging with its friends, dropping by for dinner.
They called Ulfen, Echo, and the rest from the trees. Then let the half-asleep drake out.
“Rr—” It growled gently. Gauss had taught it proper volume. It lowered its head. With part of its strength sealed and Gauss at Level 5, the balance had shifted even farther—he even used it for spell drills. No dragon understood better how terrifying this “man” truly was.
Ulfen’s legs trembled; a yellow drip dotted the dirt. Gauss shot the silver wolf a look. Pathetic. Ulfen was strong—could beat most Tier 2 monsters; dance with Tier 3. It hadn’t blinked at a Tier 5 kobold. Fear wasn’t just level—it was blood. If Alia weren’t holding it, it would bolt.
“Whine…” Tail clamped, it looked more dog than wolf. Alia flushed, mortified—how could it, with them here?
Seeing her strain, Gauss strode over, seized Ulfen with his power, and dragged it up to the drake. The wolf bristled.
“Rr—” Feeling its fear, the drake’s “bully the weak” itch flared; it turned to roar and cow Ulfen. Gauss sighed inwardly—he’d just judged it savvy; here came the itch.
Monsters remember meals, not blows; miss a correction and they revert to bullies—angling to make Ulfen a subordinate like the kobolds.
WHAM!
Gauss’s other hand swung—Brute Force dropping like a brick on the drake’s head. Its skull slammed the earth with a grunt; swagger scattered. Facing the iron fist of love, it didn’t rage—just stared at Gauss, aggrieved. It had bowed so low—and he wouldn’t even let it boss the wolf?
“I said—get along,” Gauss snarled. No factions—only one lead under this roof. Clear?
The drake nodded quickly—meek. The punch broke more than its swagger—it also cracked the “filter” in Ulfen’s mind. The wolf glanced at Gauss, then the dragon—and something clicked. It set a tentative paw on the drake’s flank. The drake looked away. Under Gauss’s wing, the wolf grew bold—circling to sniff and peer. First time so close to a dragon.
With Ulfen’s lead, the others eased in. Echo was the boldest—perching on the drake’s head. The drake squinted and pretended to sleep—howling inside. In its eye-corner: wolf, raven, chocobo, horse—below creatures—equal to a great dragon.
It was the bleakest day of its life. The future looked very… dim.
…
Under a hail of admiring looks, they left Gold & Silver. In the wilds, Alia released the drake. It roared on reflex—choked it off at Gauss’s raised hand—and Gauss checked it over. Healed—fully. Perfect mount size for now; would carry several. He told it plainly: it would come with them. It grumbled—then bowed.
Albena presented the surprise: a dragon saddle—beautiful, magic, and fitted; red-fitted leather, green crystal, wind-smoothing, comfort-field. Gauss thanked her, installed it under her direction, and mounted.
The drake lifted—unwilling but obedient. The ride was smooth; they climbed; he guided it on the wind and felt it relax, matching his shifts. A few laps, then down—friends cheering, questions flying.
He felt it keenly—this was a dream achieved. The drake wasn’t a true dragon—but it was his dragon. With it and Albena on the line, their party’s spine was steel.
The next day, training resumed in earnest. Everyone had gained; Shadow went off to make her own jump. Gauss’s mage cup brimmed—INT at 15—Spirit leaving-body tests bled into Sword Soul’s mental edge—a new “psychic” tool in his kit.
Alia and Serandur busied themselves with materials—a mid-grade earth crystal for a level 5 caster—while Gauss paced himself: a few days to tune body and mana after the layoff.
This time, he’d break again—fast by any measure. Albena learned, shocked, that three months ago he’d only just hit Level 4.
For anyone else it’d be a fairy tale. But this was Gauss—wolfing down adventures far beyond his tier, stacking fights, monsters, villages, and now a dragon.
