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Goblin Chapter 256: Muscle Barbie
🕑 Added 2025-10-03 15:43:44 +0000 UTCThe clamor of the docks faded behind them.
With heavy purses from selling their loot, Gauss’s party found an inn in the upper harbor district and checked in. Captain Fern escorted them all the way to the door to say goodbye, thanked them again in earnest, and even recommended himself—if they ever needed a ship out at sea again, they could contact the Seagull.
“Haa—”
Alia yawned, a hint of weariness on her face. She hadn’t slept well on the Seagull or the island. After disembarking they’d run into that Great Serpent member, and selling off the haul had eaten time and energy. Now that she could finally stop moving, the fatigue came rushing in. People aren’t machines, after all.
“Let’s get a good night’s rest,” Gauss said, noting the sky turning gold. Submitting the commission could wait until tomorrow—along with buying a Comprehend Languages Level 1 spellbook at the guild shop.
“See you in the morning.”
…
At dawn, Gauss pushed open the window and let the sea breeze wash over him. The harbor was waking under first light. Gold lay scattered across the water, brightening row on row of moored ships.
The piers were already bustling: bare-chested stevedores chanting as they carried bales from holds up the gangplanks and stacked them in the yard; merchantmen and fishing boats making final checks—lines, sails…
Gulls skimmed the surface, crying sharply, their wings flicking droplets from the waves. All the vigor of a seaside city was on display.
Gauss stood at the window watching the world get moving. The weariness of days at sea drained out of him. Land did feel like coming home.
Thinking of last night’s spell practice, he couldn’t help but be pleased. He’d been working every night to construct the models for two Level 3 spells—never missing a day, even while training White Falcon with Adèle or sailing on the Seagull. At last, good news: he’d found the rhythm for Fly. A string of checkpoints that had blocked him snapped into place one after another.
Getting out on commission really helped; a change of scenery and mindset pays off.
Fly, Level 3 Spells…
His heart kicked faster just thinking about it. Of the two Level 3 spells, he was actually more excited for the non-lethal one. Fireball’s famous, sure—but it’s just a stronger way to attack, an extension of what he already does.
Fly was different—simple in function, but a qualitative change for him. Not just a new movement option; at a deeper level, an elevation of body and spirit. Everyone dreams of soaring under their own power. As a kid he did too, but with age he learned human bodies don’t fly themselves.
In this world of swords and magic, flight wasn’t a fantasy—and it was almost in his grasp.
“Easy,” he told himself, steadying his mood.
He stepped out and woke the team one by one.
“Serandur, you up?”
“Captain, I’m here.” Serandur was an early riser; at Gauss’s call he opened the door fully dressed, ready to go.
“Knock knock—Shadow?” Shadow was simpler: a shadow slid under her door and pooled at his feet.
Alia was sleeping hard. Two knocks didn’t do it; Raven Echo had to unbolt the door from inside. She was curled on her side in a loose nightshirt, clutching her blanket, lips making a tiny, cat-like snore. Dreaming, from the way her lashes fluttered.
Gauss glanced at the sunlight already pouring into the room. “Alia, time to get up.”
“Mmm…”
The lump on the bed wriggled and grunted. “Gauss… where is this?”
She slowly sat up. After half a minute of staring blankly, her brain finally “connected to the network.”
“We’re heading out to submit the commission,” Gauss said. He’d have let her sleep, but it wasn’t early anymore, and the guild wasn’t close.
“Ah! Right—the commission!” The keyword snapped her awake. She jumped down barefoot, yawning, squinting, and hunting around for her robe and boots. “Give me a sec—I’ll be quick.”
“It’s fine. No need to rush.”
…
They rode chocobos along the busy avenue, with Shadow’s horse weaving through cargo carts without losing much speed.
“Huh? Why so many city guards this morning?” Alia pointed out soldiers moving fast with a purpose—clearly more than routine patrols.
“By the Sena Public Order Ordinance and witness testimony, you are under arrest on suspicion of involvement in last month’s violent robbery at Conch Shell Outfitters! Do not resist!”
The man they tackled was broad—bigger than an average adult—and showed distinct seafolk traits. He fought hard, growling hoarsely, “Let me go!”
Pedestrians and vendors stopped to watch, whispering. Some looked sympathetic; others showed naked fear or disgust and edged back.
Gauss and the others slowed and watched a moment.
“So the big guard presence is arrests…” Alia murmured.
“Feels… tense,” Serandur said. With his bloodline, he was sensitive to this.
Gauss took in faces and gear. These guards weren’t just sword-and-shield; special tools hung at their hips. Elite kit and bearing.
Soon the man—cuffed—went slack and got hauled into a wagon under the crowd’s gaze.
“Should round up all those savages.”
“Some sea-bloods have been going crazy lately. My neighbor bumped one after a drink and got beaten black-and-blue.”
“They’re sick—bloodline sickness. Older ones crack. City Hall should lock them all up and kick them out of our city.”
“Some of them are alright—just a few bad ones losing control…”
A lot of bystanders applauded. Hearing them, Gauss didn’t know what to say. If seafolk blood really made some unstable and violent, fear and rejection were understandable.
“If only everyone could just get along,” Alia sighed.
Gauss exhaled. He felt, more keenly than ever, how ordinary he was. He wasn’t a savior. All he could do was take one step at a time—finish commissions, and cut down more monsters.
“Let’s go.”
On their way they passed several more arrests—every suspect a “sea-blood.” Same scene each time: armed guards, restraints, prison wagons.
Gauss finally asked a kindly old vendor what was going on. The man laid it out: over the past months, more and more incidents—people with seafolk blood, alone or in groups, going berserk and attacking others. There’d been a mass roundup not long ago; these were stragglers.
“At first everyone thought it was one-off scuffles,” the old man said. “But then it kept happening. When they go off, they’re not like this—scary strong, no reason. The temple healers examined some and said it’s a hidden issue in the sea-blood line—can’t be cured.”
“So it’s just the past few months?” Gauss asked, catching the gap.
“There were cases before, but not this often. Some say it’s a new disease, contagious among sea-bloods.”
Gauss and his three exchanged looks.
“If it’s a bloodline flaw, it’s hard to treat,” Serandur sighed.
At the Adventurers’ Guild East Branch, Gauss headed inside. There were fewer adventurers than on past visits. They went to the second floor, turned in the commission, and he bought a Comprehend Languages. He’d need it to read the “treasure map.”
Since he was here, he told the others and, guided by staff, went up to the third floor.
“Director Adèle is in today.”
He knocked at the door of her office/training room.
“Come in!”
It wasn’t Adèle’s voice, but another woman’s.
He opened the door and found two figures in training gear leaning against equipment and chatting.
“Oh—it’s you, Gauss,” Adèle said, looking up. “Commission go alright?”
“A few hiccups, but we made it,” he answered, not going into detail. His eyes slid to the woman beside her.
She was the most powerfully built “woman” he’d ever seen. To what degree? Gauss, who considered himself in good shape, felt like a beanpole next to her. A head taller than him, wide-shouldered, thick-backed, muscle flowing under taut training fabric, as if every inch could explode. And yet—unexpectedly—not ugly. Focus only on her face and she was beautiful, even delicate.
A contradiction wrapped in muscle.
“And this is…?” Gauss looked at Adèle.
“Allow me: this is Rachel, Guildmaster of the East District.”
So it was her. He knew the name well—but it was his first time seeing the person.
“Rachel, this is Gauss—the genius you said you wanted to meet,” Adèle said, making the introductions.
“Hello.”
“Hello, Guildmaster Rachel.”
She offered her hand; Gauss stepped up and shook it. Her hand was big—easily enveloping his. As a man, standing next to her required a certain mental fortitude. Ferociously impressive.
Rachel gave him a small smile. Looking at her serene, lovely face, his mind shorted for a second. Too weird. A term from his past life flickered up: “Muscle Barbie.”
“Good muscle lines,” she said. “Just a bit short, a bit thin. Young man, you need to eat more. You’re not eating enough.”
Even through his robe, she’d seen his muscle and deemed it insufficient. “Come train with me when you’re free. I’ll coach you.”
“S-sure,” Gauss said, sweating a little. Compared to normal people, he was already very strong. As for diet—this was the first time anyone had told him he didn’t eat enough. Was he actually malnourished?
“How about now? I happen to have time.”
His polite reply had sparked her interest. A big hand landed on his shoulder, excited.
A jolt ran through him; he tensed instinctively, like something huge had seized him. He wasn’t sure of her exact level—but she was… strong.
He glanced at Adèle; she winked and nodded. After a moment’s hesitation, he agreed.
In Sena there was one guild main hall and three branches. Which meant the woman in front of him was roughly top-four in the city’s guild system. Counting vice-masters at the main hall, she wouldn’t be far outside the top six. She was very likely the strongest professional he’d met up close so far.
“Relax. I won’t eat you,” she said, and steered him toward a training area. It was like being carried by the scruff—set down lightly in place. Adèle’s amused look didn’t help; he dearly hoped Alia hadn’t followed, or there went his stately captain image.
