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Goblin Chapter 247: White Falcon
🕑 Added 2025-09-28 11:17:26 +0000 UTCWhile Adèle was thinking it through for a split second, Gauss drove off his back foot. With a flicker, he vanished from where he’d stood. In the next heartbeat, he was already in front of her.
“Fast!”
Adèle was surprised.
Boom!
Gauss had switched to serious mode. His gilded eyes locked onto Adèle; there were no flashy moves. The energy dragon claw on his right hand unleashed in full, tearing the air with a roar. Shockwaves seemed to punch out from the claw-tip and ripple outward in rings.
A plain, no-frills straight thrust!
Adèle’s pupils tightened at the incoming strike. But as a master-tier professional, her first reaction was pure reflex—battle instincts forged by endless training. Anyone below master would never have made it in time.
Her sword flashed up across her body, barely catching the line of Gauss’s thrust.
Clang!!
A crisp impact rang out. The rebound up the blade numbed her wrist in an instant; the thing she’d met felt less like flesh and more like solid steel.
“Heavy!”
She grunted, took the first hit—and went flying backward. She rolled gracefully a few times in midair. But before she could plant and use the momentum to open distance, she saw—at the edge of her vision—a cobalt halo condensing on Gauss’s claw, and in the blink of an eye it was away.
“A spell!”
Still airborne, she slashed toward the floor. The counterforce kicked her up again just as a blue orb pre-locked the spot she’d dodged into.
Shick!
Her rapier traced a silver half-moon in front of her.
Boom!!
The Magic Missile split on her blade and blew apart. Riding the blast, she barely bought enough space to land safely out of reach.
“Magic Missile, huh?”
Adèle raised a brow. The power wasn’t beyond what she could handle, but it was troublesome—well above what a typical Level 4 caster could put out.
By now her neat work clothes had been shredded by the shockwaves of that brief exchange, revealing the silver, close-fitting mail and battle skirt beneath. She glanced at the scraps on the floor and winced. Getting stripped down in the first round—that was on her for underestimating him.
But… this was tricky.
She clicked her tongue, keeping a cautious bead on Gauss to head off another ranged volley, and quickly analyzed his style:
1. Some kind of special draconic bloodline? A sorcerer type?
2. Melee ability is excellent—he doesn’t even need armor; his base defense shrugs off most hits, though she still needed to probe how much.
3. His ranged casting is also top-notch—fast, accurate, ruthless—and far stronger than peers his level; he swaps between the two modes at will.
A lingering question also got answered: why would a caster like Gauss study a swordsman’s art? She’d first chalked it up to a genius’s bad habit—overreaching. Now she understood: he planned to use it.
She drew a deep breath.
Her aura shifted. A white airflow welled from within and sheathed her skin.
“What’s that?”
Gauss watched warily. She did feel different. So this was a master swordsman’s power. He’d met swordsmen before, but this was his first time feeling this change up close.
On a hunch, he cast Heat Metal. Her mail and sword took on a faint red glow. Adèle frowned—then nothing more.
Was her constitution so high the spell barely bit? Or did Heat Metal get damped to a tolerable range?
He knew landing a spell didn’t guarantee full effect; potency depends as much on the target as on the caster. Still, if it made her uncomfortable, it did something.
He pushed off again, sprinting for Adèle. Ready this time, her blade flashed several times in a blink, each cut leaving a silver arc in the air. Unlike normal slashes, these didn’t vanish; they hung there as if solid, radiating a cold edge.
A keen birdsong-like cry rang out. In an instant, the arcs crossed into a simple but lethal web and dropped over the onrushing Gauss.
Sword-qi?
Her timing was perfect. At that speed, there was no time to dodge. He brought the dragon claw up to guard.
Screee!
White arcs scraped hard across his energy scales, the sound setting his teeth on edge.
Whump! The scales dulled fast. The condensed sword-qi punched through the outer layer and traced a few pale lines across his forearm. A sting bloomed; the white marks split into fine cuts, and thin threads of blood welled up.
Gauss jolted.
Hit?
He sprang back several steps to open distance and instantly refreshed his armor. Keeping eyes on Adèle, he checked his arm out of the corner of his eye. The fine cuts were already knitting; no more blood seeped. Only a faint pink line testified there’d been a wound at all.
His expression sobered. It had been a long time since he’d been hurt—even lightly. Ordinary attacks rarely broke the Ironscale defense formed by his Ironscale bloodline plus Omni-Armor, and whenever repeated hits wore it down, he’d sense it weakening and proactively refresh the ward.
Master-tier really was different—one opening exchange and her swordwork had torn his guard. And this was after his Ironscale bloodline had just been strengthened; before that, it wouldn’t have been hairline scratches—it would’ve been a serious gash.
Across from him, Adèle looked calm but was inwardly incredulous. That White Falcon Slash—yes, she’d hesitated for a beat at the start, but she hadn’t pulled punches. With a strong cleric on standby, she wasn’t worried about doing irreparable harm, and the first clash had given her a rough read on his defenses.
Even so, she hadn’t expected those energy scales to be that tough. A near full-power White Falcon Slash had only etched faint lines—and they healed in a single breath.
Watching Gauss treat her like an existential threat, she almost couldn’t keep a straight face. White Falcon Slash wasn’t even her strongest finisher. She was master-tier, and he was, after all, Level 4. And what was with that absurd self-healing—breathing and you’re back? Is he even human?
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The two figures flickered across the empty arena; blade-light and claw-shadow flashed. At times a Soaring Slash ripped the air; at times dragon claw and rapier point struck sparks.
One moment Gauss’s Magic Missiles hammered Adèle’s white-aura mail and blasted her a dozen meters back; the next, her Soaring Slash shredded his guard, forcing him to retreat and let the Ironscale bloodline knit the cuts.
After a long exchange, Adèle hopped back and opened space.
“No—enough. I’ve seen what I need to.”
She saw mana gathering on Gauss’s wand again and quickly called it off. The bout had erased her breezy composure; her cheeks were flushed, sweat beaded on her brow and neck, damp bangs clinging to her reddened face. Her chest rose and fell as she caught her breath.
Gauss was winded too; mana and stamina both heavily spent. At her call he let the dragon claw and spell-glow fade, and his gilded eyes cooled back to emerald.
He exhaled long, thinking he’d underestimated how hard master-tier really hits. In close quarters he’d felt the difference between master and elite firsthand. It was a kind of “wholeness.”
Hard to put into words—just a sense. In front of a master, an elite’s power feels scattered. Body, mind, state, spells, weapon skills—pearls strewn on the floor: valuable in parts, but not strung into a smooth, unified force. A master ties those pearls with a single thread into a seamless necklace.
Maybe the rank itself marks a qualitative shift. The only reason he could hang in there was because he had so many tools—stacked class and racial traits, almost no real weak points—and stats far beyond a normal level-4 caster. A typical level-5 would’ve lost in a single round.
“No wonder you finished the Blackfang expedition,” Adèle said, pulling a towel from who-knows-where and blotting sweat from her skin. “You’re a bit much.” The shock still hadn’t fully faded. She tossed Gauss a towel as well.
“I gamed a lot of the kills on that one,” he admitted, catching it. “I wasn’t as strong then as I am now.”
“That’s still no small thing.” Adèle shook her head. “Most elites couldn’t withstand you for a few exchanges.” It had only been a few days since that commission; nobody skyrockets in so short a time. He must already have been formidable then.
Loosening her single ponytail, Adèle scrubbed her hair with the towel and walked over. “What I used just now was an advanced White Falcon Sword Art. Want to learn it?” she asked with a bright grin. “I could only fight you to a draw, sure, but the style hits hard—its power scales with Strength and Constitution. And once you grasp the principle, you can port it into other melee options.”
She didn’t add that it wasn’t her strongest finisher; this was a spar. She had heavier hitters—and she doubted Gauss had shown his whole hand either. Everyone keeps a few life-or-death moves in reserve.
“Yes.”
Gauss nodded. He’d already suspected the swordplay she used was the very sword art she meant to teach, so he’d watched closely.
From what he’d seen, that Soaring Slash came from high-frequency resonance control of the blade. The vibrating edge itself was terrifying—maybe stronger than the ranged slash. Of course, too close in and a “melee mage” like him could find gaps to exploit.
“Good.”
Adèle smiled, and a table and chairs rose beside them. “But before the lesson, let’s rest and chat.”
She sat back. Gauss sensed she wanted to tell him something and sat down.
“Gauss, your talent and potential are greater than I expected. No wonder the Adventurers’ Guild has you flagged as a key trainee,” Adèle said, her tone appreciative and on equal footing. He wasn’t master-tier yet, but the bout had proved his strength and earned her respect.
“Key trainee?” He’d suspected as much, but hearing it said plainly made him focus.
“That’s right.” She nodded. “It’s no secret. The Guild has its own evaluation system. Newcomers with outlier talent and explosive growth naturally enter the higher-ups’ view. Put simply, the Guild thinks talents like you can become pillars of the Guild—and of the human camp. You started your professional path a bit late, but your pace is exceptional. The Guild’s been watching you longer than you think.”
Gauss nodded calmly. That made sense. A behemoth like the Guild couldn’t keep tabs on monster-attack commissions in real time yet ignore standout adventurers under its nose.
“I can’t say I’ve felt it,” he said tactfully—i.e., why hadn’t more resources flowed his way?
Adèle chuckled and shook her head, catching the subtext. “The Guild’s already giving as much preference as it can.”
“Really?” His confusion deepened. He didn’t need much, but given the Guild’s size, even crumbs should be a feast for an ordinary adventurer.
“The Guild can’t meddle with you at will. That would ruin your careers—that’s a hard-earned lesson. Force-growing seedlings only drains the future; you won’t reach the true peak that way.”
“What about nobles who ride family resources?” Gauss asked. He’d heard of scions rocketing up thanks to clan backing.
“Same principle,” Adèle said. “The quick-gain crowd usually stalls out—they’re water without a source. The nobles with real foresight, who want their lines to endure, throw their children into the adventurer’s world and let them temper themselves.
“My house in Vives—the Whitewave family—trains that way.”
Oh?
Gauss glanced over. He hadn’t pegged her as nobility. He hadn’t seen it at all. Stereotypes aside, the young lord he’d met in Lincrown Town fit his mental picture: arrogant, self-centered, eyes on the sky.
Adèle, though, had shown respect from the first time they’d met to redeem rewards. During official business yesterday she’d addressed him as “Mr. Gauss,” and only switched to “Gauss” today for sword lessons—without a hint of superiority.
Where was the noble’s haughty air?
And Vives… he was sure he’d heard that name somewhere.
