NotEvenMyFinalForm
patreon
Goblin Chapter 182: Path of Elite 2 Reward!
🕑 Added 2025-08-21 23:51:18 +0000 UTCGauss opened his eyes.
The dazzling sunlight made him reel.
He raised a hand by reflex to block it, mind a muddle.
“Where… am I…?”
His memory had a brief gap, like a blackout after drinking.
He stared around in confusion.
Then, as he quickly pieced things together, memories came back bit by bit.
Right—he’d been delving the labyrinth. At the edge of the labyrinth he ran into that terrifying pale guardian.
Then a chase, drove into the nest.
And then he fired the teleport scroll.
His last memory was of that blade-edged leg rushing in, closer and closer.
He patted his head and body.
All intact—looked like the teleport had gone off in time; he hadn’t taken that awful cleaving blow.
Thinking of the pale guardian and his own ragged flight, he ground his teeth.
When he’s stronger, he really does have to go back and square that account.
But how did I end up here?
The room around him was clearly a carefully appointed inn: warm-toned wood floors, a soft bed.
Light-blue curtains swayed in a mild breeze.
A shaft of sunlight poured in through the window.
From outside came the lively murmur of passersby.
Back in the city?
But then a more pressing thought struck him.
The reward for killing the fifth elite monster!
He opened the Adventurer’s Manual at once.
While he’d been unconscious, stored notifications flooded in like a tide.
“Five Elite Species Killed (5/5).”
“Path of the Elite, Stage 2 Unlocked!”
“Reward granted: Random Draw—One Elite Monster Racial Trait.”
“Current elite species compendium: Mantisfolk, Half-Ogre, Mud Golem, Mimic, Spider Ghoul.”
“Randomly drawing trait and adapting to physique.”
“Draw result: from Spider Ghoul—Thin Ancient Bloodline.”
“Converting to Racial Trait Ghoul Form, Blue Quality (upgradable).”
[Ghoul Form (Basic): Without diluting your base bloodline, you gain a battle form from a far-off mutant Ghoulkin lineage.]
[Activating Ghoul Form briefly alters your appearance and grants targeted boosts to combat power.]
[However, while active, all energy drains faster—control the duration carefully. Overuse leads to collapse or even fainting.]
“Ghoul Form… a combat boost?”
Gauss finished reading and frowned thoughtfully.
In short: a special state he can switch on for a power spike.
But what stats it boosted, by how much—he’d only know by trying.
And it clearly wasn’t for sustained use—high power, high drain.
Overuse carried a risk of blacking out.
If he ever had to run it long, he’d need trusted companions nearby.
Character mattered even more than strength—drop unconscious after winning and all sorts of dangers arise. In many impromptu parties, comrades can turn into opportunists in a heartbeat.
He read on.
“Path of the Elite, Stage 2 Complete. Unlocking Stage 3: The Hunt.”
“The Hunt: slaying elite monsters—new to the compendium or already recorded—grants Elite Points. Spend Elite Points to evolve a white-quality (upgradable) trait to blue (50 points), or to advance a blue-quality trait’s level progress.”
“Reward: +10 points for each new elite species entry; +1 point for slaying an elite already in your monster index.”
“Next Trait Draw at 20 Elite Species (5/20).”
Gauss nodded.
Stage 3 was a long-haul phase—no fixed endpoint, just steady grind.
Keep adding entries and killing elites to farm Elite Points. Spend them to evolve trait quality—e.g., bump Reptilian Strain from white to blue for 50 points. Those 50 could come from five brand-new elite species, or fifty kills of ones he’s already recorded, or any mix. Or use them to rank up a blue trait instead.
Bottom line: to power up traits, keep hunting elites—prioritize new species for efficiency, and it also pushes the next draw; but killing known elites still pays out.
And elite hunts don’t conflict with trash clears: lots of fodder spawns make elites; elites are usually surrounded by fodder—especially outdoors—so they tend to come as a package.
He sorted his thoughts.
The door clicked; Alia came in.
“You’re awake!”
Seeing him sit up, delight flashed in her eyes and her taut expression eased. She’d known he’d be okay—according to the cleric, once the toxins cleared he’d wake—but waiting those few days had been torture. She’d worried he’d go full fairy-tale “sleeping beauty.” She’d never forgive herself.
Thankfully, not the worst case.
“Yeah, just now.” He looked at the sunlight and the fruit basket by the bed; the labyrinth’s chill and damp already felt far away.
“Alia—did you find me in the labyrinth?” he asked, curious.
With the labyrinth’s complexity, finding him wouldn’t have been easy.
Alia shook her head quickly.
“Not me. When you didn’t come out I tried the way back, but the route had changed. Ulfen and Echo and I searched the area—and ran into that serpentfolk adventurer we’d met twice before.”
“He’s the one who found you.”
“Then we left the labyrinth together.”
“It was him?” Gauss was genuinely surprised.
Fate, apparently.
“Is he still around?” he asked.
She shook her head. “He left after we got back to Barry. I tried to offer a reward—he wouldn’t take it.”
She paused. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the serpentfolk was markedly friendly toward Gauss but distant with her—almost avoiding contact.
“I owe him big…” Gauss sighed.
Falling unconscious in a deadly labyrinth-like puzzle with no teammate guarding you—anyone could grasp the danger. If he hadn’t carried him out, Gauss might not be breathing fresh air now.
Next time they meet, he’d find a way to repay him.
In any case, however accidental the chain of events, the outcome was good. Feeling warm sunlight again was bliss.
Over the next two days, Gauss followed the healer’s orders and rested.
Only after he felt recovered did he leave the room.
“Lovely day,” he said, letting the cool breeze wash over him—perhaps the good mood was recovery talking.
“The cleric said even after the toxins are gone you should rest two more days, and mind your diet after,” Alia reminded.
“I know.”
Thinking of why he’d collapsed, he sobered a little. He’d learned a hard lesson: both the Spider Ghoul’s nest and its body teemed with an invisible, odorless energy that numbed human systems, dulling stamina and mana—ending in paralysis, a living statue.
Now he understood the adult’s “confidence” in the three juveniles and why it never moved: the nest constantly seeped that energy, and every exchange with the Spider Ghouls bathed him in it. Without a scroll or spatial trick, a level like his, once inside the nest, was just waiting to be carved up by juvenile Spider Ghouls.
Dirty fighters—with home-field advantage.
Back in the city, the hired cleric had dispersed most of it; the little that remained would fade with time. His robust constitution saw him through quickly.
Alia, though, fretted more than he did—hovering like a mother hen, strictly managing his meals for days. He couldn’t brush off a teammate’s concern—especially when it matched medical advice.
“Where to today?”
“No plan—just some air.”
He had no set goal. He did want to test the new blue-quality trait, but he wasn’t back to full strength—and with Alia watching, that was a no-go. He’d just felt cooped up; Alia agreed to stroll with him.
“Then let’s hit the pet-beast market—our mount plan’s been on hold,” Alia said. The labyrinth had wrung them out; browsing the stalls would clear the head.
Gauss had all but forgotten. They’d come to the Forest Capital for mounts—and then the labyrinth stole the show.
Now that the first delve was done, they finally had time.
They walked the southern streets of Barry.
Traffic flowed—men, wagons, beasts—without feeling cramped.
“Paper, sir?”
“Thanks.”
He bought a Barry Morning Herald from a newsboy. They waited for a coach. Barry had been built atop an elven city, poured full of royal funds—and propped up by professionals. It had not just monuments and scenery but solid systems for transit, water, and waste.
What they were about to try was the city coach—public vehicles, analogous to buses in Gauss’s past life. Coaches stopped at landmarks and public squares, looping the outer city all day. The inner city had more advanced transit, but it hadn’t spread across the populous, sprawling outer districts.
Scanning the paper, he found what he wanted:
Labyrinth Section
Breaking: Level Three environment revealed!
“Pioneer reports say Level Three builds on Level Two’s biome; acid zones are larger; corrosive spore clusters confirmed…”
Guild Advisory: Buy anti-acid coated outerwear.
Survival Class: How to tell a chest from a mimic…
There was a whole section devoted to maze news. It interested not just would-be delvers; townsfolk read it over tea, too. Most of them would never descend, but the maze had become the city’s hot topic.
“Didn’t expect people to hit Level Three this fast,” Alia said.
“Mostly luck, I think,” Gauss shook his head.
Their own pace wasn’t slow, either. They hadn’t been first-wave, and catching up across Level One had been no small feat. Next run, they should be in the front ranks.
The city coach arrived. They boarded.
The car was long; passengers sat in pairs here and there. The two drew curious looks. Barry had more professionals than Grayrock, but most citizens were still ordinary folk. Their bearing differed, though—less shrinking fear, more wary composure. Some kids even stared, openly curious.
After nearly an hour of smooth riding, they reached their stop.
All in all, the coach felt better than he’d expected—moderate speed, very steady.
Gauss looked up at the massive ring-shaped building.
“This is the pet-beast market?”
“Mm-hm.” Alia nodded. “It used to be an arena, they say—converted for safety.”
There was a small entry fee; as registered adventurers, they were waived.
Roar— Inside, heat and din washed over them. Citizens bought pets, mounts, draft beasts; adventurers prowled for partners. The maze’s opening had only amped it up.
Lizards, hounds, songbirds, pack-beasts, horses—every domesticated sort. Flyers, swimmers, runners—you name it.
Large beasts weren’t cheap. Even horses—the common standard—ranged from a few dozen silver for small nags to several gold for decent stock and up.
With their resources, they could afford good horses.
“Want to look at horses?” Alia asked.
“Let’s pass,” Gauss shook his head. “We’ll be diving—horses don’t fit.”
For overland travel they were ideal; in a maze, their drawbacks loomed—skittish, high upkeep, and from Level Two on, often unusable.
They skipped bovines, donkeys, camels—too slow.
They weighed mountain goats, ground lizards, rock rams, chocobos, boars…
After much hemming and hawing, they chose chocobos.
Big, ostrich-like mounts with vestigial wings that can’t fly. Adults easily carry several riders. Strong builds, massive legs, broad tough feet—made to run. Bright yellow feathers, imposing yet cute. Seven gold apiece—good value.
What sold Gauss was their jump—great for tricky terrain. Omnivores, too—grain, grass, berries, greens, shrubs, even meat—no need to haul specialized feed. Chocobos are perfect for mapping and exploration.
He saw them often—dopey and endearing. It hurt the wallet a bit, but it was money worth spending; the sooner, the better, to boost team efficiency.
“These two,” Alia said, picking two spirited, robust adults. The seller threw in saddles and tack.
Gauss’s bird was a shade burlier; Alia’s more streamlined. Both were broadly similar—selectively bred and trained stock. Weak frames never made it to market; vendors don’t waste resources raising them. Wild capture was costly and the birds were hard to tame.
“Next, head to the Riding Office for registration; a staffer will guide you. Practice a bit here and then take the test,” the seller said, beaming.
To ride legally in Barry, you register and pass a basic riding test.
Gauss led his chocobo to an open area. Domesticated breeds were docile and quickly warmed to him. He petted its fuzzy head, swung up. At a seat height of around 1.5 meters, it was tall for most—but he mounted easily. From the saddle, the view was lovely.
The instructor watching nearby relaxed—this buyer was a quick study.
“Hold the reins, eyes forward—it’s much like riding a horse. They’re even smarter than most horses…” he said, and began instruction.
Riding cues were horse-like: lower legs to cue speed, lean forward to accelerate, press the opposite leg and draw the rein to turn. Gauss had ridden before—on caravan downtime he’d traded lessons with handlers—so he took to it quickly. His high agility helped.
Soon he was jogging laps smoothly; Alia picked it up even faster—she hardly needed technique at all. With druidic animal affinity and Speak with Animals, she won her bird’s trust at once. A few carrots later, it obeyed her every cue.
After practice, a staffer led them to the Riding Office. Registration was smooth; the test was a simple two laps around the track out back. With that, Gauss was now, in effect, “a man with a ride.”
Not a prized war-mount, but he was happy. He named his Golden Sheaf; Alia called hers Slingshot.
“Da-da-da…” Their birds’ rhythmic footfalls joined Barry’s bustling traffic. The ride was bouncy, but once used to it, Gauss felt only freedom.
“Where to next?”
After a while test-riding in traffic they pulled up curbside.
“Let me think.”
With mounts, their map opened up—farther corners of the city within reach—no need to hail a wagon or find a coach stop.
“Didn’t you say you’ve never been to the Spellcasters’ Association?” Alia asked.
“No,” Gauss said. First time in a big city. Villages and towns like Grayrock didn’t have branches—he’d had no chance. Barry had associations for every class—fighters, rangers, rogues, clerics—but the Spellcasters’ Association was the strongest umbrella: it covered not just mages and sorcerers, but also witches, necromancers, druids, warlocks—even clerics could register.
“Then let’s go sign you up,” Alia said. “I need to go anyway.”
She was registered herself.
“That thing from a couple days ago?” Gauss grinned. “Congrats in advance.”
A smile flickered across her face; she quickly schooled it. “Not certain yet—might just be my imagination.”
Gauss was fairly sure it wasn’t. With her nature, she wouldn’t bring it up if it weren’t real—especially about her own progress.
“You’ve only been a professional for, what, under two years?” he asked.
“A year and change—nearly two.”
“Touching the edge of Level 2 in a year-plus is fast,” Gauss said earnestly. “Have more faith in your talent—it’s not lacking.”
Her cheeks colored. From anyone else, fine; from Gauss, it felt like a tease—though she knew he didn’t mean it that way.
“Not compared to you… and if I’m wrong I’ll look silly,” she said, flapping her hands. In the old days, with no fixed party, she’d have been proud; now, beside Gauss, the bar felt higher. Still… she suspected she’d been improving faster because she was with him; without him, this near-level-up feeling wouldn’t have come so soon.
They found their way by map, eased into the main road, and sped toward the Association.
Dada! Gauss drew the reins; their chocobos slowed and planted their broad feet.
“We’re here.”
He stared, breath caught.
So this was the Spellcasters’ Association—impressive.
A precinct of unified, grand architecture, dozens of slender towers ringed the tallest central spire. It perched at the border of outer and inner city; inside, Alia said, stood a smaller but higher-tier branch—but the sight before him already awed him.
The main spire was built of gray-white stone; at the crown, an eight-pointed star sigil burned with violet flame—the Association’s emblem. Wards etched down the shaft glowed faintly even by day. Golden reliefs studded the white walls; stained-glass windows threw jewel tones.
They stabled the birds where marked.
“ID, please.”
Alia showed her caster crystal. “This is my teammate, also a professional mage—first time registering. Here’s his Adventurers’ Guild badge.”
“Welcome to the Forest Capital Spellcasters’ Association.”
Cleared and approved, they stepped into the main hall. The space was broad; spiral staircases on either side wound up to higher floors—access restricted by rank. Robed casters were everywhere. Rare sights elsewhere—mages and sorcerers—gathered thick here. Few wore adventurer badges.
Alia led Gauss to the window. Registration was simple: grip a crystal, wait a few seconds, done. He received his own caster crystal—an identity token like his adventurer badge.
“Mr. Gauss, let me outline member benefits. Ask if you have questions.
“First, with that crystal you can borrow freely from our public stacks—we hold over a million volumes; you’ll find plenty of interest.
“Second, you get monthly access slots for first-floor training rooms.
“Third, by contributing to the Association you earn Contribution Points. You can redeem them for rare resources—spells scarce outside, familiars, gear, materials, lab rentals, and more.
“Finally, the more points you have, the more privileges you gain—and the higher floors open to you.”
By the end, Gauss had the gist. It was a bit like the Adventurers’ Guild, though the Association was narrower in scope; the Guild was commercial; the Association scholarly. This trip was already worth it—for the free run of a million-book library—and a place to meet other casters.
“Alright, go take care of your thing,” he told Alia—he knew she had a goal. When she was gone, he hustled back to the desk.
“Can I use a training room now?” The staffer had said as much earlier. He was itching to try Ghoul Form.
“Of course—rooms are open. You have three free sessions this month,” the clerk said, handing him a key card and the room number.
Card in hand, he headed for the training wing.
He turned a column—
—and a familiar gleam of golden scales caught his eye.
“Eh?”
He squinted; sure he wasn’t seeing things, he quickened his pace.
“Well, fancy meeting you again.”
“Sss… it’s you,” the serpentfolk said, turning, tongue flickering. He’d scented Gauss the same moment Gauss saw him—so he wasn’t surprised.
“I heard you found me in the labyrinth and carried me out,” Gauss said, bowing deeply. “I can’t thank you enough.”
The serpentfolk shook his head, shifting aside, and rasped, “No need to thank me. Even if I hadn’t found you, your companion was about to.”
“All the same—thank you.”
He couldn’t verify it either way, but help is help.
“Tell me what I can do to repay you—name it,” Gauss said. He was ready to bleed his purse dry—he could borrow from Alia if he had to. Better coin than an unpaid debt.
“Hmm…” The serpentfolk paused, the corner of his mouth quirking; his gaze dropped to Gauss’s belt. “Then… give me those two storage pouches. I don’t need what’s inside—I just need bags for odds and ends.”
“…”
Gauss considered. Two pouches were worth fifty gold, and one was half Alia’s. He still nodded—he’d make it up to her later. Fifty gold was no small sum, but a life saved was worth more. With his strength, he could earn it back faster and faster. Easy come, easy go.
He reached for his waist—
“Just kidding,” the serpentfolk said quickly, lifting a hand. “Forget that—I’ll think of something else. Don’t mind the joke.”
“Alright,” Gauss said, ready to hear the real request. The slitted eyes flicked up and down, lingered; a faint, almost embarrassed look crossed the serpent’s face. He spoke, probing:
“Does your team… need one more?”
