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Goblin Chapter 155: Vibration
🕑 Added 2025-08-13 15:37:08 +0000 UTCHe slept straight from the afternoon into the next morning.
Gauss woke to a sharp, gnawing hunger.
He hurried to his stash and chewed some dried frog meat to take the edge off; once the pangs subsided, he left his room.
After more than a dozen hours of sleep he finally felt fully restored; the lingering “funk” was gone, and his spirits were bright again.
“Caw!”
A familiar cry came from the second–floor balcony. The raven Echo was perched on the railing, tilting its head to peer inside.
Although Alia’s house wasn’t far from Gauss’s, this was probably Echo’s first time here—who knew how it had found the place?
Gauss waved at it.
For some reason the raven seemed a little afraid of him, instinctively hopping back a couple of steps—until the lure of the nuts in Gauss’s hand won out.
Echo fluttered closer, snatched a nut, then dropped into the sitting room, hopping about as it gulped and nosed around this new environment.
Gauss glanced at it and let it be.
He turned and used magic to give the whole house a thorough cleaning. Only after all that did he step outside.
The town streets were likewise buried under a thick quilt of snow, glittering cold in the morning light.
At Alia’s door, the little snow–covered courtyard showed no sign of the gray wolf Ulfen, but through the window he could see the parlor hearth blazing, throwing off a warm glow.
After he knocked, Alia’s voice quickly came from inside.
“Gauss? Come in—the door’s unlocked.”
Gauss pushed the door open and walked into the sitting room.
Compared to the bitter air outside, the house was wonderfully warm.
Ulfen lay lazily on a rug before the fire; seeing Gauss enter, he gave two howling yips in greeting.
Alia had moved the potted plants from the yard indoors and was tending to the “friends” that had been apart from her for a week.
From the looks of it, a day’s rest had done her good—she seemed in fine shape.
“Make yourself at home.”
The two were well acquainted by now; Alia didn’t put down what she was doing to fuss over him.
They lived close by and dropped in on each other often.
“When will the Winter Hunt proceeds be settled?” Gauss asked—he cared about that one.
He and Alia had worked hard for a week, hitting both the Adventurer’s Handbook’s thousand–kill milestone and the twenty ordinary–monster entries, but for the year to feel truly complete they still needed to get the Winter Hunt payout in hand.
“Last year it was five or six days, I think? Mostly because appraising loot and selling to merchants takes time. But…” Alia tilted her head, thinking. “Yesterday’s incident might delay things.”
“Also, we should find time to get a good price for the gear and loot we took off that adventurer party on day one.”
“Let’s rest a few days first?”
“No rush on that,” Gauss nodded.
All that gear was safe and sound in the storage bag.
After such a long stint of heavy fighting, they really did need to recuperate.
Gauss planned out his next steps. For now his main goal was to practice the two newly acquired Level 1 spells—Alarm and Burning Hands—and raise their proficiency as quickly as possible.
Then he’d let his class naturally tip over into Level 2.
He could feel he was getting very close.
Other plans would have to wait for the snowfall to ease; even if his racial talent meant he wasn’t especially afraid of the cold now, slogging through deep snow and spending long stretches outdoors wasn’t wise.
With nothing pressing to do, he simply stayed at Alia’s and practiced Alarm.
After being paid in raw meat, Ulfen agreed to help with the drills.
“Level 1 Spell: Alarm Lv2 (2/20)”
Alarm was coming along fairly fast, and unlike Burning Hands he could practice it right in town anytime.
He planned to push Alarm to Lv3 first, then head outside the walls to work on Burning Hands.
Time slipped by quietly. A few days later, neither Gauss nor Alia had left Grayrock.
There were noticeably fewer people on the streets.
Many out–of–town adventurers had flown south like migratory birds, leaving only the locals and a handful of outsiders like Gauss who’d put down roots.
The year–end festival was still some days off, but the townsfolk were already preparing.
On the last day of the year most families would gather by the hearth or firepit for the most lavish, labor–intensive dinner of the year.
Not just meats they didn’t eat often—smoked ham, sausages, roasts, turkey—but also nuts, dried fruit, and warming homemade spirits.
Leaving the Adventurers’ Guild branch, Gauss and Alia watched the townsfolk busily decorating their homes, both of them a little dazed.
“Not going home?” he couldn’t help asking.
He usually didn’t pry into companions’ private affairs; the scene just moved him to speak.
“My family…” Alia’s voice faltered; a flicker of shadow crossed her eyes. “They’re far from Grayrock. It’s not convenient—and I haven’t gone back in years.”
Gauss glanced at her and didn’t press.
As for “going home” himself, it wouldn’t actually take him that long—but he still wasn’t ready to face the original body’s family, so he kept putting it off.
Maybe next year he’d find time to go, take a look, leave some money—settle the original’s lingering obligations and repay a debt of upbringing.
He mulled it over.
He had enough coin now that skimming a little off the top would be a fortune for a typical rural household.
He patted the bulging pouch at his belt; the soft clink of metal gave him a solid sense of security.
The Winter Hunt payout had just been finalized, and with what they’d made from selling their own spoils, Gauss had not only paid off his twenty–gold loan—he still had a good forty–three gold left.
Enough to support next year’s plans.
Whether that meant buying new spellbooks, upgrading his gear, or considering a reliable mount.
After parting from Alia at a side lane, Gauss didn’t go home; he turned toward the town gate instead.
The gate guards knew this particular “mage” by sight; they saluted respectfully and waved him through.
Outside the walls the world was stark and silver, desolate and still.
Within sight, he was probably the only oddball who’d come out in a snowstorm to practice spells.
“Alarm Lv3 (3/50)”
“Burning Hands Lv2 (17/20)”
Though he called it rest, Gauss hadn’t been idle. With steady practice, the two Level 1 spells’ proficiency kept climbing.
More importantly, he could clearly feel the chalice that outwardly embodies his class: its surface now latticed with flickering white sigils, lively energies surging within, pulsing in strong waves with a faint vibration.
Obviously, as those two spells advanced, the threshold for Level 2 had all but arrived.
“Burning Hands!”
“Burning Hands!”
Again and again, great sheets of flame roared up from the snowfield.
They put a splash of warmth into the frozen wilds.
Watching Burning Hands’ proficiency tick steadily upward, Gauss felt warm inside too.
