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Goblin Chapter 149: Overflowing
🕑 Added 2025-08-12 17:33:21 +0000 UTCWhen the battle ended, a plume of green signal smoke rose—the mark that the sweep was complete.
Only then were the two captured adventurers helped out from their makeshift shelter.
They were both injured to varying degrees: fresh wounds from the fight and bruises and cuts from the beatings they’d taken after being captured.
The war between humans and monsters has raged for millennia; there has never been a “prisoner-of-war convention” between the two sides. Falling into a monster’s hands usually means a lifetime of slavery with no way out.
Among low-tier monsters, torture and beatings are the norm. That comes not only from their vicious nature, but from practical concerns: they must ensure captives can’t resist, and within low-tier monster society, violence is a common way to assert dominance.
Hurting a captive’s body is the most direct proof of control, and it breaks the captive’s will to resist. Higher monsters use subtler methods—overpowering auras, enchantment, mental corrosion, and the like.
So it was a stroke of luck that the rescue was timely; the “taming” had only just begun. A little later, and who knows what might have happened.
Kathy, the druid of Iron Arm, stepped forward, draping clean coats over the two. She raised her knotted staff—wreathed in holly sprigs—and a lush breath of life unfurled as a gentle green glow from the tip, wrapping the wounded.
“Healing!”
Under nature’s balm, bruises faded to nothing before the naked eye, and bleeding cuts knit shut and scabbed. They weren’t maimed—mostly battered in body and mind. Whoever handled them had avoided lethal areas—a sign the elite monsters knew exactly how to process human captives; this wasn’t their first time.
While Kathy worked, the two comrades who’d escaped earlier came over—a man and a woman, faces a mix of the daze of survival and the shame of having failed to protect their teammates. With outsiders present and the trauma still raw, no argument broke out in their team—only a heavy, awkward silence.
Quake, Iron Arm’s captain, seemed to catch that awkwardness and broke it.
“Let’s introduce ourselves properly. I’m Quake, Level 3 swordsman. Our squad is based in Grayrock Town. Let’s keep in touch.”
He offered a firm handshake. Gauss studied him: around thirty, tall and broad like most melee fighters, solid frame in a tempered-steel harness that held a restrained, odd gleam. Under dark brown brows, gray-blue eyes steady and keen—reassuring, reliable.
Gauss was a little surprised. Hadn’t they already introduced themselves earlier? Still, he reached out politely and clasped the rough, strong hand.
“Gauss, Level 1 mage.” He stuck to the public-facing label of “mage.”
Quake nodded warmly. At first meeting he’d taken Gauss for a greenhorn; that young face leads people to misjudge him. But while Gauss had been observing Iron Arm’s teamwork, Quake had been watching Gauss—part caution, part readiness to help if things went sideways. The longer he watched, the less certain he was. “Mage,” Gauss said—but Quake wasn’t convinced.
Crisp, precise sword work up close; quick footwork; strength and stamina beyond the norm; clean, accurate spellcasting; and that strange ward shimmering around him…
To Quake’s eye, the kid was either some rare hybrid class or already walking the dual-class path. What Level 1 “little mage” fights that well in melee—and his spell output looks well above ordinary Level 1?
A decade of adventuring—from rotating teammates to founding his own squad—had honed Quake’s judgment. He even suspected that aside from himself and the Level 3 sorceress, Sana, their two Level 2s might not beat Gauss one-on-one—and even he or Sana would have a hard time pinning Gauss down alone. In the short span he’d seen, there were no obvious gaps to exploit—dangerous in a blind encounter.
The thought of recruiting Gauss grew stronger. Even with Sana on the team, a young fighter with this much instant combat power and growth curve was hard to pass up. He figured Gauss and Alia were a temporary duo anyway. Worst case, recruit them both.
He’d heard of the big-city outfits building up A-squad, B-squad, C-squad—full adventuring companies with badges, bases, feeder teams, quartermasters, even admin staff. Day to day, the squads took their own contracts; for big dungeons or major jobs, they massed as one.
The Forest Capital, Barry City, had two famous ones already: the Golden Company and Thornheart. Big-team benefits are real—brand power, on-trail deterrence over loose squads, and deep-delving capacity in major labyrinth jobs thanks to manpower and logistics.
Iron Arm was still just a Grayrock squad with a few field hands in town—but who doesn’t dream of building bigger? “Iron Arm Company” had a nice ring.
Still, however keen he felt, Quake knew not to rush it. For now, building rapport was key. He and Gauss chatted a little. By the time Kathy finished healing, dusk had settled. Tired from a long day, everyone headed for the rally point.
Gauss and Alia walked side by side, Iron Arm keeping pace nearby.
“I get the feeling… the captain’s a bit too enthusiastic,” Gauss said via Message, face calm.
“Agreed.” With Message one-way, Alia only nodded.
She felt it too—Quake’s special warmth toward Gauss, spilling over to her, unlike how you treat a first-time partner. Is he trying to recruit us? The thought flashed, then she shook it off. They were just two Level 1s; Iron Arm was a seasoned Bronze three-star team. By pure combat calculus, they should prefer experienced Level 2s or 3s.
Back at the temporary camp, both Gauss and Alia let out a quiet breath—especially Gauss. He’d hit the Adventurer’s Manual’s 1,000-kill milestone today; his mood was great, that satisfied thrum after reaching a goal. He also needed a safe spot to digest the rewards he’d just received.
“Keep in touch.”
Quake’s group peeled off toward their tent. Once they were out of earshot, the sorceress, Sana, finally spoke.
“Quake, you want to invite that young mage to join?”
Her face was unreadable.
Quake gave a sheepish grin. “I do.”
“Huh?” Ranger Dorian gaped. “Seriously, captain? Since when is our bar that low? A Level 1 mage?”
He remembered how hard he’d worked to win a spot back when Iron Arm was just Quake and Sana, both Level 3. Even then, he could feel they preferred recruiting other Level 3s—only settling for him and Kathy, both Level 2, because Grayrock’s Level 3s were already spoken for. There’s a real gap between Level 2 and Level 3. Later Level 2 hopefuls had been turned away for team-value reasons. And now—skip the seasoned Level 2s and invite a green Level 1?
Thinking of his own path soured Dorian’s mood. Kathy said nothing, but her face said the same.
“I don’t mind. He’s… quite good,” Sana said before Quake could answer—leaving both of them more stunned. Often, big decisions tilted her way; it was largely her call to keep later Level 2s out.
“But he may not accept,” she added coolly.
“Right. I felt that too—he was a little… cool toward me. Still, there’s time. We all work around Grayrock; we’ll cross paths plenty. I can wait a year or two,” Quake said with a smile.
“Uh…?”
Dorian and Kathy blinked. Was this really how a Level 3 squad invites a Level 1—like courting? Since when were Level 1s this hot a commodity? Weren’t newbies supposed to huddle together until they hit Level 2 and only then get picked up by stable teams?
Listening to them, Dorian felt like the world had tilted.
At the far edge of camp, Gauss was cradling that magical cookbook, ready to cook the day’s prize: frost snake. The raw flesh was a translucent ice-blue, cold-natured; you had to use high heat to break down the chill toxin.
The method: slice; drizzle moon-grass dew to neutralize the lingering cold poison; once the blue blood seeps out, rinse clean; spread the slices on the iron pan, salt them, and sear at high heat for twenty seconds until the surface just chars.
By the time Alia came back from the merchant wagons with the moon-grass dew, Gauss had prepped the meat. Before long, smoke curled off the cast-iron; the ice-blue slices darkened, and a peculiar roasted aroma rose, drawing glances from neighboring tents.
“Looks… pretty good?” Even Alia—wary of monster cuisine—had to admit the smell was tempting. She still waited for Gauss to try it first.
He didn’t hesitate. The instant the scent hit him, his Energy Gland pulsed with need. He forked a sizzling slice and popped it in, chewing with gusto. Rich meatiness exploded on his tongue; the frost-snake’s native cool paired weirdly yet perfectly with the char—better than frog, on first bite.
“You have to try this—it’s really good,” he urged.
“I’ll… try?” Temptation won. Alia speared a piece, blew it cool, and tasted.
“Mmm!” Surprise lit her eyes. Unexpectedly delicious. “It’s… good!”
“Right? Told you.”
She gave a sheepish smile. Soon both of them stopped talking and just ate.
Buurp!
When the pan was bare, Gauss let out a satisfied burp. Monster fare is energy-dense; the side effects exist but are tolerable for professionals. Alia, meanwhile, was stuffed, muttering “c-cold… cold…” as she shivered off to the tent.
She’d overdone it and felt a bit chilly, but nothing serious. Still, it’s a reminder why monster ingredients don’t go mainstream—if even adventurers sometimes get mild reactions, ordinary folks can’t handle them at all.
Gauss sat cross-legged, looking up at the moon, and used the time to practice his freshly learned [Alarm].
Tomorrow winter hunt enters phase two—mopping up scattered small monster clusters. The numbers won’t match the first two days, but he’s fine with that. His target now is to fill in the last three entries of the common monster index and unlock the new talent. Once he’s got it, he’ll sprint for Level 2.
With Level 2, better base stats, two class talents, two racial traits, and an ever-growing arsenal of spells and techniques, his combat power should jump to a new tier.
At that point, even same-level scions of those famed high races might not match him.
