While the two rested, occasional stragglers fleeing from the main battlefield were casually dealt with by Gauss, Aria, and Ulfen.

Gauss's gaze followed the fallen monster corpses before him, penetrating deep into the forest.

His vision seemed to pierce through layers of green foliage, landing on the unseen frontlines where the battle must be raging fiercely.

"I wonder how Guild Leader Eberhard's battle is going?"

"It should be going smoothly," Aria replied. "Judging by these fleeing stragglers, the main force of the monster army must have suffered heavy losses."

"The only wild card might be that ogre mage—its challenge rating is probably around level 8. But with the guild leader and several Iron-rank adventurers present, it shouldn’t be a problem."

As Gauss listened to Aria's detailed explanation—clearly intended to brief him on the situation—his mind recalled information about ogre mages.

Ogre mages were natural-born spellcasters, with adult individuals possessing spellcasting abilities equivalent to a level 9 warlock.

Beyond their innate spell-like abilities, their racial traits granted them even more troublesome capabilities: regeneration, spell resistance, and physical prowess rivaling an Iron-rank warrior.

As leaders of large tribes, they commanded pure-blooded ogres, half-ogres, and numerous subordinate monsters, their lairs often concealing staggering wealth.

If he could kill the ogre mage, he could likely seize unimaginable riches.

Unfortunately, it was beyond his reach...

At his current level, facing a level 8 powerful fiend—even if it refrained from using any spells and merely engaged in physical combat—his seemingly robust physique would likely crumple like paper.

He even doubted whether his magic could penetrate its spell resistance even if the ogre mage stood still and let him attack.

"No wonder they launched the Winter Hunt to preemptively cull the monsters."

Gauss now understood why they had taken the initiative to attack before winter's arrival.

If such a powerful ogre mage were allowed to launch a large-scale assault on human settlements, even if they ultimately prevailed, the casualties would undoubtedly be severe.

Fortunately, low-tier fiends were inherently disorganized, making it time-consuming and laborious for them to gather forces—giving the Adventurers Guild ample warning and preparation time.

"What level is Guild Leader Eberhard?" Gauss couldn’t help but ask curiously.

"During last year’s Winter Hunt, I heard he was a level 9 spellblade..."

"That detailed?" Gauss was surprised. "You even know his class and level?"

"Of course. For renowned experts like him, such information spreads widely," Aria said with a hint of envy. No one wouldn’t want to be a famous and powerful professional—herself included. "His reputation extends beyond our region;

even in the Forest Capital of Barry, he’s known as the 'Crimson Blade.'"

Gauss listened quietly, mildly surprised.

He had initially assumed Grayrock Town was no different from other nearby settlements.

But from Ulfen’s tone, Guild Leader Eberhard seemed somewhat exceptional.

And judging by his level—a level 9 specialized professional—it was clear.

To his knowledge, serving as a local branch guild leader required being an Iron-rank adventurer (master-tier professionals between levels 6-10) and passing the provincial capital’s assessment.

Level 9 was already among the elite even among Iron-rank adventurers.

"In a few more years, he’ll likely reach for level 10, preparing to step into the Transcendent tier. Once he becomes a Transcendent professional, he’ll be a figure of prominence across the entire kingdom."

Transcendent—level 11 professionals.

Levels 1-5: From novice adventurers to elites, making a name locally by handling regional threats.

Levels 6-10: The master tier, where one’s influence becomes significant, tackling crises spanning multiple towns or even cities.

Levels 11-15: The Transcendent realm, a stage most ordinary professionals could never reach in their lifetimes. Their skills were peerless, facing calamities threatening entire provinces or beyond.

This Winter Hunt targeted the second category—if left unchecked, the ogre mage’s gathering forces could escalate into a crisis engulfing multiple towns.

"Rest time’s over. Let’s move to the next location."

After confirming with Aria, Gauss wasted no time.

The raven Eck took flight, scouting ahead.

Gauss wasn’t sure how other teams gathered intel, but Eck’s efficiency was undeniably high—making him privately grateful.

Fortunately, Aria had successfully contracted such an aerial scout before departure. Without it, their two-man search efficiency would’ve plummeted.

The forest was dim, the insect calls erratic.

En route, Gauss casually dispatched a few monsters without slowing down.

Their squad’s goal was clear: race against time while maintaining combat readiness. To "support" others, they first had to purge their assigned zone.

Arriving at the second monster outpost, Gauss felt a twinge of disappointment—its leader was yet another half-ogre.

Upon reflection, it made sense.

In an ogre mage’s army, encountering pure-blooded ogres or their hybrids was naturally more likely than other elite fiends.

And half-ogres were even more common than pure-bloods.

Pure-blooded ogres had low reproductive efficiency and longer gestation periods.

Half-ogres, serving as rapid tribal reinforcements through crossbreeding with other races, might lack the level 2 challenge rating of pure-bloods, but they made up for it in numbers and replenishment speed.

Like the first battle, Gauss planned to eliminate the half-ogre leader first—preferably via ambush.

Observing from afar, however, he noted this half-ogre was far less vigilant.

Instead of napping, it sat imposingly on the ground, gripping a bloodstained cleaver, with a massive shield at its feet. Its sharp gaze swept over its subordinate races.

A few goblins tremblingly placed roasted food on banana leaves before it. One slightly slower goblin was backhanded, sent flying into a tree trunk, lifeless.

"Truly vicious temperament..." Gauss mused silently.

Half-ogres could speak rudimentary Common, but at their core, they remained brutal fiends—incapable of coexisting peacefully with other intelligent life, viewing them only as food, tools, or slaves.

"An ambush might not work," Aria whispered after observing. Though fewer in number here, the monsters were tightly guarded, with sentries patrolling the surrounding forest shadows.

"Then we’ll assault head-on," Gauss declared decisively. "Conserve your energy—don’t engage directly. Stay back and cast Entangling Roots. Leave the rest to me and Ulfen."

Aria nodded without objection.

Gauss locked onto the distant half-ogre.

Though an ambush was impossible and the creature was alert, his confidence had grown after the last fight.

Against such clumsy, strength-based level 1 fiends, he had the upper hand.

He no longer felt much pressure facing it.

Both he and Ulfen were pre-buffed with Gauss Field’s protection.

Once preparations were confirmed, Gauss’s Magic Missiles tore through the ferns, streaking forth!

The three missiles were instantly noticed by the vigilant half-ogre, forcing it into a clumsy roll.

*Boom!*

Despite its quick reaction, Gauss held the initiative.

One missile grazed its hide-armored thigh—the tough leather shattered, flesh torn open, blood gushing!

"ROAR!!! Sneaky bugs—show yourselves!" it bellowed, scrambling for its shield.

A gray blur flashed!

Ulfen lunged from the bushes, drawing its attention.

The half-ogre’s gaze flicked toward the wolf—then abruptly snapped back toward the spell’s origin!

*Whoosh!*

Another missile shot forth!

Sheer instinct made it abandon the shield, leaping aside despite its bleeding leg.

It dodged the feint—but not the follow-up.

With his proficiency at Lv4, secondary spell slot bonuses, and the newly acquired "Weak Point Strike" title effect, Gauss’s Magic Missiles had grown deadlier.

The half-ogre’s evasion left it momentarily vulnerable—its bulky frame couldn’t dodge again so soon.

Three pre-aimed missiles closed in, sealing all escape routes.

With a desperate twist, it avoided one.

*Boom! Boom!*

Two struck true.

One blasted its chest armor black.

The other—precise and ruthless—hit its exposed, unarmored flank during the twist.

*Crack!*

The sickening sound of snapping ribs was unmistakable.

Pale bone fragments pierced through skin, jutting grotesquely.

The "Weak Point Strike" effect surpassed Gauss’s expectations.

He’d merely sensed a flash of insight mid-casting—and executed this flawless strike.

Now, the half-ogre struggled to rise.

Its shattered ribs turned each breath into a wheezing struggle, robbing it of even the strength to curse.

"Seems... easier than expected," Gauss remarked calmly, stepping from cover.

Though not an instant kill, this direct confrontation proved his overwhelming superiority against such foes.

Time to end it.

With its lungs ravaged, the half-ogre posed no further threat.

*Tap! Tap-tap!*

Gauss weaved through the monster ranks, casually picking off minions.

Bodies flew around him, yet his focus never left the staggering half-ogre.

Injured leg, critical internal damage—it couldn’t match his speed.

He closed the gap swiftly.

"Magic Missile!"

Three missiles point-blank. No dodging possible now.

All three struck home, ravaging its ruined chest further.

*Boom! Boom! Boom!*

Violent energy tore through its body, darkness swallowing its last consciousness.

"Elite fiend half-ogre ×1 slain."

With the leader dead, the remaining rabble fell quickly under Gauss’s practiced extermination.

Pity no new monster types appeared.

Chewing jerky amidst the aftermath, Gauss felt slight regret.

Still, the Winter Hunt lasted a week—plenty of opportunities remained.

"Total kills: 739."

This battle added 58 kills, plus 9 en route, bringing the tally to 739—nearing the thousand mark.

Reviewing his Adventurer’s Manual’s Monster Encyclopedia, Gauss noted 15 ordinary species cataloged.

Barring surprises, he’d likely hit a thousand kills before reaching 20 species.

During their break, Eck returned from its scouting flight.

"Well? Any sizable groups left in our zone?" Gauss asked between bites.

After conferring with the raven, Aria shook her head.

"Eck says... none."

"Then we’ll have to expand into adjacent areas," Gauss said.

"Gauss, can your body handle it?" Aria asked concernedly. She was fine, but worried for him.

"Don’t worry, I’ve got this. We’ll rest a bit longer."

Physically, aside from hunger, he felt no excessive fatigue.

Their two-man squad’s kill efficiency was unmatched, but their assigned zone was smallest.

For extra gains, they’d need to push beyond.

By midday, they’d cleared two hundred-strong monster tribes—likely netting over a dozen gold coins. Other squads couldn’t match this pace.

A rough estimate: most adventurers earned 10-20 gold total from the Winter Hunt.

A four-man squad’s weekly haul ranged 40-80 gold—averaging under 10 gold daily (one tribe plus stragglers).

Simple math.

Hunt teams typically stayed two days per zone before rotating.

With just over 200 kills remaining until a thousand, factoring in scattered encounters, perhaps three more battles would suffice?