Gauss had been braced to hear some other kind of request, and he’d steeled himself for it.

He hadn’t expected a question so… unrelated.

It had that simple yes-or-no, answer-or quality to it.

So for a moment he just stared.

Seeing him silent for so long, a flicker of disappointment crossed the serpentfolk’s face; he smoothed it over quickly and said, feigning nonchalance:

“Presumptuous of me. If it’s inconvenient, then…”

“No, no… it’s just that we do have another teammate. I need to ask her first before I can give you an answer.”

Noticing the serpentfolk turn to go, Gauss hurried to stop him.

At the serpentfolk’s pace, if he hesitated a beat, the man would be gone.

As for the request to join, Gauss was surprised.

A bronze three-star on his badge, apparently a priest-like class—how could someone like that not have a fixed party? It was puzzling.

But the confusion lingered only a moment. He didn’t doubt the serpentfolk’s sincerity.

Before today, they’d met only three times, yet Gauss already sensed that beneath the hard-to-approach exterior was a decent character.

The first time—at the inn—when the proprietress very obviously refused him a room, making excuses, he showed no anger at all; he simply left.

The second—on Level One—facing a hostile adventuring party, even with the upper hand he hadn’t gone for the kill; he gave them a slap on the wrist and let them go. He’d even handed the disputed bracelet to Gauss, who’d just watched the whole time without lifting a finger.

The third was after Gauss had collapsed.

That was the most telling of all.

Faced with an unconscious man, completely defenseless, he could have killed Gauss easily and looted everything—at least a three-figure haul in gold value. In the labyrinth, the death of an obscure Level 2 professional would barely ripple; outside of Alia’s grief, no one would care.

But he didn’t.

Gauss had been found intact, not a single coin missing.

By the cutthroat standards of the adventuring world, that was near-saintly.

Could it have been because Alia was nearby—that he wanted to rob him but didn’t get the chance? Nonsense.

A Level 3 at least, and a serpentfolk with keen scent—if he’d wanted to avoid notice, he had a thousand ways. In fact, Gauss suspected he might have been the one to find Alia and lead her there. Why else escort her all the way back to Barry? Probably because a Level 1 druid with an unconscious teammate made an easy target for ill-intentioned types.

Every contact had left a strong impression. The only question was: why be so good to him—to the point of excess?

He didn’t believe the serpentfolk was like that to everyone, or he’d spend all day playing goodwill ambassador and have no time for anything else.

He could only guess that something in his own actions had won the man’s respect.

“Alia’s here too, but she’s tied up at the moment. How about we ask her together later?” he said.

Though lately Alia mostly deferred to his calls—aside from policing his diet on doctor’s orders—bringing someone into the party wasn’t a decision he’d make alone.

“As it should be.” The serpentfolk quietly let out a breath. “I’m Serandur. No need to introduce yourself—I know you, Gauss.”

Serandur offered his hand.

“Pleasure, Serandur,” Gauss said, shaking it. “Meet back here in two hours, at noon?”

He and Alia had set that as their meeting point.

“Good. See you then.” Serandur waved and slid off.

Gauss, card in hand, headed for his training room.

A ways down, Serandur replayed the exchange and still felt a little disbelief.

How had he—usually so calm—blurted out a request to join?

He’d long ago settled on being a solo adventurer.

But since it was said, he didn’t dwell on it.

Thinking it over, it wasn’t just the faint pack-scent he sensed around Gauss. If that were the whole of it, he’d have sought a serpentfolk party. From the first meeting, there’d been something unusual in Gauss’s eyes—no flinch, no bias. And more than that, he envied the easy trust between Gauss and the druid—especially after learning Gauss had risked himself to cover her. His impression rose again.

Truth be told, though he shunned strangers, he did yearn for a steady team built on trust. But after a few knives in the back, that thorn had stayed stuck in his heart.

Maybe that impulsive moment, breaking the invisible wall, wasn’t a bad thing.

…

Gauss reached the training room and tapped in.

The space inside was larger than he’d expected.

The clean walls—material unknown—bore flowing ward-lines; clearly far tougher than ordinary stone, and likely with more functions. Reasonable, since casters would be the users. Anything less and the room wouldn’t last long.

Per the clerk’s intro, besides static targets there were many mobile targets simulating various creatures.

He grabbed the usage guide, skimmed it, and learned how to call targets scaled to his authorization. With three monthly sessions he could summon up to Level 2 challenge targets. Higher required rank—or Contribution Points.

He picked a Level 2 target.

White sand welled up from the distant floor and gathered in midair, coalescing into a two-to-three-meter “rock crocodile.” It roared, then scuttled across the floor, claws flailing.

“What a system,” Gauss muttered—he’d learned a lot today. People here “ate well,” clearly. A room like this was a huge boon for drilling skills. Shame he only had three one-hour slots a month—and this was the basic room; higher floors likely had wonders.

“No time to waste.” He pulled the bone staff—just to warm up.

“Magic Missile!”

A sapphire bolt snapped out and hit dead-on. The white construct only simulated a level-2’s defense; in speed and tactics it was clumsy—not a real rating 2 monster.

Bang!! The missile burst; white sand spattered. It broke the “armor,” not a one-shot kill—matching his golem-fight experience. He could kill rating 2s; finding weak points and working them did the trick. For many Level 2 spellcasters, that alone would be unheard of. For now, that was his ceiling; at higher levels there’d be ways to amp Missile further. It was a good “magic quickdraw”; if he could keep boosting it, it would stay a staple.

After a few more tests, he moved on to the main event—Ghohl Form.

His first blue-quality trait—and in his view it glowed a deep, striking blue. Whether color depth tracked power he couldn’t say; it pleased him all the same.

He drew a long breath and roused a mysterious, far-ancient force in his body.

Vmmm!!

Just like the Spider Ghoul nest on Level Two: from within him, pallid energy welled out. A chill swept him; his thoughts went crystal-clear.

The pale energy rewrote his flesh. His black hair turned snow-white and grew in a rush, falling to chest-length. Two milk-white, curved little horns budded on his brow. His skin lost its color, went white—and visibly toughened.

He clenched a fist; his joints cracked like thunder. Power coursed through him—rich and full.

“Did I get taller?”

His viewpoint rose. From a bit over 1.8 meters, he’d jumped to a hair over two meters—still slender, even more so than usual. Strength and other attributes, though, had only climbed.

His vision shifted too—colors subdued, while certain highlights stood out: the ward runes on the walls, the mimetic target in the distance—everything etched and sharp, with a hint of slow-motion.

He pushed off—the body flickered fast.

“Speed’s up!”

Even with Enhanced Leap, the increase was clear. It seemed Ghoul Form favored explosive speed.

He checked his panel. Too bad—while it was active, his six stats showed question marks—abnormal state, data unavailable.

Beyond the body’s boost, his mana raced, swaddled in that pallid force.

A special impulse struck him. He tested it:

Mid-vault, he thrust out one finger.

“Magic Missile!”

Blue energy coalesced at his fingertip—

Zing!!

—shot off, and drilled the white construct as it ran.

Boom!! A milky shockwave rippled over its surface. One fingertip missile blew a gaping hole through it and flipped it end over end; a moment later, the white sand that made it up collapsed and spilled back into the floor.

“I’m strong,” Gauss breathed.

He’d been right: in Ghoul Form, his magic hit much harder. The pale energy seemed to wrap his mana and boost it. That was why he could cast on the move and why Missile hit so much harder. Among Level 3s, that kind of strike would be serious. Missile is only a Level 1 spell—Level 3s cast Level 2—and most Level 3s couldn’t one-shot a rating 2 monster. Kill it, maybe, with work—not delete it.

The bigger deal than raw power was casting on the move. Magic takes focus; most casters plant their feet to boost success. Being able to sling spells while moving was rare.

“Hoo—”

Feeling the energy drain racing through him, he dispelled Ghoul Form. The trait was phenomenal—practically a transformation. But the drain was brutal. A few motions and half his stamina was gone. Even with the storage glands as a hidden reserve, he couldn’t hold it long; eating to keep it up was a fantasy.

In short: when he flipped it on, he’d need to end things fast. Either the enemy drops—or he does.

“Not for trash, then, or fights within my weight class. It’s for opponents stronger than me,” he concluded. And not too strong—otherwise it only makes for a more dignified death.

He rested, refueled, and used the remaining time to run other drills. The hour flew. He stepped out and headed back to where he’d met the serpentfolk—early, with half an hour to spare.

To his surprise, the serpentfolk was earlier still—already reading in a corner.

“Early,” Gauss said.

“Just got here,” Serandur said, closing the book.

Gauss smiled faintly, noncommittal. He suspected that no matter when he arrived, Serandur would say the same.

Serandur set the book aside, slitted eyes narrowing as he regarded Gauss for a beat.

You’ve got to be kidding me…

They’d been apart an hour—and Gauss’s aura… seemed a little stronger.

So… just his imagination?