"Cough, cough!”

Gauss downed several strips of jerky in a row.

Only when warmth began to spread through him did he exhale in relief.

He finally had the space to think back on what had happened.

He shut his eyes, searching his memory.

“I just…”

“I went into the quicksand whirlpool, and then…”

“What happened next?”

He muttered to himself, confusion deepening across his face.

He realized he’d lost the memory of what happened inside.

Serandur thought Gauss was talking to him and spread his hands.

You ask me—who would I ask?

But he more or less grasped the situation.

“Captain? You’ve lost that chunk of memory?”

“Yes.” Gauss nodded. “I only remember jumping in—and then coming out again.

“What happened inside, I have no idea.”

The serpentfolk shook his head. “Something must have gone down.

“You climbed up under your own power—you were probably dodging something, yes?”

Gauss nodded, thoughtful.

His gaze dropped to the bone-white staff beside him.

“Eh?” he blurted.

The change was obvious—not just shape and length, but a flawless white gem now sat set into the butt of the grip. It looked exquisitely made—a wand in the true sense.

“When did my staff change?”

He gave it a couple practice swings—somehow it felt even more natural in hand. Calling it the “bone staff” wasn’t right anymore; the knobbly vertebrae were gone. It was a smooth, jade-like wand now.

Then… “White Wand,” it is.

“Captain, your wand looked like that when you came out,” Serandur offered. “It was still holding a Light spell.”

“Looks like I got something in there—and it completed the staff.” Gauss smiled.

He had no idea what exactly had happened, but finishing the staff—completing a goal Andeni had fretted over for decades—made him happy. He’d long since prepared himself to use it forever and never find a proper core.

The wand and he clearly had a tie of fate.

Next time he returned to Grayrock, he’d bring it to show Andeni. Though he had no idea where Andeni had gone. Since a few months after the new year she’d been going out often; half the time he stopped by Thorn Cottage, she was nowhere to be found.

He came back to the present and turned to Serandur’s concerned face, apologetic.

“Sorry. This gem probably won’t come out.”

By rights, a party finds something and splits the gain—even if it’s just by a fixed share. But he had no idea what the situation inside had been. And now the gem seemed fused wholly into the old bone staff—inseparable.

He couldn’t exactly say, I’ll use the wand for a few days, then you use it for a few.

“It’s fine,” Serandur said with an unconcerned shake of the head. “You took the risk; I didn’t contribute. I don’t need a cut.”

His eyes lingered on the changed wand. “That gem and you are fated. If I’d gone down, I might not have gotten it at all.”

“How about this—I’ll make sure you get a bigger share from the next few commissions. It won’t match the gem’s value, but…”

After they’d settled that, both glanced toward the “magic sand.”

On a whim, Gauss grabbed a passing lizard and repeated the sparrow test. Unfortunately, when he dropped the lizard—wrapped in a Omni-Armor—onto the sand—

Thup! The lizard hit solid ground and lay dazed.

“Failed.”

No matter how he tried, the blue flash never returned. The space below had vanished entirely.

“If we can’t go back in, we can’t—might not be a bad thing…”

He could only comfort himself that way. He had the prize; he’d fled in such a hurry—opening Ghoul Form besides—so something must have happened down there.

They searched the valley again—found nothing else unusual. Gauss also checked his satchel; nothing new. It seemed the only thing he’d gotten from the whirlpool was the completed wand.

He was itching to test it, but this wasn’t the place.

He swung into the chocobo’s saddle; he and Serandur rode back to the village.

When the villagers heard the valley had been cleared, a long breath of relief passed through them.

“Goblin Slayer is something else.”

“Isn’t he? I heard goblins’ legs go weak just seeing him.”

“That’s too much—no, my cousin said—”

“I heard he eats goblins.”

“Doesn’t look like it—too clean and fair.”

“…”

Gauss shook his head at the whispers around him. They probably thought they were far enough away that he couldn’t hear—but his senses were keen; the wind carried every word right to his ears.

He could understand the half-true “rumors.” Entertainment was thin for commoners in these times; aside from bedtime, there was cheap beer and trading stories—some true, some embellished. No one much cared about accuracy.

If you take them seriously, you lose.

That’s why this era more easily minted “heroes,” and titles stuck to high adventurers, burnished and even deified.

After getting the paperwork signed at the headman’s, the two aimed for Barry again.

Riding Golden Sheaf this time, Gauss, unusually, didn’t use the spare time to drill spells—he had something more important to mind.

He gripped the White Wand and cast Identify on it.

As expected—failure.

“Of course…”

Back when it had only been a shaft, Andeni had tried Identify who knew how many times—no result. When it came to him, he’d tried—nothing. Now a mysterious gem was set in it; it was even harder to read.

Identify sank into the wand like a stone in water—no ripple.

Not even a hint of color, never mind text.

Was it beyond what he knew? Or simply un-identifiable?

Failed appraisal didn’t stop testing.

He held the wand. At first—nothing. It wasn’t like the horn bangle that fed back as soon as you wore it. But when he pushed mana into it—

He felt it at once.

So fast!

If the old staff had moved like part of his arm, the mana through the wand flowed more freely than in his body.

Zzzip.

The mana inside sprang to life. Spell Proficiency stirred awake in him.

His robe ballooned without wind. Serandur, focused on the road, glanced over at the surge.

What now?

“I’ll try the wand,” Gauss called—surprised at the racket; he’d meant to test quietly.

“Oh?” Serandur blinked, then nodded.

They pulled into a stretch of empty ground. Serandur also wanted to see what power the “main wand” had now that it had changed.

Mana rippled in Gauss, more excited than usual. The “magic cup”—his class’s inner core—glowed bright, as if sensing the wand outside—communing with it somehow.

Gauss didn’t rush. After a while, the inner cup calmed. The cup’s “bridge” of mana clicked into place with the wand; inside and out found perfect resonance.

Serandur watched quietly. Gauss’s aura suddenly turned smoother—less aggressive—almost friendly. Already tuned? Usually a new wand needed time to settle. But he held his tongue; in the past days, Gauss had surprised him so often he’d grown numb to it.

Gauss felt all his mana change—easier to command.

“Magic Missile.”

He started with his mainstay—what he knew best would show any gains first.

“Hmm?”

As the model lit, mana flowed as if by reflex. Casting speed was up.

And—

That strange, tickling sense rose in him.

One by one, cerulean orbs budded before him.

“One…”

“Two…”

“Three…”

His casting motion hit a tiny hitch. A beat later, internal flow peaked—and that murmur of a feeling sharpened.

Vmmm!!

A clearer tremor rippled the air.

After the third missile, a fourth condensed—firm, solid.

Four hung in a neat line.

And that wasn’t the limit.

He rode the feeling—and finally, a fifth coalesced.

Five orbs, nearly blending into a sheet of light, hovered before him, arranged in a perfect, slowly spinning ring. Pressure rolled off it; the pulses made the very air feel thick. The wind quieted.

Gauss stared, eyes wide.

“A five-shot Magic Missile.”

And if his hunch was right, he could do more—not five, six, or seven—break the cap a step at a time as his control grew.

This was the White Wand’s gift?

His heart hammered. It was too strong. If he could keep pushing the number up—even at current power—it would become monstrous. One day, his missiles might pour like a storm.

Hss—

Could a spell like that still be called "Level 1”?

He couldn’t wait to find out.

He wasn’t the only one shaken. Serandur stood, lost in it. Gauss had already raised his threshold, but this sight froze him for seconds. Among casters, Magic Missile was as common as black bread; for a Level 2 to do this? Incredible. Firing five in a row and loosing five at once were not the same.

With the wand, had the captain just gotten stronger—again?

A frightening Level 2 mage… no—magus, Serandur murmured inwardly.

Gauss basked in the wand’s feel; it seemed to lend him a stronger creativity. It sounds simple, but in magic “creativity” is rare—especially early on. Most wizards walk the old path—practice as taught; attempts to alter spells risk lethal backlash. He’d once wanted to tweak missiles’ trajectories—make them curve—in the end he’d dropped it; it was complex and dangerous.

Now, things felt different.

First, a magus paired with Spell Proficiency already excelled at applied magic compared to school wizards. And now, with the wand’s boost, that knack had been unlocked further.

A thought pinged; he popped open his panel.

Name: Gauss

STR: 8

AGI: 8

VIT: 8

INT: 11

PER: 9 (8)

CHA: 9 (8)

He spotted it at once.

INT: 10 → 11

CHA: 8(7) → 9(8)

At first glance, the wand gave +1 INT and +1 CHA.

But…

The horn bangle had shown boosts in parentheses—like virtual points. The wand did not. CHA was muddied by the bracelet’s own boost, but INT clearly wasn’t bracketed. Why?

And the INT and CHA lines glowed gold.

He put the wand away.

INT: 10

CHA: 8 (7)

The wand’s boost vanished; the golden glow faded.

He drew the wand out again.

Something was different.

Then a sense stirred—he looked from bracelet to wand—and it clicked.

The bracelet acted like an addition—flat bonuses. That’s why blue gear helped low-levels; to a high-level with big base stats, a flat +1 is negligible. The wand felt like multiplication in concept—no matter his base, it granted a true +1 INT and +1 CHA.

They both looked like “two points,” but they weren’t the same at all.

Hence the display: the bracelet’s gains sit in parentheses, a “virtual” overlay—when the raw stat rises, the +1 is swallowed visually. The wand’s boost is real—always present, anywhere.

In other words, the bracelet would be with him for a phase; the wand could be with him for life.

And the wand’s preciousness didn’t stop there. He glanced at Serandur’s waist sash where human and scales met—tribal blue gear that boosted VIT and stamina. He knew it because he’d asked how the serpentfolk could glide forever—and Serandur had explained. From that he’d learned another gear fact:

Most adventurers can only benefit from one piece of stat-boosting gear at a time. Meaning—after Serandur put on the sash for VIT, wearing the horn bangle wouldn’t also give PER and CHA. So most pick their single best-fit piece for daily wear; others get sold or kept situationally.

But now—

The White Wand ignored the rule. With the bracelet still on, it also gave fresh stats.

His heart kicked harder.

By every measure, the White Wand felt like a “relic.” If word got out, its price would soar—or drown him in trouble. He couldn’t sell it anyway. For some reason, it calmed him to look at it; no amount of money would make him part with it.

He ran quick tests on other spells—finding varying boosts. The sharpest were Magic Missile and Omni-Armor. The field could now be shaped—a little projection beyond the skin. In his control, the “solid” forcefield “melted”—and extended ten-odd centimeters past his right fingers, like a diamond-edged invisible blade around his hand.

Future tricks would need more work.

With Serandur waiting, he didn’t linger. He swung back onto the chocobo. There was time; he’d explore, test, and study more on the road and in the maze.

Back in the city, they turned in proof and paperwork at the Guild—and collected a gold coin. Not much, but close to town—less than a day’s work; it was still afternoon.

He took the loot to the Golden Beak shop near the gate. Not his first time. The receptionist hurried to greet him. “Welcome, Master Gauss.”

“I've got some commission loot—would you have your appraiser price it? If it looks good, I’ll sell it here.”

“Of course—we’ll give you a fair price,” she said, nodding. As the boss’s daughter’s friend, he got better rates.

Gauss laid things out; an appraiser came. He and Serandur sat to wait; the table held tea and fine snacks.

“This jelly cake is good—try it,” Gauss said, popping a trembling, jewel-clear cube into his mouth; satisfied at once. Elastic without being gluey; the gel texture spot on. The flavor balanced real berry tartness and sweetness—not fake—and the sweet–sour line was perfect.

“Yes—Miss Hailier asked us to prepare these specially. Other guests don’t get this treatment,” the receptionist said, relieved she hadn’t cut corners. Hailier had stressed his fondness for good food; the tea set had to be top-shelf.

“Thanks. I’m very pleased.”

“I—I’m glad you like it.”

She stared at the faint smile on his face, dazed two seconds before remembering herself and pulling her gaze away.

Serandur shot Gauss a teasing look, saying nothing aloud—but his Message hissed in Gauss’s ear: “Captain, looks like you’ll need to watch your ‘effect,’ like me—no smiling at random people.”

He smiled less to avoid scaring folks; Gauss, the opposite.

Gauss fell silent a beat, then steered the talk elsewhere. “Serandur, Alia’s retreat’s nearly a week now—should be finishing, right?”

“A few days, I think,” Serandur said. He hadn’t paid close attention; he and Alia had barely met before she’d gone into seclusion to push to Level 2. These days it had been him and Gauss alone; if Gauss hadn’t mentioned her, he’d have thought it was a two-man team.

“Hope it all went smoothly.”

After selling the loot, they headed for the south district.

The sun sank.

At dusk, they reached the inn.

“Caw!”

A cry made Gauss look up. A glossy black raven circled down and landed at his feet, nuzzling his robe hem.

“Echo—back already?”

If Echo had returned, Alia’s “retreat” was likely over. Sure enough, a window above banged open—a familiar figure leaning out. After a week away, Alia’s smile shone; she waved eagerly.

“Where were you two? I came back and couldn’t find you.”

“Taking commissions.”

“Be right down.”

In the lobby, the proprietress greeted Gauss warmly—until she saw Serandur and her smile turned awkward again. He waved hello and went upstairs.

In Alia’s room, her aura felt different—richer with nature.

“Made it?” Gauss pulled up chairs for the two of them.

“Yes—lucky,” she said, beaming despite the modest words. An upgrade was never small; so young, moving from Level 1 to 2 meant good odds she’d touch higher tiers someday.

“Let’s go out for a feast to celebrate?” Gauss suggested.

“I’m in,” Alia smiled.

“Me too,” Serandur nodded—speaking less than usual, a little stiff, uncomfortable sitting inside. Gauss understood; unlike with him, Serandur and Alia were still strangers.

He took it all in. The team would take work to build—but that was fine. If a team of three couldn’t mesh, what then when a fourth, fifth—more—joined?

He drew a breath and smiled again.

As captain, he had plenty to learn.