“That guy’s a Bronze adventurer!”
Marlin’s teammates all gasped, staring at him in disbelief.
Worked together at the smithy? That ant Gauss couldn’t have beco an adventurer much earlier than Marlin himself.
“You must’ve seen wrong,” Marlin muttered, unable to believe it. He hadn’t been in the trade long, but he knew well enough what Bronze rank ant.
“No way we’re mistaken! Didn’t you see the green badge on his chest?”
Marlin’s mind flickered back. In that brief, awkward mont, there had been a flash of green at Gauss’s chest. But at the ti, he’d been too mortified—just wanting Gauss to leave as quickly as possible—to really look.
Bronze adventurer… Was it real? And how so fast?
A tangled mix of confusion and envy welled up inside him. In his mind, the one group in town you never crossed were the professionals—and Gauss was now one of them?
A year ago, Gauss had been nothing more than a temp at the forge, alone and with no backing. Even soone like Marlin, an ordinary townsman, could feel superior to him—showing off a bit of at at dinner one day, or casually ntioning pocket money from ho the next.
He could still rember the envy Gauss had tried to hide back then, and how satisfying it had been to see it.
And now?
The reversal in their situations felt like mockery. The only comfort was that Gauss hadn’t flaunted his position in return—otherwise, Marlin would have wanted the ground to swallow him whole.
“Marlin… you think maybe… you could get your friend to help us out?”
Marlin turned. The sa captain who’d been berating him minutes ago now wore a sickly, ingratiating smile he’d never seen before.
Marlin’s throat worked, bile rising in his chest.
Why… why was the gap between them so wide?
…
“An old acquaintance?”
Alia asked once they’d moved on. She knew Gauss had few personal connections—outside the inn, he rarely interacted deeply with anyone.
Gauss was silent for a mont before giving a brief explanation.
“He’s not cut out to be an adventurer,” Alia said bluntly. She ant not just in skill, but in attitude and spirit. The way Marlin had stood there, all fight gone after his captain’s scolding, spoke volus.
Adventurers needed a certain edge—toward their enemies, their teammates, and themselves. Without the will to push back and stand firm, only extraordinary talent could pull you out of the mud at the bottom.
“It’s his choice,” Gauss replied calmly. They’d barely been acquaintances; even if they’d been close friends, he had no right to dictate soone’s life.
Two roads lay ahead in the forest—whichever you chose, you’d miss the other. And in truth, both would bring their own share of hardship. Maybe Marlin wasn’t suited for this… but if Gauss told him to quit and Marlin later regretted not persisting, even well-aning advice could turn into resentnt.
“Yeah… it’s hard for low-rank adventurers to get anywhere,” Alia sighed, lost in her own thoughts.
They entered Grayrock through the gates, where it was noticeably warr than outside.
First stop was the Adventurer’s Guild to turn in their quest. Just another “small fry” job, but worth thirty silvers. With almost no gear wear or losses, they could cover daily expenses and even save a little. Gauss had never expected these minor jobs to make him rich—just a warm-up before the Winter Hunt, a way to train magic and pad his kill count.
On the streets, he noticed there were far fewer low-rank adventurers now. Many had already gone ho for the winter. In their place, more Bronzes had arrived for the Winter Hunt—enough to make townsfolk walk and speak more carefully.
Other Bronzes they passed nodded and greeted them.
“We should pick up the jerky,” Alia reminded him. It had been over a week since they’d commissioned the food workshop.
Winding through side streets, they ca to a plain courtyard.
Inside, the master was away, and a few workers were basking in the last thin sunlight of autumn. Seeing two clearly capable adventurers enter made them stiffen—until Gauss showed the commission slip. Then they relaxed and led them to the drying racks.
“As you asked—original, salted, and spiced. About seventy pounds each,” one worker said.
Gauss examined the racks. The frog at had been processed into hard, dark strips, the rich, savory scent still rising from them. Once sure it was the at he’d provided and not mixed with anything else, he nodded, had them bagged, and stowed them in his storage pouch.
I’ll still run Mage Hand over them when I get back, he thought. The workshop looked clean enough, but air-dried goods inevitably picked up dust—Mage Hand could strip that away.
“First wave of supplies sorted,” Gauss said to Alia. If all went well, she’d master Goodberry within days. Between frog jerky and mana berries, they’d have a solid at-and-berry balance, and he wouldn’t need to worry about rations for a while.
With his Energy Glands, he could outlast most adventurers in prolonged fights. That was why he wasn’t rushing to recruit more mbers—other teams needed numbers to make up for low-level stamina and mana limits. He didn’t.
Since fully grasping ditation, he’d practiced nightly, and his mana was climbing fast—enough in just over a week to cast nearly ten more reduced-power Magic Missiles. His hidden “blue bar” from the glands was also creeping up with every goblin kill.
By now, he could cast Level 1 spells with far more freedom.
…
The next morning, Gauss woke early.
Sliding from bed, he shivered.
Cold. Outside the window, beneath a grey-black sky, silent snowflakes were falling—like a layer of glittering salt over the world.
Snow, already?
He stared at the hazy sky and the world wrapped in its first snow, an uneasy feeling stirring in his chest. The last eting had warned that the Winter Hunt might start early, but this sudden cold snap might bring unpredictable changes.
Pulling on a thick winter coat, he left the house and made for the inn.
Inside, the fire roared in the hearth, greedily pushing back the cold. Alia was already there—this ti earlier than him—bundled in a warm fur coat and a playful fur cap, smiling and waving as he ca in.
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