The Jade Forest was dense and overgrown, with towering trees that made it nearly impossible for sunlight to pierce through the canopy.
A chill ran down Gauss's spine as the damp, gloomy atmosphere crept over him. He couldn't shake the feeling that something cold was watching from behind.
Compared to other low-tier adventurers visiting the Jade Forest for the first time, Gauss had a distinct advantage—familiarity.
As someone who used to hunt on the forest's outskirts, he wasn't walking in blind. He had several "hunting grounds" scattered throughout the forest, and he had left markings along the way to help him navigate.
Plus, with the Map function from his Adventurer's Manual, every area he explored would light up on the mental map—letting him avoid the first major pitfall most rookie adventurers faced: getting lost.
Because here, more than the monsters, the forest itself was the deadliest enemy.
Thick trees, identical scenery in every direction, no landmarks… For a regular person, there was no way to tell which way was which. Finding the main trail again—much less making it back to civilization—was next to impossible.
Every year, countless newcomers lost their lives to this forest. Gauss himself had stumbled across human remains more than once while hunting.
Unfortunately, all the gear and clothing on those corpses had long since disappeared—probably looted by the native residents of the forest: monsters.
If not for the threat of those monsters, Gauss could've made enough just scavenging dead adventurers' belongings to afford a house by now.
These thoughts ran through his mind, but his feet didn't stop. Guided by the original owner's memory and his own bark-markings, he arrived at a secluded hunting ground deep in the woods.
He was sure goblins had been active here before—and not in large numbers.
He had chosen this spot for a reason: a memory from just a month ago.
Back then, he had gone days without catching any prey. So he expanded his hunting grounds and set some traps in this area. At first, it seemed to pay off.
But one morning, just before dawn, he returned to check the traps and found only blood-stained remnants. The traps had been triggered, but someone—or something—had beaten him to the prize.
It didn't take long for him to figure out the culprit: goblins.
He had found a few small humanoid footprints around the site. They were slightly smaller than his own, about the size of a human teenager's foot—and barefoot. The ground had been damp from rain the night before, so the prints were especially clear.
It was extremely unlikely a barefoot human kid had wandered into the depths of the Jade Forest. Ruling out that absurd theory left only a few options—small humanoid monsters.
And among them, the goblin matched the size and footprint shape best.
So, after realizing this spot was probably within a goblin patrol zone, Gauss had abandoned the area, not returning again—until now.
He snapped back to the present.
Gotta stay sharp. Sure, I only saw prints from one goblin, but that doesn't mean it was alone.
He began running through everything he remembered about goblins.
Goblins were small, humanoid males with greenish skin, pointed ears, murky eyes, and lanky limbs. Weak individually, but not to be underestimated.
They were carnivorous, sometimes eating berries, but their low intelligence and vile nature meant they didn't farm or build. From birth to death, they lived by stealing and raiding.
They didn't just plunder food—they couldn't even reproduce without outside help. Goblins didn't have females in their own species; instead, they abducted females from other races, most commonly humans, to breed more goblins.
It was no wonder many villages lived in fear of them—having their food, tools, and women stolen by these disgusting creatures. Goblins were a menace to both isolated settlements and traveling caravans.
As for their actual combat strength?
Gauss recalled they were about as tough as the ones described in games and books from his previous life—nothing special individually. A single goblin could be beaten by a regular farmer with a weapon.
But that's exactly why they relied on numbers, swarming enemies with ambushes and overwhelming attacks. Once their numbers rose, they became a full-blown disaster.
What made it worse was their insane reproduction rate. A single breeding victim could give birth to an entire litter at once. And baby goblins had an incredibly high survival rate—maturing into fully reproductive adults within a year.
Once grown, they were driven by pure primal instinct to continue the cycle.
A goblin wasn't just a monster—it was a walking plague. As long as one lived, more would follow.
Because goblins targeted humans so often, they were also one of the most well-documented monsters. Even illiterate village children could describe their traits.
"Alright, goblin... You'll be my first target."
Neither Gauss nor his modern mind could muster any sympathy for a species like that.
Forget all that talk about "nature's balance." Goblins were parasites. The best outcome for humanity was their complete extermination.
Still, even as he tried to psych himself up, Gauss stayed on guard.
His memory said goblins were weak—but he'd never fought one before. Until he experienced it himself, he had to treat this like a real threat.
One life—that's all he had. Same for the goblin.
Anything that lived wanted to survive.
This wasn't some fantasy game or trial. It was going to be a real life-or-death fight.
He took a deep breath.
First, he removed his pack and hid it under a large tree, covering it with fallen leaves.
His wooden spear had already been coated with paralysis poison.
While eating lunch earlier, he had picked a sunny window seat so the herb-laced mixture would dry and harden. Now the tip had a faint green sheen over the scorched-black wood.
Still, Gauss wasn't putting too much faith in the poison.
It was cheap stuff. Probably had some effect, but it wasn't going to be some miracle solution.
The real fight would still come down to the weapon and his own skill.
As he tightened his grip on the spear, the original owner's memories of wielding it came rushing back.
After adjusting to the familiar motion, he crouched and began brushing aside leaves, looking for tracks.
This was pure hunter's instinct.
Anything alive left traces—especially dumb creatures like goblins, which didn't bother hiding their movements.
Footprints. Fur. Droppings. Food scraps. Movement signs.
The forest might look calm, but it was full of clues.
Gauss wasn't a veteran, but he had trained under his father since childhood. For a fresh hunter, he was more than competent.
As a second son, he was always meant to make his own way in the world. And for any hunter or woodsman, the most critical skill wasn't trap-making or combat—it was intel gathering.
Without proper tracking skills, no hunter was worth the title.
His eyes lit up—he found a clear footprint.
It looked fresh—likely from the past day or two.
Which meant the goblin was still active in the area.
Maybe the one that stole my trap kill came back, hoping for another free lunch? Gauss thought, amused.
With a lead in hand, he began searching the nearby area more carefully, quickly uncovering more footprints and droppings.
The signs led him deeper through the forest.
Before long, he arrived at a small pond, not far from his old hunting ground.
He crouched low and gently parted a thicket of bushes.
A green-skinned creature, lounging on a stone about knee-high, lazily sharpening a crude stone spear.
Gauss held his breath, eyes locked through the leaves. Slowly, they began to gleam with determination.
To anyone else, this might just be a weak forest monster.
This was the beginning of his new life—his first step on the road to becoming a true adventurer.