“Finally cleared up!”
Gauss opened the window and looked outside, smiling as the sunlight streamed in.
A few days ago, after the team turned in their last quest and got paid, they had planned to pick up a new commission two days later.
But the weather had other plans—several straight days of rain pushed everything back.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something odd about the rain... but he had no real leads.
“Could it be the start of the rainy season?” he muttered to himself as he walked the streets for the first time in days.
Being cooped up in the inn had left him restless. Aside from practicing sword drills in his room or chatting with Sophia in the common area, he hadn’t done much.
If he stayed idle any longer, he felt like he’d start rusting over.
And he wasn’t the only one with that thought.
The town’s streets were packed with people and merchant carts now that the weather had cleared.
“Move it! Or get outta my way!”
A huge, shirtless beastkin was yelling at a pair of pedestrians walking too slowly in front of him.
Gauss heard the shouting and glanced back—not because he was involved, just curious.
Beastkin were known for their short tempers, and this one was no exception.
With a glare and voice like a bullhorn, he barked at the two humans ahead of him, clearly frustrated they were in his way.
Normally, civilians would back down at the sight of such a towering figure.
But this time, the man in front wasn’t the type to back off.
He came to a stop, turned around, and gave the beastkin a provocative smirk.
The contrast was ridiculous—the man looked about 5'7", while the beastkin stood a solid two meters tall, built like a wall.
And yet, not an ounce of fear on his face.
Already angry, the beastkin’s rage exploded the moment he was challenged.
With a roar, he swung a massive fist straight at the man’s face.
People nearby scattered, not wanting to get caught in the chaos.
But shockingly, the punch—fueled by brute force—was stopped cold by the man’s bare hand.
It didn’t budge an inch.
The beastkin’s eyes twitched.
His rage melted into a sheepish grin.
But before he could finish the apology, a brutal knee strike landed squarely in his gut.
The man stepped back as the beastkin collapsed to his knees, dry-heaving in pain.
Gauss watched the whole thing from a distance, expression hardening.
That kind of overwhelming power, that speed, and control—it could only belong to someone who had already advanced into a true class.
Even though he hadn’t been using his slowed-down combat state, Gauss couldn’t even track the movement with his eyes. It was that fast.
No wonder people called professional-class adventurers living weapons.
Even a beastkin, with their powerful bloodline and innate strength, couldn’t withstand a single knee strike.
A regular person? They wouldn’t even last that long.
Would I be able to react if I were that close?
The answer came to him instantly.
Even with enhanced mental processing, his body wouldn’t move fast enough to dodge something like that.
If he had distance, maybe he could fire off a Magic Missile in time—but with that guy’s physical stats, he might not even have a chance to lock on properly before getting hit.
“I’m still way too weak…”
Surrounded by the Night Owl party, Gauss had started to feel like he was making real progress—but now he was reminded just how far he had to go.
Against a true professional, he was no better than a regular civilian.
The crowd around them quickly lost interest, scattering to avoid attention.
Gauss looked away and picked up his pace.
He wasn’t scared like the others—just more motivated than ever.
He needed to take another quest. Soon.
He made his way to the second floor of a nearby tavern and knocked on a door.
It was where Laevin rented long-term.
Not long after he knocked, a voice came from inside:
There was the sound of furniture being moved, and then the door opened.
“You’re here about the next quest, right? I was just about to come find you.”
Laevin stepped aside to let him in.
The room wasn’t fancy, but it had everything it needed.
Gauss saw that Laevin had been in the middle of maintaining his shield.
On the table were his oak shield, beeswax, resin, a bristle brush, and a small iron scraper.
“I was planning to head to your place today,” Laevin said as he got back to work on the shield.
“Figured I’d tell you in person—if the weather stays good tomorrow, let’s meet at the guild.”
“Well, since you’re here, saves me the trip.”
Laevin stretched with a groan. The rain had made him restless too.
Adventurer skills could dull without use. Not immediately—but the idea had been nagging at him for days.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that lying around had somehow lowered his chances of becoming a professional.
“Want me to help tell the others?”
“Nah, I’ll take care of it this afternoon. Good excuse to get out of the house.”
Gauss stayed a bit longer, learning Laevin’s shield maintenance process.
His memory was sharp—he had the whole thing memorized after a few steps and left satisfied.
The weather stayed clear.
Gauss geared up and left the inn.
At the Adventurers’ Guild, the hall was packed.
The quest board had even more postings than usual.
“What kind of job should we take this time?”
Doyle was practically bouncing in place.
“I feel like I’m this close to mastering Cross Slash—I swear, it’s coming!”
“You said the same thing last year,” Meva deadpanned from behind him.
“No, seriously! This time’s different!”
“Yeah, you said that too. Last year.”
A lot of adventurers had moments —where they felt like their skills were about to break through and their class was just around the corner.
Problem was, there was no progress bar.
Everything was based on gut feeling, which was easily swayed by mood or wishful thinking.
“You might wanna take it easy,” Oliver added, clapping Doyle on the shoulder.
“I’ve heard some guys lose it thinking they’re right on the verge, and end up cracking mentally.”
Gauss watched quietly from the side.
Once again, he couldn’t help but be grateful that his skill progression had actual numbers.
It really was overpowered.