Exposed?
Gauss's heart gave a quick jolt at first.
But when he caught the sounds that followed from farther off, he felt that wasn't it. And that strange cry from the sky just now hadn't come from directly overhead.
Either way… run!
Alia swung onto the gray wolf Ulfen. Gauss triggered Enhanced Leap; strength flooded his legs, and the two of them flickered through the trees, opening distance from the monster camp.
As they ran, he could just make out terrified human shouts carried on the wind.
So it wasn't about them—another group had been made.
Gauss grimaced.
They'd been a fair ways from the camp to begin with, so they weren't in immediate danger. As for stopping to help whoever was back there—neither he nor Alia had that in mind. Those people would have to fend for themselves. At most, they could light a rescue signal from a safe distance.
"Boom!!!"
A deafening bellow rolled up behind them.
The ogre was on the move.
They didn't dare slow. Only after pounding out several kilometers did they pull up in a relatively hidden glade.
"Hah…"
Hands on his knees, Gauss gulped air.
"That was close," he said, wiping sweat from his brow.
It felt like a bucket of ice water—enough to make him that much more careful. This wasn't a game; he had to be cautious. Which is exactly where scouting mattered: the earlier you spot trouble, the easier it is to bail out.
Creatures like ogres are actually… manageable: huge power, yes, but sheer mass makes them less nimble, and their bulk limits them on terrain. A higher-level, speed-type monster—even just one—would be far nastier. You might pay dearly even if all you do is run.
"Let's set a signal for them."
Gauss lit a red flare—Level 3.
A red column of smoke climbed into the gray sky, stark and bright. His read on that camp: even a Level 2 pro would have a rough time. The pure-blood ogre alone was at least CR-2; even at a distance it radiated pressure. Add three CR-1 elites on escort, one unknown flying creature, and two to three hundred minions that looked a cut above ordinary trash-monsters—definitely not an easy mark.
They moved off from the plume but stayed close enough to watch the approaches.
Adventurer teams that spotted the signal would weigh their strength against the potential payout and decide whether to come. Risk means reward; what's a crisis to some is opportunity to others.
Before long, several figures stepped out of the shade.
Gauss and Alia lay low and watched. When Alia recognized them, she lit up.
"Friends of yours?"
"Yeah—Iron Arm, a resident elite team out of Grayrock. Captain Quake, a very strong Level 3 swordsman. I know their Level 2 druid, Kathy," she rattled off.
Gauss relaxed a hair the moment she said "resident." In situations like this, locals were usually more reliable than out-of-towners. Strangers had no roots and could bolt if things went south. Locals had reputations to mind—property, networks, standing with the branch, all the ties that make you think twice before torching your name. Reputation's a form of capital that takes years to build.
Gauss's own "Goblin Slayer" nickname—and the "Goblin Slayer Squad"—was reputation of a sort. Some pros said it with a smirk, but to common folk it was a reassuring calling card, especially if goblins were the threat. Plenty of Level 1s never get even that much of a name.
A Level 3 swordsman and a Level 2 druid… looked like a solid crew.
"Come on out, friends," a voice called from a distance.
The newcomers had been careful all along—scouting even as they closed on the flare—so they'd already pegged where Gauss and Alia were. No surprise they chose to show themselves openly.
Gauss and Alia met eyes, then headed toward the signal.
"We're coming out," Gauss called before breaking cover.
As they stepped from the brush, the green-haired druid, Kathy, glanced at Alia, blinked, and leaned in to murmur a few words to the swordsman beside her.
The entire Iron Arm team visibly loosened.
It's the convenience of a small world—known quantities are easier to deal with than unknowns.
"Alia, was that your signal?" Kathy asked first.
"It was, Kathy," Alia said easily, then looked to Gauss. "Details from our captain, Gauss."
Even with a friend present, she didn't overstep; this was Gauss's team. He probably wouldn't have minded, but she avoided crossing lines where she could.
"Pleasure. Gauss, Captain of Team 23."
"Iron Arm—Quake, captain," the burly swordsman said, steady-voiced, gray eyes sizing Gauss up.
"I'm Kathy, Level 2 druid."
"Dorian, Level 2 ranger."
"Sana, Level 3 sorcerer," said a sharp-eyed beauty in a purple robe, wand in hand, with a slight nod.
On paper, she was the team's second, maybe even the strongest. As a fellow caster, Gauss paid her a bit more attention.
Introductions done, Gauss briefed them fast.
"One ogre, two half-ogres, one elite gnoll. Overhead, what looks like an unknown flying type. Close to three hundred underlings…"
Quake's team huddled for a quick, quiet consult.
"Barring ugly surprises—we'll take it," Quake grinned. "But if the situation's off, we pull out immediately. You two should be ready to disengage at any time."
"How about it—interested in helping out?"
"Gladly," Gauss and Alia said in unison.
This was exactly why they'd put up the signal. A camp that big needed a hammer team; even then they'd hardly say no to extra blades. And three hundred small fry was no small number.
They hammered out terms: Iron Arm took the elites; everything else was open season—whoever killed it, owned it. The Guild would tally the take afterward.
With targets and profit split established, the six set off toward the ogre's camp.
Halfway there, two breathless, battered adventurers stumbled out of the brush and fumbled for a flare.
"You two just ran from that camp up ahead?" Quake asked, stopping them.
The Level 1 pair scanned the six—eyes lingering on the three gleaming hex-stars on Quake's bronze badge.
Three, three, two, two, one, one.
Seeing the "luxury" lineup, their confusion flipped to hope.
"Yes—please! Our teammates! Two of them were captured!"
They couldn't help sweating again at the memory: two half-ogres, a swift gnoll, and a dreadbird circling overhead that wouldn't leave. Their comrades had been taken, buying time for the two of them to escape by the skin of their teeth. But with two Level 3s in this group… surely they could get them out?
"No problem," Quake said with an easy smile. "Show us the way?"
"Please let us come, too! We don't want any reward—just save them!" they blurted.
Free extra hands—Quake didn't refuse. He nodded them in, though ranger Dorian made them promise to follow orders. Unlike Gauss and Alia, who'd been operating smoothly, these folks had blundered into danger and even lost teammates—evidence their synergy was lacking. Dead weight can be worse than no weight.
"We will! We'll do as we're told!" Heat flushed their faces; they knew exactly what Dorian was implying. At least the captain didn't seem hostile—his big, carefree smile took the edge off the embarrassment.
Either way, they were going to get their people back. Captured female teammates shouldn't be in immediate danger, short-term.
The pair moved to the front to guide the way.
When they neared the camp, the eight stopped. Through gaps in the boughs they looked down into the clearing.
"As agreed: ogre, half-ogres, gnoll—elites are ours. The rest is up to you," Dorian said.
Gauss nodded. The elites were the big money, but without Iron Arm up front, no Level 1s were touching this camp anyway. Picking off small fry would do just fine—he needed the count, after all.
[Total Monster Kills: 922/1000]
Only seventy-eight to go.
Even with a few unfamiliar adventurers "stealing" kills, he figured he'd have no trouble claiming at least seventy-eight out of two to three hundred, especially with Iron Arm focusing on the elites.
Dorian vanished into shadow to conduct a final sweep, then returned and nodded to Quake.
The team readied themselves to launch the assault on the ogre camp.
~~~
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