The moment Gauss dropped Ghoul Form, his thighs went weak— that surging power drained in an instant.
A hollow fatigue washed through his body.
"—huh—"
He let out a long breath.
After feeling that kind of strength, returning to normal took a moment to adjust to.
He pulled jerky and a lantern-fruit from his satchel and stuffed them into his mouth.
A faint dizziness pulsed behind his eyes—low fuel warnings.
Thankfully the fight had ended quickly, so the vertigo wasn't too bad.
"Captain, are you alright?"
Serandur arrived first, gave the unconscious stranger on the ground a glance, then looked back at Gauss.
Gauss's face had gone a shade pale—clearly worn down.
"I'm fine."
"Sit. Catch your breath. I'll check you." Serandur insisted.
As the team's healer, he had to keep the captain's body in spec.
Under the wash of Serandur's healing light, some of the fatigue seemed to lift, his systems coming back online.
Alia hopped lightly down from Ulfen.
She tied the unconscious "enemy" hand and foot, then came to Gauss's side.
Only after a hint of color crept back into his cheeks did she speak.
"Who are these people?"
"Labyrinth 'hyenas'—no idea when they picked up our trail." Gauss flicked a glance at the man trussed on the ground.
Even holding back in Ghoul Form, that punch hadn't been gentle.
The back of the man's skull was dented; his face, jaw, and elbows were skinned raw from skidding meters across stone—pink flesh weeping a slow sheen of blood. He looked awful.
"Serandur, patch him. Don't let him die." Gauss jerked his chin at the captive.
This wasn't mercy; it was to keep him from dying on them—Gauss wanted answers.
Ever since he'd realized they were being tailed, the hyenas were dead men walking. It counted as public service; if they walked away, even if they didn't come for his team again, they'd take someone else.
After a short rest, Gauss stood.
Strictly speaking, he hadn't needed the Ghoul Form to deal with them. He just hadn't wanted any variables—no runners—so he'd gone all in.
Given the outcome, he didn't regret it.
At his side, Serandur was already working, and muttering at Gauss's heavy hand—another minute and this one would've been gone for good.
Emergency care stabilized the rogue—barely—though full recovery would take time.
"Can you wake him for a bit?"
"I can." Serandur understood at once, thought a moment, then nodded.
He drew a shallow cut across the rogue's brow and dusted pink powder into the wound.
After a few beats, the rogue stirred.
He touched his head; his palm came away wet and sticky.
He opened his hand—fresh red stared back. Pain stabbed like needles.
Where…
"Thanks, Serandur." A man's voice sounded beside him.
He turned—black robes swept his vision.
Memory rushed back in one heave.
Right—job, spotted, then—
His heart kicked hard.
He remembered. All of it.
That man— that demon— had…
Am I… still alive?
A shiver hammered his spine.
The black-robed man had crouched, eyes like lamps locking on him.
"Mind telling me when you started following us…?"
…
Ten minutes later, Gauss stood up. The "interview" had gone smoothly.
Alia had found a vial of truth-serum among their gear. In his wrecked state, the captive had nothing left to fight it with.
And it wasn't just him— the first rogue Gauss had maimed had been revived and questioned as well.
Two statements lined up; the picture was clear.
This crew of hyenas staked out the entrance to the second level, even seeded false lead locations on the first.
When adventurers dropped to second level, the rogues shadowed them at a distance using stealth. No hurry— sometimes they lay doggo for days: lay narcotics at night, or wait until their targets hit crises.
When targets were in the thick of a fight or wrung dry, the hyenas swept in like vultures.
They admitted there were several other hyena crews in the labyrinth— tacit lanes, no stepping on each other's toes.
"Vile." Alia sighed.
The dungeon was deadly enough—traps, terrain, monsters— now you had to watch for snakes in the dark.
With intel in hand, Serandur sent both rogues on their way.
The four bodies yielded neat spoils: stealth cloaks and daggers (basic enchanted grade, but worth good coin), plus cash and assorted tools— over eighty gold all told.
And that was after their spree money; after each job they blew coin on wine and vice. If they'd saved more, the hoard would've been larger.
Which told Gauss how many victims had fed this crew.
"Dying this quick is getting off easy," Alia muttered, giving a couple extra kicks. "They tried to jump us."
Thank the gods for Gauss.
Her gaze slid to him; that tall white silhouette replayed behind her eyes.
Intimidating at first glance, sure— but now, thinking back— it was… kind of cool.
The bodies were stripped and dumped in a corner.
Down here, plants and insects grew like a flood. It wouldn't take long before the labyrinth folded them in, the same end they'd dealt to others.
…
The night passed.
After the ambush, their watch was extra sharp; even Gauss only let himself drift at the surface, ready for trouble.
"—haa—"
He yawned.
While washing up and eating, he noticed Alia stealing glances at him, as if wanting to speak.
"What is it?" he asked plainly.
She hesitated, then ventured, a little shy:
"Gauss… could you make me a clay figure too?"
She'd seen Serandur painting one that morning. A question or two had confirmed it: Gauss had made it while she slept.
"Why? They look terrible. You really want one?" Gauss scratched his head.
"Mhm. I want one." She nodded hard.
"…Alright." He found the things embarrassing— but if she insisted.
He pinched off clay and roused the shaping spell.
The clay squirmed and set; soon a palm-sized figurine sat in his hand.
It held a slightly crooked staff, wore a robe, and sported a wreath of green vine.
"Thanks."
Alia made no other demands; smiling, she took it to the fire to cure it.
When infused with mana or nature's power, the clay shed a soft glow— a little "special effect" that did wonders for a rough sculpt.
"Let's keep pushing west today."
Before setting out, Gauss fixed their heading.
They'd squeezed a second crucial bit of intel from the hyenas: the entrance to third level was likely to the west.
The logic: while the entrances refreshed randomly, they followed broad rules— the new door rarely spawned too close to the previous one. The last refresh had been on the east side; odds were good that this time it was west.
They packed and moved.
On the way, Gauss kept clearing small fry and wildlife— he needed more spirits.
The second level was thick with insects: beetles, aphids, spiders…
His "spirit" stock climbed steadily.
He'd already noticed a law: the strength of a clay construct depended on the source spirit's nature and quality, the quantity of spirits infused, and the mana invested.
A spider construct, for instance, cost more than last night's mosquito— and was stronger.
By combining a few Giant Spider spirits and nearly a hundred ordinary spider spirits, he'd condensed a clay spider that hit above its weight.
It skittered at his side— white and quick, face-sized, powered by nearly all of his current stock of enchanted clay.
Small it might be, but its leaps were meters long; its speed was wicked; each of its eight legs could harden to a knife.
Run-of-the-mill dungeon trash wasn't its match. It pounced faces, jammed bladed legs into eyes and soft spots; even if a limb got chopped, it pulled loose, crawled off, and reassembled from ambient clay— costlier on mana, but workable.
The best part: linked to Gauss's mana, anything the spider killed counted toward his index totals.
That delighted him.
He didn't even need to lift a hand on the march— the spider picked its own targets, farmed spirits, and ticked his kill counter upward, all while leveling the spell.
By noon he'd let it do most of the work, topping up his food intake and feeding it mana as needed— full AFK farming vibes.
Efficiency wasn't higher, not yet— one construct was still just one— but the convenience was luxurious.
And the ceiling was high: with more practice, he could "dope" the clay, add components, find better mana-conductive soils, and scale to bigger, meaner builds.
"Serandur, can your Blessing work on my clay spider?" Gauss asked.
"Maybe. Let me try," the half-serpent said, uncertain but game.
By midday they'd made good westward progress and stopped to eat.
"Does your spider pet need food?" Alia asked.
"No, just my mana," Gauss said.
"That tracks."
No wonder he'd been snacking more all morning.
Ulfen and Echo circled their "new animal teammate," especially Ulfen— hopping, nipping, and licking. The spider now bore a pattern of tooth marks and slobber.
It had flagged Ulfen as friendly, and with low cunning was happily on task, ignoring the wolf to stomp ants with precise, pricking steps.
Non-spider spirits were usable— just less efficient— but still fed growth.
Gauss patted Ulfen's shaggy head when the wolf got too nosy.
"Ulfen, let it work."
The wolf seemed to get it; in Gauss's arms it flopped its tongue, very compliant.
It still looked a touch aggrieved— the new "friend" was all business— but the mood vanished as soon as Alia arrived with sliced steaks. The tail whirled; the spider was forgotten.
Shaping Magic: Clay — Lv2 (8/20)
A morning of spider labor had paid off— eight clean ticks of proficiency. It would slow later, but the pace pleased him.
At Lv3 he should be able to blend other materials into the clay and grant more traits— the spell's true promise.
He did, however, need more clay.
Real clay.
He eyed his dwindling cache of the precious white stuff. Not nearly enough to field a sizable companion.
"Serandur, on second level— ever seen mud golems or anything that drops good clay?"
The half-serpent blinked, dragged from the Blessing test.
"Uh… let me think…"
"I didn't see a golem. But— there was one lead? I passed what looked like an old herb garden once. Overgrown. No useful plants."
Which was why he hadn't mentioned it.
"Far?" Gauss perked up.
"More or less this direction." Serandur circled a rough area on their hand-drawn.
"Let's swing by this afternoon."
He needed special soils— anything mana-friendly— not just any dirt. Ordinary mud worked, but poorly: brittle forms, high mana cost, short duration. Even the golem's ordinary mud wasn't as good; only that chunk of magical white clay had the right conductance.
And he needed more.
…
Afternoon.
Serandur hadn't recorded coordinates; he only had a bearing. But it was on the way; they lost little time.
With Gauss's mental map, they found it.
The light was dim. In front of them wasn't a "garden" so much as a ruin choked by briar and weed.
A low wall of rough-cut stone was mostly collapsed, crumbled outlines sketching a perimeter. Lichen and creepers stained what remained a sickly green.
They stepped through what might've been a gate of black-gray pillars; inside, shattered flagstones paved a path of sorts.
"Growth's… vigorous."
Gauss scanned the plot walled by rubble.
Briars and dark weeds had swallowed everything— but unlike much of the second level, there was little glow-moss, fern, or vine here.
The air was thick with damp loam and old rot.
"Alia—anything?"
She had already crouched, palm flat to the ground.
Specialty mattered— he and Serandur together couldn't match a druid's feel for land.
"…Different, somehow." Her nature power seeped into the soil.
She lifted a handful of almost pan-hard brown-black earth, rubbed it between her fingers— odd texture.
As she probed deeper with nature's current, her brow twitched.
"Gauss—underneath… something's moving."
"Yeah. I feel it too." His face hardened.
Beneath their feet, the ground began to tremble— like a waking earth-drake.
"Grab me."