"Delicious! So good!"
They dug into the crab chief right there on the sand.
Even the drake Hephaestus got a share—rationed. If Gauss didn't cap it, a single dragon could polish off the whole thing. When Hephaestus realized he was only getting a few legs and a scoop of the center roe and no seconds, he thought it over… then trotted off to other crab corpses, bathed them in dragonfire, and helped himself. Self-serve, self-sufficient.
A pity: even the larger crabs paled next to the chief in flavor. Still, compared to goblins or fishmen, they were leagues better—so he quietly feasted.
Before long, the two-meter-wide brute was picked clean—nothing left but the shell.
Buurp—
Gauss let out a rare, satisfied belch. A 5th-tier crab was rich fare—especially the central body meat and the roe—warming him through like a hot spring.
"This chief had something… different," he murmured. He didn't think it was just "CR 5" or "iron-claw" factor. As with people, monsters had their quirks.
Everyone else looked equally content. Seeing his team sliding into food coma, Gauss felt the tug of a nap, too—but he was only 22 kills from 8,000, and that stoked his engine.
"Rest here, sort the spoils. I'll take Hephaestus for a sweep and see what else is around." He glanced at the drake, already sprawled out, then spoke to Alia and the others.
"Go on," Alia nodded.
He waved Hephaestus over and swung up. The drake beat its wings and climbed.
…
A couple hundred would be work; a couple dozen was trivial—especially with the monocle from above.
"Goblin Slain ×1."
Another goblin pinned with a Firebolt, the air singed with the smell of roast hair. The total finally ticked:
"Total Monster Kills: 7,999."
"Total Monster Kills: 8,000."
The 8,000 milestone lit up.
[Total Monsters Kill: 8,000/8,000]
[Reward Unlocked: Special Casting Method – Breath Casting]
Huh?
Gauss blinked. He'd expected a spell—or a neat talent. Instead: a new reward type. From the name it wasn't hard to guess: a new casting channel. Like a dragon—spell as breath?
What was the point?
He accepted anyway. A queer energy pooled deep and rose to his throat and mouth, tingling his Adam's apple, palate, tongue, mucosa—as if a gentle current kept zapping him.
"Er…"
He waited, patient, for the change to finish. Then exhaled—
Szz!
A slip of magic rode his breath and made the air ripple visibly. "Eh?" He clamped his mouth shut.
It was different.
His casting had been of two kinds: with a wand—gathering at the tip or a chosen point—or without one, letting power flow out of his body—more convenient, less potent.
Simple things like Firebolt or very practiced Level 1 spells like Magic Missile were fine. In theory, magic could vent from most body parts—yes, even the mouth. But that was not this.
He tasted the change again and understood. He'd been modified. His mouth had a "dragonlike" conduit—part organ, part focus. He could pre-charge the mouth and shave cast time.
He let instinct guide him and tried the simplest: Firebolt.
"Firebolt."
The cantrip clicked into place; magic ran to his mouth, wove into the palate. If you'd pried his jaw in that instant, you'd have seen reddish sigils light the mucosa—his tongue glowing red.
"Release."
He opened his mouth—and a red bolt launched like a quarrel.
FWIP!!
It tore air, smashed the rock target—
BOOM!
—and left a fist-sized scorch crater. First try, success.
"Cough—cough."
A puff of smoke followed his cough.
"?!"
Beside him, Hephaestus—mid-casual goblin-stomp—jerked his head toward Gauss, then at the crater. He thought he'd just seen something familiar—but wasn't sure…
Gauss ignored him and tried again—this time, Magic Missile. Higher circle than a cantrip, but second nature to him. After a breath of focus:
"Magic Missile."
Magic coursed up his throat; blue light shone under his skin; the thrum of the spell told him it was good even before he released.
WHUMPF—
He opened—and a blue streak breathed out. Shockwaves rippled around it before it punched into the first crater—
CRACK!
—blasting a larger, deeper hole laced with spiderweb fissures.
Another success. He grinned—his casting knack was getting better. Two spells, first attempt with a new method, both clean.
Not far away, Hephaestus' pupils pinholed. He stared, blinked. This time he'd watched the whole thing—no mistake. Familiar—too familiar. Wasn't that his move? How could Gauss do it too? And not just fire—he breathed blue balls of light?
Foof.
He tried. Fire came out. Only fire. Why… couldn't he?
Confusion filled his big head.
Gauss swallowed, coughed twice, and took stock. Breath Casting had perks:
Stealth & Speed. Pre-charge in the mouth; when you open, the spell is already primed—like a sucker punch. The mouth and throat now acted like a small "focus organ," shrouding the buildup until release.
Stability. The cast felt locked in.
Power-wise, it wasn't stronger than wand-casting (you missed wand bonuses), but its lethality was in surprise and tempo.
Downsides? He felt a faint numb-heat in his throat and mouth. He wasn't a dragon; the hardware wasn't that robust. After a cast or two, a cool-down helped. Also, Level 1 leaned heavier than cantrips.
What about Level 2 & Level 3 spells? In theory, Fireball was a natural fit—normally it needed windup; moving part of that prep into the mouth would make the release faster and harder to interrupt.
Fly → Master of Stable Casting → Breath Casting → Fireball.
"Loaded mouth-casting"—promising. He glanced at Hephaestus, lost in a life crisis.
Was he becoming more like this dumb dragon? A humanoid drake?
He shook his head—power is power. The best magic is what kills the strongest enemy; dead foes don't file complaints about your style.
Still… Fireball would hammer the mouth. He decided to bridge with a Level 2 spell test. Not every spell fit breath-casting—Clay Shape, for example, needed clay; Heat Metal needed a target's metal. He settled on Cloud of Daggers.
"Should be fine…"
First attempt sputtered. He bent, coughing—spitting slivers of razor breeze that shredded the grass at his feet. Another miss; the numbness and sting ran deeper than with Magic Missile—but his modified mouth and good constitution healed the tiny tears instantly.
A few tries later—finally—he opened his mouth and a scalpel gale fanned out, swelling into a shredding cloud. It planed the meadow and slammed the battered rock. Under the blade-storm, the stone's webbed cracks gave way and it exploded.
He exhaled. For now, Level 2 seemed the upper limit for full breath-casting. With Fireball, he could probably preload some prep—but a true "open-and-fire" breath would have to wait.
The road to "humanoid dragon" was long.
He stopped. He'd been away long enough. He waved to Hephaestus, who'd been watching slack-jawed.
"What's wrong—want to learn?"
Vigorous nodding.
"Even if you do, I can't teach you," Gauss said, spreading his hands. He'd tried earlier; drakes simply lacked spellcasting. This would be on Hephaestus—maybe one day he'd spark and become a spellcasting dragon.
As for his grand pre-fight promise to "teach you true draconic power"—well, that had been trash talk.
Hephaestus stared at him, wounded.
"Do your best," Gauss said, and patted his head.
~~~
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