"We're back."
When Gauss returned to Shattered Shell Shoals, Alia and the others had already gathered the spoils.
"Mm. Let's head back to town and turn in the job."
He nodded, not wasting time. It wasn't even noon yet—plenty of day left.
A pity elite adventurers can't chain multiple contracts at once; they'd have to double back. Gauss suspected the local guild's "thoughtful design." With the hunting tourney on, every party was racing to take jobs and cull monsters.
On the road, if they ran into unrelated monsters, would they really just pass by? Most would pad their score—slowing their travel and, in the process, thinning the monsters near town for free.
Good thing Gauss had a dragon. No need to trudge the long way.
Before long, they were over the Lakeside Town again. They dismounted from the dragon and switched to their regular mounts, then headed for the Adventurers' Guild.
The streets crawled with adventurers—either heading out or turning in. Down on the docks, crowds of townsfolk were holding the amateur fishing tournament in full swing. The festival had put the amateur events up front, saving pros for later when the crowds were thickest.
Gauss gave the bank a quick look, then left. The atmosphere was lively.
Inside the guild hall, he went straight to the desk, to submit the job and also sync his hunt score.
"Welcome, how can I help?" The receptionist recognized him from two or three hours earlier—he'd been a new face who'd just dumped two hundred-plus points on the board in one go.
"Turn in a contract, and sync my score," Gauss said, handing over the proof.
"Right away."
…She was surprised he was back so soon, but her face stayed neutral as she verified the proof and the crystal. After a quick check, all in order, she gave him a respectful smile and returned the crystal.
Gauss had mopped up another twenty-odd goblins to reach his 8,000 Kill Total; his score had quietly climbed to 582. After syncing, his rank surged.
They looked at the slate across the hall:
Herbert: 906
Korman: 736
Tasha: 666
…
In the last two hours, the positions had shuffled—morning registrants logging yesterday's points.
Gauss's 582 put him into the five-town top ten. Exactly 10th.
Aside from first place, the gaps weren't huge.
He wasn't the only one watching the board. A few idle adventurers noticed the unfamiliar name and got curious.
"Hey, look at the board!"
"That Gauss guy just jumped to tenth!"
"Was he on the board before?"
"I don't think so—I don't recognize the name."
"What's his deal?"
"Is this rigged? He's at nearly six hundred points—how?"
"Shh… keep your voice down."
A sharp-eyed few spotted the well-kitted, unfamiliar party at the counter and realized the board change lined up with their arrival.
"Is that them?"
"…Hard to say."
"Why's there a Level 6 Adventurer with them? I thought the tourney caps entries at Level 5."
"Right, so he can't be the one registered."
"Isn't that cheating?"
"Getting a Level 6 to help is a skill in itself."
"And anyway, at this speed, a single Level 6 doesn't explain it."
Murmurs rippled. Doubters frowned; old hands smelled something off. The rules required daily check-ins to keep a real-time chase—everyone could see where they stood.
Which meant Gauss's score had just rocketed up today—to others, it looked like a missile launch. No doubt adventurers across the other four towns were glued to their boards, too.
People are competitive. Even aside from prizes, adventurers want to outdo other adventurers.
Gauss heard the whispers; he was mildly impressed by their acuity. His face didn't change. He was past the need to prove himself. In truth, most praise or scorn doesn't matter—and isn't worth carrying.
After a short stop, the party picked up another job on the scale of the crab hunt. Since they'd just had a crab feast, they didn't need to find a tavern to top up.
Outside the town, dragon wings beat again—they were off.
…
On the vast blue lake's north shore sat a bustling port town—Fisher's Song. Bigger than Lakeside, its lighthouse and crowded masts showed even from afar. A broad river poured in just beyond the walls, flowing on northward.
Thanks to the shipping lanes, Fisher's Song was the richest of the five lake towns. Every day cargo came and went, bound inland or to northern ports.
Sunset painted river and lake with fire; merchantmen and freighters slid into harbor. Many adventurers returned under the rosy sky, smiling wide.
"We hauled in good iron on this one. Which smith buys best?"
"The last place?"
"No way—he low-balls by a tenth. I asked around."
…The town buzzed; adventurers were everywhere; shops and taverns thrived.
Then the crowd parted as if cut by a blade. Grumbling died in shoulders as faces recognized the man crossing.
"Make way!"
A polished party strode through. At their head, a handsome man in gleaming silver-white light armor, golden cropped hair, riding a white horse, chin tipped up—soaking in the looks, while ignoring the people. His weapon and helm were borne behind him by squires.
"Herbert…"
Onlookers' eyes mixed envy and jealousy. Good-looking, strong, the mayor's son—about thirty, full of steam. Many dreamed of living his life.
"A bit much, isn't it?"
"If I were him, I'd be worse!"
He was in the pink—hooves light beneath him. When he passed, folks still shook their heads.
Herbert crossed to the guild and dismounted. A runner trotted out to meet him.
"Well? No change up top, I trust?"
He didn't bother to glance over, striding up the steps like he owned the place.
"Almost none, Sir Herbert—you're still first."
"Good." He nodded faintly.
"But there's someone in Lakeside climbing fast," the squire added.
"Oh?" Herbert's face stayed calm. "Name? Rank?"
"Gauss—582 points. He hit tenth this afternoon."
"…." Herbert cocked a brow. Still a long way behind him—no worry. He'd logged 900+ in the morning. He and his party had spent the day culling more—tomorrow he'd break a thousand, far ahead.
"Let me know when he hits second," he said coolly. "Then we can talk."
"But, my lord, that Gauss fellow wasn't even on the board yesterday—he jumped to tenth in a single day."
"What?" Herbert stopped, finally looking at the squire. "You didn't misread?"
He preferred to blame the squire over believing someone could bag nearly six hundred points in one day.
The squire blanched but pressed on. "I confirmed with the guild staff. He had no points yesterday."
"…"
Herbert's face shifted. He might not trust his own man, but the guild's logs didn't lie.
He quickened his pace and, under a mixture of envy and rubbernecking, stepped into the hall and planted himself before the rankings slate.
Herbert: 906.
Still first—this morning's tally. Below him, the usual suspects—except at tenth:
Gauss: 582.
Where did that guy come from?
Confusion swelled, along with a prickle of irritation and pursuit. Nine hundred looked big—he still had 211 points unlogged—but if someone could pull six hundred in a day while he averaged two hundred…
The contest ran ten days. Today was day five. If Gauss truly did ~600/day for five more days, he'd end around 3,000.
Herbert's eye twitched. He ran the numbers. Ten days, maybe two thousand for himself—fatigue had set in after push after push. He wasn't a machine. He'd planned to rest tomorrow; he'd built his cushion.
So who was this Gauss?
The slate flickered; ranks updated again—no surprise. Some updated at dusk, others at dawn. Herbert was the latter—morning logs let him gauge the field with "the leisure of the strong."
When the light steadied, he looked—and his face went from flint to iron.
The tenth-place upstart had moved. Not down—up. Way up.
To #1.
Gauss: 907.
By a single point over Herbert's morning score—enough to step on his head.
"Gauss is first!!!"
"Holy—"
"Nine hundred in a day?"
"How?!"
"Herbert got passed!"
"Look—Herbert's mad."
"Mad? What good's mad?"
"One day, nine hundred points—how do you even contest that?"
"Is this legit? This speed is nuts."
The hall erupted. Earlier, a parachute into tenth had been puzzling; now, a rocket to the top left people speechless. It was so outlandish, some started to question even the guild's infallibility.
"Could the tally be wrong?"
"Impossible. You think the guild doesn't audit?"
"Maybe they're making a golden boy…"
"Don't be ridiculous. For a local contest? The guild wouldn't touch the board."
"Then this Gauss fella is… unreal."
Herbert's face was the ugliest by far. Second place isn't bad—unless you've been lording the top for days, and everyone assumed you'd hold it. He drew a breath, smoothed his features, and turned to his men.
"Let's go log our points."
No more waiting until morning. He'd reclaim first now, even if everyone saw him scramble. Then he'd start asking questions—maybe there was something off about this "Gauss."
He refused to believe a nobody could score like that by ability alone. And yet the guild's seal was iron—his gut knotted. Yesterday's surety evaporated.
He could feel eyes on him—in this town and the other four—waiting for him to slip.
"Gauss… Gauss…"
He repeated the name, as if carving it into his heart.