Gauss waited patiently for the two to finish “talking” before he spoke.
“Any intel! Any intel! A—ny…” Echo twisted its head toward Gauss and parroted the words back at him in a harsh caw.
The corner of Gauss’s mouth twitched; he fought the urge to rub his forehead.
This… wasn’t the first time.
He consoled himself: if Echo was ever going to truly grasp simple human phrases and manage basic back-and-forth, this kind of idiotic mimicking was a rite of passage.
“Mm. Echo found the half-ogre’s camp—the one in charge of that sector. It’s right about… here.” Alia relayed what she’d gotten from the raven.
Half-ogres—their first target on this outing—were, as the name implied, a classic hybrid: the offspring of ogres and humans, orcs, or other humanoids.
According to the official monster index, they were typically Challenge Level 1.
They stood close to two and a half meters tall and weighed two to three hundred kilos. Ugly faces, rough hide; they inherited part of an ogre’s traits and abilities, though their size fell short of a pure-blood ogre’s.
They weren’t very bright, but within this monster host led by that terrifying ogre shaman, the mixed rabble of lesser creatures were still willing to take orders from a half-ogre outsider.
“Echo also spotted another tribal encampment nearby—”
“That’s… good news.” A keen light flashed in Gauss’s eyes; a hint of delight touched his face.
Looked like the sector they’d been assigned wasn’t short on targets.
“Good news! Good news!” Echo flapped its wings proudly.
Gauss ignored it and turned back to Alia. “Looks like we need to make this quick.”
“Right.” Alia nodded.
The cautious play would be to scout the terrain thoroughly, then do what they’d done with the rusttoads—pick off stragglers with ambushes, kite the rest down bit by bit.
But Gauss was a team player, and he was already thinking ahead: finish their area, then “support” the neighbors and ease their load.
No time for a plodding script.
Different situations, different tools.
Even so, the basics still applied—no fighting without intel.
Led by Echo, the two humans and one wolf slipped forward without a sound. Before long they reached the edge of a monster camp near a water source.
A motley unit of mixed races lazed around at rest, waiting for the ogre shaman’s horn to call the general assault, blissfully unaware that hunters had arrived.
In the center of camp, the half-ogre leader from Echo’s report was snoring against a haystack.
It looked exactly like the book described: green skin rough as rawhide, ropes of muscle, a pelt of coarse hair, a wide sunken nose, tusks jutting in a constant snarl; its limbs were humanish in proportion, but the bones were much heavier.
In short, a hulking brute with gym-rat muscles and a face like a fist. Check latest chapters at novel✶fire.net
Gauss’s gaze swept the camp, quickly taking stock.
Once he’d fixed the grunts’ spread and the leader’s position, he didn’t hesitate.
The bone-white staff slid into his hand, his mind stilled, and his mana answered.
The staff’s tip snapped forward.
Three searing-blue packets of arcane force congealed in an instant, tore the air with a needle-scream, and, skirting the outer rabble, streaked straight for the slumbering bulk by the hay.
Completely off guard, the half-ogre took all three on the heavy beast-hide cuirass layered over its torso.
Armor that would make a typical 1st-level professional curse was oddly brittle under Gauss’s volley.
Full Mana Output. Int 9. Secondary Core Bonus. Lv4 Mastery. Class Trait: Spell Proficiency…
Stack it all together, and a “basic” Level 1 spell hit like something a tier up.
The first bolt shattered the hide plates, fragments flying.
The second ripped into the tough skin beneath, mottled with dark calluses and horny growths.
The third’s blast overlapped the first two, a savage wrench of power that tore the chest open—skin split, meat blurred, tendons snapped.
Dark-purple blood jetted like a spring, hissing as it hit the ground. A gaping, bleeding crater yawned in the brute’s chest.
He’d fired from far out to stay concealed, so his aim had only been rough; fortunately, Lv4 proficiency did its work—every missile hit home.
“Raaagh!” the half-ogre howled, features twisting with pain, its ugly face uglier still.
“Who—who dares ambush Goruk!”
Say this for half-ogres: they earned their Challenge rating.
Any bottom-feeder would have been paste under that salvo, but this one still had the strength to lurch up and bellow.
Toughness and staying power—that’s the real line between common monsters and elites.
The thought flickered through Gauss’s mind; his feet never stopped.
The moment the missiles flew, he’d already exploded from the brush like an arrow loosed.
Enhanced Leap and his excellent physical stats gave him closing speed few casters could match, and the gray wolf Ulfen ran at his side, fending off or driving back anything that strayed too near.
The gap collapsed. Gauss raised his staff again.
At a better distance now, he leveled the bone-white tip at the half-ogre, which had just staggered upright, spotted him, and was roaring in a frenzy.
“Monkeys! Goruk kill you! Roast you—eat you!”
Gauss had no intention of giving it a breath. Press the advantage; end it fast.
Three more missiles locked onto the half-ogre.
At this range he could pin the shot precisely on that pulsing, purple-bleeding wound.
Goruk snatched for the great axe at its feet, ready to cleave the impudent caster in two—
—but the missiles were faster.
All three plunged savagely into the unprotected hole.
Without armor and hide to blunt it, the body was far more vulnerable. Magic Missile showed its teeth.
The shock of released arcane force churned through the half-ogre’s barrel chest like a meat grinder.
Chunks of flesh and shattered keratin blasted out the front.
The brute’s massive frame locked; the axe crashed to the ground.
Cold seeped through its bones in a rush; the tide of rage in its skull ebbed away; the world dimmed to black.
It looked down in disbelief to see a huge, clean tunnel through its chest—front to back.
Its chest cavity had been hollowed out.
Its heart had been erased.
“Ng—” The roar died in its throat, dwindling to a grudging whimper.
Darkness swallowed it whole.
The savage half-ogre was dead by its own bile.
“Half-Ogre Slain ×1.”
“Second Elite-monster Entry Activated. ‘Elite Path’ Unlocking…”