Chapter 69: Night Fiend
Gauss received the signature on the task delegation file from the village chief.
The village chief initially thought he would leave the village quickly like other adventurers.
Unexpectedly, he heard Gauss say he planned to stay in the village for a while longer to clear out more goblins in the area.
The village chief’s face immediately bloomed with a warm smile.
Upon hearing Gauss inquire if there was an inn in the village where he could stay for a while, the village chief waved his hands repeatedly.
With great enthusiasm, he led Gauss to his guest room, specially arranged for him to rest.
The village chief naturally welcomed Gauss’s initiative to stay and clear out goblins with open arms.
Even if other goblins may not be as close to their village, possibly in other villages, as long as goblins exist nearby, they are always a potential threat. Goblins are not static; once they are rooted in a place, they will not migrate.
Having someone like Gauss, who is willing to spend time on such a thankless task after ending a commission, is rare.
Gauss couldn’t refuse the village chief, so he temporarily stayed at the village chief’s house.
Besides his children and daughter-in-law, there was a young boy with short brown-black hair, slightly over ten years old.
Upon learning that Gauss was an adventurer, the boy excitedly peppered him with questions.
Questions like "Do goblins take baths? Do they poop?" "Who is stronger, ordinary humans or goblins?" "How to become an adventurer?" were asked.
Gauss responded while casually sharing his experiences and, under the oil lamp, carried out preservation treatment on the goblin’s left ear, a task-related prop.
After all, if left unattended, by the time he returned to Gray Rock Town to submit the task, the bag of ears would probably have rotted beyond recognition.
After finishing the prop treatment, he washed his hands and began maintenance on his armor and weapons.
He held a piece of deerskin soaked in maintenance oil, gently rubbing it over the blade. Moonlight pouring from the window illuminated the cleaned and sparkling sword, reflecting a beautiful pale blue arc.
Fortunately, the village chief’s grandson, although very curious, didn’t have a mischievous character. He simply watched from the side, eyes sparkling, without attempting to reach out.
Thus, Gauss allowed him to observe from the sidelines.
"Jenos, time to sleep!"
Until the deep night, with a kind smile on her face, the chubby mother came to call her son.
Only then did he reluctantly jump off the stool.
"Go back."
"Can I come see you again tomorrow?" The boy looked at Gauss with eyes full of longing.
"Uh..." Gauss hesitated. "Then you must get up early; I should be heading out tomorrow morning."
"Can you take me with you?"
"Unfortunately, I cannot."
Watching the smiling nod of the child’s mother who pulled the boy away, and the boy’s stubborn gaze lingering at the door.
Gauss shook his head, knowing he likely impacted a rural boy’s life.
Perhaps in years to come, there would be a young man leaving his hometown to embark on the road of the adventurer.
Is this a good thing or a bad thing? He wasn’t sure.
After the boy left, Gauss continued to immerse himself in equipment maintenance.
This is also part of the adventurer’s routine; personal maintenance of one’s equipment is crucial to ensure no issues arise.
The next day.
Under the warm hospitality of the village chief, Gauss joined in a breakfast.
Regrettably, he didn’t get used to it nor get full.
He could only secretly grab a few pieces of jerky originally intended for emergency hunger relief from his pack and chew on them.
"Then I’m off." Gauss bid farewell to the village chief and Jenos. "Chief, you mentioned someone in the neighboring village saw goblin traces, right?"
"Yes, a few days ago, I heard the caravan leader mention it. Once you exit the village, turn left, follow the path, and the first village you encounter is it."
After confirming the information, Gauss left contentedly.
Though the intel is vague, it’s better than searching aimlessly without any leads.
Exiting the village, heading in the direction mentioned by the village chief, Gauss continued his journey.
...
In the forest, the twilight painted a warm glow on the dense leaves.
Next to the gnarly roots of an old oak tree exposed above the soil, Hunter Randall’s heart grew colder.
He gritted his teeth, cold sweat trickling down his grooved temples, dripping onto that damn, grotesque wound, causing him to gasp sharply.
The hunter trapped by his own set trap, how ironic.
Sweat soaked through his coarse linen clothes, and uneasily, he glanced at the shrubbery darkening with the sunset.
Twenty or so steps away, amidst the shadows of the shrubbery, several pairs of greedy, drooling, murky eyes were fixed on him—these few goblins had driven him into desperation!
Skinny, dirty to the verge of mold and moss, green-skinned little monsters—these were relatively small in stature even among goblins; normally, he might have been able to intimidate and drive them away.
But now, with the hastily treated bleeding wound aggravating pain, his vision and consciousness gradually blurred.
He glanced down at the bow and arrow in his hand; if not for the weapon’s deterrence, this group of goblins might have already rushed in.
Alas, he knew the bow’s intimidation wouldn’t last long; darkness was soon to cover everything.
By then, not to mention possibly losing the strength to draw the bow, even if he had it, hitting goblins in pitch-black would be unlikely.
Hunter Randall’s heart sank deeper.
He realized surviving the night was improbable.
Time slowly ticked by.
The stinging pain in his leg wound dulled his awareness, akin to being drugged, sleepy and lethargic.
Just as he was about to fall completely asleep, his daughter Taylor’s sweet face suddenly appeared before him; her mother died of illness years ago, and now he was nearing his end. What would become of his young child?
A foreigner himself, without relatives in the village, even if others kindly adopted his daughter, would they treat her well?
All sorts of thoughts surged through his mind, a strong desire to survive overpowering the drowsiness.
Approaching unconsciousness, the green-skinned goblins were closing in like flies spotting a seam.
Returning to consciousness, he let out a beast-like roar of defiance!
"Get away! Scum!"
Simultaneously raising his hand, attempting to draw the bow to repel approaching goblins once more.
Sadly, in the instant of raising his hand to draw, it suddenly hit him that his strength had severely depleted; never had his arm felt heavier. As he raised it, the bowstring pulled into a small arc and then went limp.
A feeble wooden arrow shot out, traveled a mere two or three meters, and stuck into the ground.
Oh no!
Hunter Randall’s heart skipped.
Sure enough, exposed in a weak and feeble state, those crafty, greedy goblins understood his show of outwardly strong but inwardly weak resolve.
They accelerated towards him, no longer probing, akin to a pack of hyenas catching the scent of blood.
As they approached, they emitted a chilling, gulping cackling sound, and their ugly little eyes filled with greed and ferocity.
Amidst the deep night shadows, they seemed like demons from hell.