Time passed—he had no idea how long.
When Gauss opened his eyes in the dim cultivation chamber, he immediately knew the breakthrough was complete.
It hadn't been difficult at all. For him, it felt like water naturally flowing into its channel—he'd simply slept through a beautiful dream and woken up.
He rose to his feet.
A series of crackling, thunderous pops erupted from within his body, as if a great dragon were stirring awake inside him.
"So comfortable."
He rolled his shoulders and flexed his limbs, feeling the power swelling within.
Every level-up for a professional was a kind of metamorphosis and evolution—the only difference was whether the "metamorphosis" was large or small.
Different people gained different boosts, in different directions. Even for the same person, the magnitude of improvement could vary from one breakthrough to the next.
In Gauss's own sense, this increase wasn't as dramatic as when he'd gone from level 5 to level 6.
Back then, he'd gained a total of seven attribute points.
And his whole stat profile had felt like it "clicked together," his body becoming more complete.
This time, though it wasn't as obvious as the 5→6 jump, his strength still surged by a clear margin.
"Main Class: Mage Level Increased to 7."
"Secondary Class: Sword Soul Level Increased to 5."
Both classes rose by one.
"Agility +1"
"Intelligence +1"
"Perception +1"
This level-up added one point each to Agility, Intelligence, and Perception.
After the increase, his stat panel read:
Strength: 15
Agility: 14 → 15
Constitution: 16
Intelligence: 17 → 18
Perception: 14 → 15
Charisma: 15
A very luxurious spread.
All attributes had now broken 15, and his highest stat—Intelligence—had reached a full 18.
He strongly suspected that even many transcendent spellcasters might not have an Intelligence score higher than his current one.
And he had a faint premonition:
when Intelligence reached 20, something special might happen.
Even so, 18 was already frighteningly high.
Still, he didn't let it go to his head.
He recalled the sensation when he advanced from Elite to Master—the feeling of becoming "whole."
Between tiers, it wasn't something stats alone could fully explain.
Beyond attributes, there seemed to be another "dimension" of integration.
And that was likely the real reason why the power gap between tiers could be so absurd.
He thought back to his brief fight with that transcendent Dragon Cult Dragon Priestess.
Back then, she'd had a strange energy field wrapped around her.
Later, he had asked the tiefling holy paladin who rescued him about it.
That was the power of a transcendent professional's "Domain Prototype."
The gap between transcendent and non-transcendent was far greater than the gap between Master and Elite.
And even among transcendent professionals, the differences could be abyssal.
Right now, Gauss's biggest deficit compared to true transcendent opponents was precisely that Domain Prototype.
But he also had advantages uniquely his own:
a nearly "six-sided" bucket of stats with no real weaknesses, an almost monstrous body and mind, and a pile of class feats and racial talents.
Even professionals who reached transcendent tiers had their own secrets and gifts, but he was confident none of them had talent stacks as outrageous as his.
Gauss clenched his fist, feeling explosive strength bloom through his frame.
The corner of his mouth lifted.
Level 7 Mage.
Absurd stats.
Three purple-tier talents—Witching Hour, Second-Stage Ghoul Form, and Dragonseed.
A spell list that dwarfed most people's entire careers…
Those edges were enough to narrow the Domain gap—at least partially.
He guessed he could now face the weakest "just stepped into transcendent" opponents head-on.
According to Playaos, the dragon priestess Cecilia had been among the weakest tier of transcendent casters—barely across the threshold.
She'd likely forced her way into Level 11 using some special method.
But that also meant she'd burned away what little potential she had—her lifetime peak would be Level 11, and once her body declined, her power would fall rapidly.
Even so, transcendent was still transcendent.
Back then, if she hadn't been arrogant and intent on capturing him alive, she had possessed the power to kill him easily.
She wouldn't have ended up losing an arm to his desperate all-out burst.
But honestly—she still would've won that day.
If Playaos hadn't arrived, Gauss would have died.
Gauss reasoned that she'd wanted to capture him alive to study his dragon-blood and use it as a stepping stone upward.
That greed was what killed her.
Any time, any fight—be careful. Even a lion uses full strength to kill a rabbit.
He warned himself again: don't get reckless just because he's stronger.
Still, in pure power terms, he felt that if he faced Cecilia again now, he could likely win outright.
So his "hard strength" had finally reached the transcendent tier—no longer "quasi-transcendent."
He could trade blows with someone like her.
But against a higher-tier transcendent with a stronger, more mature domain prototype, he should avoid fighting if possible.
He had a benchmark for "higher tier," too: Playaos.
In normal conditions, Playaos could kill Cecilia instantly.
That meant that if Gauss fought Playaos now, even with a full burst he might still be at a disadvantage—and once his burst ended, Playaos could kill him cleanly.
"Haaa…"
Gauss exhaled.
After sorting through it all, he finally had a clearer grasp of where he stood.
That mattered.
You have to know your own weight, or you'll walk into battles you can't win.
He needed to "bully the weak" to grow stronger.
Then, once he grew, raise the baseline of what counted as "weak," and bully a new tier of enemies.
"Now, most commander-class monsters from Level 6 to 10 probably aren't my opponents anymore."
He could safely raise the difficulty of the commissions he accepted.
Of course, he didn't say that as an absolute.
Some special bloodlines and species could punch far above their level: true dragons, mind flayers, giants, elementals, rare undead, demons, devils, and so on.
He was special among humans—but monsters had their own "specials," too.
…
He packed away the two remaining mid-grade mana stones.
Then pushed open the cultivation chamber door. Fresh air rushed in.
He glanced at the room next door.
Mr. Regan's door was still shut—he was likely still deep in meditation.
Several nearby chambers were also occupied.
Seems there are more master-tier casters in Falrim than I expected.
He asked a staff member and learned that only two days had passed since he entered the chamber.
So he didn't rush back to Red Dragon Company's base.
Instead, he left Falrim first, found an empty wasteland outside the city, and unleashed everything he had—every spell and ability.
Spend mana. Rest. Spend mana again.
That cycle continued for another three days.
Only when he felt he'd fully integrated the power increase did he stop.
He looked around.
The ground within a few hundred meters was a wreck.
It looked like a massive cratered moonscape—there was even a height difference of over twenty meters in the center now, and the soil had been compacted into something unnaturally hard by constant magical bombardment.
He had no doubt that after a few heavy rains, this place would slowly become a natural lake.
Water would gather.
Life would follow.
In a way, his "destruction" might create new vitality.
Maybe that was nature's "self-repair."
Gauss suddenly thought of the ravines and valleys he'd seen on his travels.
Maybe more than a few of them were the scars of high-tier professionals.
If even he could begin shaping terrain, then transcendent, epic, or higher beings… would be even more ridiculous.
When he returned to Falrim, his aura had become much more contained.
…
That afternoon, at Red Dragon Company's compound:
A receptionist looked up from her book and froze when she saw a figure approaching the main gate. She stood up at once.
"You're back, Captain."
"No need to be so nervous." Gauss sounded amused. "What are you reading?"
The receptionist looked guilty, but she still held up the storybook in her hands.
Gauss flipped through a few pages, then handed it back.
Seeing how stiff she was, he smiled.
"It's fine. I'm not scolding you."
"As long as it doesn't affect work, you can read to pass the time."
"Your name's Dani, right?"
"Yes, Captain. I'm Dani." She looked shocked—and delighted—that the captain remembered her name, and a strange satisfaction rose in her chest.
"Then I won't bother you. Keep going."
He waved and walked deeper into the compound.
Dani stared after him for a long time.
The captain was so kind!
And in her heart, the sense of belonging she felt toward Red Dragon Company quietly strengthened.
She didn't realize that this shift was also influenced by Gauss's Proof of Leadership—once someone joined, their recognition of the company—and of Gauss himself—would steadily grow over time, like a sweet "slow poison."
…
In the alchemy room, Ivan was carefully adjusting potion ratios when a soft knock sounded at the door.
A flicker of irritation surfaced in his eyes.
He hated being disturbed mid-work.
But he suppressed it instantly.
He had drilled his apprentices: unless it was urgent, don't knock—wait until he finished.
The base was running smoothly now; he had assigned most small tasks to reliable team leads, giving him time to focus on brewing.
He knew what Gauss needed most from him was this craft.
He opened the door.
"What is it?" he asked flatly.
"The captain's back."
At those words, Ivan's expression transformed—like storm clouds breaking into sunlight.
"Well done. In the future, notify me immediately."
"Watch the setup in my room. Don't let anyone go in and mess it up."
He grabbed a stack of neatly prepared reports from his office and hurried downstairs.
His steps were light on the clean white-water stone paths.
Just hearing Gauss had returned lifted his mood—so much that he didn't even notice it happening.
"The captain is back, and I'm here to report on the base's status," Ivan said.
Gauss looked up from the dining table, surprised.
But he didn't think too much of it—an eager subordinate was a good thing.
"Alright."
"Ivan, sit and eat a little too."
The kitchen was already bringing out steaming dishes.
Ivan thanked him and carefully sat down beside him.
He felt it again:
Gauss had become deeper, harder to read.
Compared to their first meeting, the captain's presence was gentler—but it was like staring into an unfathomable lake.
Ivan was only Level 3, but as a dragon-blooded warlock he could feel bloodline pressure.
And as a potion-maker, he had attended more than a few banquets and stood near "important people."
None of them felt like this.
That thin trace of dragon blood in his veins screamed one thing:
the man beside him was terrifyingly strong.
The bloodline gap between them wasn't "a little." It was hundreds—thousands—of times.
Yet Ivan didn't fear Gauss.
What he felt was closer to yearning, even worship.
Then Ivan began his report.
"Miss Alia has gone out to prepare for a breakthrough. Miss Shadow went with her, and Sir Hephaestus went too."
"They left a detailed location for you."
"And also—Karksa Magic Academy has sent an invitation. They'd like to ask whether you have time to give a lecture."
"Karksa Magic Academy?" Gauss asked as he chewed.
Ivan quickly explained it: the top spellcaster academy in Falrim, tied to many powerful families and many of the city's strongest mages—either alumni or current faculty.
Ivan himself had studied there as a warlock.
Gauss nodded.
He was self-taught, a "wild" mage, but most spellcasters weren't like him.
Most had mentors and formal systems.
For spellcasters to maximize their potential—mana guidance, spell selection, model research, casting techniques, scholarly foundations—having a teacher mattered.
Especially for higher-circle spells: complex models could be dangerous to learn alone. One wrong step could mean mana backlash or death.
Magic wasn't a safe road.
Many spellcasters died chasing it.
…Gauss just happened to be an exception.
~~~
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