On the eve of the Festival—
Even with the bitter cold, the streets were still packed.
Every year around this time, towns everywhere would liven up, preparing to celebrate the last day of the year.
Gauss and the others were no exception.
This year, there were more people gathered together than last year.
Besides Gauss's teammates, his family and Sophia were there too, cramming the house until it felt full to bursting.
Gauss held his older brother Hokra's two-year-old son in one arm, and with the other hand he held little Cicero's hand. A few teammates who had nothing urgent to do walked beside them.
"Cold?" he asked, looking down at Cicero.
Cicero shook her head.
"I'm not cold. Cicero wants to go out and play."
Gauss smiled.
Kids her age were all restless energy.
He used a simple cantrip to warm both little ones, and with their thick wool coats, they should be fine.
Cicero's eyes drifted to the steaming food at the market stalls. She swallowed.
Whether it was a growth spurt, the increased training under Albena, or just something in the family constitution—she got hungry fast.
Noticing how she stared at the sizzling fried cutlets, Gauss didn't hesitate.
Honestly, he was a bit hungry too.
When they approached the stall, the vendor clearly recognized him—or rather, in Grayrock it was getting hard to find anyone who didn't.
When he'd first returned, people had rushed up to greet him every day.
Thankfully the fever cooled after a few days.
That was partly thanks to Albena and Serandur—two walking "do not approach" signs.
From a normal person's perspective, their presence was intimidating. Albena was like a small mountain; people had to crane their necks just to see her face, and her arms were thicker than most people's waists. Her fists looked like they could crack skulls by accident.
As for Serandur… no need to elaborate. If he weren't standing beside Gauss, plenty of civilians would have decided he wasn't human at all. Even when Serandur was in a good mood, his cold-blooded, snake-like features still made people's skin crawl.
Gauss himself was charismatic—almost too approachable—so those two balanced it out perfectly.
With the vendor trembling and thrilled, Gauss bought enough fried cutlets for nearly ten people.
Shadow and Alia shook their heads and declined.
Serandur took one.
Cicero took hers and tore off a strip, rising on her toes to feed the toddler in Gauss's other arm.
None of it would go to waste anyway. Gauss and Albena were bottomless. Ten portions was barely a warm-up—double it and they'd only just start feeling satisfied.
Gauss had come out to buy supplies: ingredients, gifts, pumpkins and candles for decorations, and so on.
Every shopkeeper tried to give him a discount—some even offered to give things away outright—but Gauss refused every time.
He set the payment down, and the coins stuck to the counter like they'd been glued in place. Even if the owner tried to push them back, they couldn't.
Only after Gauss had walked a certain distance would the effect wear off.
A minor cantrip sounded unimpressive, but in daily life it was absurdly useful—an essential for home and travel.
And with his strengthening magic talent and rising level, it felt better and better to use.
Even the "auto-release" timing could now be controlled precisely.
Elemental sparks, warmth, cleaning, adhesion, cooling—he could call them up at will. Not combat-worthy, but it was still his most-used cantrip, like a bargain-bin wish spell.
"Gauss, you out buying things too?"
As he left a shop, he ran into Laevin, Oliver, and Meva.
Compared to their awkward reunion in the Adventurers' Guild, Laevin now looked much more relaxed after the dinner they'd shared.
Gauss noticed a new teammate behind them—a woman.
Her looks were ordinary. Her gear suggested a frontliner.
Not surprising. After Doyle and Daphne had left, the Night Owl team had been reduced to a shield user, a rogue, and a ranger—missing a true melee backbone, a role most teams couldn't do without.
As for Doyle and Daphne: Doyle was prideful, and after the others broke through while he couldn't keep up, he felt useless on hard fights. After one injury, he asked to leave.
Daphne, he'd heard, had gone off to apprentice under an elderly healer.
"Hi. I'm Sasha. I just joined Night Owl."
Sasha looked nervous meeting Gauss for the first time, stiffly offering her hand.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Gauss."
Gauss shook it.
The new four-person Night Owl group seemed to be shopping for holiday food too—pretty standard for fixed teams. For most adventurers, teammates were closer than family.
Sometimes they spent more time together than with their blood relatives.
After brief greetings, they went their separate ways.
Gauss also bought three sturdy goats and packed them into the creature bag.
Over the past few days he'd stocked a total of ten sheep for Hephaestus—keeping his earlier promise.
If there were a "favorability meter" for the red drake, Gauss was pretty sure ten sheep would raise it by at least a few points.
And maybe the anticipation of good food helped—Hephaestus had picked up a few more words too: sheep, delicious, want, more, thanks…
A tragic trait of a "genius dragon": even after being enlightened and starting to learn Draconic, his innate laziness meant he didn't bother with words unrelated to his immediate needs. He only learned the ones tied directly to his current desires.
In that sense, Hephaestus was a practical, no-nonsense red drake.
Inside the creature bag—
A delicious smell yanked Hephaestus out of sleep. He cracked his eyes open to find three goats collapsed on the ground, limp with terror.
They'd never encountered anything this terrifying in their entire goat lives.
Fwoom.
Without a shred of pity, Hephaestus exhaled a small puff of dragonfire. The goats' wool ignited, and the goats were gone in an instant.
He copied the cooking methods he'd seen Gauss use: patiently roasting with dragonfire.
Only then did he start eating—slowly, bite by bite.
As the meat settled in his stomach, a blissful expression spread over his face.
After eating nothing but monsters for so long, tasting delicate meat again filled him with happiness.
His thoughts drifted back to long ago.
Back when he'd been the "king" of an underground mine—comfortable, but never truly rich.
The land above was barren sand, and resources were scarce.
Back then, whatever prey the kobolds dragged down from the surface was one of his few pleasures.
And among all prey…
He liked sheep best.
The first bite had hooked him. That preference never changed.
Maybe next time he could try a different method.
A strange idea bloomed in his mind. He remembered Gauss's various cooking techniques.
If you threw a sheep into a pot with water and spices—would it be even better?
Gulp.
He swallowed again.
Too bad the three goats were already roasted and gone.
When would the next sheep arrive?
He found himself looking forward to the future.
…
In Alia's courtyard, the plants were lush and thriving as if the snow didn't exist.
They grew, bloomed, and flourished on their own.
Anyone passing by would stare, stunned.
Alia reached out and touched the plants.
After becoming a Lunar Aspect Walker, she hadn't lost her druidic abilities—if anything, they'd strengthened.
She could pour so much vitality into a plant that a tiny seedling could become a full tree in minutes.
But she rarely used that "force-grow" approach.
Life had its own rhythm.
Bullying it forward too harshly harmed the root.
The plant might reach full bloom quickly, but it would also burn out faster.
Peak… then decay.
If she stretched the process over a week or two, carefully controlling growth, the plant wouldn't suffer much damage.
Even now, when there was no wind, the plants would sway as she passed—like they were greeting her.
That was another benefit of her new path: her intimacy with plants had deepened.
She could sense their "moods."
Maybe because she kept touching and tending them up close, her mind drifted back to the dreamland—the barren place beneath the giant moon.
In the dream, the seed she planted had already sprouted into a sapling, growing far faster than anything in real soil.
But compared to the vastness of that world, one plant felt painfully lonely.
She stared at the living greenery.
And she had a strange feeling—she could move one of these plants into that dreamland.
But that was impossible… right?
Dreams weren't real. They were messy thought-signals in the brain.
How could a physical plant enter a dream?
She placed her hand on a special dwarf olive tree she'd cultivated—more like a potted olive bonsai—and a thin strand of moonlight slid across her fingers.
The next moment…
The little olive tree took on a hazy moonlit veil.
Alia's eyes widened as the plant slowly dissolved, then merged into her body.
She could feel it: she hadn't killed it.
It was as if she'd shifted it into another space.
Had it really been sent into her "dream"?
She shook her head.
She'd only know for sure after she slept tonight.
But her instincts screamed that it was almost certainly true.
Being able to move a real plant into a dream…
What did that mean?
Maybe that "dream" wasn't a dream at all.
Did it matter?
Was the point to restore that broken land—slowly, piece by piece?
Could she bring things back out?
The discovery hit her hard.
Somewhere deep down, she felt restoring that world would benefit her.
But it wouldn't be quick.
Just that one transfer had triggered a cooldown—she couldn't do it again immediately.
Reviving a dead world wasn't a one-day job.
"Whatever—I'll ask Gauss."
Alia refused to spiral alone.
…
"You're saying you sent the plant in the pot into your dream."
It sounded like nonsense.
But after a brief moment of shock, Gauss accepted it.
"That's what it felt like," Alia said.
Gauss thought it over.
"Then maybe that place is real. And your 'dream' is just… the channel. You're the bridge between two spaces."
"Next time you can transfer again, test it more. Try different plants. Maybe animals. And see if you can bring harvests back out."
That dwarf olive tree Alia had raised was a special magic plant—its fruit could nourish the mind and replenish mana.
If she could keep planting into that dreamland, cultivate there, and bring fruits out…
That would basically be a portable orchard.
A long-term resource engine for the team.
And for Gauss especially, it was huge—he constantly needed special magical consumables to replenish mana.
He couldn't keep chewing mana stones forever.
Even with his remodeled digestion and nonhuman body, repeated heavy use of mana minerals still had downsides.
Mana fruit would be weaker per unit, but far gentler—and the quantity could make up the gap.
The only issue was cost: magic fruit was usually expensive.
But if you're the grower… the math changes completely.
Gauss shared the thought with Alia.
Alia nodded. She planned to test more tonight.
She was just as curious—and she could feel that barren land wanted life.
Helping Gauss, improving herself—why wouldn't she?