The group rode back in the carriage.
Cicero was still thinking about what had just happened. She felt like she'd caused her brother trouble, and she sat in her seat, fidgety and upset.
Gauss read the unease on her face and pinched her cheek.
"You did the right thing today. Don't feel guilty."
"Really, big brother?"
"But I caused you trouble…"
Cicero looked up at him with those big eyes.
"As long as you did what you believed was right, I'll support you. Always."
"Then… can I keep going to the academy?"
"If you want to."
"Thank you, big brother!"
Gauss only smiled.
The carriage rolled into the Red Dragon Company compound. Gauss planned to let Cicero rest here for two days, then send her back to the academy.
But first, there were a few things he needed to tell Ivan.
"I understand. From now on, I'll assign someone specifically to handle Miss Cicero's safety," Ivan said.
Even though he'd already warned that Zevier woman, proper security measures still mattered.
Perfect timing, too—Gauss was planning to go teach at the magic academy again and fulfill his guest professor duties. He could also use that chance to speak with the academy's vice principal.
The vice principal of Karksa Magic Academy—Kieran Zevier—was also a member of the Zevier family. And he was a Level 8 spellcaster, which meant his standing in the family was definitely higher than the couple Gauss had dealt with last night.
After just a few lines of conversation, Gauss had clearly caught the hollowness under Joanna Zevier's arrogance. That was why she'd tried to throw the Zevier name around like a club—until her husband arrived. Then the moment she heard her father had ordered her to apologize, she folded instantly.
It all screamed the same thing: she was disposable in her own family.
Logically, Gauss figured she probably wouldn't dare retaliate. But when it came to family, he preferred a second lock on the door.
The next day, at Karksa Magic Academy, Kieran Zevier arranged a class for him on short notice since Gauss had informed him the night before.
Just like the previous public lecture, this one was packed.
At first, sure, Gauss's fame had drawn people in. But after they'd actually listened and felt how sharp his teaching was, the students truly accepted him as a real professor—despite the fact that he wasn't much older than they were.
The class ended smoothly. For Gauss, teaching low-level spellcasters wasn't difficult at all—he could answer questions with ease, tailoring explanations straight from experience.
Even after class, students crowded around him with more questions.
He answered a handful, then stepped outside and found Kieran Zevier waiting for him—unexpected, since Gauss had been planning to visit his office.
The two went to the dining hall together.
At the table, Gauss had barely brought up last night's incident when Kieran showed no surprise at all.
"I already knew about it last night," Kieran said calmly. "Don't worry, little brother Gauss. Joanna's family has put her under house arrest. She won't be stirring up trouble."
"And honestly, I should be thanking you for helping teach our family's disappointing juniors."
Kieran's tone was so casual it was like he was talking about a stranger.
"Did you think the family would 'avenge' her?" he added with a faint smile.
"I trust your character, Dean Kieran," Gauss said, sidestepping the question.
He trusted Kieran—he'd interacted with him enough to know he wasn't a bad man. But the rest of the Zevier family? Gauss couldn't claim he understood them. It wasn't impossible that Joanna's branch had a protective powerhouse who might take things personally.
Kieran shook his head.
"No old family with any history makes mistakes that stupid."
"In fact, I only heard about it because Joanna's father reported it to us himself. He wanted to make absolutely sure you didn't misunderstand."
"If Joanna so much as thinks about doing something foolish, her elders will deal with her first—personally."
His voice was quiet, matter-of-fact.
The bigger the family, the colder it tended to be. Joanna was just a fading collateral branch. Even if she were Kieran's own granddaughter, he wouldn't escalate conflict over her.
To people who actually ran families like this, only the most talented heirs mattered. Everyone else was… bloodline maintenance. They'd be fed, clothed, and raised—but if their stupidity risked provoking a powerful outsider, the cost-benefit calculation was obvious.
If the opponent were weak and still dared to overstep, sure, they might crush them to preserve face. But Gauss wasn't that kind of opponent.
So even if Gauss hadn't come today, the Zevier side would've sent Kieran—someone Gauss already had a working relationship with—to smooth it over and kill the problem at the root.
"That's good," Gauss said.
He could hear the sincerity. The issue was almost certainly done.
After chatting a bit longer, Gauss took his leave.
Once he was gone, Kieran summoned a family attendant.
"Gauss shouldn't have developed any bad impression of the Zevier family from this," Kieran said. "Go report that back to the old paranoids."
"And that Brandon branch—make them rein in their people. I don't want to hear about them embarrassing the family again."
"Especially Joanna. I don't want her stepping outside her estate for the next five years."
"Understood, Lord Kieran," the attendant said, bowing and withdrawing.
In truth, the Zevier family had been the more nervous side after last night's clash.
Not only because Gauss was a top-priority talent the Adventurers' Guild was watching closely—but because Gauss had repeatedly been assessed as having power in the transcendent tier.
They couldn't understand how a Level 7 spellcaster could carry that much real combat power. But achievements didn't lie.
Which meant: even now, Gauss was a true high-tier powerhouse.
Families as large as the Zeviers respected that kind of strength.
…
Cicero spent two happy days playing around the Red Dragon Company compound, then went back to school.
Meanwhile, Gauss watched the estate humming with activity, turning over a major question in his mind:
When would he kill his first transcendent-class monster?
That mattered—because it would determine when he could obtain his first gold quality talent.
Just like the earlier blue and purple tiers, the first time he hunted a transcendent monster, he would almost certainly receive "transcendent points" to evolve his talents.
But he hadn't rushed it. He was cautious.
Real life wasn't a game. You didn't hit a level threshold, click a quest marker, and get a neat target pin on the map.
First: transcendent monsters near human territory were rare. Even in monster lands, creatures at that level were regional lords.
And just like humans had the saying "a wise man doesn't stand under a collapsing wall," high-tier monsters understood that the closer they drifted to the border, the higher their odds of encountering humans—and dying.
So far, Gauss had only fought two transcendent-level opponents.
One was Cecilia, the transcendent dragon priestess—human, not a monster.
So in terms of monsters, the only one he'd personally faced was that transcendent draconic centaur in Blackwater Town's city core.
That was it.
Meaning: the only "known" viable target right now was that centaur.
Maybe someone would ask why he didn't just go look for others.
But that was the problem—it was hard.
If he had complete freedom of choice, he'd prefer the safest possible option: a newly promoted transcendent monster, barely Tier 11, the weakest tier, to open his "transcendent path."
But realistically, a fresh transcendent monster would probably be stabilizing its strength, not wandering near humans.
And even if he went hunting, he might run into something stronger than expected—12, 13, or worse.
Headache.
On the one hand, he badly wanted to evolve his bloodline talents into a new realm and gain power sooner. He could feel the fragile balance between humans and monsters cracking; history was rolling forward like a wagon wheel, crushing whatever lay in front of it. He needed more strength to protect himself, and the people around him.
On the other hand, opportunity came with risk.
If he could grow stronger steadily anyway, was it worth adding danger just to save time?
No one could answer that for him.
"Forget it," he murmured, taking a sip of tea. "I'll wait and see. Once I reach Level 8, I'll reassess."
Right now, the only confirmed target was that transcendent centaur—and he clearly wasn't ready to fight it head-on yet.
Last time, he'd escaped by exploiting an information gap: the centaur didn't understand his Air Door magic. But in raw power, the gap was still real.
So he'd wait until he reached Level 8 mage, then judge again. If he wasn't there yet, he wouldn't charge in.
Maybe he'd stumble into another weaker transcendent monster in the meantime.
"Better to prepare both ways," he decided.
One: send people to gather intelligence on transcendent monster sightings.
Two: collect more commissions involving ordinary centaurs.
Back in Blackwater Town's core, he'd killed a few standard centaurs in the collateral damage of that chase, and he'd gained the "Centaur Hunter" title.
A transcendent draconic centaur was still a centaur.
If he could upgrade that title—from Hunter to Slayer, even to Butcher—before the rematch, it would boost his odds.
Centaurs… I'm not targeting you personally, he thought wryly. It's just that the only transcendent monster I know about happens to be one of you.
Besides, he needed kill counts anyway. Killing one monster or another made no difference.
Consider it sharpening the blade before he went after the transcendent centaur again.
His schedule for the next stretch was taking shape.
…
"Centaurs?" Alia frowned when Gauss said he was heading out alone again. "Are you sure you didn't mean goblins?"
By now, everyone was used to Gauss doing this—coming back from a major expedition, resting briefly, then immediately grabbing more work.
But centaurs?
For human adventurers, centaurs were a poor hunting target. Fast, hard to track, constantly migrating, rarely settling in one place.
Centaurs hadn't exactly offended him, had they?
Alia's mind flashed to the Blackwater rescue again. She hadn't seen the later fight, but she could guess Gauss had taken some serious pressure from that transcendent centaur.
Was he… holding a grudge against the whole species?
She snuck a glance at him. He looked calm.
So petty? she thought.
"Yes. Centaurs," Gauss said, nodding.
"Want us to come?" someone asked.
"No. I'm just hunting ordinary centaurs. No real danger," Gauss replied.
He wasn't bringing anyone.
His teammates weren't built like him—this monstrous body that could pass for a top-tier monster race. They needed rest to recover and stockpile energy for the next true expedition.
"Then be careful," they said.
That afternoon, the Red Dragon Company's "commission runner" returned from the guild.
Unfortunately, because centaurs didn't stay put, the guild had no centaur-hunting commissions.
That made sense. Even if a caravan got hit by centaurs, by the time they filed a request, the herd might already be a hundred kilometers away.
Still, the runner brought back what Gauss actually needed—word of sightings.
"Someone reported centaur tracks in the Longwind Grasslands to the west."
"Good," Gauss said.
No delay. He mounted Hephest and left immediately.
The sooner he arrived, the higher the odds he'd catch the centaurs before they moved on.
And even if he didn't—he'd never come back empty-handed. He'd hunt other monsters nearby and treat it as practice.
That had always been his style.
On the road, if he ran into monsters unrelated to the commission, he often cleared them anyway. No reward didn't mean he'd ignore them. It was part of why his kill count had reached the tens of thousands.
Monsters didn't line up politely in front of his Magic Missiles.
He went to them.