Goblin Slayer - Volume 10 - Chapter 5.1

Interlude – Of How Everyone Is Fighting For Their Lives

“There’s so much to— do !” the warlock cried, panting as she rushed through the forest holding up the hem of her outfit. Anyone who thought a spell caster was of no use was not, in her opinion, even a real adventurer. They didn’t know of that warlock’s great deeds surrounding the diadem, nor the searches of the Gray One, nor any spell caster like Greyhawk. 

I think they had more skill with the sword, though…! 

“Um, hey, you kids, get back! You’re too far forward! You want to die?!” 

“Oh! Uh, s-sorry…!” 

Maybe the rookies had wanted to see how their allies were doing; in any event, they got too close to the front lines and certainly earned themselves a scolding. 

A spell caster’s job was to keep an eye on the overall battlefield situation, yes, but there were limits. Newbies had flocked to an assignment protecting the Temple of the Earth Mother, but most of them weren’t worth their weight in coppers. Even the sight of the kids backing quickly away raised the warlock’s hackles. After all, she was busy maintaining the force field that was keeping the manticore at bay. Annoyance would only get in the way of her concentration, she knew, but she couldn’t shove the feelings away; she would just have to live with them. 

“Excuse me, but I thought you were supposed to be looking after the striplings…!” she complained to her companion, a monk, even as she grimaced at the manticore scratching at the wall with its claws. 

“Gracious,” the monk responded, looking a bit put-upon, as always, as he ran a hand over his shaven pate. “I’m trying to keep a miracle ready to go here in case anyone needs to be cured of poison, and meanwhile, I’m giving first aid wherever I’m able—can’t blame me if one or two kids slip past me.” A panoply of bandaged, groaning adventurers littered the ground around the monk. He was caring for novices who had been wounded on the front lines. It was a decent excuse. 

But only just. Adventurers who showed up to a battle without so much as a potion of their own deserved to die, the warlock thought—but she kept that to herself. She knew there were some lines that shouldn’t be crossed. Besides, spell books were expensive. When she thought of her own early days, she knew she was in no position to judge. 

This is all because they leak this stuff to the black markets in other nations even though they’re supposed to be military secrets! Filled with completely justified rage, the warlock bit her thumb in the direction of her distant homeland. 

“That’s not very ladylike.” 

“Shut your face!” the warlock cried, almost hysterically. “Aren’t you finished over there yet?!” 

“Shut your face! I’m workin’ as fast as I can!” an ax man shouted back, burying his weapon in the undead chimera closing in on him. 

The monster was enough to make you doubt the sanity of the people calling the shots for Chaos. It was a beast made of several dead people bound together, a multitude of arms and legs. It writhed forward, emitting some noxious miasma, waving its arms wildly as it attacked. 

The ax wielder somehow managed to dodge the bits of flying flesh as he joined up with the other adventurers to continue the fight. 

“Wah! This thing won’t quit! It’s freaking me out!” This came from a young man of the warrior class who wielded both a club and a sword, although his jabbering didn’t stop him from doing his work. It was an unusual fighting style, but his persistence was admirable. He was matched by the young woman behind him, who despite her obvious anxiousness held her sword-and-scales high and picked her targets. 

“How long do I have to keep this force field active for you lot to do your jobs?!” 

“No idea!” 

The warlock bit back a shout of Morons! at the thoughtless answer and focused on her spell. One important fact: The bizarre undead monster appeared to be poisonous. And then they’d thrown a manticore into the mix. Poisonous as well, naturally. 

Actually, it was supposed to be the oh-so-knowledgeable wizard who would notice these creatures were venomous and alert the others. 

But I’ve heard tales of wizards who wouldn’t have known a tiger even if one had them by the neck… 

She was annoyed, for one thing, because they’d had to start with the subject of what a manticore was. It had an old man’s head, a lion’s body, a scorpion’s tail, and plenty of brains—wasn’t that pretty common knowledge? And then, on discovering that it was poisonous, the reaction had been that it was inconceivable to take on two poisonous enemies at once and that she should deal with one of them. 

“Wizards are weak,” my ass! Worthless, no-good—! 

But the only response to her frustrated grumbling was a roar from the manticore whose meaning she could not divine. 

“Ahem-hem?” Even the interjection from the harefolk girl, her cheeks stuffed with provisions, rubbed the warlock the wrong way. The young lady—it was hard to tell if she was white or brown—flicked her ears as if something itched. “That guy’s just been hanging out back there this whole time—s’pose something’s happened to him?” 

“Whazzat?” the ax wielder said, punctuating his remark with a blow that took off several (it wasn’t quite clear how many) of the undead monster’s arms. Then he put his ax on his shoulder and said, “You’re up!” 

“Say what ?!” the young man responded, but footsteps could already be heard retreating. 

The ax wielder marched over to the adventurer who was skulking in the shadows. “Listen, you! What in the gods’ names do you think you’re doing?! We said we need every single person to help hold these things off!” 

“Hrm…” The man looked vaguely displeased to have been spoken to, but then he smiled with an “Aw, don’t mind me. Stomach’s just been bothering me a little bit…” 

“Your stomach?!” 

“That won’t do,” said the monk, coming up with timing so perfect it was almost as if he had been waiting to make his entrance. “Perhaps that undead thing has been spraying poison around. It would be most dire if any of it got on you. For one thing, it wouldn’t be cheap to heal…” 

The young boy and girl had somehow been holding the line behind them when they both cried out. 

“This ain’t going well!” Harefolk Hunter exclaimed, rushing over to back them up. 

A quest from a temple was supposed to be pretty plum work, but if you got sick and had to pay for healing, it would defeat the point. Quite ignoring such calculations, though, the monk was happily digging through his pouch. “No worries, I’ll have a look. I can give you a good rate. Now, the best medicine when an elf has an upset stomach is…” 

“Elf?” the ax wielder inquired. Long ears could indeed be seen flicking in front of him. But the rank tag bore the inscription human . “How blind do I have to be not to realize this thing’s a fake?!” 

Whether he had found it or made it, he had picked a low rank in any event. The imposter clucked his tongue and jumped well back as the ax wielder dove at him. “Hrmph! If the farm had been done in, I wouldn’t have to go to all this trouble…!” He wiped his face and drew a dagger, but the warlock was too busy to see what else happened. What mattered for her was to keep an eye on the battlefield, maintain the force field, and see where spells might be most useful. The undead creature was one thing, but the manticore could use magic, so protection against the same would be necessary. She began to intone a spell, wracking her memory to figure out how many this was today, how many she had left, and to recall exactly what the words were so she didn’t accidentally recite a spell that didn’t exist. 

And on top of all that, she had to keep a watch on all the people on the back row who had just become adventurers this year—it was a great deal of trouble, but there was no choice. And there were all these wounded—what was that monk up to? Am I supposed to tend to the casualties, too? 

And the ax wielder, what was he doing? Good gods, had he abandoned the kids on the front row? 

Slash slash splatter splatter. Ring ring. Scream scream. Cry cry. Grrahhh! 

“Oh, for the gods’ sake! It’s too damn loud !!” 

The next second, there was a great ZAP! and the head of the man, swallowed up by the bolt of lightning, burst like a ripe fruit. 

“ Tonitrus oriens iacta! Rise and fall, thunder!” 

A bolt had shot from the cruelly twisted fingertips, piercing him through the head. 

Everyone fell silent at the explosion of light, even the monsters. The warlock grimaced at the adventurers all around, her shoulders heaving as she sucked in breath. She hardly noticed as they all took a reflexive step backward. “So I didn’t really get what was going on, but I went ahead and iced him anyway. Any objections?!” 

Everyone shook their heads emphatically. 

“Then get back to your places! Now!” the warlock shouted. 

I’ve got so much to do—give me a break already! 

No one dared to talk back as the warlock returned to tending the force field. 

None of them knew, or could have known, that the dark elf had been a runner tasked with doing evil to the Earth Mother. 

§ 

“Looks like things have gotten started over by the Earth Mother’s temple, too!” 

“Yeah?” Heavy Warrior responded to Druid Girl’s familiar, making sure he had heard right even as he gave a swing of his greatsword. 

Er, guess she’d get mad if I called it a familiar. 

She always said something about how she was just asking for the help of forest creatures, not actually making them her servants. He considered the issue as he sliced through the demons’ foot soldiers with his sword. He could cut two or three of them clean in half with a single stroke, dispersing the blood and flesh from this world into the spirit realm. 

They might be so-called lesser demons, but they were still terrible monsters worthy of fear. And they had surrounded the adventurers who had delved into the underground mausoleum, ten or twenty deep. To top it all off, greater demons, presumably their leaders, could be seen here and there. The only saving grace was that there were no archdemons anywhere around… 

“DDAAAAEEEMOOONNNNNN!!” 

“Hrrrah!!” 

A goat-headed demon bellowed at Heavy Warrior, and he bellowed right back, shimmying forward and finding his distance. 

Damn, ugly servants of Chaos… 

“You really wanna drink the Holy Earth Mother’s wine that bad?!” 

It was Spearman who pushed forward, dodging the butcher’s knife as the goat-headed demon brought it down and replying with his spear. The magical weapon he wielded deflected the enemy blade by the slimmest of margins, its sharpness not the least bit diminished by the time it pierced the demon’s throat. 

“DDDEEEEEEEEAAAMMMMOOON!!!” 

But one of the demonic things about demons is their vitality. The flesh around the spear tip began to bubble and swell, closing the wound with the weapon still inside. The demon grabbed the shaft of the spear with its powerful arms, pulling, trying to extract the spear tip, while Spearman held fast and tried to keep control of his own weapon. The smile on his face betrayed no hint of any thought that his victory might be in doubt. 

“That is…an offering…for abundance…” A super-dimensional storm sliced through space. Holding her staff high and weaving a spell was his doughty partner, Witch. “If it is…besmirched…then there will be…no fruits…for, a year…” Magical power welled up in the underground mausoleum, storm clouds forming at the ceiling. “ Caelum…ego…offero! I offer up the heavens!” 

In that instant, a massive blizzard began, complete with hail and fog. In a twinkling, the demons were covered in frost, whited out, frozen, slammed down by chunks of ice. 

“ Geez, what a scary lady ,” Spearman mumbled to himself, and Heavy Warrior quite agreed. But even now… 

Things are taking one step forward, one step back here. 

They had successfully broken into the hideout of the evil cultists seeking to defile the offertory wine of the Earth Mother, but this was what they had found: an endless parade of demons. Not to mention they were headed off at every path, with no sense that they would reach the innermost chamber anytime soon. 

Although her ladyship the archbishop said it didn’t matter to her. 

“Hey, how’s it going over there?” 

“It’s a tough one,” Half-Elf Light Warrior replied lazily. He and Scout Boy were busy trying to distract the other demons. 

Yes, that was right: He wasn’t alone in here. He couldn’t relax, couldn’t risk taking the enemy lightly, but there was nothing to fret about. Look right over there: A party famous for demon slaying was doing what it did best. A chubby magic user was firing off Magic Missiles, a female fighter and paladin were making the most of their swords, and even the healer was unleashing cylindrical rockets. 

“DDAAEEMMONN…!” 

Unfortunately, none of the hits were critical. 

The greater demon attacking the adventurers was truly bizarre. (Well, all demons are bizarre.) It appeared as a rather attractive female warrior, blue-skinned and holding a lance. Its finely shaped body was covered with just enough armor to preserve its modesty, but showed more than enough skin to be provocative. 

But that was only half of what might be said about this woman. 

“DDDDDEEEMMMOONNDD…!” 

Because beneath the alluring, giggling upper half of the female demon was the body of a gigantic spider. The lower half of her body writhed with legs twisted and covered in wiry hair, bristling with poisonous barbs. In all, it would take two human hands to count them—six legs she had—and two arms—eight limbs altogether. 

Truly, she was a sight to make one doubt one’s sanity. And it seemed she was the leader here in this place of the dead. 

“All right, this one’s mine!” Female Knight crowed as she dove forward. She was wearing her full armor, helmet and everything. 

The insect demon chuckled when she saw her, then leaned forward on all her legs, preparing to charge. 

“Don’t let down your guard, hey?” 

“Come on, I know what I’m doing. It’s time for me to build my legend and finally get that paladinhood…” 

It seemed the presence of a paladin in the demon-slaying party had pricked her pride something fierce. Female Knight ignored the exasperation on Heavy Warrior’s face as she cast her shield aside and gripped her sword firmly in both hands. 

“Come at me!” she shouted, and the monster came rushing toward her, its six legs scrabbling. 

A knight who was at one with her mount couldn’t have matched the spider demon for speed and skill. But of course: She was her mount, and her lance was driving toward Female Knight at an incredible rate. 

The sheer force of the impact, backed up by the massive weight of the demon, could have brought down even the gigantic beasts said to live in the south. If the average adventurer had taken such a hit, they would have been lucky if there was anything left of them to bury. 

But when the two knights passed by each other, Female Knight ducked down, almost bending in half. In a single smooth motion, she brought her sword up to meet the spear tip. There was a whoosh , or at least so it seemed. Female Knight’s metal boots produced smoke as they scraped along the ground. The demon, who had left gouges in the floor of the mausoleum from her charge, was missing the top half of her body. The female torso, still clutching the spear (cut in half by an upward diagonal slice), flew through the air, a triumphant smile still on its face. 

Blood the color of muddy water rained down on them, and Female Knight’s helmet came off with a clatter. Heavy Warrior realized she must have taken advantage of her opponent’s momentum to make the slash as the creature went by. 

I’ve known her all this time, and I’ve never seen her pull something like that… 

He would ask her about it later, more than once, but she would only smirk and say that a knight’s secrets are not divulged to anyone else. Heavy Warrior had no idea even what kind of technique it was or where she had learned it. Although once, thoroughly drunk, she would reveal that the move was very old, so old that it was hardly remembered anymore. 

“You reap what you sow,” she said now, calmly, a single droplet of blood drawing a line down her face, as Heavy Warrior personally brushed her hair aside. “But still, good lord… What kind of idiot gets baited into a headlong charge?” 

“That’s what you just did, you idiot.” 

§ 

“You did quite a good job bearing with it…” 

“Well, I knew I could charge in there anytime and be like, Bam! I win! Heck, winning’s my role!” Hero said to Sage as she raced through the deep dungeon below the frontier funeral mound like a bolt of light. In her hand was the sacred sword. On her body, the magical armor. And she was buffed out with a plethora of enchantments bestowed on her by her friends. The green hunting cloak and iron spear had their charms, but this was still her favorite outfit. 

“But, like, where to go and how to get in or whatever? That stuff’s way over my head.” 

I swear, it’s nothing but trouble. 

Until not long ago, it had been a simple matter of finding the Demon Lord or unraveling the cultists’ plans, then bursting into their hideout and taking care of business. But now it was all politics and plots, complicated, fiddly situations. Sometimes she thought how nice it would be just to charge in without thinking about anything else. But her companions told her flatly that was not acceptable . To ignore the proper ways of the world was to find oneself excluded from that world, they said. If everyone loves you that much, if they trust you that much, then let them trust to you what they will. No need to solve every problem in the world all by yourself. 

Because after all, the world doesn’t revolve around just one person. People you know, people you don’t know, good people, bad people: All are equally struggling to survive. 

Take this funeral mound, for example: It had been reported by some adventurer who was just trying to complete a goblin hunt. And it was someone else from the Adventurers Guild who had brought word to the archbishop. And now it was this whole huge hunt, for which merchants had provided a great deal of equipment. 

The king himself had made sure there was money for all of this—money provided by taxpayers across the nation. And when it came to the battle, it was other adventurers who helped to draw off the rabble of enemies. 

And now Hero was running as fast as she could down this path that someone, somewhere, sometime had made. 

So as much as she felt it was all a lot of trouble… 

It also makes me really, really happy. 

“Hee-hee…!” 

“And what are we laughing at?” 

“Aw, nothin’!” Hero shook her head. Sword Saint went in the vanguard, making attacks of opportunity on the demons any time they got within reach. 

Some evil cultists had had a plot to defile the holy wine of the Earth Mother. They created an army of undead, summoned devils, worked with shady merchants, and ultimately aimed at performing a foul ritual deep underground. And now Hero had her chance to bring it all tumbling down. 

If she were to fail, then the land of the frontier town would suffer for at least a year, perhaps even longer. She could not afford to let this chance escape her, nor did she intend to. The hero couldn’t be defeated. That’s how it went. 

“Next right. Then straight ahead, left at the third corner.” 

“Got it!” 

Sage, using a spell to help them move faster, was ever so slightly short of breath as she dictated the directions. It would have been simplest to use a Gate scroll to jump right to where they needed to go, but a spirit barrier was in the way and making life difficult. A careless cross-planar jaunt with one of those around could see them come back to their own world a hundred years in the future or something—and she didn’t want that. 

Hero was supposed to save the world. She wasn’t the hero because she could save the world; it was trying to save the world that made her a hero. 

I guess if anyone was like, You sure you can save this world? I’d be sort of like, I dunno! 

What she could do might not amount to much. But she had friends who mattered to her, and there were so many people in this world. So she had to save it, and she was confident it would work out somehow. 

“There’s a door at the end of the hallway! You want me to slice through it?” 

“Let’s do this the classic adventuring way—kick it down!” 

“That’s not classic.” 

Next, as always, came the big, climactic battle. 

Hero gave a yell and launched herself into the middle of the big bads, lighting up those dark depths of the earth with an explosion of sun.