Goblin Slayer - Volume 16 - Chapter 3.3

“GOROGB…?”

The abrupt roar and shock was enough for even the goblins, who spent their days in noise and uproar, to realize something was wrong.

Maybe everyone had finally gotten tired of this stupid job. Here they were, sent to these boring ruins, without so much as a female to pass the time. Granted, the place was much better than the holes in the ground where they usually made their homes, but far be it for the goblins to be satisfied with that. They were envious of the one who ordered them around for being in a nice room. They could easily imagine dragging him down off his high horse—but those imaginings were quickly replaced by what was right in front of them.

Amid dust and debris from within the ruins, they smelled a beautiful smell, a heavenly scent.

An elf!

An elf woman!!

They were like moths to a flame on a dark night.

The goblins completely forgot themselves; they set off running, more than willing to trample their companions on the way out. They would mob her and violate her, that much was certain. And each imagined himself having the greatest pleasure and privilege.

For that purpose and that purpose only, the goblins crowded the hallway into the innermost sanctum, whereupon…

“GAAAAOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNN!!!!!!”

The fearsome roar of a dragon encircled them.

“Forward!”

At that single word of command, an adventurer in grimy armor burst into the open space of the ruins. Even the quickest of the goblins to recover, however, probably didn’t register him. The throwing knife took the creature’s life silently, mercilessly. It was no proper sword, but it was enough for the likes of a goblin.

“GOORGB?!?!!?”

The demise of their comrade, clawing at his throat as he choked on his own blood, finally alerted the other goblins that there was a problem.

“GOGB?!”

“GGGRGGBO?!!!?”

“Gods! I’ve seen enough goblins for a lifetime—even an elf lifetime!”

A flash of what seemed like colored wind followed the slayer of goblins into the room, scowling at the horde of greenskins within.

She moved so fast that she could hardly be seen. Three arrows ready in her bow, loosed in an eyeblink—three goblins shot dead.

“Wish we had Protection!”

“I would prefer Holy Light,” came a mechanical voice. Goblin Slayer would never let emotions get in the way of slaying goblins.

“Think about this from my perspective! An innocent maiden wants to be as physically far away from these things as possible!” The elf snorted derisively, although somehow still elegantly.

A massive lizardman and a decidedly less massive dwarf followed her in, their movements as different from hers as the clouds are from the mud. Even Goblin Slayer, who went at the head of their party, was no match for a high elf.

“Don’t get too eager, Long-Ears!” Dwarf Shaman groaned, scrambling after them. “Not all of us have long legs around here!”

“You need the exercise anyway!”

“Oh, I’m exercisin’!”

Their banter, the same as their kind had shared since the Age of the Gods, sounded pleasant in the heat of battle; Lizard Priest rolled his eyes merrily. Then he cried, “Eeeyah!” His arms, legs, tail, and fangs became living weapons as he whipped them around, slamming them into goblins as he veritably leaped forward.

“It benefits one not to lament what one was not given. Just as I have no desire to embrace a new faith!”

“A compassionate lizardman? Just the thought’s enough to make me laugh!” said High Elf Archer.

The adventuring party cut through the green horde like a sword through the grass.

Goblins’ strength, however, is not in their nasty little minds but purely in their numbers. In the dim ruins, the monsters poured out of the many branching paths. They smelled blood; they smelled an elf. They would do violence to her, trample her down, take her in victory—such was the only thing in the goblins’ heads.

“Oh, for…!” As High Elf Archer ran forward, she suddenly twisted to one side, shooting under her arm behind her.

“GBBORGB?!?!” A goblin who had been about to flank Lizard Priest was caught in midair, his spine pierced; he tumbled to the ground. Dwarf Shaman cut short the last of his twitching with a ruthless stroke of his ax. Then pressed ever forward.

“Doesn’t matter about the Earth Mother or who you’ve got on your side—there’s a lot of ’em here, Beard-cutter!”

“And today?” Goblin Slayer casually flung his dagger as he spoke, killing another goblin. “Do you not mind?”

He tossed the question out as readily as his knife, but it was aimed at no one in particular—so High Elf Archer decided to answer.

“You better believe I mind!” she practically howled—although she didn’t stop feeling in her quiver for her next bud-tipped arrow. “But today, I’ll let you have it!”

“Good.” He acted immediately, taking a small bottle from his item pouch and tossing it over his shoulder to Dwarf Shaman. “Light it.”

“Got it!” The instant the bottle was in his hands, he grabbed a flint from his bag of catalysts and intoned, “Dancing flame, salamander’s fame. Grant us a share of the very same.”

No sooner had he spoken than a spark lit the wick that fed into the mouth of the bottle. Once it was burning, Dwarf Shaman promptly pitched it into one of the tunnels.

“GORGBB?”

“GGOBBGRGBB!!”

The first goblins to spot the bottle weren’t sure what was happening. It came tumbling from ahead of them; they merely picked it up and scoffed at it. That stupid dwarf couldn’t even throw straight!

A second later, those goblins were decorating the walls and ceiling of the passageway, and twelve of their companions were blown backward. There was a boom that the adventurers could feel in their bones, and the hallway belched dark fire and scorching wind.

“I knew it was bad news when you stocked up on fire powder!” Dwarf Shaman cried. For someone who saved up so much money, their leader, Beard-cutter, also spent liberally. Dwarf Shaman felt a mixture of annoyance and frustration—as well as a bit of joy at this rare opportunity for a nice, big explosion.

He stuck out his hand to catch the next bottle Goblin Slayer tossed to him.

“Only this plan is bad news,” Goblin Slayer said with a nod.

“All your plans are bad news!” High Elf Archer stood over a goblin that Goblin Slayer had kicked over, shooting the greenskin from point-blank range and then retrieving her arrow. Her shouting was much less elegant than her movements.

Lizard Priest chortled, baring his fangs. “A pleasure it is when supplies are in abundance!” He added that he hoped to be able to use Fusion Blast breath one day. The Earth Mother’s staff rattled in his bag—a bag for holding, of course. It was a magic bag that could hold—well, maybe not quite anything but far more than you would expect. A friendly, helpful item that most adventurers with a few quests under their belt possessed.

“We should stuff the dwarf in that bag! Then we wouldn’t have to worry about whether he can keep up!”

“You can’t put living things in the bag! We’ve had this conversation!”

“Living things? Dwarves are basically rocks!”

Despite the prevalence of such items, none of the members of this party had ever had one before. They hadn’t needed it. Nature provided their arrows—as well as sprites. They relied only on themselves. Their cleric, who wasn’t present, had been diligently saving her money, thinking about when she might finally obtain one of the storied items. As for their leader, Goblin Slayer…

“It would be a gruesome prospect if the goblins took it.”

And there you had it. It was enough to make High Elf Archer want to take a break from shooting goblins to put her hands to her face or look up at the ceiling. “You heard the man,” she said. “Try not to drop it!” She resisted the impulse, instead nocking four arrows into her bow before unleashing them into four goblin heads, literally firing every direction at once. “If you drop it and that thing gets away from us, our names are mud!”

“But of course! I understand.”

“It’s happened to me before.”

“GBBOGB?!”

“GOOGB! GOOBBGRGB?!”

The goblin to the right had procured a spear somewhere, but Goblin Slayer simply battered him. The goblin on the other side, he parried with his shield.

He left that monster for others to deal with, instead picking up the club it had dropped. It would be more helpful than the broken spear. He swung the club mechanically, then flung it forward.

“GBOGB?!” cried a goblin as the club cracked its skull open.

“We’ve been able to bring down their numbers,” he said calmly.

“And I’m sure you’re very happy about it!” High Elf Archer said, matching him step for step specifically so she could come up alongside him and give him an annoyed look. “Do you realize these are extremely valuable ruins?!”

“I am aware.” Goblin Slayer nodded. “If I didn’t understand their construction, I wouldn’t do this.”

Before, escape had been difficult; they hadn’t had enough time.

And what about now?

If only he could ask their priestess for Holy Light… No, maybe he could have their dwarf use Tunnel to create an escape route.

Even without the bag for holding, Lizard Priest was strong enough that he could carry copious quantities of fire powder.

No…

Enough thinking. Goblin Slayer turned his helmeted head from side to side, checking the passageways, counting the goblins. Yes—this was a goblin hunt. He could do this because the quest giver had brought enough money for supplies.

He would take the actions that would allow him to kill goblins faster, better, to take out more of them. He would fight. When you knew the layout of a set of ruins ahead of time, you simply had to charge ahead. Was that not all there was to it?

What about that could be considered an adventure?

He had his friends—even in his own mind, it took him a second to think of them that way—with him.

Therefore, he should focus on what he could do.

For this was a goblin hunt, and he was Goblin Slayer.

“The bulk of them are coming from the left. There aren’t many on the right. But there are indeed quite a few of them.”

“The forces of Chaos are feeling feisty today!” Lizard Priest cried, even as he kicked back the goblins who pressed in from every direction. For they did swarm indeed; if he slowed down, he would be swallowed up. You didn’t have to be High Elf Archer—even an ordinary adventurer would feel they had seen enough goblins right here.

Everyone in this chamber, however, had seen that many and more already in their lives.

“All of which implies they’ve got a leader!” Dwarf Shaman said as he met a goblin who came flying out of the forked passage with the blade of his ax. He had used more spells—and Lizard Priest more miracles—than usual; Lizard Priest having used two or three and himself two spells.

By the gods, I hate having to conserve my magic!

“Is their leader a goblin, too?” High Elf Archer wondered.

“No.”

The elf leaped past a goblin, not even turning around as she shot an arrow through his skull. Another goblin reached for her as she jumped, only to be dispatched when Goblin Slayer kicked him in the neck.

“I doubt that goblins by themselves could have reached the inner chamber of a shrine guarded by the royal family,” Goblin Slayer said.

“A reasonable deduction,” Lizard Priest agreed, rolling his eyes merrily as he bathed in a shower of goblin blood. He took the corpse of the creature he had torn open, tossing one half of it to each side, then threw himself forward.

Battle was good, but goblin hunting was not enough to be really satisfying. If there was something else waiting for them, though—if these were merely foot soldiers—then that was another story.

They had a commander. A proper leader. There lay glory, there lay merit. It was not something to be thrown away in the sand.

“Friends, comrades! This is our moment to do the deeds for which we will be remembered!” Lizard Priest cried.

“If I lived a century with you, I doubt I’d ever quite get used to the way you think about this stuff…,” High Elf Archer said, running along the tail Lizard Priest extended as if it were a branch. “Thanks!” she chirped as she landed back on the stone floor and continued running. “I think you could pick up elf manners sooner than that!”

“I’m afraid I doubt that they would quite suit me!”

“Yeah, that’s a problem all right!” High Elf Archer giggled, the bracing sound out of place in this goblin hideout.

They were not letting their guard down, and they weren’t full of hubris. If they could have won by stewing in silent anxiety, they would have done so. Instead, they struck a balance between being too stiff and being too relaxed. Only by maintaining that balance would they survive.

This was knowledge they had gained by emerging alive from adventures great and small.

It was only natural—since they were so different from one another. And him? There were things that needed to be spoken and things that needn’t be.

“Keep going—forward!” Goblin Slayer said. “Forward!”

Yes, forward—ever on.

He never prayed to the gods. He didn’t really know how. Those who could pray were amazing to him.

Which was precisely why now, at this moment, he sought Ruta’s protection. The blessing of the god who valued people trying, failing, and trying again to find a better way, a faster way, a more right way.

None of the adventurers here could miss the fell presence that loomed in the darkness.

§

He—if that is the proper word—opened his eyes to a terrible racket. He was not in a good mood.

How could he be when his sleep had been interrupted?

What he especially detested, though, were the uncouth noises that came unbidden into his consciousness.

For example, yes—the adventurers’ footsteps. Did they know no restraint?

He did not much like the goblins’ ruckus, either—but well, that was the way goblins were. One had to accept it. One could be angry that the goblins didn’t know how to shut up and hold their places, but there was not much to be done about it.

Adventurers, however—they were different. They were so rude as to come into someone’s place of rest, make all this racket, and try to steal their treasure.

Adventurers! Violent ruffians, that’s all they are.

Thus he opened the lid of his place of rest in high dudgeon.

“…What, pray tell, is happening out here?” he asked.

“GBG! GOBBGRGB!!” replied a goblin who happened to be in the sleeping chamber—presumably either running away or avoiding work. The creature seemed to be gibbering some sort of excuse.

“I see.” He nodded. I should have known! Goblins—no more useful as lookouts than they are as security. “Very well. Repulse them immediately—that’s all adventurers deserve.”

“GRGBGB! GOBBGBOGRG!”

“What are you still doing here? I’m telling you to get going—don’t you understand that?”

“GORGB…”

The creature scrambled out of the room with a mixture of fear and contempt and a poorly disguised glare. Ugh. Goblin attitudes.

It wasn’t the fact of what the monster thought he would do to his master if given half a chance. It was that he thought he would ever even get half a chance. It was an insult—a slap in the face!

And from that perspective…

From that perspective, the adventurers were no different from goblins themselves.

“Hmm…”

The idea was a most amusing one. If adventurers and goblins were the same, then they could be dealt with in the same way. Beaten, battered, broken of spirit, made to know that they were inferior life-forms.

Simple discipline, that’s what it is. He began to put on some moldy-smelling clothes, one sleeve at a time—one must look decent. If they’d only kept to themselves, instead of forcing their way into a place they’ll never see again, I would have left them alone.

Goblins were too stupid to understand that—as were adventurers.

“Very well. There is just one thing to do.” He smiled. “Teach the adventurers a lesson.”

The smile showed bestial fangs in a bloodred mouth.