Goblin Slayer - Volume 3 - Chapter 5

Chapter 5 – A Scenario Overturned

“Whoa, what’s with him?” 

“Has anyone ever seen such a dirty adventurer?” 

“Hey, isn’t that Goblin Slayer?” 

“Goblin Slayer?” 

“They say he specializes in slaying goblins.” 

“So is that getup part of his goblin slaying strategy?” 

“I guess. He is Goblin Slayer.” 

“Goblin Slayer…huh.” 

“Heeeeyyy! Watch out for goblins!” 

Goblin Slayer ran doggedly through the crowd, weaving among citizens still under the festival’s thrall. 

He wore his grimy leather armor and cheap-looking helmet, carried his sword of a strange length, and had his round shield strapped to his arm. 

Even a brand-new adventurer would have had better equipment, but his form quickly disappeared into the throng. 

He received some strange looks, but no unknowing ones. 

The Guild Hall was at the entrance to the town, just beside the town gate. Having left Guild Girl behind, he made a beeline for that gate, and beyond it… 

“Goblin Slayer, sir!” He heard a voice like a tinkling bell behind him. 

He didn’t need to turn around. He already recognized its owner. 

“You’ve come.” 

“Yes, sir! I received a handout…an oracle!” 

It was Priestess, clutching her staff—no, her flail—with both hands. 

She was still dressed in her scant ritual outfit as she rushed up, her breath coming in labored gulps. 

So it was she, and not Goblin Slayer, who attracted the most stares. 

She managed a serious expression even as she flushed with embarrassment. 

“It told me to find you… Um, what…?” 

“Goblins, I’m sure.” 

As the pair passed through the town gate, a shadow approached them soundlessly from the side. 

That clear voice. That slim figure. High Elf Archer’s ears bounced, and her eyes narrowed like a cat. 

“If Orcbolg’s running, what else could it be?” 

“Indubitably, indubitably.” 

“Beard-cutter here isn’t exactly hard to fathom.” 

Two more shadows followed her. 

The towering Lizard Priest joined his hands together in a strange gesture, while Dwarf Shaman stroked his beard merrily. 

Each of them was already prepared with whatever equipment they thought best for battle. 

“…Hrm.” 

Goblin Slayer grunted and stood still. 

He looked at each of them. They could not see his expression behind his helmet. 

“You want to know why we’re all here, even though you didn’t call us.” His thoughts were hidden, but not hard to guess. High Elf Archer explained: “Don’t underestimate an elf’s ears.” She gave hers a self-congratulatory flick. “You think I can’t hear a couple guys whispering in a tavern? Or spread the word?” She held up her dainty pointer finger, making a circle in the air. “One adventure! With me—with everyone. That’s our price for helping you.” 

“…I see.” 

Goblin Slayer nodded brusquely, and High Elf Archer’s ears bobbed. 

“Hey, is that—is that all?! Aren’t you going to thank us or praise us or anything?” 

“No…” He had a moment of hesitation. As though even he was not quite sure what to do. 

Goblin Slayer groped for words, then said, without emotion but unmistakably: 

“…Thanks. For helping.” 

“No worries,” Priestess said with a little giggle she couldn’t hold back. Still clasping her flail, her gaze worked its way up his frame. “We’re your friends, aren’t we?” 

“I see.” Goblin Slayer nodded. “…Yes, you are.” 

At that, the four adventurers exchanged glances and smiled broadly. Whatever they were about to get themselves into, they were unconcerned. After all, the special day had ended. This would be just another regular day. For an adventurer, each new day meant a new adventure. 

“You may tell us to pay you no mind, girl, but it’s not easy to ignore that costume of yours,” Dwarf Shaman teased, stroking his beard and smirking. 

“Dirty old man,” High Elf Archer complained. Priestess waved her hands frantically. 

“Um! Oh! Uh! I! It’s because of the ritual… I didn’t have time to change…!” 

“I find it most flattering on you.” Lizard Priest rolled his eyes and laughed with open jaws. “What do you think, milord Goblin Slayer?” 

Goblin Slayer’s response was detached. 

“Not bad.” 

“Gwaaah?!” 

Priestess was not the only one who was surprised. As she stood there blushing furiously, Lizard Priest stuck out his tongue, as if unsure how to deal with the answer to his own question. High Elf Archer began to seriously worry about Goblin Slayer’s health, and even Dwarf Shaman froze. 

Goblin Slayer gazed at the party, then clarified. 

“I am referring to our circumstances.” 

Everyone sighed. Priestess puffed out her cheeks and said nothing. 

“…Looks like a storm’s coming.” 

Goblin Slayer nodded at High Elf Archer’s whisper, then launched into an explanation. 

“From the Guild watchtower I saw shadows in every direction. Most likely goblins are coming.” 

“What?!” Dwarf Shaman’s eyes were wide. He nearly spat out his swig of wine, then hurriedly swallowed it. “That’s worrisome, that is. That last horde took more than a little mopping up.” 

“Mm. Could we not call on the aid of other adventurers as we did then?” asked Lizard Priest. 

“No…” He cut himself off, then gazed back toward town. 

The celebration, the festival, they were over now. People were returning to their homes. A few were still weaving drunkenly, loath to let the fun end. 

People of all races and jobs lived here, and similarly diverse adventurers did, too. 

Goblin Slayer thought. 

He thought of Heavy Warrior. Of Female Knight. 

He thought of Scout Boy and Druid Girl, of Rookie Warrior and Apprentice Priestess. 

And finally, he thought of Spearman and Witch. 

“…This time…” 

Upon this calm reflection, Goblin Slayer shook his head slowly. 

He knew now how much courage it took simply to speak. 

Was there anything more terrifying in all the world than trusting everything to luck? 

He considered Priestess from behind his visor. She was visibly frightened, but facing forward. 

She had said before that luck had nothing to do with anything. 

Goblin Slayer made a fist. 

“…I believe our strength will be sufficient.” 

“But Beard-cutter,” Dwarf Shaman said, checking the catalysts in his bag, “if there’s too many of them… Well, there were a lot of them last time. We couldn’t have done it alone.” 

“Of course not,” Goblin Slayer said evenly. “No one person can face down a goblin army on an open field.” 

“So you think this time will be different?” 

“Our enemy is divided. There are only a few in each unit, and they are not well coordinated. And I have already made some preparations.” 

High Elf Archer glanced at him, surprised he could be so calm. 

“Preparations? How exactly did you know these goblins were coming, Orcbolg?” 

“Because if I knew a nest of goblins would be drunk from celebrating, I’d attack it.” 

“…Hmph. I see.” 

His answer could not have been more direct. 

“Hurry. I’ll explain the rest while we move.” 

Goblin Slayer set off even as he spoke, and the others joined him. 

They left the main road, flitting among the trees and vegetation along forest footpaths. 

Each of them trailed him closely as he set a pace worthy of Ranger. 

After all, if an adventurer couldn’t follow a scout through a labyrinth of ruins, that would be the end. 

“Did you know there have not been many goblin-slaying quests lately?” 

“I guess I didn’t. But so what?” High Elf Archer ran lightly alongside, her ears bouncing. She loped along slowly enough that the others could keep up. Priestess had never been very athletic, and lizardmen and dwarves were not known for speed. 

“They are parasites. They can’t survive without stealing from others.” 

“Sure you— huff, huff —haven’t just killed ’em all already?” 

Goblin Slayer glanced at Dwarf Shaman, working his stubby arms and legs as hard as he could, and moderated his pace. 

“Not possible.” 

“And why’s that?” 

“Because they haven’t been touching the women they kidnap. If their numbers were dropping, they would prioritize reproduction.” 

Goblins who ignored the women they abducted were as bizarre as dragons who did not hoard gold or necromancers with no interest in corpses. 

“Hrrm,” Lizard Priest grunted, keeping his head low so he could speak while they ran, balancing with his tail. “Meaning…there is something or someone else providing them with their resources and causing them to abscond with those women.” 

“Hey, you know…” Priestess sounded like she had suddenly remembered something. 

Lizard Priest, for his part, indicated the flail she was holding with his tail and asked if she wanted him to hold it for her. She smiled and refused, then spoke. 

“…Those goblins we ran into were well equipped, weren’t they? Armor and weapons and all…” 

“If we presume those items were not simply purloined, it would mean some other entity supplied them to the goblins.” 

“Yes.” Goblin Slayer nodded. 

Like that whatever-it-was-called, the giant monster they had encountered in the ruins before. 

Or the nameless eyeball creature they had found in the sewers beneath the water town. 

Goblins were effectively the foot soldiers of chaos, meaning their leader might not itself be a goblin. 

“I don’t know who it is, and I don’t care. But—” He considered the question trifling, not worth his time. “—I placed traps on the roads they prefer to use in every direction. We’ll take care of the rest ourselves.” 

The enemy was goblins. Nothing more. 

He simply kept running, his friends exchanging weary smiles behind him. 

After all, if adventuring was a day’s work for an adventurer… 

“Goblins’ numbers are their only strength. Only an amateur leader would divide them.” 

…then slaying goblins was a day’s work for Goblin Slayer. 

“And we’re going to teach them that firsthand.” 

Far in the distance, thunder began to roll. 

§ 

Thus the goblins arrived at the frontier town. 

North of town, the fifteen goblins in the first of the bands around the town were thrilled by the chance to march at “noon.” 

For many months, their “commander” had insisted they curb their desires. 

And no matter the reassurance that they would later be allowed to do whatever they pleased, goblins hated to be patient. 

Goblins believed in never putting off till tomorrow what one could do today, at least when it came to indulging themselves. Why wait for dinner when one could have lunch? 

This was not because they were too stupid to think about the future, but because they saw it as the only way to survive. 

At any rate, the goblins were starving. 

They were starving and bored and sick of waiting—and more than anything, they wanted some pleasures to divert them. 

Attacking a town full of people sleeping off a festival’s revelry sounded like just the thing, and their morale was high. 

They wore a motley collection of equipment, and their footsteps were light as they walked in formation. 

Night had only just fallen. To them it was dawn, so they were still somewhat tired, but soon their moment would come. 

What had they to fear? What reason had they to hesitate? 

“GROOBR…?” 

“GROOB! GOROOBBR!” 

And yet, they stopped moving. 

In the moonslight that sifted through the clouds, they could see a single rope drawn across the footpath in front of them. 

The goblins snickered to one another. What fools these humans were. 

One of them cut the rope with a crude spear tip, and a rattling could be heard in the bushes. 

They followed the sound and found a simple device of wood boards strung along the rope. 

Even goblins recognized an alarm when they saw one. 

What did the humans expect to gain by this? They gave it a kick and sent it flying. 

“GROROBR!!” 

“GOBRR!” 

The advance resumed. 

Their captain waved his hand, and the goblins set off at a walk, smirking to one another. 

The site of the festival was not far ahead. The people had had their celebration. Now it was the goblins’ turn. They forged ahead, singing a terrible dirge in their howling voices. 

All without realizing that adventurers were watching them from the bushes. 

“G-Goblin Slayer, sir, they disarmed your trap…!” 

“Everything’s fine.” 

“Huh?” The panicked Priestess was frankly taken aback as she looked over her shoulder at Goblin Slayer. 

“That was not the trap. Merely a decoy.” 

“…Wha? Wh-what do we do then? At this rate…” 

“Just watch. You’ll see.” 

No sooner had he spoken than there was a low, keening sound. 

Did the goblins even notice it? 

It was the sound of a tight string suddenly being released. 

In the next instant, something flew out of the bushes and attacked the goblin party. Sharpened stakes or spears—no, they were giant arrows. 

Long, sharp, thick pieces of wood that had been shaved to the sharpest possible points. 

Propelled from branches that acted as oversized bows, the missiles soared directly at the goblins. 

“GROOROB?!” 

“GOBR?!” 

Shrieks and cries. The awful death rattles of those borne to their end on a wave of agony. 

Fortunate were the goblins that expired immediately from the skewers. Others, shot through the stomach, were unable to extract the stakes and could only wait for death. 

But that single volley hardly finished off the goblins, of course. 

“GOORB! GOBRR!!” 

The bolts had missed some completely. The survivors sent up shouts of fury and hatred, then raised their weapons and began to run. 

They never entirely decided whether they were running away or pushing ahead, because Goblin Slayer and Lizard Priest jumped out of the bushes and descended upon the goblins with their swords. 

“The trap seems to have benefited from my test firing.” 

“Indeed! And now behold! Take pride in my deeds, O my ancestors!” 

The goblins screamed as their hearts were skewered, their throats torn out, their skulls crushed, and their innards scattered. 

Amid the shouts could be heard the unique, high-pitched prayer of Lizard Priest, echoing in the night. The destruction of heresy was his joy as much as his mission. 

That was to say, his motivation was different from Goblin Slayer’s, but their goals were the same. 

Compared to the calm, methodical Goblin Slayer, Lizard Priest’s fighting style was brimming with exultation. 

“Thirteen—ahem, or rather, fourteen!” 

“No. Fifteen.” 

The fight lasted only moments, the goblins ending up as cruelly exposed corpses. 

Perhaps it is unnecessary to say that no goblin was luckier than those who had died instantly in that first volley of oversized arrows. 

“Erk… Oh…” High Elf Archer blanched a little at the sight from where she perched in the trees with her bud-tipped arrows at the ready. 

She was supposed to shoot any goblins who tried to flee, but in the end that hadn’t been necessary. 

And yet—well, this— 

“I can’t count the number of times I’ve had to wonder what you’re thinking, Orcbolg…” 

“This is what I’m thinking.” 

“…Spare me…” 

High Elf Archer leaped down from her branch, making no sound, bending no leaf or blade of grass. 

She really could barely stand it, though. On any other adventure, this would have been beyond the pale. 

“That trap is off-limits for anything but goblin slaying!” 

“Hrk…” 

“Well, there’s a time and place for everything,” offered Dwarf Shaman, who had been waiting quietly in the rear with Priestess in the interest of conserving his spells. He stroked his beard with a thoughtful mutter, inspecting the contraption that had just wreaked such destruction. 

The rope that appeared to be an alarm had been connected to a thick branch nearby. The branch had been bent like a bow with the stakes sharpened like javelins on top of it. When the rope was cut, the stakes came flying—a primitive ballista. 

“A simple trap. But rather effective for all that.” 

“It was originally for hunting game.” 

Goblin Slayer’s sword had now endured both this battle and the fight at the Guild Hall, and he unhesitatingly threw it away. 

“Where did you learn of it?” 

“From my older sister,” he said briefly, scavenging through the bodies. “My father was a hunter. She learned it from him.” 

He picked up the best blade he could find, checked the edge, and then sheathed it. 

“It requires a certain knack. The goblins won’t figure it out the first time they see it.” 

“Though it needs a proper location and time to prepare for its shortcomings. Now then, milord Goblin Slayer, what do we do next?” Lizard Priest shook the blood off his fang blade, touching the tip of his nose with his tongue. 

“I have an idea.” Goblin Slayer inclined his helmet slightly. “…Are you finished?” 

“Oh, uh, yes!” Priestess nodded, rising from where she had been praying for the souls of the dead. 

There would be much more killing to come. There was no time to bury the bodies here and now. 

But Goblin Slayer never interfered with her prayers, at the very least. 

“The Earth Mother’s power is still strong. I doubt they’ll become undead on this night.” 

“I see… Do you still have that handout, or whatever you called it?” 

“No,” Priestess said, shaking her head. “I think it must have been just for that one moment.” 

“I see,” Goblin Slayer muttered, and nodded. 

He accepted all this without a word of complaint. 

Where she had risen, he now knelt at the side of a corpse, taking a goblin dagger for his own belt. He searched the creature for anything else that might be of use, then glanced at High Elf Archer. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Let’s see… Give me a minute.” 

She closed her eyes, her long ears trembling ever so slightly. 

Even Dwarf Shaman kept his mouth shut, leaving only silence—or rather, the whistling of the wind. 

Then, there was the rustling of grass, the breathing of animals. Insects buzzing and thunder rumbling. And— 

“…The west. It’s loudest over there, so that’s probably next. The east, too.” 

“I see. What about the others?” 

“I’m kind of worried about the hill to the south, even though it’s a ways off…” Her ears fluttered confidently. She sniffed, picking up the scent in the air. “Rain is coming. The thunder’s getting louder.” 

“Mm,” Goblin Slayer grunted, then turned to Lizard Priest and said, “What do you think?” 

“…The weather is on the side of our enemies tonight. Rain would be perfect for cloaking themselves.” Lizard Priest tapped his nose with his tongue and let out a hiss. “We must kill all of them. If even one or two reach the town, victory is theirs.” 

“We’ll have to hurry, then,” Goblin Slayer said bluntly. 

“Those storm clouds… I’ve got a bad feeling about them,” Priestess said. It wasn’t the cold that made her shoulders shake. “They have the sense of… I don’t know. Chaos. Something unnatural.” 

“Hrm…” 

Their elf, who was in tune with all natural things, and their priestess, who served the goddess of the land, were both anxious. 

Perhaps they should assume this was a spell cast by a goblin shaman, or by the one behind the goblin attacks. 

Goblin Slayer, for his part, had never met a goblin with such power. But that was no assurance that one did not exist. 

They would have to hypothesize and plan, and they would have to win. 

His thoughts were interrupted when an open palm struck him hard on the back. 

“What, now, no need to be so serious, Beard-cutter!” It was Dwarf Shaman. Dwarves’ small stature belied their physical strength, and this one gave Goblin Slayer another slap on the back. “We’re hardly even playing the same game they are! Just do what you always do.” 

Goblin Slayer nodded. 

“…Right.” 

The truth was, there wasn’t much time to think, anyway. 

They were few, and their enemy legion. 

They would have to be quick, subtle, and precise if they wanted to have any chance of victory. 

It was only the presence of his party members that kept him from conceding defeat. That was something he had no inkling how to repay. 

He had no idea—but if they requested an adventure, then he would go on an adventure. 

Even if they forbade him from using his traps for some reason—well, he had plenty of other tactics. 

“From the east and the west, is it? They’re attempting a pincer attack.” Goblin Slayer rose. “We’re going to stop them.” 

§ 

At the risk of giving away the rest of the story, that is exactly what they did. 

The thunder rumbled overhead, and the insects cried from their hidden places in the grass. 

The goblins approaching through the woods from the west stopped when they saw the lights of the town. 

They could see humanoid shapes. 

Something was pressed up against the trees along the roadside, as though it thought it was hidden. 

But the helmet was all too obvious. There was no mistaking it. This was some kind of adventurer. 

The goblin leading them—not through any personal desire or ambition—made a “wait” gesture. 

He pointed to a subordinate, then shoved the spear he held into the creature’s hands. Go jab that shadow. 

“GRBB.” 

“GOOB!” 

The subordinate shook his head furiously; his leader replied with a slap in the face and a kick in the rear. 

The goblin now holding the weapon shuffled fearfully closer. 

There was no movement. The goblin swallowed heavily. 

He hefted the crude spear and offered his best stab. 

It was a good blow, by goblin standards. Certainly enough to take a person’s life. 

The blade struck something with a thump. 

At the same moment, the silhouette tilted, then collapsed without a sound. 

The goblins were simple creatures. Satisfied with the results, they set off again. 

So they didn’t notice until it was too late. 

They didn’t notice the rusty old helmet roll to the ground, revealing the face that had been chalked onto it. 

It wasn’t a person? 

In the next instant, a weighted pulley went into action, and death came raining down on the goblins’ heads. 

“ ? !” 

“ ? ?!” 

Death arrived in the form of sharpened stakes clustered in balls. 

The balls were attached to the pulley by a string, and the force of the pulley flung them mercilessly down on their victims. 

Adventurers referred to these nasty spiked balls as Guten Tag , popularly understood to mean “Good day—now die!” 

After they had made a first pass through the goblins, the spiked balls pitched back under their own weight and speed, swinging like pendulums. 

As much as they wanted to, the goblins found themselves unable to scream and failed to raise the alarm. 

In fact—there was no noise at all. 

“O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, grant us peace to accept all things…” 

It was, if you will, a miracle. 

The wind tousled Priestess’s garments while she raised her flail in stunning fashion during the spell’s incantation. 

Silence. Proof that the gods responded to her faithful heart. 

Priestess was protected from the goblins in front of her by the Earth Mother’s blessing. 

But the goblins, whose ranks had been culled by the trap, were not simply scared. 

They believed anyone but themselves should suffer harm, and they burned with anger over their fallen companions. 

That was simply their nature. 

“—!!!” 

With a soundless war cry, the goblins raised primitive weapons and attempted to mob Priestess. 

In moments, the maiden would surely be overrun, trampled by goblin feet. 

They should have known. 

No support role would take on a horde of goblins alone. 

“—?!” 

One of the monsters suddenly tumbled spectacularly to the ground. 

What was this? They all stopped to see. An arrow protruded from the forehead of the fallen creature. 

Suddenly a bud-tipped arrow blossomed from the throat of another monster, having threaded all the way through the mouth. 

It brought to mind the saying that a sufficiently advanced skill was indistinguishable from magic. 

Nothing exemplified that maxim as well as High Elf Archer plying her elven marksmanship. Sometimes the great poets understand even better than the ancient elves. 

The arrows released not a whisper as they flew, scything through the crowd of foes. 

One after another was struck down, sowing a mighty confusion—and the goblins could not endure chaos or ambush for long. 

Still, the very last of them came within footsteps of Priestess— 

“Take…that!” 

She sounded almost relieved as she smacked the attacker soundly with her flail. As he reeled from the blow, two, then three, arrows found him… And all was still. 

“Huff… Huff…” 

“Nice work. I’d say that went pretty well.” High Elf Archer patted Priestess on the shoulder. The younger girl was still gasping for breath, while her enemy’s remains collapsed just feet away. 

“Th-thank you. S-somehow, I…” 

Sweat streamed down her face, yet she smiled bravely. She tried hard to remain standing. 

“Sheesh.” High Elf Archer laughed, stroking Priestess’s head. 

“Huh?” 

“When someone tells you to be bait, it’s okay to be a little upset about it.” 

“Well, I mean… I guess…” But, blinking, Priestess concluded, “It was just my role in the plan.” 

“You just don’t care with Orcbolg, do you? He could punch you in the face and you’d forgive him.” 

“Ah— Ah, ha-ha-ha…” 

High Elf Archer made a sound of disgust and reminded her that he’d instructed them to count the bodies. 

Priestess said nothing and picked the helmet up off the ground with a strained expression. 

Well used and covered in gruesome blotches, it was the same as Goblin Slayer’s helmet. It was probably an old one of his that he had saved for a situation exactly like this one. 

She patted the visor. Sheesh. Really. She smiled and murmured. 

“Well, he can’t be helped.” 

And what was that person “who couldn’t be helped” doing at that moment? 

He was killing goblins, of course. 

§ 

“Hmph.” 

A rock whistled through the air, cracking a goblin’s skull. 

The creature stumbled and fell backward before vanishing into the murk. 

“GOROOG?!” 

Perhaps vanishing was the wrong word—or rather, only a human perspective. The superior night vision of goblins was perfectly capable of perceiving what had happened to their companion. 

He was at the bottom of the cleft in the ground—a hole filled with sharpened spikes. 

“GRRROROR!” 

“GORRRB!” 

The pit was merely a pit. But it was still a pit. 

The goblins did not know that such traps had claimed the lives of many adventurers in many labyrinths. 

But they did know better than to push ahead at random. 

When the first one dropped into the hole along the footpath, the warband came to a halt. 

Colored pebbles dotted the road in front of them. 

Ah, markers! 

The leader of the goblin party, pleased with his own perceptiveness, ordered his troops to avoid the pebbles. 

The first step they took went quite well. Then the second, the third, the fourth. On the fifth step— 

Another creature was swallowed up into a suddenly gaping maw. 

“GOROOB?!” 

“GROOROB! GOROBOB!!” 

The goblins fell into a panic. There were no colored stones here. 

Those pebbles had not marked anything at all. They had merely been a distraction. 

The goblins were falling steadily into pits now. They couldn’t advance and they couldn’t retreat. 

Those first steps had simply been lucky. There was no guarantee the ground would still be safe if they passed back over it. 

“GROB! GOROROB!” 

“GOOROBOG!!” 

Soon they were at one another’s throats. 

It was an ugly fight. The underlings blamed the leader who had told them to forge ahead, while the leader tried to foist the blame on his followers. 

Caught up in their mutual suspicion and anger, none of them realized that this was precisely the point. 

That was why some of the colored stones had, in fact, marked a pit. 

And Goblin Slayer was not one to give up the advantage of surprise. 

More whistling stones whipped through the air, striking down one goblin after another. 

The screeching, scrambling monsters tossed their spears, threw rocks, cognizant that they were fighting for their lives. 

But all their projectiles were repelled by the defensive wall he had prepared beforehand. 

“Gracious. Wouldn’t our lives have been easier if we’d kept Long-Ears with us?” Dwarf Shaman growled, working stone and sling with his stubby fingers. He always carried the weapon, but magic was his forte. 

“Not possible.” Goblin Slayer calmly fired off a stone, muttering, “Nineteen.” Then he explained, “She has less endurance. In a fight behind fortifications, it would be dangerous if any unexpected events were to occur.” 

“Unexpected events… Do you speak of a shaman, perchance?” Lizard Priest was gathering stones for the two of them, setting them at their feet. He poked his head out from behind the battlement. 

Two to the right, several yet to the left. He indicated the numbers to Goblin Slayer with his fingers, who gave his acknowledgment. 

“Correct.” Goblin Slayer nodded, provoking a grumble from the dwarf. 

“Well. She may have an anvil for a chest, but I suppose she is more at home leaping through the trees than crouching behind a pile of dirt.” 

“I admit, it bothers me,” Goblin Slayer said. 

“The fact that she doesn’t even have enough bosom to jiggle?” 

“No.” As he made this flat refusal, he peeked through an opening in the battlement at the goblins, who were on the brink of routing. “Four bands of fifteen makes a total of sixty… Have you seen any superior breeds?” 

“They all appear to be quite average, as far as I can tell.” 

“Scaly’s right. Though Long-Ears might be able to pick up something else.” 

“No spell-casters, no champions, no lords, no meat shields. And all attacking at precisely the same moment…?” Goblin Slayer muttered. “I can only think they are toying with us.” 

Dwarf Shaman nodded. Not entirely without flippancy, but he was more serious than before. 

“Can’t just chalk this one up to goblin idiocy, can we?” 

“They’re stupid, but they’re not fools.” 

“Meaning,” Lizard Priest said with a swish of his tail, “their mysterious commander believes he has a chance of victory.” 

“We should assume so.” 

The last one. Goblin Slayer split its skull, counting off, “Thirty.” 

After making sure the corpse had fallen into the pit, he rose from behind the wall. 

“We should link up with the others, then go reinforce the southern route.” 

“The south—that’s where your farm is, isn’t it?” Dwarf Shaman asked. 

“Yes.” 

The next question came from Lizard Priest. 

“Have you set traps near the farm?” 

“No.” 

“But that’s where you want to have the final confrontation?” Dwarf Shaman seemed to doubt the soundness of this plan. 

“It is where they expect to launch their attack,” he said. “They are wrong.” 

In other words. 

“We will slaughter all the goblins.” 

That was when the first droplet descended from the heavens and onto Goblin Slayer’s visor. 

It would be a wet battle.