Goblin Slayer - Volume 4 - Chapter 6

Chapter 6 – Of The Destruction Of The Demon-Enthralled Temple Of Doom

Riiing . She squinted in happy comfort as she rang her sounding staff. The first wind to signal the end of summer brushed her cheeks. The carriage rattled along. How pleasant it would have been to walk alongside it on the road. 

She came back to herself. She had nearly forgotten that she was in the middle of an escort quest. As a member of the clergy, she sometimes felt she could sense the presence of the gods at moments like these. 

Only a few clouds dotted the sky. In the distance, a dark shadow flew. A hawk? An eagle? A falcon? 

“That bird’s quite a ways up there, isn’t it?” 

“It is indeed…” 

The one who had spoken to her was sitting on the roof of the carriage. 

The ranger with the crossbow was not, of course, up there for the fun of it. Someone needed to keep watch. Ranger had been trusted to keep an eye on the surroundings and showed no sign of letting attention lapse. 

So the suspicion in Ranger’s voice caused her to immediately tighten her grip on her sounding staff. Each of the others readied their equipment as well, preparing against something they could not see. The only one who seemed not to notice anything was the carriage’s owner, a merchant. They ignored him as he asked, “What’s all this, then?” 

Ranger said in a low voice, “Don’t you think that bird’s a bit too large?” 

“Now that you mention it…” 

It happened as she tried to get a closer look. 

It was closing the distance even as she watched: skin and claws, beak and wings the color of dark ash— 

“Demon!” 

They reacted to the voice of their companion, Ranger, but they were too late to take initiative. In her case, critically too late, and the monster—the stone demon—was painfully quick. It was not fate or chance, but a cold difference in abilities that was her undoing. 

Even as she thought Huh?! her feet were already floating above the ground. She flailed her legs, but it meant nothing; she was pulled straight up into the air. The ground, the carriage, her friends, all grew farther away. 

“Ergh…ahh…ow…eeyikes?!” 

She beat at the monster with her sounding staff in her desperate struggle to resist, whereupon it squeezed its claws into her shoulders and shook her. 

She looked down and gave a squeak at the height. She felt her lower body grow moist. 

“Hrrgh— Eeegh!” 

The problems didn’t stop there. Her thigh burned like it had been struck with hot tongs. Ranger must have loosed an arrow in an attempt to do something, and the demon must have used her as a shield. 

She looked down, her vision clouding with tears, to see their spell caster chanting something. 

Stop, stop, stop, stop! She waved her sounding staff desperately, shaking her head No, no! 

We’re wrong! This isn’t a demon! It’s not a—! 

“Aaaaahhh!” 

The creature dodged the flood of lightning, whipping her about. The arrow in her thigh dug deeper into the flesh. She screamed and shook. 

She shouldn’t have done that. 

The claws in her elbows slipped, tearing skin and flesh and drawing blood. 

“Hrk!” 

A sound escaped her. The sensation of floating. Wind. Wind. Wind. Wind. 

Oww, I’m scared, help me, God of Knowledge, O God, oh God…! 

Sadly, all this might have been a fervent wish on her part, but it was not a prayer. 

So it did not reach the gods. Her one piece of good luck was that she felt no pain. She was unlucky until the moment she struck the ground, consciousness never left her. 

Although now that she was a twitching lump of ruined flesh, it didn’t really matter. 

§ 

“So what’s the plan?” 

A brusque male voice sounded in the wind-whipped wasteland. The spear he carried across his back and the armor he wore made him look handsome and brave. 

In front of Spearman’s eyes rose a white tower, sparkling in the noon light. The walls were made of a shimmering white stone; from the way it reached to the sky without a single seam, it might have been ivory. But the thought that there was no elephant this huge left little doubt that this was the product of magic. 

“I’d guess that thing has at least sixty floors.” 

“Walking in through the front door might be tricky.” 

The answer came from someone no less heroic-looking than Spearman. His muscular body was armored, and across his back he carried a broadsword almost as tall as he was. Heavy Warrior, famous in the frontier town, stretched out his palm and looked upward, squinting at the top of the tower. 

“Eighty or ninety percent odds this tower was built by the kind of jerk who would fill it with monsters and traps.” 

At his feet was a brutally mangled corpse; it appeared to have been dropped from a great height. They had already collected the level tag that had been around its neck, giving its name, gender, rank, and class. Apparently the body had belonged to a young girl, but whether she had died before her fall or because of it, they didn’t know. 

They saw other crimson dots around the tower, presumably more remains. 

“Suppose some weird magical type built it as a hideaway. I’d say he’s gone bad.” 

Heavy Warrior gave the corpse a gentle poke with his boot. The tower’s owner was a Non-Prayer—he had forgotten how. Meaning this adventure would basically be a hack-and-slash, full of monster opponents. 

“I doubt there is a need for us to face them head-on.” 

The final person spoke in a low, dispassionate voice. It was a man in grimy leather armor and a cheap-looking steel helmet, with a round shield on his arm and a sword of a strange length at his hip. He reached into the item pouch on his waist and began digging through his equipment. 

“We can climb the wall.” 

“Hey, you mean with a rope or something? If the anchors come out midway, we’ll come tumbling right down!” 

“Hold a piton in each hand and pull yourself up.” 

Spearman gave an exasperated shrug, gawking at the piton Goblin Slayer had produced. 

“Do you have any climbing experience?” 

“A bit, on mountains. Cliff sides, too.” 

Heavy Warrior folded his arms and grunted. He held out a finger, measuring the tower’s height, and clicked his tongue. 

“The question is how to fight anything that jumps you on the way up. It doesn’t have to be a demon. A gargoyle would be trouble enough.” 

“Gargoyle?” 

“Stone statues,” Heavy Warrior said, indicating their approximate size with his hands. “Wings. They fly around in the sky.” 

“Hrm.” Goblin Slayer let out a grunt. “So there are such enemies as those, too…” 

“Yeah. Personally, I’m all about melee weaponry, but…a magic user would sure make things easier right about now.” 

“Don’t get all fired up here, huh?” Spearman looked at Heavy Warrior, who had begun formulating a strategy with the utmost seriousness, as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. 

“So, what? You want to cut your way in, detect and disarm traps, search around? I sure don’t.” Heavy Warrior heaved a sigh, sliding the massive sword on his back to rest between his shoulder blades. “Because we have no spell caster, no monk, and no thief.” 

At that, Spearman could only fall silent. 

§ 

There was an endless array of places to adventure in the world. Ruins from the battles of the Age of Gods were numerous, and all the more so on the frontier. Whether they followed Order or Chaos, nations flourished and then declined, and the cycle continued with another nation arising. As a result, finding one or two new ruins was nothing to write home about. But when ruins appeared one day that were not there the day before—that was something else. 

It was supposedly a passing merchant caravan that had first discovered the ivory tower rising from the waste. The forest that had been there on their outward journey was gone, replaced by the white spire that gazed down on them. 

Naturally, their surprise was tremendous, but they’d had no time to stare—they had been attacked by creatures with human shapes and wings like bats. 

Demons! Those awful servants of Chaos! Those Non-Prayer Characters! 

The merchants scurried away, and via the Adventurers Guild, their report was sent to the king himself. The king could have sent in the military to exterminate the threat, and the matter would have been settled. If only things were so simple. 

To send in the army required men and money. In this case, the men were regular citizens, and the money was taxes. Taxes might go up next year. And relatives, family members, friends, and neighbors might die doing their duty as soldiers. The citizens found this intolerable, and it bred only resentment. 

And then there was the dragon who lived in the volcano to keep an eye on, and other problems like the partisans of the Demon Lord who still threatened the area. To send in the army would mean there were fewer people to attend to these other matters. 

And if the tower was bait, a diversion, what then? True, demons were gathering there, but it was still just a tower in the middle of a wasteland. Maybe some twisted magician had built it. It couldn’t be said yet whether it was a threat to the country or the world. There was no reason for the military to get involved. 

You might ask, then, what the military was for. To stand ready against an invasion by the forces of Chaos, of course. In the recent climactic battle between the new Platinum-ranked hero and the Demon Lord, they had been on the battle lines. Casualties had been high. Many died, many were wounded. They were in no shape to go immediately to their next skirmish or major battle. 

More than anything, simple strategy told that trying to cram an army into a ruin or a cave was a good way to get it destroyed. Army units were meant to fight on the open plain with enemy units, not to go into enclosed spaces that not even horses could enter. 

Ruins and caves had monsters in them that were threatening the pioneer villages. How could the army be dispatched to all of them at once? It was precisely because the king and nobles were a good king and good nobles that they could not use their forces so lightly. 

“But neither will this matter bear to be ignored.” 

The young king, visiting his friend for the first time in a long time, sighed deeply. 

The place was dappled in soft sunlight, full of tranquil, pure silence. 

The plant life was carefully tended, the flowers fragrant. The white pillars in the grove appeared to be massive trees. The burbling of a stream, which seemed to come from no place in particular, was soothing to his frayed nerves. 

“What do you think I should do?” 

“Oh, my.” 

They were in a garden in the deepest part of the Temple. Its priestess gave an elegant smile and cocked her head. Her beautiful golden hair flowed like honey, cascading over her ample chest. 

“Quite an interesting change of heart for someone who turned his back when we were dealing with the goblins.” 

“You must understand, though that may have been a personal tragedy, in the grand scheme of things, it was trivial.” 

The king spoke briefly, then waved a hand as if to clear the words away. 

The way he settled into the seat that had been prepared for him was at once uncouth and yet graceful. Was this what they called kingliness? Or aristocratic bearing? Whatever it was, he moved as one who had known it since birth. 

“And some goblins can easily be handled by a party of adventurers.” 

“…Yes. You’re right.” 

That was simple fact. 

Goblins were dangerous, and if they defeated you, “tragedy” was the right word for what awaited. 

But goblins remained the weakest monsters, and they were not the only ones against whom loss meant a cruel fate. You might be eaten by a dragon, dissolved by a slime, or smashed to bits by a golem… 

What ultimately awaited you was the same thing you would find when the goblins had finished having their way with you: death. Whether it was due to lack of physical strength, or skill, or simple bad luck, there was no future for those who could not defeat goblins. 

“As Your Majesty is most kind…” 

A comic song came from the woman’s half-open lips. 

Once a king so kind and fair 

To take his taxes did forebear 

Water he gave to a raging river 

And city councils aided ever 

Tucked the councilmen into bed 

And every starving person fed 

He made his soldiers passing bold 

And heroes sent to goblin holes: 

The Capital soon was a feast for trolls. 

The king frowned to hear a song that made light of the nobility, and she giggled like a girl. 

“Is this not the moment to call in adventurers, Your Majesty?” 

“Indeed, it may be…” 

The king put a hand to his brow, rubbing it as if to loosen a taut muscle, and nodded. He had thought it would come to this. 

The army was not suited to monster hunting. Hence they would give those scoundrels status, give them rewards—they would send in the adventurers. That was what kept the world turning. They would just do it again now. Weren’t adventurers monster-hunting specialists, after all? 

“The merchants said they were attacked by demons, but we don’t know for sure what was responsible.” 

The king shook his head as if to point out that there was no proof, then settled heavily into his chair. 

One could hardly have sat on a throne the same way. He closed his eyes, breathing in the refreshing air of the garden to his heart’s content. 

“I very much doubt merchants could tell the difference between a demon and a gargoyle.” 

“It’s an evil spell caster’s tower then, is it?” The woman who was master of this temple gave a chuckling laugh, and murmured, “My, how scary,” as if it was none of her concern. 

The king lifted his head just enough to glare at her from lidded eyes, but made no further retort. This was how she was going to needle him for ignoring the goblin incident. The ability to accept resentment of his policies cordially was, he supposed, the mark of a king. Let them call him incompetent if they wished. 

“This is certainly more dangerous than goblins. But it’s nothing compared to the Demon Gods.” 

“True, indeed.” 

“It seems some necromancer to the south has found an ancient tomb.” The king leaned far back in his chair, almost as if to say the topic bored him. The chair gave a creak. “An army of the dead! It doesn’t leave me much luxury to deal with goblins or one lone tower.” 

“Heh-heh. How very tired you must be.” As she spoke, the woman let her thighs peek past the hem of her dress as if putting them on display. 

“Status is a difficult thing,” the king muttered. “I can’t even meet my friends without a pretext.” 

“Such is position,” the woman whispered. “Everything changes—what you can see, and what you can’t.” 

“I’ve lost the ability to say that my companions and I should simply deal with it with our swords, as we did in the old days.” The king sighed, seeming to chew over a memory of times past. “I can’t help feeling things were easier back when I was a single lord challenging labyrinths by myself.” 

“Ah, yes, you cut such a dashing figure, fleeing after your beating by that bushwhacker.” 

“I seem to recall a party that suffered a terrible fate when attacked by slimes.” 

The bantering tone gave way to a more scathing one. Sword Maiden let out a quiet breath. “There are times when I, too, wish to quit my position and go back to just being a girl.” 

“Does even the archbishop of the Supreme God feel so?” 

“Yes.” The blind cleric’s cheeks tinged a pale rose, and her lips formed a generous smile. She put her hand to her ample bosom to keep it from quaking, and in a voice as sultry as if she were confessing her love, she said, “Lately, very much so.” 

“Things have not gone the way either of us expected. But that’s what makes life interesting.” With that whisper, the king made a show of rising from his chair. “It is about time I took my leave. After all, I did only come to borrow a few war priests.” 

“Yes, Your Majesty. I am happy we had the chance to speak.” 

“I wonder.” The king gave a light smile that encompassed at once the bitter and the familiar. “You sounded like you had someone else on your mind besides me.” 

§ 

“Sorry, can’t do it.” 

Heavy Warrior looked at the quest form and shook his head firmly—even though it was signed by the king himself. 

“Is it too difficult?” 

“Nah, but my party’s under the weather right now. Otherwise we would’ve taken it.” 

“Well, this is a tight spot,” Guild Girl muttered again, furrowing her brow at the grim-looking Heavy Warrior. 

In her hand she held a request to investigate the ruins tentatively called the “Demon’s Tower.” 

Recently, it had become more and more common for ruins and labyrinths to appear suddenly. Ever since the defeat of the Demon Lord, his remaining partisans had been doing their dark work far and wide. While the military licked its wounds, evil spell casters and the like grew less reluctant to be seen by people. 

As part of the Guild, it would be untrue to say Guild Girl did not wish to assign all the available quests. But even with a reward of dozens of gold pieces per request, there were a hundred or two hundred to be dealt with. She realized the national treasury was essentially unlimited and could think of nothing more indulgent than this. 

“We’d be up against demons, right?” 

Whether or not he could hear the sigh from her well-formed chest, Heavy Warrior took another look at the quest sheet. With a finger wrapped in a simple glove, he slowly traced the letters dancing on the page, then brought his fist down. 

“Without at least one spell caster and a scout… Silver-ranked ones, at that.” 

“A party of three?” 

“That would be the minimum. If possible, I’d specifically like both a wizard and cleric with me and two others on the front row, and that scout. Six altogether.” 

Hm, hm, hm. Guild Girl thought this over with a serious expression on her face, the papers in her hand rustling as she flipped carelessly through them. 

Adventure Sheets. 

They recorded how each adventurer’s abilities had grown on each adventure they had been through. It would not be an exaggeration to say that in a sense, this sheaf of paper was those adventurers’ very lives. The pile contained scads of novices—wizards and clerics and scouts and warriors. But when it came to those who had made it to the upper ranks, the number dropped dramatically. One of their problems was that there were so few mid-rank veterans. 

We don’t have anyone who fits that bill neatly. 

Guild Girl glanced out at the adventurers who made the building so lively. Of course they had to be capable, but they also had to be decent people. After all, the quest giver this time was the king himself. The Guild didn’t need someone who was just out to prove something. They could be a bit self-interested, or ambitious, but they had to understand what was really at stake… 

“If only there was someone who had all those qualities, and could balance magic use and battle…” 

“You got it! I’m right here!” 

It was like a dream. Her wish had just happened to slip out, but someone responded enthusiastically. 

He came dashing up to the counter gleefully, carrying his spear, as if he’d been waiting for this moment all his life. As soon as Guild Girl realized who it was, she said, “Ah!” and pasted a smile on her face. “Come to think of it, I recall you learned a bit of magic.” 

“An adventurer has to be ready for every possible situation!” Spearman was nodding eagerly and confidently, and he didn’t seem to notice Heavy Warrior exclaiming, “Aggh” and slapping his forehead—a gesture that was easy enough to read. 

Regardless, Guild Girl knew full well that Spearman worked with Witch. 

“Ahem, is your…party all right with this?” 

“Oh, sure. We just got back from one of our ‘dates.’ Think I’ll let her rest.” 

…Is he sure about this? 

Guild Girl glanced over Spearman’s shoulder and saw Witch behind him, lounging on the bench. Witch offered her an elusive smile. 

That’s the most problematic attitude of all. 

Fiddling with her braids with one hand, Guild Girl let out a faint, troubled sigh. From Witch’s perspective, Guild Girl was a romantic rival. But this was business…right? 

Hrm. I can’t let my personal life get mixed up with my work. 

“All right, so for the time being, the two of you—is that right?” 

“Sure, I don’t mind. I can trust…well, I have confidence in this guy.” Even though he seemed to muddle his words a bit, Heavy Warrior nodded. “But it’s still not enough.” 

Spearman snatched the quest paper from Heavy Warrior with a “Lemme see that,” and cocked his head. “How are we not enough?” he said. 

“I want a scout, at least.” 

“Not a lot of talented scouts out there. What about that kid in your group?” 

“I don’t want to drag him off to fight some demons,” Heavy Warrior said gravely. “I couldn’t take the responsibility.” He glared at Spearman. “I don’t necessarily need someone of good alignment, but I want at least neutral.” 

With alignment, “good” and “evil” did not quite have their literal meanings, but rather described whether one was other-centered or self-centered, whether they preferred fighting or not. Scouts and thieves were often out for themselves and willing to take action. It was something worth thinking about if you didn’t want to have to worry whether your compatriot would act against character when the crucial moment came. 

“So what you need is…” 

Someone who was a scout and could stand on the front row. Able, as well as respectable. Someone who could keep their business and personal lives separate. Whose alignment was, if not good, at least neutral. And someone who would be likely to take this quest… 

“Yes! I can think of one!” 

When Guild Girl clapped her hands and jumped out of her seat, Spearman gave her a dubious look. The brief moment that look scanned her chest was not lost on Guild Girl, but at the moment she didn’t care. 

“Huh? Is there really someone like that?” 

“I can guarantee he’s skilled, anyway.” She went so far as to give him a smile and a wink, then marched off in high spirits. She looked impressive, her shoes clacking as she walked with the paper clutched to her chest. She was headed for the bench in a corner of the Guild waiting area. The place he always sat. She found she got a little thrill of happiness just to see the steel helmet turn toward her when he noticed her coming. 

And then he asked, in a low, dispassionate voice: 

“…Goblins?” 

§ 

“Gotta say, I never thought you’d accept.” 

“Because there were no goblin-slaying quests.” 

Thus the three adventurers found themselves in front of the tower. Spearman and Goblin Slayer, with Heavy Warrior the leader. 

A party made of one male human warrior, a second male human warrior, and a third male human warrior. It would bring a dry smile to anyone’s face. Although these kinds of parties were not uncommon, through sheer necessity. 

“And I needed money.” 

“Mostly for goblin slaying, I assume?” Spearman chuckled. 

But Goblin Slayer replied, “No,” and shook his head. “Not for that. But it’s urgent.” 

“Depending how much you need, I could loan you some,” Heavy Warrior said, never taking his eyes off the tower in front of them. “I figure you wouldn’t die on me.” 

“I appreciate it, but no, thank you.” 

“Your call.” Heavy Warrior responded with a nod, and Goblin Slayer began to dig in his item pouch. The first thing his rummaging produced was a bundle of pitons and a small mallet. 

“And I already have a debt to repay.” 

“Debt? Whatever!” Spearman frowned and gave an annoyed click of his tongue. “We’re adventurers! We finish this quest, consider that debt erased.” 

“I see.” 

“Anyway, you literally only treated me to a single drink after that. You still owe me!” 

“That’s the opposite of what you just said,” Heavy Warrior said with exasperation, only half-listening to the two of them. 

Goblin Slayer brought out a coil of rope and put it around his shoulder. 

“I promised to treat you to a drink. And I did.” 

“Hrrrgh!” Spearman had no reply to Goblin Slayer’s pointed comeback. Heavy Warrior had to struggle to hold back a smile. 

Angrily muttering, “Hrmph, hrmph,” and clicking his tongue, Spearman gave the wall a couple of experimental taps. “…A-anyway, this wall looks awfully solid. Sure you’ll be able to set your climbing equipment in it?” 

There was some sleight of hand at work, but the other two were not going to be drawn in, either. The tower had been created in a night or two. It was obviously not made of normal materials. 

“Here, let me have those.” 

“Sure.” Goblin Slayer passed the pitons and mallet to the outstretched hand. 

Heavy Warrior took them, giving one of the anchors a good smack with the mallet, then he groaned. 

“Yeah. That’s pretty tough.” 

The gleaming tower wall was not even scratched. 

Suddenly, Heavy Warrior began removing his gloves and bracers. He shoved the equipment into his backpack and traded it for a bottle filled with a red liquid. He pulled out the stopper and gulped it down. Probably a strength potion. He put away the empty bottle, then took out a single-handed sword and a ring with a shining ruby. 

“Huh! A ring with a physical-boost enchantment?” Spearman said with interest. 

It wasn’t surprising that Heavy Warrior had a magical sword. Magical weapons were rare, but a Silver rank could be expected to have at least one of them. 

“Normally I use my Bracers of Exceptional Swordsmanship and my magic gloves, so I don’t need this too often.” Heavy Warrior put the sword at his waist and held the piton in the hand with the ring on it. This time he grunted, “Hmph!” and drove it easily into the wall. 

“Have a look, Goblin Slayer. That is first-class adventuring equipment for you.” 

Why are you the one bragging? Heavy Warrior seemed to want to ask. 

Spearman ignored him. “Why don’t you keep an enchanted sword or two around? Don’t you want to look cool?” 

“I have no interest in magical swords, but I do have a ring.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“It allows underwater breathing,” Goblin Slayer said briefly. “Even if the goblins stole it, it would do no harm.” 

“What would they even want it for? Wait a second—you just assume it’ll get stolen?” 

Spearman was pressing on his temples, but the steel helmet nodded and said, “Of course. It wouldn’t fit on a goblin finger.” 

“You oughtta learn it doesn’t matter what you say to that guy—it’s all useless.” Heavy Warrior was fighting back a smile as he grabbed the piton and pulled himself up. “Hey, you both pay me for the potion, right? We split the reward three ways, minus the cost.” 

And then, holding himself in place with just one arm, he took out another piton and continued climbing. He wasn’t exactly zipping along, but he looked pretty good. He was, after all, in full armor and carrying a broadsword across his back. It required no mean physical strength. 

“No problem.” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

Goblin Slayer responded with alacrity, and Spearman voiced no particular objection. Most adventurers knew to keep any disputes about the reward in the tavern. It didn’t matter how valuable an item was, if you kept it at the cost of your life. 

Goblin Slayer grabbed the pitons and started up after Heavy Warrior, while behind him Spearman gave a click of his tongue. “So I’m the caboose, huh?” 

Goblin Slayer stopped in midclimb, glancing back with one hand still on the piton. 

“Would you rather go ahead of me?” 

“Tank first, scout second. All good, so come on, keep climbing.” 

“I see.” 

He grabbed on, pulled himself up, grabbed the next piton, put his foot on the previous one, and then he was another level higher. What remained was simply to repeat the process. Not looking up, not looking down. Watching cautiously only to the left and right. 

All of them were relatively experienced adventurers, and they had handholds and footholds. If they had been so much as worried about the wind, which grew stronger the farther up they went, they couldn’t have contemplated climbing the outer wall. 

The problem was, the wind wasn’t the only thing that could hurt them. 

Goblin Slayer, checking left and right as their scout, called out, “Hey.” He went on, “To the west. Three of them. Winged. Not goblins.” 

“So they found us… What color are they?” 

“Gray.” 

“I knew it,” Heavy Warrior said, nodding at the answer. “Those’ll be gargoyles, no question.” 

“Gargoyles… Hmm,” Goblin Slayer breathed. “So that’s what they look like.” 

“There’s a chance they’re stone demons. But eighty or ninety percent, yeah.” 

They were winged demons as dark as the ash in the corner of a fireplace. 

Or so one might think at a glance. Such were the stone monsters, gargoyles. Once intended to watch over sacred places, gargoyles, too, were now Non-Prayers. Perhaps it was their terrible, twisted bodies that had, over the course of years, driven them to Chaos. 

One wouldn’t think that a little bit of flapping could keep a statue in the air, but these creatures could fly. Yet they were made of stone, making them fearsome enemies. 

“You’ve really never seen one? They show up in ruins sometimes.” 

“A few times.” Goblin Slayer slowly turned his head from one side to the other. “But I didn’t know they were gargoyles.” 

“Whatever, they go down quick.” Spearman’s smile was as fierce as a shark’s. The monsters now flew—literally—into his field of view. 

They had been making lazy corkscrews around the top of the tower, probably keeping watch. Now they came down in a panic—chances were they hadn’t expected anyone to try climbing the wall. They weren’t far away, but the adventurers didn’t seem very frightened or show any sign of becoming so. 

“It ain’t true what they say, that gargoyles can’t stand sunlight.” Spearman glared up at them, adjusting his feet to find his balance on the pitons. “If they get ahold of you, you’re in for a fight.” 

Holding himself steady with his shielded left arm, Goblin Slayer drew his sword in a reverse grip. “If you can get it under you, you won’t die even if you fall to the ground. Although you would be away from the battle at that point.” 

“Maybe, if you could cast Control on ’em. And that’s if they don’t go down in one hit, right?” Heavy Warrior pulled out his one-handed sword, which gave off a faint white glow—the aura of magic. He held the decorative string that hung from the hilt in his mouth, then fastened it securely around his wrist. “I don’t know about you, but I’m fine with just one hand.” 

“They say the clash of spells comes before the clash of arms. Arrgh. These muscle-brains.” Spearman narrowed his eyes and touched his earring—a magical catalyst—with one hand. Goblin Slayer glanced down at what Spearman was doing, then shook his head. 

“I am thinking of something.” 

“Me, too,” said Heavy Warrior. 

“Shut up, I get it! I can’t concentrate down here!” 

“GARGLEGARGLEGARGLE!!” 

With an indistinct bellow not unlike gargling, the demon-like monsters came flying at them. But Spearman, without hurry or fuss, spoke a few words of true power with the ability to reshape the very laws of reality. 

“ Hora…semel…silento! Stand silent, time!” 

That instant, the wind stopped. 

The flow of the atmosphere ceased; the sound from afar paused, stagnated, halted. Spearman’s words filled the world, bending its laws, and everything stalled. 

This was the spell Slow. 

“GARGLEGARG?! GARGLEGARG!!” 

“GARGLEGARGLEGAR!!” 

The gargoyles flapped and flapped but could generate no power, so they could not stay in the air. Gravity took hold of the three creatures, and in a matter of seconds they had fallen several dozen stories, shattering back to dust as they hit the ground. And no stone statue, once destroyed, could return to life again. 

“What, all gone? They weren’t so tough.” 

“I suppose a fall from this height does generally lead to death.” 

Heavy Warrior pursed his lips, disappointed, and Goblin Slayer slid his sword back into its scabbard. The two of them quickly resumed climbing, but Spearman shot them an unmistakably discontented look. 

“Geez, a spell like that, and you can’t even muster one word of praise?” 

“It was a good strategy,” came back Goblin Slayer’s casual response. “I will use it sometime.” 

“What, on goblins?” 

“What else?” 

This exchange caused Spearman to shake his head with a heartfelt weariness. Take goblins up high somewhere and then drop them? It didn’t sound like something most serious adventurers would contemplate. And to think he was being credited with the idea— Gimme a break! 

“More important: how many spells do you have left?” Heavy Warrior’s words brought Spearman back to himself. 

He grabbed a piton to steady himself, nearly too late, and called up, “One more.” It pained him to admit it, but a fact was a fact. “This isn’t my main class, remember.” 

“All right, if we’re attacked on the climb again, we head back down and rest for a night. Then we’ll switch to a head-on assault.” 

Heavy Warrior’s decision was swift and sure. To attack the enemy base with their spells exhausted or after they had been restored? No matter how you looked at it, the latter offered a better chance of survival. 

Spearman understood that, and he grinned. “Even if we’re about to touch the sky?” 

“If we’re right there, then it’s different,” Heavy Warrior replied, flashing his teeth as he laughed at Spearman’s lighthearted jab. 

“You’re the leader.” Goblin Slayer nodded quietly. “I will follow your orders.” 

“Good. In that case, on we go.” Heavy Warrior held out a hand for more pitons; Goblin Slayer dug in his pouch and brought out another bundle. He kept plenty with him because they were such a useful tool, and thanks to that there seemed likely to be no question of them having enough to reach the summit. 

“Anyway, I guess they know we’re here. Let’s make sure they roll out the red carpet.” 

“Right.” 

Goblin Slayer made his short response and looked up at the man ahead of him. The vast broadsword across Heavy Warrior’s back was quivering with a rattle. In an immensely serious, grave tone, Goblin Slayer said, “Don’t drop that on me.” 

“Aw, shaddup.” 

Spearman guffawed without any malice, and Heavy Warrior sullenly continued to exert his muscles. 

Their objective, the top of the tower, was not far away. 

§ 

The spire’s summit presented an almost indescribable scene. 

It was an open space with a depression like a round bowl, the outside ringed with pillars. The roof was a curved dome, as if a massive globe were descending into the space. On the ceiling was a star map, but its wild lines reflected no constellations any of the adventurers knew about. 

The floor and the pillars were pure white, the blue sky peeking between the colonnades. And yet, there was a crushing sense of oppression. As Heavy Warrior drew himself up over the edge, he looked at the constellations and gave an unhappy wheeze. 

“This is Chaos work for sure. Let’s go, and let’s not leave anything to cause us trouble later.” 

He reached out a hand as he spoke, taking hold of a leather glove. He helped Goblin Slayer up, and the latter took in the surroundings. 

“The climb was easier than I expected.” 

“Probably because we’re three guys.” Heavy Warrior pulled the ring off his finger and put it back in his item bag. He quickly replaced it with his gloves and bracers, grabbing the broadsword from his back. “Wouldn’t want some kids to have to make that climb.” 

“Man, that’s for sure.” The reply came from Spearman, who hesitated, frowning at the leather glove hovering in front of him. The plain, unsophisticated mitt took Spearman’s hand, pulling the last member of the party onto the roof. “I’d hate to make her do this. Heck, she probably couldn’t. A bit too top-heavy.” 

The uncouth remark sounded strangely inoffensive coming from Spearman, though that was perhaps thanks to his personality. Heavy Warrior shot him a dubious look as he made a broad gesture in front of his chest with both hands. 

“I do understand what you’re saying,” Goblin Slayer said, with another reserved nod. “One would not wish to tire out one’s back row. And mine is sensitive.” 

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Spearman sighed deeply. “Don’t you have anything else? Women’s bodies are supposed to be praised! Busts! Hips! Butts!” 

“What is the point of praising them?” 

“They love you for it, and you get to be popular with the ladies!” 

“I see.” 

Goblin Slayer failed to rise to the bait any further, instead drawing his sword. He checked the strap of his shield, then rotated his right wrist, along with the weapon in its grip. Heavy Warrior glanced at him. 

“Didn’t use up too much strength?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Good.” Heavy Warrior slapped Goblin Slayer gently on the shoulder. “What about you?” 

“I’m not as fragile as all that,” Spearman grinned, taking his spear in both hands and giving it a playful thrust. 

For the leader to show that he understood how each member of the party was doing was an important way of relieving any anxiety on the part of the group. 

And all the more so before a climactic battle. Heavy Warrior kept the point of his broadsword trained on a single spot on the rooftop. He ran his tongue over his lips to wet them. 

“Let’s get started.” 

And then, the enemy was there. 

A swirling shadow in the middle of the roof, at the bottom of the bowl-shaped depression. Darkness gathered toward the wriggling, rising shadow. At length, it formed an old-fashioned overcoat, the figure wavering like a mirage. 

“Foolish mortals…!” 

The voice creaked like a dry branch, a sound a human most likely couldn’t make. 

The figure was wasted and bent and looked as if it were standing in a swamp. In its knobbed fingers, it clasped a staff that appeared as old as its hands. Below its coat, a spirit flame burned. The man, the indisputable image of an evil wizard, spat at the hateful adventurers: 

“How I loathe any who would interfere with my pl—!” 

But he was cut off before he could finish. 

A sword. 

A crude, mass-produced sword of a strange length sliced through the air, its aim true, and pierced the wizard’s chest. He let out a gurgle, then fell to the ground, clawing at his throat. 

“Hey, hey, you could at least let him finish. Is this it?” 

“There is no need for us to confront him head-on.” 

It was Goblin Slayer. Standing next to the smirking Spearman, the man who had launched his sword through the air shook his steel helmet from side to side. “And it appears he was not a serious opponent.” 

Indeed. 

The wizard had collapsed with a thump. As they watched, the sword in his chest withered away. It turned to rust before they could blink. A bony hand reached up, grasped and shattered it. 

“The ritual…is already…complete!” he howled as he pulled out the decimated blade. It was abundantly clear that this person was a Non-Prayer Character. 

Heavy Warrior stood with his broadsword at the ready and glanced at Goblin Slayer. 

“Maybe stabbing him in the chest wasn’t the best plan?” 

“It’s about the height of a goblin’s head.” 

Goblin Slayer had pulled out a dagger and settled into a low stance. 

Spirit fire flickered in the wizard’s eyes as he shuffled forward. 

“I cannot be killed by those who have words…!” 

“You heard him,” Spearman said, almost as if stifling a yawn. “What do we do?” 

“He said he cannot be killed, but he didn’t say he cannot die.” 

Heavy Warrior grinned like he had when he’d bested his first giant roach. He nodded the way Goblin Slayer did when faced with a goblin. 

“Only one thing to do, then.” 

Without so much as a nod to each other, the party fell into formation and prepared for battle. 

The wizard began shouting true words without a moment’s hesitation, bending space. With two or three words he invoked a spell, and what appeared—perhaps to be expected—were gray stone demons. They waited faithfully behind their master, and then, at a sweep of his staff, they launched themselves at the adventurers. 

“Boorish barbarians! Yield before my vast intelligence!” 

But the men against him were all warriors and had all achieved Silver rank. The hard work and perseverance that had led to Heavy Warrior’s skill with the sword were nothing to sneeze at. 

“You forgot ‘great’!” 

Heavy Warrior groaned as he plunged forward to meet the monsters and hold them to the left, right, and center. 

“GARGLEGARGLEGA!!” 

“GARGLE!! GARGLEGA!!” 

When a careless statue came within reach, he seized the opportunity and destroyed it. 

He struck an intimidating pose. This was a man who needed nothing but a sword and his own body. It would take more than numbers to faze him. With each sweep of his sword, dust trailed through the air like a banner. 

“Then die like the barbarians you are!” the wizard cried, still wielding his staff from safely behind his gargoyles. 

“ Tonitrus…oriens…! Rise, thunder!” 

Summoned by the words of true power, magic began welling up in the area. There was no wind, yet the adventurers were hit by an overwhelming force like an oncoming storm. 

“‘Lightning’?!” Spearman shouted. He saw what was happening and stayed alert for his chance. “I could use Counterspell… No, it’d never work! I’m sorry, guys, I can’t do it!” 

But this came in part from the recognition that his opponent was a far more accomplished magic user than he. 

“Okay,” Heavy Warrior nodded, dispensing orders at a breakneck pace as he slaughtered yet another gargoyle. “Cover your mouths!” 

“Cover your mouths,” Goblin Slayer repeated. His dagger was no longer in his hand; he was already searching through his item pouch. 

He pulled out the egg and threw it in a single motion. Heavy Warrior pulled up the collar of his coat. 

The egg described a beautiful parabola, but the wizard swatted it down like a fly and stepped on it. 

“Very clever, you??!” 

Instantaneously, a red mist floated up from his feet—powder and bits of shell. A paralyzing pain struck his mouth and nose and eyes. He couldn’t breathe or speak. Or, of course, chant magic. The wizard pressed his hands to his face and fell back with a voiceless scream. 

The powder was a tear gas, including capsicum and other ingredients. However advanced one might be in magic, so long as one had eyes and nose and mouth, it was difficult to avoid. 

“Now…you’re…mine!” 

Spearman lost no time; he shot across the floor like an arrow from a bow. The gargoyles, pinned down by Heavy Warrior, were nothing to him. He headed straight for the wizard, touching a hand to his earring. 

“ Aranea…facio…ligator! Spider, come and bind!” 

“?!” 

The “spider web” easily caught up the agonized wizard. The wizard’s spirit flame guttered—and the instant it did so, the tip of a spear drove through his heart. 

The blood that sprayed out was bluish-black. Spearman quickly gave the silk-wrapped body a kick to free his weapon and jumped back. 

Needless to say, as he had declared earlier, the wizard showed no sign of losing his life to this. With gobs of blue-black blood pouring from his mouth, he tried to open his lips wide enough to speak another spell… 

“Aw, shut it.” 

Spearman wound the end of the spider web on the tip of his spear and used it as a gag. He shrugged at the wizard, who seemed unwilling to give up, his spirit flame burning with murderous intent. 

“Looks like you weren’t kidding when you said you couldn’t be killed.” 

“You don’t have to worry about a wizard who can’t speak,” Heavy Warrior said. “But it is a bit of a pain,” he muttered as he smashed the last of the gargoyles with his broadsword. 

All that remained was to find the source of the wizard’s power, which had to be somewhere in the tower, and destroy it. 

But so long as the sorcerer was alive, it was likely the traps and monsters would not disappear. 

“Hmm,” Heavy Warrior grunted. Beside him, Goblin Slayer kept his dagger trained on their captive, ever vigilant. Then his helmet tilted somewhat, as if he had just thought of something. 

“Why not just drop him?” 

“…” 

“…” 

Heavy Warrior and Spearman shared a glance. They nodded and then laughed like naughty children. 

“That’s it.” 

“Let’s do it.” 

The wizard, trying to speak around the gag in his mouth, was dragged to the edge of the tower and then given a firm kick in the back. Gravity had no words, yet it dragged him down, and soon he had met the same fate as the earlier adventurers. 

In other words, he died easily. 

“I wonder why he built this tower, anyway,” Spearman commented aloud, peering over the side at the bluish-black stain spreading on the ground below. His type usually set up shop either at the tip-top of a tower or in the lowest reaches of an underground maze. “It might have been more trouble to kill him if he’d been way underground.” 

“Maybe he had a handout from the gods or something,” Heavy Warrior said bluntly, returning his broadsword to his back. He was still watching their surroundings carefully, perhaps because the danger of traps and remaining enemies had not lessened. “Come on, let’s find the loot. The boss is dead. If we don’t hurry, this tower might vanish.” 

“Oh yeah, that’s right! An adventure’s gotta have treasure!” 

Spearman set off running, his joy giving him courage. Heavy Warrior did not even consider stopping him. Attitude and actions were separate. Just as keeping your guard up and not being nervous were different things. 

“He’s pretty good that way.” 

“Yes.” Goblin Slayer nodded, picking up the rust-ruined sword and clicking his tongue as he tossed it away. “There are many things I could learn from him.” 

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.” 

While Heavy Warrior considered whether to laugh, he and Goblin Slayer set out on the search. They were looking for loot, treasure chests, effects—anything of the sort. For an adventurer, there was no greater joy. 

In short order, they discovered a storage chest of red oak sitting in a corner of the roof. 

“This is not my main class. Don’t expect too much,” Goblin Slayer warned them, then knelt before the chest. He rooted through his item pack and produced several specialized tools. First, he took a file like a thin blade and worked it under the lid of the chest, feeling around. He confirmed there were no traps, then held up a hand mirror to the keyhole and looked in. 

Now it was time for the wire. Goblin Slayer set to picking the lock. 

“Hey, Goblin Slayer. Think about this: you didn’t stop a single bad guy today.” Spearman grinned as he watched the work over Goblin Slayer’s shoulder. “Meaning…” 

“What?” 

“I win!” 

“Yes,” Goblin Slayer made no effort to refute him, only nodded. “So you do.” 

Spearman flung his fist into the air with many a celebratory “Yesss!” Heavy Warrior stared up at the sky. 

“Because it was not goblins.” 

In his elation, Spearman seemed to miss the murmur, but Heavy Warrior certainly heard it. 

At last, the lock opened with a click, and Goblin Slayer exhaled. 

“It is a bit late to mention this, but there will probably be some fuss when we return.” 

“Huh? …Oh, your elf girl?” Heavy Warrior thought of the tomboyish, excitable elf in Goblin Slayer’s party. 

I guess we did kind of leave her out. 

“I think I’m gonna be in even more trouble,” Spearman said. “But don’t worry. It’s tradition to have little excitement while you divide the spoils and drink some wine.” 

“…As I recall, we said it would be three ways less expenses.” 

“Yes,” Goblin Slayer said, “I believe so.” Then he added in a dispassionate voice, “Treasure, huh? Not bad.” 

Heavy Warrior placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. Goblin Slayer accepted it silently. The lid of the chest squeaked as he lifted it.