Goblin Slayer - Volume 5 - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 – Hack And Slash

The adventurers left the village at dawn. They had wanted to reach the nest as soon as possible, but night belonged to the goblins. True, the “white darkness” reigned both day and night here, but there was no reason to hand an advantage to their opponents. There was no objection to leaving town at the moment when the scales between safety and danger were most evenly balanced. 

No objections as such anyway… 

“Ooooh… It’s so c-c-c-cold…!” High Elf Archer whined, her long ears trembling as they walked among the snowdrifts. She was accustomed to life on her feet, but her first time on a snowy mountain was still something of a surprise. 

A rope tied all the members of the party together. Scaling the snowy peak would not be easy. The fluffy white snow carpeting the ground was deep and cold, and if anyone was unlucky, their foot might find a place where there was nothing but loosely packed snow. There were spots with sharp fallen rocks, where a careless stumble could cost one’s life. 

“Erm… Hrgh. Hmm. This is quite…” 

“Are you okay…?” 

“Oh… But of course…” 

Lizard Priest, who came from the South, became even slower as he grew colder. He nodded at Priestess, who was looking at him with worry, and curled up his tail. Dwarf Shaman grabbed his hand. 

“Hang in there a bit longer. I’m using Tail Wind to keep the blizzard off us. It could be worse.” 

“Hmm. And I’m grateful.” Lizard Priest nodded. “Milord Goblin Slayer, how does it look ahead?” 

“No problems.” 

“That’s reassuring.” 

Goblin Slayer was walking just a bit ahead of his four companions. He looked down the ridge of the mountain, comparing their position to the map in his hand. 

“We’re almost there.” 

Be that as it may, the scene before them was an uninspiring one. A dark hole marred the white landscape of the mountain. Waste was piled to one side of the entrance. It was certainly the sort of place that monsters would call home. 

They were all thankful for Dwarf Shaman’s Tail Wind spell, which enlisted the help of wind sprites to hold the blizzard at bay. Still— 

“We need to get warm,” the dwarf said. “Heeey, Beard-cutter! All right if I start a fire?” 

“Please.” 

“On it.” 

With skill befitting a dwarf, he pulled out some dry branches and struck a flint. 

“Where did you find those?” Priestess asked. 

“Under the snow, and then a little farther down. You’d do well to remember that.” 

They sheltered in a small cave they dug out of the snow so the goblins wouldn’t see their fire. The sky, heavy with clouds, was still slightly dark; the sun was weak and far away. 

“Sunset is near. When our bodies have loosened up, we’ll go in.” Goblin Slayer loosened the straps on his armor and set down his bag. 

Priestess looked at him in surprise; she had never known him to remove his armor like this before. “Are you sure it’s okay to be doing that?” 

“If I don’t spend at least a few minutes this way, my body will never relax.” 

He took off his gauntlets, squeezing his rough but untanned hands mechanically. 

“You should rub your arms and legs,” he said. “If they’re poisoned by ice sprites, they may rot and fall off.” 

“Eep!” High Elf Archer yelped. She knew as much about sprites as any of them, and maybe that made the thought even worse for her. With a frown, she began to work her fingers along her limbs. 

“Your feet, too. Don’t forget.” 

“Er, right!” Priestess took off her boots and socks and began rubbing her pale, slim toes. Her socks surprised her; they were soaked through and quite heavy. Perhaps it was a mixture of sweat and snowmelt. 

I should’ve brought a second pair… 

“How are you doing?” Goblin Slayer asked, looking at Lizard Priest. The monk’s scaly face was as difficult to read as Goblin Slayer’s but for an altogether different reason. Still, it was clear enough that he was practically frozen stiff from the cold. 

Lizard Priest picked a bit of ice off his scales. “M-mm. Well, we’ve arrived anyway. Who knew there were such chilly places in the world?” 

“There are others even colder than this.” 

“Incredible!” 

He could well believe the rumors that his forebears had been annihilated by a deep freeze. 

Quietly snickering at the lizard, Dwarf Shaman reached nimbly into his bag and pulled out a jar of fire wine and cups for the whole party. He began to pour. 

“Here, here’s some wine, drink up. It’ll warm your innards.” 

“Wonderful. Mm, you know just the thing, master spell caster.” 

“Oh, stop it, you’re embarrassing me. Here, some for you.” 

“Th-thank you,” said Priestess. 

“Thanks.” High Elf Archer. 

“I appreciate it.” Goblin Slayer. 

They each began to sip at their drinks. They were only seeking a bit of warmth; it would have been counterproductive to get drunk. 

Without warning and for no perceptible reason, High Elf Archer brought the conversation around to Lizard Priest. “Hey, didn’t you tell us that your goal was to raise your rank and become a dragon?” 

The lizard’s huge body was curled up as close to the fire as he could get, and the bag of provisions was in his hand. Perhaps he was hungry, or perhaps he just wanted a little taste of the cheese he was now taking out. 

Lizard Priest didn’t attempt to hide what he was doing but nodded importantly. 

“Indeed; even so.” 

“A dragon who loves cheese, huh?” She took another sip from the cup in her hands and giggled. 

“Better for the world than a wyrm that wants treasure or sacrifices of maidens,” Dwarf Shaman said. 

“At least he wouldn’t have to worry about anyone trying to slay him. Can I have a piece of that?” 

“Indeed you may.” 

They were within spitting distance of a goblin nest, still freezing despite their fire, but High Elf Archer was feeling a little bit warmer and in good spirits. She used an obsidian dagger to slice off a piece of the cheese Lizard Priest offered her, then tossed it into her mouth. 

The food from that farm was delicious, as ever. Her ears twitched happily. 

“Tell me the truth. Do girls really taste that good to dragons? Or is it some sort of ritual or something?” 

“A fine question. Perhaps when I become a dragon, I shall understand.” 

“Are you… I mean, you don’t have any doubts that you’ll be able to become a dragon?” Priestess asked, sipping hesitantly at her wine. A small sigh escaped her lips. “I mean…breathing fire and flying through the air… Maybe those are things you could do with miracles?” 

“Heh-heh-heh! That’s how the old folk describe dragons, all right!” Dwarf Shaman had already drained one cup and was pouring himself a second. “But you can’t believe most of what old folks say anyway.” 

“But in my hometown resided a great and terrible dragon that had turned to a skeleton. And if apes can become humans, surely lizards…” 

Priestess smiled slightly at this grave murmur from Lizard Priest. Each person had their own faith. 

“Oh, that’s right!” High Elf Archer said suddenly, snapping her long fingers. “When you become a dragon, you’ll be immortal, right? I’ll come visit you!” 

“Oh-ho.” 

“I mean, we’re talking at least a thousand years, right? You’ll get super-bored. You’ll go crazy without any friends to help you pass the time.” 

She said seriously that she estimated at least 60 percent of the world’s rampaging dragons were just looking for something to do. 

Lizard Priest nodded in acknowledgment. Then he tried to imagine what it would be like when he became a dragon. 

“A dragon who speaks of the adventures of Goblin Slayer. One visited by a high elf.” 

“And…one that likes cheese,” High Elf Archer put in. 

This caused Lizard Priest to roll his eyes happily. “That sounds quite congenial.” 

“Right?” 

“But enough of that. A thousand years will pass in due course, and we must attend to what is coming now.” Lizard Priest turned to look at Goblin Slayer. “Milord Goblin Slayer, how shall we attack them?” 

He had been listening to the conversation silently. Now he said, “Good question,” and immediately lapsed back into thought. Then he said, “I think we should do as we usually do. Warrior in front, then ranger, warrior-monk, cleric, and spell caster.” 

“By the book,” Lizard Priest said. 

“That tunnel looks wide enough,” said Dwarf Shaman, who had peeked around the snowdrift for a look at the entrance. “Perhaps two by three will do?” 

Goblins had good night vision. The entrance to the nest yawned silent and dark. There didn’t seem to be any guards. Was it a trap? A careless oversight? Or… 

“Feh. My wine doesn’t taste so good anymore,” Dwarf Shaman said with a cluck of his tongue. He must have noticed that the waste at the entrance was more than just trash. 

The body of an adventurer lay among the refuse. The corpse had been thrown away as if it were no more important than a broken-up fence. Her equipment had been stripped off; it was clear she had been much defiled, and her exposed remains gnawed on by beasts. 

Cruelest of all, the adventurer appeared to be an elf woman. Appeared—well, she must have struggled, and the violence seemed to have continued after her death. Her ears had been cut down to the size of a human’s, the tips stuck in her mouth. The goblins’ twisted games knew no bounds. 

High Elf Archer glanced at Dwarf Shaman. “Hmm? Something wrong?” 

“…Naw. Nothing,” he said bluntly. “But take my advice, Long-Ears, and don’t go peeping around too much.” 

“I would never. Most of the time.” 

“Hey,” Goblin Slayer grunted, and asked softly of Dwarf Shaman, “…was Gold-hair there?” 

The dwarf shook his head slowly. He stroked his beard, took another look, then shook it more firmly. “Doesn’t seem so, as far as I see.” 

“Then we may still have time,” Lizard Priest said, and the other two men nodded. 

Priestess shuddered, perhaps intuiting something of what their conversation portended. Goblin Slayer tapped her on the shoulder and said, “Let’s go.” Then he glanced at the girl’s pale, bare feet. “Put on your socks and boots.” 

§ 

The shadow of the torch flame danced eerily in the wind. But the angle at which the tunnel had been dug meant that even just a step inside, one was sheltered from the snow and the wind; one could almost be warm. If it weren’t for the smell of meat and excrement that drifted from within, the place could almost be cozy. 

“Hmm. The path descends at a rather steep angle,” Lizard Priest said, his tail swishing with interest. 

“Yeah, but it goes right back up again over there,” High Elf Archer said. 

“Mmm.” 

It looked as if the goblins had dug down into the ground immediately upon beginning their nest and then come back up. The rather severe angles didn’t seem natural; most likely, they had been made by goblin hands. 

“Hmm. Quite a clever barrier against rain and snow,” Dwarf Shaman said, showing his fine knowledge of construction. He glanced back over his shoulder at the entrance. “Any precipitation that blows in gets caught here and doesn’t go any farther into the tunnels.” 

“Goblins make things like that?” Priestess said, blinking with perplexity or, perhaps, surprise. She well remembered what she was often told: that goblins were stupid, but they weren’t fools. In other words, just because they didn’t have much knowledge didn’t mean they didn’t think. But this… 

“I don’t know.” Goblin Slayer’s answer was dispassionate, almost mechanical. He drew the sword at his hip and used it to stir the pool of waste at the bottom of the depression. He clicked his tongue. “We can’t say anything yet. All I can tell you is, try not to step in the water.” 

“Is there something in there?” Priestess asked. 

“It’s a trap. There are stakes at the bottom.” 

A pit trap, in other words. Rather than burying it, the goblins had hidden it at the bottom of a waste pool. 

High Elf Archer, testing the depth of the pool with one of her bud-tipped arrows, frowned. “Ugh. That’s vile.” 

“I need you to listen for enemies.” 

“I know, I know. Leave it to me, I told you.” She jumped nimbly over the pool, but then winked mischievously and laughed. “I can’t stand getting so dirty too many times.” 

A fragrant sachet hung around High Elf Archer’s neck to help keep away smells. She twitched her long ears with pride, but Goblin Slayer shook his head and said bluntly, “Getting dirty isn’t the point.” 

“Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha… Right, but, well, when you get that messy, it’s a pain to clean up… Right?” 

Priestess heard the hollow note in the elf’s laugh. A similar pouch hung next to the status tag around her own neck. She may have gotten used to rubbing blood and guts all over herself, but it was never something she enjoyed. 

Come to think of it, the pile of corpses next to the tunnel entrance was much the same. She had plenty of experience with goblins now, had seen this many times and fancied herself accustomed to it—but still. She needed more than a joke or a chuckle… 

“Hey.” High Elf Archer, up ahead, glanced at her and nodded gently. She was the same way. Elves had exceptional sense perception. Seeing the flutter of the archer’s ears, Priestess nodded back. 

“Let’s…do what we can.” 

“Right.” 

After going down and then up two or three more slopes, the party finally arrived at the cave’s main tunnel. The torch had nearly burned down, and Goblin Slayer replaced it with another from his pack. 

“Hold this.” 

“Oh, yes, sir!” 

He gave the smaller torch to Priestess, while he held the new one, which burned brightly. 

The humans were the only members of this party, indeed, the only ones in this cave, who lacked decent night vision. In the light from the torch, Goblin Slayer examined the earthen walls intently. 

They seemed to have been dug with some crude tool. They were rough but sturdy—a textbook example of a goblin nest. 

The problem was elsewhere. 

“I don’t see any sort of totems.” 

“Does that mean there are no shamans?” 

“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I don’t know, but I don’t like it.” 

“Mmm… But wouldn’t it be easier for us if they don’t have spell casters?” High Elf Archer asked. 

“It had begun to bother me as well,” Lizard Priest said, opening his huge jaws. “The attack on the village, the skill with which they dispatched the previous adventurers. It would be hard to imagine that there are no brains behind this operation.” 

“Do you suppose it’s another dark elf or an ogre?” Priestess asked. 

“Or maybe…a demon?” High Elf Archer whispered with a petrified expression. The word echoed through the halls of the cavern, making their hair stand on end. 

The adventurers looked at one another, and then Dwarf Shaman, stroking his beard, let out a breath. “Ahh, stoppit already. No sense getting all uptight over hypotheticals.” He reached up (because he was very short) and slapped Goblin Slayer on the back. “This isn’t exactly what we call ‘striking a famous sword with a hammer.’ But, Beard-cutter. We ought to focus on what we can do now.” 

“Yes,” Goblin Slayer said after a moment. He raised the torch and took another look at the wall, then nodded. “Were you alluding to a dwarven proverb?” 

“I was,” Dwarf Shaman said with a pleased sniff. 

“I see.” As Goblin Slayer set off walking with his usual bold stride, murmurs could be heard. “There’s no need to further forge a famous sword.” And then, “Hmm. Not bad.” 

The layout of the cave didn’t seem too complex, and they followed the path for a while. There was no sign of goblins, only a pervasive stench of rot. 

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” High Elf Archer muttered, pulling her collar up over her mouth. Nobody else said it aloud, but most of the party seemed to sympathize with her—Goblin Slayer excepted. 

Eventually they came to a T-shaped intersection. High Elf Archer immediately crouched down, inspecting the floor carefully for footprints. 

“Lots of prints heading to the right,” she reported, clapping her hands to get the dust off them. She couldn’t always read man-made buildings, but in natural settings like this cave, her eyes were reliable. That suggested that to the right were sleeping quarters, with an armory or warehouse to the left. Or perhaps… 

“Last time, we started with the toilet,” Dwarf Shaman said. 

“Correct,” Goblin Slayer said. “It would be inconvenient to miss someone simply because he was using the bathroom.” 

“Same plan this time?” 

“Mm,” Goblin Slayer grunted. 

Should they do the same thing they had done before? Was it safe to use the same strategy each time? What was the likelihood that the enemy would predict what they were going to do? 

Imagine. Think. If a human’s actual armaments were his first weapon, knowledge and planning were his second. 

If he were a goblin, what would he do? 

“We’ll hit the right first.” Goblin Slayer made his determination without compunction. There was no debate. 

High Elf Archer nocked an arrow into her great bow, while Lizard Priest prepared a fang blade. Dwarf Shaman had his bag of catalysts in hand, and Priestess gripped her sounding staff firmly. 

They moved quickly through the tunnels, arriving at a large, hollowed-out living area. There before them was a horde of goblins, carrying shovels and pickaxes as if preparing for a surprise attack… 

§ 

“O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, grant your sacred light to we who are lost in darkness!” 

With these words, Priestess seized the initiative. She did this through no special ability—just a roll of the dice. But the way she intoned the Holy Light miracle without hesitation was a sign of how much she had grown. She held up her staff, the end of which was host to the sacred miracle. A brilliant light filled the cavern. 

“GORARAB?!” 

“ORRRG?!” 

The goblins, struck by the holy light, pressed their hands to their eyes and cried out. She counted ten—no, fifteen? 

“Seventeen. No hobs, no spell casters. Archers present. Let’s go!” 

For the adventurers, who had the light at their backs, the illumination was no problem at all. 

“First blood is mine!” No sooner had Goblin Slayer issued his order than a bud-tipped arrow began to fly. High Elf Archer had drawn back the spider-silk string of her bow elegantly, releasing the three arrows she carried in a single motion. 

The cavern may have been dark and confined, but that was no hindrance to an elf’s aim. Her skill was so advanced that it was hardly distinguishable from magic. Three goblins collapsed where they stood: fourteen left. A hail of stones began to assail the remaining creatures. 

“Come out, you gnomes, it’s time to work, now don’t you dare your duty shirk—a bit of dust may cause no shock, but a thousand make a lovely rock!” 

Dwarf Shaman flung some sand into space, turning it into rocks that rained down on the enemy. 

“ORGAAA?!” 

“GROOROB?!” 

The goblins howled and fell back. The Stone Blast spell assailed them indiscriminately, breaking bones and tearing flesh. 

At this point, of course, spells that harmed the enemy and those that aided allies were both of use. It was Dwarf Shaman himself who had settled on Stone Blast, an offensive technique. Spells that struck an entire area were best while one held the initiative, before engagement with the enemy. 

Ten goblins left. Screeching and weeping their vile tears, the monsters surged forward. 

“Here we go! You’re up, Beard-cutter! Scaly!” 

“Hrrrooahhh!” 

“Good.” 

One great roar and one curt reply: the two members of the party’s vanguard stood blocking the entrance to the room. It was only logical that they not enter; when fighting a large number of opponents, it was wise to choose a choke point and defend it. 

The enemy, which had outnumbered them nearly four to one, was reduced to half its strength. And only two or three goblins could stand abreast in the tunnel. Against the two warriors, and in light of the terrain, the fight was nearly even. It only went to show how crucial it was to take the initiative in combat. 

After all, there would always be more goblins than there were adventurers. The fate of adventurers who sought to face goblins without acknowledging that basic fact was a cruel one. 

“GORROB!” 

“Eeyahhhh!” 

The goblins were still half-blind from the flash of light; their attacks were hardly worth worrying about. Lizard Priest struck out with claws and tail, dealing one goblin a mighty blow and rending another to pieces. Eight left. 

Lizardmen respected animality—for it was a bestial nature combined with keen intellect that defined the nagas. Violent and brave, war cries mingling with prayers, Lizard Priest threw himself at the surviving goblins. 

“Hmph.” Just beside him, Goblin Slayer stabbed the creatures in their vital places—quietly, dutifully, precisely. 

Throat, heart, head. It didn’t matter. Humanoid creatures tended to have a great many weak points. Goblin Slayer personally preferred the throat. A stab there might not result in an instantaneous kill, but it would render the target helpless. He kicked aside a choking goblin and hurled his sword at another one farther away. 

“ORAGAGA?!” 

“Ten, eleven.” 

His target collapsed, pierced through the throat. Even in the dark, his aim was exact. 

Six left. Goblin Slayer shoved a club belonging to one of the dead goblins with his foot, kicking it up into his hand. He caught an ax blow from the goblin beside him with his shield, then aimed a strike of the club at the creature’s stomach. 

“ORARAO?!” Something disgusting poured from the goblin’s open mouth. Goblin Slayer struck again. This made two more since his last count. 

After dealing a vicious blow to the creature’s skull, Goblin Slayer nonchalantly swept the vomit from his shield. 

“Thirteen. The enemy is going to recover soon.” 

“Right!” 

Four left. Hardly an excuse to take it easy, of course. 

Despite the nervousness evident on her face, Priestess held up her sounding staff and invoked another of the soul-erasing miracles. 

“O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, grant your sacred light to we who are lost in darkness!” 

The Earth Mother answered the prayer of her faithful disciple with another miracle. Blinding light filled the room once more, banishing the darkness of the cavern. 

The goblins, however, were no fools. They were certainly not intellectuals, but when it came to cruelty and malice, they had no equals. And when this total lack of principles was joined to violence, the result was inevitable. 

The staff the girl held up had shined. Now she was raising it again. That meant it would shine again. 

One of the goblins, putting these most basic facts together, ducked his head. Unfortunately, he was one of the archers. As his three companions were murdered, he kept his head down, waiting for his chance, bow and arrow at the ready. 

“Hh—Haagh!” 

The shout seemed to be one of shock. Someone tumbled: it was High Elf Archer. The goblin’s arrow had lanced between the two frontline guards to strike her. A critical hit indeed. 

“What is this, now!” Lizard Priest exclaimed. 

“Hrrgh…” A crude but sinister arrow stuck cruelly out of High Elf Archer’s leg. 

Goblin Slayer glanced back, then tossed his club before running over to the elf. 

“ORAAG?!” 

Woosh. The club spun once in the air and then connected firmly with a goblin’s head, provoking a scream. It wasn’t enough to kill the creature, though. As he ran, Goblin Slayer picked up a dagger from the ground, covering the final few steps in one great leap. 

“GOAORR…?!” 

The goblin grabbed his arrow and spun, trying to get away, but he was too late. The dagger plunged into his heart, twisted once, and it was over. 

“Seventeen…” 

That was all of them. 

Looking around at the pile of corpses, Goblin Slayer picked up a nearby sword and put it in his scabbard. 

“Hey—hey, you all right, Long-Ears?!” 

“Hrr—r—yeah. I’m—I’m fine. I’m sorry. I failed.” 

“I’ll tend to you right away,” Priestess said. “Is it poisoned?” 

“Here,” Lizard Priest’s gravelly voice said. “First, we must remove the arrow.” 

High Elf Archer’s face was pale, but she was trying to act brave; she kept her hands on the wound as she murmured, “Okay.” 

Normally, Goblin Slayer might have gone straight over to his comrade. But this was still enemy territory. They needed to be alert for any possible ambush. 

From what Goblin Slayer could see, the wound was not fatal—and anyway, there was something he wanted to check. He went over to the corpse of the last goblin archer he had killed and gave it a nonchalant kick. 

“Hrm.” 

The body rolled, exposing the shoulder. There, he saw a scar, from an arrow wound that had since healed. He remembered this goblin. 

“…Wha?!” 

“What’s wrong?” 

At that moment, Goblin Slayer heard voices of surprise coming from behind him and turned around. He strode over to where High Elf Archer was cowering. Priestess looked up at him from beside her. 

“G-Goblin Slayer, sir… Look at this.” 

With a shaking hand stained with High Elf Archer’s blood, she held up the shaft of an arrow. Yes—just the shaft, no arrowhead. 

It had been carved from a branch, crudely enough to suggest a goblin’s work; it even had some ugly little feathers stuck on the end. The head, however, had not been well secured. Or… Perhaps that had been done deliberately. Maybe the arrowhead was intended to break off and remain inside High Elf Archer’s body. 

He had been careless. 

No—the contemplation, and the remorse, would have to wait. 

Immediately, Goblin Slayer knelt by High Elf Archer’s side. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“I-I-I’m just fine, r-really… Orcbolg, you w-worry too much…” 

It looked like it hurt just to move. Blood was flowing from High Elf Archer’s leg, and she was groaning. 

“Keep pressure on the wound. It will help stem the blood. Although it isn’t much.” 

“R-right, I’ll… I’ll do that.” No doubt she was trying to sound strong, but her voice was much softer than usual. 

Goblin Slayer switched to asking Priestess questions. 

“Any kind of poison?” 

“For the moment, I don’t think so. But…” As she spoke, Priestess looked with concern at High Elf Archer’s injury. Even with the elf squeezing as hard as she could, blood was leaking out between her fingers. “With the arrowhead still lodged in there, there wouldn’t be any point in closing the wound up with a healing miracle…” 

A cleric’s miracles might come from the gods, but their effects were limited by physical reality. Using Minor Heal while a foreign object remained in the body was a difficult situation. 

Goblin Slayer glanced at Lizard Priest, but he shook his head, too. 

“Refresh is capable only of enhancing the body’s native healing abilities.” 

That made the conclusion simple. Dwarf Shaman reached into his pouch as he spoke. “Can’t just leave it there, can we? Beard-cutter, lend me a hand, will you?” 

“Sure.” He and the dwarf looked at each other and quickly got to work. Priestess, who had some idea of what they were going to do, looked rather distraught; High Elf Archer, who didn’t, merely seemed uneasy. 

Goblin Slayer drew a dagger—his own, not one he had stolen from a goblin—and checked the blade. 

“I’ll do it. Give me fire.” 

“Sure thing. Dancing flame, salamander’s fame. Grant us a share of the very same.” Dwarf Shaman removed a flint from among his catalysts, striking it as he spoke. A little ghost-flame sprung up in midair, shining on Goblin Slayer’s dagger. 

Goblin Slayer heated the blade carefully and then snuffed the flame out with a quick motion. Almost at the same time, he pulled a cloth from his own bag and tossed it at High Elf Archer. 

“Hold that in your mouth.” 

“Wh-what are you planning?” 

“I’m going to dig out the arrowhead.” 

High Elf Archer’s long ears stood straight up. 

“I—I don’t want you to do that! After we get home, we can—!” 

Still sitting on her behind, she scrambled backward. Dwarf Shaman let out a sigh. 

“No whining, now, Long-Ears. Beard-cutter has the right of it. You want that leg to rot and fall off?” 

From beside them, Lizard Priest spoke coolly and with the conviction of a rock falling from the sky. “There would certainly be no reattaching it then.” 

“Ooh… Ohhh…” 

“Come on, everyone, you’re scaring her.” Priestess, unable to sit by any longer, scolded the men of the party—but she made no effort to stop what they were doing. 

She herself had an arrow pulled out of her by force once. She knew the fear, and the pain—and just how much worse it could get if they left it alone. 

“…At least, try to do it in the least painful way possible.” 

“What else would I do?” Goblin Slayer was waiting for the red-hot blade to cool to the right temperature. A traveling doctor had taught him that doing this would get rid of any poison on the blade. 

“Show me the wound.” 

“Errgh… Ohh… You really won’t make it hurt, will you…?” Very slowly, her face completely bloodless, High Elf Archer moved her hand. 

Goblin Slayer didn’t respond but inspected the injury, from which blood was still dripping. 

“Wine.” 

“Right ’ere.” Dwarf Shaman took a mouthful of fire wine and spat it out, as if he were casting Stupor. Tears leaped to High Elf Archer’s eyes as the alcoholic spirits burned in the wound. 

“Hrr…rrgh…” 

“Bite down on the cloth. So you don’t bite your tongue.” 

“Just… Just asking again, but… You won’t make it hurt, will you…?” 

“I can’t promise anything,” Goblin Slayer said with a shake of his head. “But I’ll try.” 

High Elf Archer, appearing resigned, bit down on the cloth and squeezed her eyes shut. Priestess clasped her hand. And then Goblin Slayer plunged the dagger into the elf’s thigh, widening the wound, digging deeper. 

“Hrrrrrgh—Gah! Gaggghhh…!” 

High Elf Archer’s lithe body flopped like a fish that had washed up on the shore. Lizard Priest pressed down on her shoulders to hold her steady, and Priestess continued to hold her hand. Goblin Slayer didn’t pause in his work; his hand was cruel but sure. 

The removal of the arrowhead took only a matter of seconds, although High Elf Archer might have sworn that hours had passed. 

“Done.” 

“Hooo…hooo…” She let out long breaths of relief. 

Lizard Priest placed a scaled hand on High Elf Archer’s thigh and recited, “Gorgosaurus, beautiful though wounded, may I partake in the healing in your body!” He was granted a gift: Refresh. The power of the fearsome nagas made the archer’s wound better before their very eyes. Flesh joined itself, and skin built itself up, the wound seeming to boil away. A true miracle. 

“Can you move?” he asked. 

“Y-yeah,” High Elf Archer said unsteadily, tears still at the edges of her eyes. She moved her leg back and forth, checking that it worked. Her ears drooped pitifully. “H-human first aid is awfully violent. I can still feel it.” 

“A-are you okay?” Priestess asked, offering her shoulder to support High Elf Archer as she stood up. 

“I think so…” 

“Can you shoot your bow?” Goblin Slayer asked. 

“Of course I can,” the elf replied, perhaps a little more hotly than necessary. 

She wasn’t bragging, exactly. But even if she could still shoot, her mobility was impaired. At least for the remainder of the day. 

“We ought to make a tactical retreat—” Goblin Slayer shook his head. “—but we can’t do that yet.” 

“I am not confident in the number of our spells and miracles remaining,” Lizard Priest announced calmly. 

Even so, the helmet turned slowly from side to side. “There are still more of them deeper in. We have to investigate.” Goblin Slayer checked his armor, helmet, shield, and weapon. Satisfied, he turned to his companions. “I can remain by myself if you prefer.” 

The wounded High Elf Archer was the first to respond. “Don’t try to be funny. We’re coming with you. Right?” 

“Indeed! We certainly are,” Priestess said with an energetic nod. 

“Mm,” Goblin Slayer grunted. Lizard Priest laughed and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“I suppose that means all of us are going, then.” 

“Pfah! Long-Ears, never thinking of how tired the rest of us are,” Dwarf Shaman said with a smile and an exaggerated shrug. 

High Elf Archer fixed him with a glare. “Hey, Orcbolg’s the one who wants to—” 

And they were off and running. 

Goblin Slayer, ignoring the customary ruckus of their argument, took another look around the living area. Although outmatched, the goblins had shown no sign of trying to run away. 

So there was a goblin who had copied his little trick. One who had received first aid for his arrow wound. And one who commanded him. 

“I don’t like it,” he muttered. 

He didn’t like it at all. 

§ 

“Hmph.” 

Goblin Slayer gave the rotted old door a kick, bringing it crashing down. At almost the same moment, the adventurers piled into the room, taking up positions, with Priestess in the center of their formation, holding a torch. 

“Hrm…” 

They had expected a warehouse or an armory or, perhaps, a toilet. But the room the light shone on was none of those. 

Much like the living area from earlier, this was another large room dug out of the earth. There were several mounds of dirt that might have passed for chairs. Farther into the room was an oblong stone that might have been brought from elsewhere. 

It was unmistakably an altar. 

This was a chapel—so was this cave a temple? If so, this altar would be where they offered their sacrifices… 

“Oh…!” Priestess was the first to notice, as was often the case. She rushed over. The memory of a trap they had encountered in the sewers flashed through her mind, but that was no reason to hesitate. She would be vigilant—but she would not refrain from helping. 

A woman lay atop the cold stone as if she had been simply tossed there; she wore not a scrap of clothing. Her exposed body was dirty, and the way her eyelids were squeezed shut spoke to her exhaustion. Her matted hair was a gold the color of honey. 

“She’s breathing…!” Priestess said happily, gently cradling the woman. 

Her ample chest rose and fell gently: the proof of life. 

“Quest accomplished, huh?” High Elf Archer muttered, obviously believing no such thing. 

There was never any sense of satisfaction or closure in slaying goblins. She pursed her lips and looked around the chapel. It was a primitive place of worship. To a high elf like her, it didn’t seem like it would be possible to sense the presence of the gods in a place like this. 

“…I wonder if a priest of the Evil Sect was here.” 

“Or perhaps these are vestiges of some ancient ruin,” Lizard Priest said, looking around. The elf could hear him scraping away at the dust as he examined the place. “Though I cannot quite imagine what god could be worshiped in such a vulgar place…” 

“Wait just a bloody moment,” Dwarf Shaman said, running his finger along the wall. “This earth is fresh. This was dug out recently.” 

“Goblins?” Goblin Slayer asked. 

“Probably,” Dwarf Shaman nodded. 

Were goblins fallen rheas? Or elves or dwarves? Or did they come from the green moon? No one knew. But as creatures that made their homes underground, they had estimable digging skills. No matter how remote the place, goblins could dig a hole and start living in it before anyone knew what was happening. 

They could pop out and surprise a group of adventurers as easily as they could eat breakfast. One didn’t have to be Goblin Slayer to know this. On her first adventure, Priestess had— 

“Um… Look here…!” 

At the distressed exclamation from Priestess, he looked once more at the captive adventurer. Priestess was holding up the woman’s hair, not afraid to get her own hands dirty. She was pointing to the nape of the woman’s neck. 

High Elf Archer couldn’t hold back a mutter of “That’s awful,” and it was hard to blame her. The unconscious woman’s neck bore a brand, which stood out painfully. The ugly red-and-black impression besmirched her otherwise beautiful skin. 

“Hrm…” 

Goblin Slayer picked up the metal brand, which lay on the floor nearby. It looked like a stray horseshoe or some such thing had been worked into a complicated shape. 

“Is that what they used?” Lizard Priest asked. 

“So it appears.” 

It seemed to be a sort of circle, in the middle of which was something that looked like an eye. Goblin Slayer took a torch and examined the brand carefully, fixing it in his memory. Was it the mark of a noble tribe or clan? There remained many mysteries about goblins. 

“However… It doesn’t appear to be a goblin totem.” 

Goblins had little notion of creating things themselves. They would simply steal what they needed; that was enough for them. This brand, though—even if it was constructed from a combination of found items—represented an act of creation. 

“I think it’s…the green moon,” a shaking voice said. It was Priestess, gently stroking the woman’s neck. “It’s the sign of a god. The deity of external knowledge…the God of Wisdom.” 

—Many gods gathered around this board, to watch over it. They included, of course, the God of Knowledge, who ruled over the knowing of things and found many faithful among scholars and officials. The light of the God of Knowledge was said to shine among all who ventured into the unknown, seeking the truth and the ways of the world. 

Yes: what the God of Knowledge granted was not knowledge itself but guideposts, a path leading to the truth. For adversity itself was an important kind of knowledge. 

The God of Wisdom, who was the deity of the knowledge of things outside, dealt with something subtly different. The God of Wisdom did not lead supplicants to knowledge but gave wisdom to all who asked. What this would do to the world, the board, was probably of no interest to the deity. 

Consider, for example, a young man who, confronted with the niggling unhappinesses of daily life, mutters, “Maybe the world will just end…” Normally, such words would be mere silliness, an innocent expression of dissatisfaction. But when the eye of the God of Wisdom falls upon such a person—what then? 

In an instant, some terrible way of ending the world enters the young man’s mind, and he begins to take action. More than a few believe in this god, thanks to unaccountable bursts of insight. But… 

“Geez. Now my head hurts almost as much as my leg,” High Elf Archer said, frowning as if she indeed had a headache. “I’ll keep watch. You guys go on.” 

“Hey,” Dwarf Shaman said with a touch of annoyance. “It’s all well and good you’re keeping guard, but you can at least listen to what we’re saying.” 

“Yeah, sure…” She didn’t sound very enthusiastic. She thumbed the string of her bow, an arrow held loosely at the ready. She kept shifting her legs restlessly; perhaps the pain was bothering her. Her ears flicked a little as she listened carefully. 

Goblin Slayer glanced in her direction but then looked once again at the brand. 

“The green moon, you said?” 

“Yes, sir. I learned just a little bit about it during my time at the Temple.” Priestess didn’t sound like she quite believed it herself. Her time as an apprentice seemed so far away already. 

“You mean the one the goblins come from?” Goblin Slayer murmured, picking up the metal brand. “If so, then there’s no doubt that our enemies are goblins.” 

He spoke without a hint of hesitation. “One of those goblins showed signs of having been healed.” 

But who would go so far as to use a miracle to help a goblin? 

“An agent of chaos just overflowing with mercy and compassion?” Lizard Priest scoffed. “I doubt it.” 

“Then it must have been a goblin, right?” Priestess said. “But… How could they…?” She blinked, as if she didn’t want to believe it. 

The god who gave knowledge from outside was a mercurial one; it would not have been a great surprise if the deity had spoken to a goblin. 

It wouldn’t have been strange, yet a desperate doubt remained in Priestess’s heart. Even so, if the goblins were able to complete a ritual… That would be far worse than occasionally hearing the voice of God. 

“Are you sure it isn’t some high-ranked evil priest, a dark elf or something?” she asked. 

“What? I don’t think so,” a high, clear voice said in response to Priestess’s suggestion. 

Dwarf Shaman sighed again and stroked his beard with more than a little annoyance. “You can keep watch or you can chat. Pick one.” 

“You’re the one who told me to listen to you guys. If I’m listening, I have the right to contribute, don’t I?” High Elf Archer chuckled quietly. 

“Mm,” Lizard Priest said, nodding in agreement. “And mistress ranger. What would you like to contribute?” 

“I mean—” She spun her pointer finger in a circle. “If you’ve got a bunch of goblins, and you only use them to do some looting… That doesn’t make you much smarter than a goblin, does it?” 

“Well hell, Long-Ears, maybe a bunch of bandits found religion and thought they were supposed to worship the goblins!” 

“You’re just upset that you can’t believe in your own explanation anymore.” 

“Hrm, well.” 

“Heh.” Lizard Priest gave a sort of snort, crossed his arms, and then began counting off on his fingers. “It thinks like a goblin, controls goblins, heals goblins, attacks people, and is a follower of evil.” 

Priestess put a finger to her lips, thinking through the possibilities. “A goblin priest? A warrior-priest?” 

Nothing quite seemed to fit. What were they facing here? A goblin of some kind? But what kind? 

At that moment, an idea came into Priestess’s head, as suddenly as if it was a gift from heaven. 

It was an outrageous, impossible idea. But… 

Things began to make sense if they were dealing with someone who wielded an army against nonbelievers. 

“No… It can’t be. That’s impossible.” 

“…” 

She hugged her own shoulders, shook her head, refusing to believe it. 

Beside her, she could hear the brand creaking in Goblin Slayer’s fist. 

It wasn’t possible. It was ridiculous. But in fact, nothing was impossible. 

There was only one answer. Goblin Slayer acknowledged the truth of their enemy clearly. 

“A goblin paladin…”