Goblin Slayer - Volume 5 - Chapter 6

Chapter 6 – Goblins’ Crown 

The creaking and groaning of the rusty horn was violent to the ears but could be heard clearly all throughout the fortress. Given that a goblin was blowing into the pipe as hard as he could, it made sense that the resultant noise would be both loud and hideous. Or perhaps the goblins considered it to sound gallant. 

They were dressed in a mismatched array of rags, many of which they had produced by tearing up the clothing they stole from the village women. They carried drums of skin and bone, which made a hollow sound when they beat them. 

One after another, the goblins flooded into the central courtyard of the fortress. 

“ORARAG!” 

“GORRB!!” 

“GROOOB!!” 

They raised their fists and howled, flecks of dark spittle flying from their lips. 

It was obvious enough what their excited voices meant. They were shouting out taunts, or invective, or giving voice to their resentment, jealousy, and greed. The collective hatred was turned upon all those who had what they did not. 

To the goblins, it was also as if they were hailing their hero. The one who took their wishes upon himself, the one who slaughtered the foolish humans. 

Goblins actually have a strong feeling of solidarity, but at the same time, they hate to take the initiative to do anything themselves. Instead, they leave everything to a chief, or shaman, or lord. That leaves them free to chase anything that glitters—literally or proverbially—be it food or drink, or women, or gear. Free to drag down those who have what they do not and cut them to pieces. 

No goblin wants to die. If his brother dies, he gets angry and feels he must take revenge. 

And goblins hold all this at once, feeling no contradiction. 

“GORARARARAUB!!!!” 

At last, an even louder voice asserted itself, and the goblin behind it appeared, his stride full of menace. 

He wore a grimy steel helmet; a patchwork of metal armor covered his body. A crimson cloak—he had torn down a curtain from someplace—served as a further covering. At his hip he carried a shining silver sword so striking that to the goblins, it seemed nearly sacred. 

“ORARAG! ORRUG!” The goblin paladin. At his great and somber voice, the goblins knelt as one. 

Together, they bowed their heads, and a path opened among them like the parting of a sea. The goblin paladin began to walk among them, regally, his cape fluttering. 

The tip of the scabbard in which his silver sword rested scraped along the ground, but he seemed to pay it no mind. 

He advanced toward a huge throne, built of junk and corpses. His hideously twisted face seemed to suggest an element of pride. He could almost have looked humorous, like a caricature of a human being—but one infinitely depraved and cruel. 

§ 

“We’ve miscalculated.” 

The party had just left the armory. Goblin Slayer was looking out into the central courtyard from the hallway, clicking his tongue and not sounding very happy. 

High Elf Archer gave him a quizzical look. “How so? Isn’t that the enemy boss? I could pick him off from here…” 

“That you mustn’t do,” Lizard Priest said gently. “That would leave us with only a headless army of goblins, and there is no telling what they might do.” The quick-tempered archer already had a bud-tipped arrow in her bow. “But I believe that is not all, is it, milord Goblin Slayer?” 

“No,” he said. Then, quietly, he added, “Can you not see it?” 

“…They’re just goblins, aren’t they?” 

“That’s right.” 

This caused High Elf Archer to twitch her long ears, perplexed. This wasn’t making sense to her, nor was she sure what they had miscalculated. Yes, there had been some hiccups in the plan, but she felt it had gone pretty well overall… 

“That goblin is the master of this fortress.” 

“…?” 

“This is a ceremony. They’re going to present ranks or awards.” 

“Oh!” It was not High Elf Archer, but Priestess, who exclaimed. She clapped a hand over her own mouth, then peeked at the courtyard from the hall. Thankfully, none of the goblins seemed to have noticed over the grating sounds their ugly little band was making. 

Priestess put a hand to her chest in relief, and then with all seriousness, she gave the answer. 

“There’s always a priest at ceremonies like this…!” 

Indeed. If this ceremony followed typical goblin style, the priest would be called forward. 

Whether or not the priest was involved, that was still the goblin paladin before them, the creature who had apparently received a handout from the god of external knowledge. 

But as far as that goblin priest went… 

“…………Oh.” 

A tiny, shaking voice escaped Noble Fencer’s lips. Her lovely face went slightly pale. She clenched her fists, her arms still wrapped in bandages. What had those hands of hers done? What had she done with them? On a whim? In the caprice of a moment? 

Her eyes wavering, she looked from one member of the party to another. 

“Well, he’s not far away,” Dwarf Shaman said as if nothing much were going on. “But he’s permanently indisposed.” He stroked his beard with one hand, reaching into his bag of catalysts with the other; his expression was seriousness itself. “I suppose this might be a bit of a problem.” 

No one could say anything in response to his whisper. 

They all understood the situation they were in. 

Even a cursory glance at the goblins in the courtyard suggested there were more than fifty monsters there. And the adventurers were right there with them. What would happen when the goblins discovered their presence? 

Goblin slaying is as old as time; it has been taking place since the world was born. And whenever it does, the goblins have always outnumbered the adventurers. 

Those heroes who are unprepared, who challenge the goblins blindly, are killed. All the more so when they try to give battle in the very heart of the nest. 

Goblin Slayer was no exception to this rule. 

How was this odd adventurer with his strange ways going to make up for the difference in numbers? They had been adventuring together for close to a year. There was no way she wouldn’t know. 

Then it happened. 

“…O-ow…!” Noble Fencer, her hands still clenched, went stiff and grunted in pain. 

“Wh-what’s wrong?” Priestess approached her almost automatically, checking for injuries, but she saw no obvious wounds. But… 

“Hrr-rrr-ghh…gah…” 

“Sh-she’s so hot…!” 

Noble Fencer’s skin was hot to the touch, seemingly almost enough to burn. 

“What’s going on?” Goblin Slayer asked. 

“I—I don’t know. But this…” 

Remember. Think back. Priestess desperately searched her memory. 

There were no external injuries, and it wasn’t likely to be poison. Heat in the body. Almost as if a spell had been cast on her. 

A spell? No. This was no simple magic. And there were no totems here. A paladin. A cleric. 

Divine punishment… A curse. A curse? 

“Oh…!” 

Priestess looked down at where Noble Fencer’s recently shortened hair revealed the nape of her neck. The cruel brand burned into the skin there, the eye of the green moon, was shining brightly, as if aflame. 

“It’s…!” 

“Haah… Hrrrgh… Arrgh…” 

Noble Fencer writhed, sinking her teeth into her own arm in hopes of suppressing her groans of pain. Priestess held on to the warrior’s burning body for dear life, looking up at Lizard Priest. He was Silver-ranked, the most experienced cleric there. Now he let out a hissing breath. 

“A curse from the evil gods! I must dispel it. No, we’ve no time…!” 

They had been careless. They had considered the brand to be nothing more than another example of the goblins’ vile cruelty. 

Now they understood: it was because of the curse that even a healing miracle had not been able to erase the scar. 

“O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, lay your revered hand upon this child’s wounds!” 

Even so, there was no time to dawdle. Priestess implored the Earth Mother to give them healing. The merciful goddess brushed the girl’s neck with her finger, pitting herself against the curse that resided there. But… 

“GORUB?!” 

“ORARARAGU?!” 

All at once, a hubbub began to spread among the goblins in the courtyard. 

The adventurers saw that the ceremony was proceeding apace; now the monsters were only waiting for their priest and his sacrifice. 

But he didn’t appear. He did not come. 

After a moment, the goblin paladin muttered, “ORG,” and sent a lackey scurrying off. 

He was no doubt headed for the basement prison. He would find the priest’s body, along with the freed prisoners—it was only a matter of time. 

“ORARARAGAGA!!” the goblins shouted, the collective noise growing in strength. 

The goblin paladin jumped up and howled out what seemed like a bizarre prayer. “IRAGARAU!” 

“Hrraaaaaaahhh!” Noble Fencer bellowed, no longer able to fight the pain. 

Then everything happened at once. 

Looking into the courtyard, Goblin Slayer grabbed his sword. The goblin paladin was looking right at him. 

Their eyes met. One gaze hidden by a steel helmet, the other a pair of golden pupils. And then— 

“ORAGARAGARAGARA!!!!” 

“Get down!” 

At the goblin paladin’s command, archers turned and let loose a volley of arrows with sickening agility. At the same moment, Goblin Slayer dove to the side, catching the two girls as he went. 

“Eek!” 

“…?!” 

Priestess exclaimed; Noble Fencer made no sound but was obviously startled. Goblin Slayer ignored them, raising his shield. 

Thop, thop, thop. A limp sound rang out as the arrows showered against it. Goblins are not strong creatures to begin with; when they had to fire upward, the fact was only magnified. 

Goblin Slayer picked up one of the arrows; he found the head was only loosely attached. And yet, the little monsters were trying to make the arrows work over a long distance. 

“A poor imitation.” 

A hollow sound of metal accompanied the continuing rain of arrows. Goblin Slayer grunted, throwing away the bolt in his hand as if it interested him not at all. Then he looked back at Priestess and Noble Fencer, keeping his shield up to protect them as he spoke. 

“Are you all right?” 

“Oh, uh, y-yes. Thank you.” 

“It’s no problem.” 

“……” 

Noble Fencer said nothing, averting her eyes from where she lay under Goblin Slayer’s chest, but she nodded. 

“Good.” 

That was enough. He looked next at where their companions were located some distance away. 

“What about you?” 

“Fine, somehow!” High Elf Archer said. 

“In danger of getting crushed, though,” Dwarf Shaman said with a wave. 

Lizard Priest had spread-eagled himself and leaned back over the elf and the dwarf to cover them. 

“Well, now, this has become a fine thing, hasn’t it?” he said, narrowing his eyes happily despite the hail of arrows around him. 

To the lizardmen, such crises were considered trials, and trials were to be undertaken with joy. 

“We’ll split into two groups,” Goblin Slayer said. 

“Excellent idea,” Lizard Priest said quickly. “Three and three: a warrior, a spell caster, and a priestess. Then a priest, a ranger, and a spell caster. Yes?” 

“That’s fine.” 

“Which shall be the bait?” 

“I’ll do it,” Goblin Slayer said. “A tank is most suited to that job.” 

“And my physical strength most appropriate for carrying the former prisoners out of the basement. Understood!” 

“Good.” 

Their quick, quiet conference over, the strategy was set. There was no one who could best Goblin Slayer at slaying goblins. Nor could any race outdo the lizards when it came to the arts of war. 

“Then let us put this plan into motion. Mistress ranger, master spell caster—will you be able to come with me?” 

“Yeah, sure,” High Elf Archer said. “But—gosh! Look at the form they use shooting those arrows! It just ticks me off!” 

“Save it,” Dwarf Shaman advised her. Then the three of them began to creep down the hallway, using Lizard Priest and his mighty scales as a shield. 

Goblin Slayer nodded. Now all he had to do was make himself noticeable. 

“All right. Let’s go.” 

“Oh—yes…!” 

“…!” 

But Noble Fencer stood silently, not moving. Or rather, she couldn’t move. 

The pain was part of it, the feeling that her neck was burning. She was curled up and sniffling quietly. 

But that wasn’t all of it. The fingernails of the fists she had closed so tightly had broken through her bandages, and now blood was flowing. 

“You… You mustn’t do that, okay?” Priestess approached, gently placing her hand over the fencer’s. The two willowy, delicate hands went together naturally, entwined with each other. 

Noble Fencer shook slightly. 

“………I…” 

The thinnest of voices escaped her. 

“…know… I……know that. I kn……ow.” 

She shook her head, waves rippling through her honey-colored hair, as if to drive something away. 

“But………” She couldn’t seem to get out more than that; the rest wouldn’t come. “…But…!” 

Then the dam broke, words and tears spilling out in equal measure. 

The regret. The regret. The pain. The sadness. Why had it all happened to her? It wasn’t… 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. All of them—impulsive. Laughing at her. 

Making fun. And yet… She was wretched. Unable to do anything. Pathetic. 

It was her fault again. Her fault that things…had ended like this. 

The sword. She had to get it back. She had to. Give it back. Give it back. 

I want to go home. 

Father… Mother… 

“I can’t… I can’t stand this anymore…!” 

“…” 

Goblin Slayer and Priestess were silent. The string of words made scant sense to them. 

Noble Fencer was sniffling and snuffling like a child coming down from a temper tantrum. Goblin Slayer listened carefully as she desperately strung words together. From inside his metal helmet, he looked intently at her tearful, snotty face. 

And then he thought: 

Out of all that the goblins steal, how much can really be gotten back? 

“Is that so?” he said then. “I understand.” 

“…Huh?” 

Noble Fencer looked up at him, uncomprehending. She looked at Priestess, beside her. 

“…Gosh,” Priestess said. “You really are hopeless, aren’t you?” Sigh. She didn’t rise from where she crouched between Goblin Slayer and Noble Fencer. 

“—is what I cannot say.” 

Now it came out. Again. But he did understand, didn’t he? 

“Goblin Slayer, sir, I’ve told you, you can’t just answer everything with, ‘Is that so?’!” 

“Is that so?” 

“See? You did it again.” 

“………Is that so…?” 

Priestess’s smile was like a blooming flower; he pointedly averted his gaze. 

“I will get back your sword.” Then he stood up, his shield still at the ready. The storm of arrows continued to bounce off it. “And I will kill that goblin paladin. Along with the other goblins.” 

He drew the sword at his hip. It was a strange length. “I don’t mean one or two of them. I don’t mean an entire nest. I don’t mean even this entire fortress.” 

The grimy helmet. The cheap-looking armor. The adventurer who wore them. 

“I will slay all the goblins.” 

So do not cry. 

At these words from Goblin Slayer, Noble Fencer sniffed mightily, then gave a small nod. 

§ 

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

That great light broke upon the goblins like the dawning of the sun. 

It was Holy Light, granted by Priestess’s soul-enervating prayer. 

At this distance, it wouldn’t be enough to blind the targets, but— 

“ORARAGA!” 

“GROAAB!!” 

—it was more than enough to get the goblins focused on one group of adventurers while another snuck into the fortress. 

The goblin paladin spat out an order, along with several dark flecks of spittle, and the goblins began to move. The arrows continued to come down, while a unit of goblins marched out of the courtyard. Presumably, the plan was to pin down the enemy with arrows while advancing their own troops. That much was clear enough. 

“While we have their sacrifice, however, they can’t afford to act too aggressively,” Goblin Slayer said, holding up his round shield to protect the young woman behind him from the incoming bolts. 

The arrows bounced off the shield and scattered on the ground nearby. He stepped on and destroyed them mercilessly. 

“It feels good to be the one with the hostage for once.” 

Goblin Slayer glanced back at Priestess and Noble Fencer, then turned to securing a path. 

“Here we go. Keep low.” 

“Oh—yes, sir! Should I use Protection…?” 

“No,” Goblin Slayer said. “Save it.” 

Priestess had only one miracle left. And it never paid to misjudge when one should use one’s spells or miracles. 

Priestess nodded obediently, but her smile was somehow mischievous. “All right,” she said, then, after a beat: “But if it gets dangerous, I’m using it.” 

“I’ll trust your judgment.” 

The words set her heart dancing: He trusts my judgment! 

It made her so happy to hear that one word, trust, from Goblin Slayer. 

“Yes, sir!” she said earnestly. Goblin Slayer nodded at her, then looked at Noble Fencer. 

“Can you run?” 

“………Probably.” It was the honest answer. The girl was rubbing at the reddened corners of her eyes. All the emotions she had been holding back had come bursting out, and maybe she was feeling differently now. Her expression was still transparently frozen, but now the glass beads of her eyes had a light in them. 

“All right.” Goblin Slayer pulled a torch out of his bag, struck a flint, and lit it. He thrust it at Noble Fencer. She took it in a firm grip, blinking at the bright flame. 

“You’re our rear guard. Keep us safe.” 

“……Okay.” She nodded with a serious expression. Something soft embraced her left hand. She looked up in surprise, to see— 

“It’s going to be fine.” 

—Priestess, smiling like an open flower in front of her. 

“We’ve come this far. Do you think we’re going to let ourselves be defeated now?” 

“…Mm.” 

Noble Fencer squeezed Priestess’s hand. Then they set off running, and the battle began. 

Whether or not the enemy realized it, the arrowheads on all the goblins’ arrows were loose. Nor were the tips covered in poison. Maybe this was an effect of the earlier battle, or perhaps they just held a grudge. But in Goblin Slayer’s opinion, they were simply trying to ape him, and doing a poor job of it. 

The device of the loose arrowheads caused the arrows to shake, lowering their accuracy. What were the goblins thinking, trying to fire such bolts from a distance? Long-range shooting was already difficult for goblins, weak as they were. Now they were using missiles whose tips would break off when they hit anything. An unprepared amateur might be vulnerable to such tactics, but the arrows would hardly even damage anyone with halfway decent armor. 

Still, it was convenient for him. The goal of his group was to buy time. To be the bait. They were supporting their allies. Every goblin they could get to pay attention to them was one step closer to victory. 

That, of course, was assuming that Lizard Priest and the others could pull off their part of the plan. 

“This is going to get harder and harder to handle alone.” 

“Goblin Slayer, sir! They’re coming! Six—no, seven!” 

Priestess sounded a warning as if to confirm the mutter that escaped him. 

Ahead of them: a group of goblins was running along the fortress walls toward them, golden eyes glittering in the dark. They held clubs and spears and axes with which to beat the adventurers, trample them, tear them apart, violate them. 

“Hmph.” 

What Goblin Slayer did was simple. 

He drew his sword as he ran, then flung it. 

“GAROAB?!” 

One goblin suddenly found himself with a sword through his neck; he clutched his throat as if drowning as he tumbled from the battlements, disappearing into the blackness. 

The remaining goblins were not, of course, especially intimidated by this. 

Look. That stupid adventurer just threw away his weapon. Attack! Kill! Tear them to pieces! 

But that was their mistake. 

“First, one. Next, two.” 

“GARARA?!” 

The shield in his left hand came up, shattering the skull of the goblin in front. The shield’s honed edge was a weapon in itself, and it did its job brilliantly. 

Warding off the gruesome spray of his enemy’s blood, Goblin Slayer picked up the creature’s stone ax. 

“Three!” 

So long as goblins attacked him, Goblin Slayer would not be without a weapon. 

The merciless stone ax came flying at the heads of the third and fourth creatures, splitting them open just like their companion earlier. 

“ORAG?!” 

A fourth. A fifth. A sixth. Trading one weapon for another and then another, he slaughtered goblins with each breath. 

The goblins were unable to use their numbers to their advantage on the narrow battlements, something the little monsters had yet to understand. 

The adventurers pushed ahead against the goblins, who crashed against them like a hideous tide. 

Of course, Goblin Slayer didn’t deal with them all single-handedly. 

“GRARAB!” 

One creature used its small size to dodge to one side, making for the women. 

“Take this!” 

“GARO?!” 

But Priestess rebuffed him firmly with a swing of her sounding staff. The damage it did was minimal, but it was more than enough to stun him. 

“Why, youuu!” 

“ORARAG?!” 

And a stunned goblin was easy prey for Noble Fencer. She swung the torch like a burning club and sent the creature tumbling from the walls. 

Her shoulders heaved, but her eyes were looking into the darkness. 

“They’re coming from behind, too!” 

“How many?” 

“…I’m not sure.” She bit her lip. “But it’s a lot!” 

“All right.” 

Goblin Slayer casually withdrew a bottle from his bag and launched it behind him. It flew over Priestess’s and Noble Fencer’s heads with the sound of a passing breeze, landing directly in front of the oncoming goblins. 

There was a clatter as the ceramic jar broke; the viscous liquid inside went everywhere. Noble Fencer had probably never seen or heard of this liquid, but Priestess remembered it. 

It had many names: Medea’s Oil, petroleum…and gasoline. 

“GARARARA?!” 

“ORAG?!” 

There were other ways to kill an enemy besides personally cutting them down. The goblins slipped and slid on the slick stuff, falling from the ramparts. With all the creatures shoved together on the top of the wall, this was only to be expected. 

Still, goblins would be goblins. They trampled over their fallen comrades and got past the gasoline, throwing themselves at the adventurers even if their numbers had been somewhat reduced. 

“GRARAM!” 

“…Hi-yaah!” 

Noble Fencer swung at them energetically. The torch looked like a great red brush, showering sparks as she painted the night with it. 

One goblin took a blow and fell off the wall. The second came leaping at her. She met it with a strike from the torch. The third was already upon her, threatening to sneak past to one side. 

“Leave him to me…!” 

It was Priestess. Noble Fencer had no time to answer as she dealt with the fourth goblin, whom she beat repeatedly until he stopped moving. 

Yes, but now the fifth, and the sixth were— 

I can’t keep up…! 

Her arm as she wielded the torch grew heavy, her movement slow; her breath became strained and her vision clouded. 

She could hear the sound of her own breathing, her own blood pulsing. There was a ringing in her ears, making it hard to hear. 

Noble Fencer glanced over her shoulder, seeking help. But Priestess was whipping her sounding staff around as fast as she could, trying to drive back the mass of oncoming creatures. 

“Curse you…!” she was saying. “There’s…always so many of them…!” 

Goblin Slayer was just beyond her, and it would be no use hoping for help from him. 

Noble Fencer could feel rancid goblin breath on her pale cheek; they were getting very close. 

“Oh…” 

The humiliation and hopelessness she had experienced on the snowy mountain returned vividly to her memory. The awful reek of the goblins. The implacable hands. The unrelenting violence and cruel greed. The simpleminded grins. 

The thought made her body go stiff, her throat constricting with terror. Strength came into her hands. 

But in her left hand was an unmistakable warmth; in her right, an unremitting light burned. 

A scene flashed before her eyes, of Goblin Slayer in the basement prison, fighting his fight. 

“…Ah…ahhhh!” 

There was an instant where her body moved faster than thought, flinging the torch at the goblins. 

“GAROARAARA?!” 

Unfortunately—or perhaps somewhat fortunately?—her target was one of the goblins who had already crossed the gasoline. Flame billowed across his skin instantaneously, and he fell off the battlements still writhing in agony. 

“GROOOB!! GRAAB!!” 

Always, however, goblins trust to their numbers. Another simply surged forward and filled the gap. 

“Hrrraah…!” 

Noble Fencer brought her fist around in a backhand. In her hand she had concealed the aluminum dagger, with which she stabbed the creature. 

“GAROARAO?!” 

“D-damn you…!” 

The dagger buried under the monster’s clavicle was enough to end his life; she kicked the corpse away, pulled out her blade, and looked up again. 

Suddenly, she found the tide had broken. This was the pause, the few precious seconds before the next wave rolled in. Noble Fencer inhaled deeply, steadying her breathing. 

She was sure she could never have done this a few minutes ago. Spurred on by anger, weapon in hand, throwing herself at the horde of goblins without a thought for either the past or the future. And… 

“Huff…puff…huff…” 

But then there was Priestess. Even as she gulped air, she refused to let go of Noble Fencer’s hand. Her fingers were slim and pretty, and yet—and yet, warm. 

“……” 

Noble Fencer regarded the hand silently. The urge to wade in among the goblins was not enough to make her extricate herself from Priestess’s grip. After all, Goblin Slayer, who had rescued Noble Fencer, had entrusted her to Priestess. 

“Thirteen… Well done.” 

The man himself spoke without so much as a glance in her direction and tossed her a new torch. She just managed to catch it, using the moment’s peace between onslaughts of goblins to light the thing and get a good grip on it. 

She looked briefly at Priestess’s face; sweat was running down her forehead and her features were stiff with nervousness, but still she gave Noble Fencer a smile. Noble Fencer reflected that she probably looked much the same herself. 

She knew that, for better and for worse, people could change dramatically in the space of a single moment. 

§ 

“How’s it looking up top?” 

High Elf Archer casually shot another goblin, then glanced back at her friends. 

There were goblins inside the fortress. Not as many as on the walls, but enough to make combat unavoidable. The sounds of fighting reaching the elf’s ears intensified, but she took comfort in the fact that she didn’t hear any human screams. 

“Ah-ha! You’re worried about Beard-cutter, aren’t you, Long-Ears?” 

Dwarf Shaman chuckled, pulling out a wineskin and taking a swig. With his lips wetted, he wiped a few drops away and smirked at his companion. “Wish you were up there yourself, do you?” 

“Not especially. I’m not worried about Orcbolg at all.” She sniffed as if the subject bored her, then drew another arrow from her quiver. “It’s the other two I’m concerned about.” 

“Concerned the new girl is going to take him from you is what you are! Awfully childish.” 

“That’s not what I’m worried about!” Her ears stood up straight and she glared at the dwarf. Perhaps she realized she had come on a little strong, because her next words were much more gentle, almost shy. “…They’re my friends. Is it wrong to worry about them?” 

“Ain’t nothing wrong with it.” 

“Huh?” High Elf Archer blinked, taken aback to hear the dwarf agree with her so readily. 

“You’re an elf. A big, important friend!” 

So he was just teasing her after all. But then, he was praising her, too, or so it seemed. She wanted to get angry but couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. And yet, she couldn’t just roll over and take this, either. She settled for a growl and a glare in the dwarf’s direction, but he ignored her and took another mouthful of wine. 

“Ha-ha-ha! Now, if milord Goblin Slayer were here, there would be no need to argue.” Lizard Priest watched the two of them with a jolly expression, his tongue slipping out of his mouth with a hiss. 

He was actually the youngest among the three of them, but he never tired of watching the elf, who acted so much younger than she was. 

“Now, then. It will avail us nothing to chat and chatter here. How much farther?” 

“Not far to the room we’re looking for,” Dwarf Shaman said, wiping his beard with a gauntleted hand. He put the cap back on the wineskin and tapped on the wall. “Frankly, it’s going to be a bigger job getting back to the prison once we’re done there.” 

“Oh,” said High Elf Archer, sensing an opening, “I thought dwarves were as brave as they were fat. Not so?” 

“Watch it.” Dwarf Shaman’s movements were somber, his shake of his head serious. “I look as good as I do because I’m so brave. Unlike you. I can hear your knees knocking from here!” 

“Why, you…! Dwarf! Wine barrel!” 

“What’s that, anvil?” 

“Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!” 

Now, of course, the three of them might be bantering, but they weren’t standing around wasting time. Fewer enemies for them meant more were assaulting their friends. They had no time, and half their usual fighting strength. A single wrong move born of panic could render everything for naught. 

The fact they could be so alert and yet make no mistake was testament to who they were. It was why they had no time for unnecessary anxiety. Yes, sometimes it was possible to succeed despite nervousness. But it was crucial to keep chatting, stay relaxed, do the job as if it were nothing out of the ordinary. 

In fact, not a single goblin they’d encountered had escaped. Between High Elf Archer’s arrows and Lizard Priest’s claws and fangs and tail, none of their enemies were breathing any longer. On top of that, Dwarf Shaman’s guidance was true; he found them the shortest, quickest routes. 

“This’ll be it.” They had arrived at another great, thick dwarven door. Dwarf Shaman was sniffing the air as if checking something, then he nodded and turned back to High Elf Archer. “All right, switch off.” 

“Yeah, sure. Let me at it.” She tapped him on the shoulder and switched places, then pressed herself up against the door. She took out her needle-branch and quickly checked the keyhole, searched for traps, and set about the business of picking the lock. 

As she did so, Dwarf Shaman and Lizard Priest busied themselves keeping an eye out for enemies. Each of them was holding his favorite weapon—a Swordclaw for one, a sling for the other—and scanning the area vigilantly. 

There was no sign of goblins yet. They could be grateful for the way the dice were falling. 

“Hey,” High Elf Archer said with a twitch of her ears. She was working her needle industriously, finally producing a click from the lock. “Are you sure this is gonna work? Not that I’m doubting you, but it’s already failed once…” 

“Got to admit, I’ve been worried about the same thing. What do you say, Scaly?” 

“One failure does not mean the plan has no merit.” Lizard Priest stepped forward as High Elf Archer slid nimbly back from the door. Anyone would be pleased to have such a stalwart companion as Lizard Priest among them, especially when assaulting a fortress full of goblins. 

“It has always been the way of those attacking castles to flood the place, but there is another possibility.” He kicked the door in and looked around, then opened his jaws and smiled like a naga. A nearby barrel was filled to the brim with something—chunks of what appeared to be smashed-together ants. 

“And that is to starve the enemy.” 

§ 

Fwoosh. It was at that moment that a gout of flame went up from one corner of the ruined castle. 

“ORARAGA?!” 

“GROAB!!” 

Even the cruel goblins, loyal chiefly to their own greed, were surprised at this, making sounds of confusion. 

The deathmatch with the second wave was over; they were on to the third wave now. Around them, fifteen or sixteen goblins stopped cold as they saw their provisions go up in flames. 

“Good.” 

Goblin Slayer was not one to waste such an opportunity. He was already diving out of the way along the castle wall, barking orders. “The torch—throw it forward! Now!” 

Noble Fencer gripped the torch that was her weapon, looking at the ground for just an instant. And then, this time decisively rather than reactively, she flung the little handheld flame. 

By now, even she knew what she was aiming at. The torch fell in an arc, and tongues of flame began licking up along the path. The gasoline Goblin Slayer had thrown down earlier became a wall of flame, blocking the goblins entirely. 

“GROAA?!” 

One unfortunate creature caught in the blast was turned into a living torch; he thrashed on the ground for a moment before lying still. 

Confronted with his terrible death, the goblins were not about to try to jump through the flames, however angry they might be. Some stories tell of courage that fears not even death—but this is the furthest thing from the mind of goblins. 

“Twenty-nine. It’s about time.” Goblin Slayer threw away his brain-smeared club and took the sword from the goblin corpse at his feet. He gripped it, tried a few moves, then nodded. “We withdraw. Get ready to—” 

“Goblin Slayer, sir!” Priestess shouted a warning. Without it, his adventure would likely have ended there. He whipped the sword back instinctively, and it went flying out of his hands in a shower of sparks. A white line traced itself across his sternum, between his helmet and his armor. 

“Damn…!” Goblin Slayer jumped back instantaneously; there was a flash of aluminum in front of him. It was no enchanted sword, no sacred blade. And yet, it would not have been out of place in the hand of a hero. 

“GRAAORRRN…!” 

A goblin stood there, smoke rising from his armor and flames from his eyes. He had jumped through the wall of fire; he was like a messenger of the gods, sent to bring low his enemies on behalf of his brothers. With his aluminum sword in his right hand and a teardrop-shaped shield in his left, he looked like a caricature of a holy warrior. 

The goblin paladin. 

“You’re late,” Goblin Slayer said calmly. He leveled his sword, which had been reduced to the length of a dagger. It was his usual stance: shield high, hips low, wrist rotating until his sword was pointed at his enemy. “But I expected you eventually.” 

“GAROAROB…!” The goblin paladin moved his equipment-laden hands in strange gestures, making some unknown sign. It was easy enough to infer that he was making a show of praise to the Outer God, who resided upon the green moon. 

“…Haa…ahh…!” When Noble Fencer realized who he was, a strangled scream slipped out of her. The brand on her neck grew as hot as burning. The sign of the Outer God started to pulse. It had begun to swell—as if it might burst at any moment… 

With that image in her mind, her knees began to shake. And yet she never took her eyes off one thing—the silver sword that the goblin held. 

That’s mine. Mine… It was stolen from me… 

And it was pointed at her—she was surprised to find herself using this word—comrades. 

“Ahh…n-n-no…!” 

A sound of footsteps came closer. The goblins, heartened by the appearance of their champion, had surrounded the walls as they closed in. 

There was no escape. Had they cornered the paladin or been cornered by him? Would it all end here? 

What should I do? What should I—? 

“Hurry.” A calm, almost mechanical voice cut through her confusion. “I’ll buy you time.” 

“Yes, sir!” Priestess replied immediately in a ringing tone. 

Noble Fencer bit her lip. A dribble of blood came from her nape; she could feel it running down her neck. 

But she was all right. She was sure of it. She would make herself all right. 

“…Right.” 

The actions the two girls took next were diametrically opposed. 

Words of true power overflowed from Noble Fencer’s mouth. “Tonitrus…oriens…! Thunder…rise!” 

Priestess, for her part, prayed to the goddess, but did not invoke a miracle: “O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy. May your protection be upon us…” 

This was because both of them had been told by Goblin Slayer that he would trust them. 

Trust one to protect Priestess. Trust the other to use Protection at the right time. 

“IRARAGARU!!” 

“…Hrk!” 

The goblin paladin sprang into action, babbling a prayer to his bizarre gods. The blow of his sword was swift and sharp, easily knocking away the shield Goblin Slayer had brought up to meet it. 

Smite human! 

Goblins as a whole tend to be of small stature. Hobgoblins excepted, they lack physical strength. The aluminum sword, however, helped make up for that. In the hand of this creature, Goblin Slayer saw now, it was a thing to be wary of. If it was enhanced by miracles from the Outer God, typical armor might well be useless against it. 

Enchanted armor might be a different matter, but Goblin Slayer disliked such things. The very situation he was in made it clear what could happen if such items fell into the hands of the enemy. 

“Hmph.” 

Goblin Slayer’s sword work was nonchalant but masterful. Locking blades would not be the key here; he could tell that would be pointless. He would have to strike his opponent’s sword from above, forcing it down, and then use his foreshortened blade to stab at any opening. 

It was not very adventurer-esque, a technique more suited to a rough and deadly duel on the outskirts of some little town. He didn’t expect the goblin paladin, who had most likely learned his swordcraft by studying adventurers, to be able to respond. 

Even for Goblin Slayer, though, this opponent was too dangerous to simply try to force his way in. He took a blow with his shield, jumping far back, then brought his sword to bear, the opponent’s weapons striking out. He pushed the sword down, leaped forward strongly, letting the momentum carry him into the thrust, stabbing. 

The difference in body size, in physical power and equipment, strategy, and experience, put a decisive end to the exchange. 

But not the battle. That would be decided by something entirely different: two delicate young women against fifteen incoming goblins. 

One look at the monsters’ cruel smiles made plain the greed, the fantasies, in those little brains. 

“Heh-heh.” 

And yet, despite that, despite all that was going on around her, Priestess had a little smile on her face. 

The man who had her back. The one who had entrusted his back to her: she knew him, and he never did his most serious fighting in situations like this. Nor had he ever had her use her miracles at moments like these. 

So now was not the time. The moment for Protection would come, but this wasn’t it. 

Which meant that what she needed to do right now was come up with a plan of escape just as quickly as she could… 

She looked quickly through her equipment and took out a particular item, as they’d discussed beforehand. Beside her… 

“…Iacta! and fall!” 

…the Lightning spell was completed. 

It drew a beeline directly from Noble Fencer’s outstretched palm to… Well, one would expect the goblin paladin, wouldn’t one? 

“AGARARABA?!” 

“GORRRBB?!” 

But no. Her attack struck the oncoming horde. 

“Ee—yaaaahhh!” 

In that instant, the battlefield went white. There was a tremendous noise of rushing air, such that one might imagine this was what the howl of a Thunder Drake sounded like, and then the lightning came crashing down. 

The goblins scourged by the flash swelled up and exploded, screaming. 

To use a powerful spell against close-packed enemies was a standard tactic. White smoke, carrying the acrid stench of cooked flesh, rose up, mingling with the smoke from the fire. Noble Fencer couldn’t resist a passing thought: that this place was hell embodied. 

“…Take that…!” 

The smile on her face was an unsteady one, an attempt to look strong, to be sure; but there was no question, the girls had done it. Priestess brushed a hand across her sooty, sweaty face and shouted, “Goblin Slayer, sir! It’s okay!” 

“…!” 

Goblin Slayer’s reaction was immediate. He spun the broken sword around in his hand so that he held it in a reverse grip, then without a moment’s hesitation, he flung it at the goblin paladin. 

“GARARAI!!” 

Believing this to be just a too-clever little trick, the paladin raised his shield and deflected the blade. But he also blocked his own line of sight. 

It was just an instant. But it was all Goblin Slayer needed. 

“Hwah?!” 

“…Ah!” 

The two young women cried out: they suddenly found themselves held aloft, one under each of Goblin Slayer’s arms as he jumped gracefully off the battlements. 

It was just before dawn; a gentle light was beginning to spread across the land. They floated through space. 

A biting cold wind rushed across the girls’ skin, sharp as a knife. 

Then the sense of floating, of falling down, was arrested as abruptly as if they had hit the ground. 

But they hadn’t. Goblin Slayer’s hand gripped something firmly. 

The Adventurer’s Toolkit. 

There was the slightest sound of heightened breathing from inside the steel helmet. Goblin Slayer, it seemed, had an uncharacteristic smile on his face. “‘Never leave home without it,’ they say…” 

The hook-and-rope. 

Something Priestess—an Obsidian rank, just one step up the adventuring ladder—carried religiously. The hook was buried firmly in the fortress wall, the rope hanging down to the outside; what better escape route could there be? 

“IGARARAROB!!” 

They looked up to find the goblin paladin leaning out over the wall, bellowing, his face twisted in anger. 

Goblins lived primarily underground. He had, they presumed, never before seen someone escape by jumping from a high place. 

The monsters couldn’t counterattack immediately, but their nasty intelligence was more than enough to set them straight to work dislodging the hook. 

Not that Goblin Slayer would let them, of course. With Priestess and Noble Fencer clinging to him, one to each side, he braced his feet against the wall and began his descent in a series of great jumps. His movements were quick and sure, obviously the product of focused training. 

“A-aren’t we heavy…?” Priestess asked. 

“A little.” 

The question had just slipped out of her, and she frowned a bit at the answer. She blushed and felt a touch of anger at him. It was only natural that a girl her age should shoot back at him: “You’re supposed to say, ‘No, you’re perfectly light’!” 

“Is that so?” 

“It is!” 

“I see.” 

Goblin Slayer nodded, although chances were slim that he really understood what she was upset about. 

At almost the same moment as Goblin Slayer put his feet on the snowy ground, the rope was severed, falling down after them. He collected it and wrapped it around his shoulder. 

“I’ll pay you back later.” It was an odd moment to think of such social niceties, but so characteristic that even Noble Fencer felt a slight smile coming to her face. 

But this wasn’t over yet. 

“IGURARARARABORR!!” 

The goblin paladin, mad with rage, let out a yell that echoed around the mountain, knocking snow from the ramparts. With many a creak and clatter, the great main gate began to open. 

They had to move quickly, or they would find themselves right back where they had begun. 

“…Where are the others?” Noble Fencer asked. 

“They’ll be here soon.” 

And so they were. There was a crunching noise as the snow-covered ground began to rise up, then the rest of the party popped out from beneath the earth. 

“Phew! Ahhh! I’m going to be well and truly tired of goblin tunnels when this is over!” exclaimed Dwarf Shaman, crawling out of the hole like a mole. 

“Up you get,” he said, reaching back down into the tunnel and taking someone’s hand. With no small display of delicacy, he helped High Elf Archer to the surface. 

“You’re not kidding,” she said, dusting herself off and frowning. “I can’t believe you dwarves can live underground. Are you sure you guys aren’t related to goblins?” 

“Pick up those long ears and listen to me, you two-thousand-year-old anvil. There are things you can joke about, and things you can’t.” 

“Two-thousand-year-old what? Are you looking to start a war, little man?” 

And they were off and arguing. It was just their usual banter, but it had started so suddenly that Noble Fencer was completely lost. 

“…Er. Ahem…” 

“All according to plan,” Goblin Slayer said. 

“Just so!” a scaly head said, popping up out of the ground. He looked rather monstrous but crawled out easily. “Worry not. Sad their state may appear, but they are unharmed.” 

As intimidating as he looked, Lizard Priest also seemed happy. Two wasted prisoners hung under each of his arms, four in total. He had physical strength enough to move effortlessly despite carrying them all, and the first aid that had been administered to the women was exemplary as well. It appeared that, indeed, there was no need to fear for their lives. 

“Thank goodness…” Priestess let out a relieved breath, tears springing to her eyes. “I was worried about all of you. Are you hurt?” 

“Not a scratch!” High Elf Archer said, briefly interrupting her argument with Dwarf Shaman. She puffed out her chest proudly. “What about you? You didn’t suffer, did you? I mean, at the hands of Orcbolg…” 

“Oh… Ha-ha-ha-ha. No. We’re all right. No trouble at all.” 

“Well.” High Elf Archer gave a satisfied nod to see Priestess’s brave smile. Then she looked at Goblin Slayer and finally at Noble Fencer. The battle was over; the girl was covered in blood and dust, yet she looked back at the ranger with eyes that shone with light. 

The elf gave a slow flip of her ears, then smiled like a cat. 

“You did it, huh?” 

She bumped Noble Fencer on the shoulder with her fist. The girl put her hand to the spot, blinking. Then she looked down, as if to hide the tears in her eyes, and said simply, “Yes.” 

“Well, you can see this is none of it any trouble for us,” Dwarf Shaman said, stroking his beard proudly and chuckling. 

And in fact, that was the truth. 

The Tunnel spell might have seemed only a way of moving rocks and dirt, but without it, they could not have saved the prisoners. Nor could they have done it without Lizard Priest’s strength to carry the girls out. Lacking High Elf Archer’s sharp senses, they might have had to fight many more goblins. 

They had stolen the goblins’ weapons, destroyed their provisions, saved the prisoners, and then taken on the fortress’s monstrous inhabitants. Goblin Slayer could only imagine how much time and trouble it would have demanded alone. 

“Ahem, well then, Beard-cutter,” Dwarf Shaman said, squinting. “What happened to your sword?” 

“I threw it.” 

The blunt response elicited a smile and a “That’s what I thought” from the dwarf. “Well, pick whichever one you like. They’re all goblin stuff, but that ought to suit you.” 

“Thank you, that helps. Although I will probably just throw it away again.” 

“Ahh, don’t worry about it!” 

Just salvage anyway. He held out a bundle of swords, the weapons they had stolen from the armory earlier. 

So the goblins had stolen them and kept them for a while—only to have adventurers steal them back. Goblin Slayer found it rather an odd thought. He picked the weapon whose blade was the most familiar length to him. He slid it into his scabbard without hesitation. There was no question he felt a bit off without arms. 

“So all we’ve got left to do is get that girl’s sword back, is it?” Dwarf Shaman said. 

“Right.” Goblin Slayer pulled a jar from his item pouch: a stamina potion. 

He popped the cork and drank it in a single swallow. The warmth that spread through his body felt good. 

He had saved this item, something Guild Girl had given him before he left, for a special moment. 

Goblin Slayer looked at his companions: At Priestess, the girl who had faith in him. At High Elf Archer, who stuck with him through thick and thin. At Dwarf Shaman, who could be relied upon in the most dire circumstances. At Lizard Priest, to whom he entrusted his safety in battle. And at Noble Fencer, who had given her all to persevere until this moment. 

Each of them was covered in mud and blood and ash, but here they were. 

Then he looked to the horizon. The frontier town was away south. Cow Girl was there, waiting for him to come home. Guild Girl was there. 

There were more and more things in his life that he simply couldn’t do alone. 

This thought crossed his mind, followed soon after by the conclusion that this was, most probably, fine by him. 

In that case, there was only one thing to do. 

The same thing he always did. 

“We’re going to slay all the goblins.” 

§ 

Goblins have no concept of industry, of creating things with their own hands. Added to that, they had lost dozens of their brothers in this most recent battle. They would have to avoid being depleted any further, save up supplies. 

To fill out their ranks, however, they would need wombs. Wombs and food. 

In order to capture females and steal provisions, they would have to attack a village. 

And in order to attack a village, they would have to gather their fighting strength, maintain it, move it, and strike at the right moment. 

All these things were stolen. Their women were kidnapped, their weapons purloined, their food taken by force. 

We can’t do anything—we can do nothing! This makes no sense. We are the ones who steal; they are the ones who are stolen from. 

This? This makes me no different from the others. 

Adventurers burst into my nest and take what is mine—that makes me nothing but…nothing but a goblin! 

“GOURRR…” 

The goblin paladin, much more intelligent than any of his comrades, could tell that everything was over. With things as they were, the surviving goblins could hardly be expected to continue to obey him. 

Goblins had a strong sense of camaraderie, but what bound them together was greed. They killed those they hated, raped them, stole from them, humiliated them in the most awful ways. What else would a goblin do? 

Now there was no way forward; the goblin paladin’s plans lay in ruins. 

In that case, there was only one thing to do. 

The same thing he always did. 

Attack the adventurers. Kill the men, capture the women. Then he would chain them up in his dungeon, feed them the flesh of their own comrades, and force them to bear children until their hearts broke and they died. 

Goblins did not understand that they might face reprisal for stealing, might be paid back. They only understood that they had been victimized and would have their revenge. 

“IRAGARARARARA!!” 

Thus, all that followed was a burst of rage. 

§ 

The light of dawn fell on the burning fortress, a silvery sheen that glinted off the mountain upon whose slopes all this happened. 

The gleam of the sun and the summit together fell upon the adventurers as they ran along. Even so much as a slip in the snow would have been fatal. Because, as it happened, they were being pursued by a group of crazed goblins hell-bent on killing them. 

“IGARARARARAU!” The goblin paladin raised his aluminum sword high, howling a prayer. 

“GROAAAB!!” The goblins behind him shouted in response, shaking their weapons and rushing forward. Their eyes were burning, and dirty saliva dripped down from their mouths. 

Every shred of rationality was gone now, if indeed they had ever had any. 

Lunacy: it was a miracle of battle granted by the god of external knowledge. 

The goblins who followed the great paladin were caught up in a whirlpool of insanity. They spared no thought for past or future; their only desire at this moment was to rend the adventurers apart, to crush them underfoot. 

The goblins, transformed into a holy army, literally knew no fear. Not even when arrows began to rain noiselessly down upon those in the vanguard, felling them. The goblins simply trampled the corpses into the snow, their zeal undiminished. 

“This is why I hate goblins. Numbers are the only thing they’ve got!” High Elf Archer drew a bud-tipped arrow with a delicate movement, letting it loose even as she turned back to quip to her friends. Despite her failure to aim carefully, the arrow couldn’t miss its mark. 

A skill so sufficiently developed was indistinguishable from magic. 

“Then again, I do love these big open spaces for shooting! None of those cramped interiors!” 

“Just watch what you wish for…!” Dwarf Shaman snapped. 

“If you’ve got breath to talk, then you’ve got breath to run! Faster!” 

“I’m runnin’! Fast as I can!” 

The dwarf’s stubby legs made him the slowest runner in the party, even when he was going flat out. Then again, the entire party was moving somewhat slower than normal. 

“What about you?” Dwarf Shaman asked. “How’s that leg holding up?” 

“Honestly? It still hurts a bit.” Her leg, as slim as a deer’s, had been hit with an arrow not that long ago. High Elf Archer squinted one eye shut in distress, then loosed another bolt. 

“I aver that at this rate, I do believe they will catch us,” Lizard Priest said. His movements were slowed by the cold, and needless to say, he was still hauling the former prisoners. He had summoned a Dragontooth Warrior and entrusted one or two of the girls to it, but it was not much faster than he was. 

“The enemy ranks have thinned. I might recommend allowing me to face them alone.” 

“N-no! You can’t!” Priestess, not normally so confrontational, shook her head vigorously. “It’s one thing to do something outrageous or unbelievable when it helps you win, but it won’t work this time…!” 

One wondered if she realized she was all but repeating one of Goblin Slayer’s favorite sayings. 

A stamina potion helped somewhat, but it could not completely restore physical strength. They had left the village, marched through the snow, spent the entire night assaulting a fortress, and were now engaged in another battle without ever having had the chance to rest. Fatigue dulled the mind, a dull mind led to mistakes, and mistakes, in this case, led to death. 

“Gracious… Were it just slightly warmer, I could at least move more effectively.” 

“No, you mustn’t—oh.” Priestess recalled something she had in her bag. She dug into her pouch and pulled out a ring. “This is the ring Goblin Slayer gave me, the one that bestows Breathe. It won’t help much, but—” 

“Anything is more than nothing. I receive it gratefully.” Lizard Priest was still running, still carrying the prisoners, but he managed to slip Priestess’s ring onto one scaly finger. 

The moment he did so, he made an impressed sound; the effect was that immediate and noticeable. It was not, however, enough to significantly change the situation. 

What to do now? 

Only one of them had large-scale firepower. Noble Fencer allowed the magical power to begin flowing through her. 

“I’ll use Lightning to—” 

“No.” Goblin Slayer rejected the plan forthrightly. “There will be a time to use it, but not now.” 

“…?” 

Noble Fencer gave him a questioning look as they ran along. His face was, as ever, hidden behind his mask, and she had no idea what he might be thinking. 

He slipped off his gloves, massaged his fingers as if to loosen them up, then put his gauntlets back on. 

“I’ll take rear guard. You back me up.” 

“Right on it!” Dwarf Shaman said, as surely as a hammer forging a sword. Backup and support were what spell casters excelled at. “What’s snow but water? And what goes better with water than dirt?” 

He spun like a top, barely glancing at the goblins as he slammed his hands down on the snowy ground. In each hand was a ball of mud, which would be a suitable catalyst. 

“Gnomes! Undines! Make for me the finest cushion you will see!” 

With a shlorp, the ground softened up. The snow melted away before their eyes, turning into water; it mixed with the soft earth and soon became a field of mud. 

Snare: so long as it was cast in the opposite direction, it wouldn’t affect the adventurers. It caught only the goblins. 

“GAROBA?!” 

“ORAG?!” 

The first creatures to arrive would tumble, flailing their arms, their feet stuck in the mud. They would then promptly be trampled by their companions. It would serve to reduce the enemy’s numbers slightly and slow them down a bit. Or should have. 

“ORAGARARAU!!” 

At that moment, however, the goblin paladin’s prayer rang out across the battlefield. And behold! The goblins, surrounded by a pale light, walked easily through the mud! 

“Wh-wha…?!” 

Dwarf Shaman was agog at this. Such a thing would never have happened were their opponents ordinary goblins. But these had a goblin paladin to lead them. 

It must have been the Counterspell miracle. 

“Gaaah!” Dwarf Shaman exclaimed. “Stupid, sneaky goblins!” 

“Looks like we’ll have to let my arrows do the talking,” High Elf Archer said, launching a bolt at the oncoming goblin army. It flew in between the ranks of the monsters, as if threading a needle, straight toward the paladin… 

“GAROARO?!” 

“…Oh!” High Elf Archer clicked her tongue. Another goblin had jumped in front of the leader, sacrificing himself. “Ahh, darnit! I had him just where I wanted him, too!” 

“The enemy numbers have been reduced. I’ll switch with you,” Goblin Slayer said, moving quickly to the back of the formation. With a casual swipe, he beheaded a goblin who had gotten too close. 

He threw his sword at the next oncoming creature, kicking a spear at his feet up into his hand. 

“Eight, nine.” He gave a thrust to check the weapon, then glanced over his shoulder and resumed retreating. “We can’t go straight into the village with them behind us. I recall there was a valley on the way.” 

“If memory serves, it’s not too far,” Lizard Priest said. 

“We’ll go there, then.” 

He looked back, flinging his spear. It pierced the chest armor of a goblin up front, pinning him to the snowy ground. 

“What’d I tell you, Beard-cutter?” 

“Sorry.” 

Dwarf Shaman pulled another sword out of the bundle he was carrying and tossed it to Goblin Slayer. Fighting this way, leaving the enemy corpses—and their equipment—behind, was tricky because it meant a less steady flow of armaments. 

Goblin Slayer cut down one or two goblins, then, when the blade became dulled with fat and blood, he flipped it into a reverse grip. 

“Hrk…!” There was a muffled crunch as he used the hilt and handle to crack a goblin’s skull. He held the blade in gloved hands, wielding it like a hammer, killing the goblin in a single blow. 

“Thirteen!” 

He wiped the brains off his improvised weapon and moved to strike the next monster. The whole hilt ended up buried in the chest plate of the goblin’s ostentatious leather armor; the creature fell so heavily that Goblin Slayer simply let go of the sword. 

“Right, next one!” Dwarf Shaman called. “You want the pickax or the shovel?” 

“Does it matter?” High Elf Archer shouted. “Just pick one!” It was her speed and skill that bought them the time to switch weapons; she drew three arrows from her quiver and fired them almost faster than the eye could see. Three goblins were shot through almost simultaneously and died so quickly that they didn’t even cry out as they collapsed to the ground. 

That made sixteen. 

Goblin Slayer didn’t hesitate. “I need something long.” 

“That’d be the shovel, then!” 

He caught the spade Dwarf Shaman tossed to him, swinging and striking with it, thrusting, the goblin corpses mounting. 

Trying to make the most of the precious time they had been bought, the two young women moved around behind Lizard Priest. 

“Just keep moving…!” 

“…ngh.” 

Priestess said. Noble Fencer only made a grunt of exertion. 

“My thanks…!” Lizard Priest said. The girls were pushing him along from behind with their small bodies. As for the Dragontooth Warrior, silently carrying the prisoners, the party had never been so grateful for the familiar. 

Goblin Slayer, wielding the shovel like a spear, slew another goblin. 

“Nineteen!” 

Six adventurers and four rescued prisoners against a veritable tidal wave of goblins led by a paladin: that was the nature of the fighting retreat down the snowy mountain. Everyone involved was utterly committed, ready to battle to the death. Their breath showed white in the chill air, obscuring their vision. Their feet were beginning to go numb from the snow, yet their bodies were hot. 

The sword had brought down twenty goblins, then High Elf Archer’s arrows raised the total to twenty-four; Goblin Slayer had picked up an ax for the twenty-fifth and twenty-sixth, then thrown a hatchet for twenty-seven, which was followed by another arrow. 

This battle, which had begun with the rising of the sun, had so far yielded thirty goblin corpses, and showed no signs of stopping yet. The halo of morning light shone on snow streaked red with goblin blood, running in great lines as if it had been laid down by an artist’s brush. 

The struggle was desperate; it would not end until one side, adventurers or goblins, had been killed to the last person. That was the grim truth of goblin slaying. 

“Go on ahead,” Goblin Slayer said as they came to the mouth of the valley. 

The words as such might sound like he was volunteering to sacrifice himself, urging the others to leave him behind and escape while they could. Yet there was no sound of anything so tragic in his voice, which was as cool and dispassionate as ever. 

“I will break them here.” His declaration elicited a look from the entire party. 

“Can—can you indeed?” Lizard Priest asked. He had shifted his two prisoners so he was holding them in front of himself. If the need became great, he could shield them with his back. 

“I can. I have no intention of letting them reach the village.” 

After this brief answer, Goblin Slayer nodded at Dwarf Shaman. The dwarf gave a weary chuckle and shrugged. “Sorry, Beard-cutter, that was my last weapon.” 

“Then, milord Goblin Slayer, take mine.” 

“Thank you.” 

In place of one of Dwarf Shaman’s armaments, he received a fang blade with Sharp Tooth, a sharpening spell, cast upon it. It was the fourth and final miracle Lizard Priest could perform. 

High Elf Archer, who had been firing shots as fast as she could load them, let out a sigh. “I’d like to back you up, but… Do you happen to have any arrows, Orcbolg?” 

The elves were friends of the forest; if there had been so much as a leafy branch in sight she could have made a bolt for herself. But in the whole silvery-white world, there was no tree to be found. 

“Use my sling,” Goblin Slayer said, pulling a bag out of his item pouch even as he gave the fang sword a few tentative swipes. 

High Elf Archer caught the bag out of the air, hearing the sound of rocks inside as she did so. 

“I’m not much for slinging…” There was a frown on her face and a droop in her ears. Still, she knew she had no choice, and she wrapped a stone in the sling. 

“You don’t like it because you’re no good at it,” Dwarf Shaman said with a chuckle. “I think it’s time I piled on the spells myself, Beard-cutter. What do you say?” 

“I doubt there’s any purpose in continuing to conserve them. Do as you see fit!” 

Dwarf Shaman laid down another Snare. The goblin paladin would simply use Counterspell again, but at least he would be forced to waste one of his miracles. It wouldn’t slow down the horde much, but it might buy the adventurers just a few precious moments… 

Goblin Slayer was taking a deep breath in when Priestess ran up. 

“Goblin Slayer, sir, here’s a potion…” 

“Thanks. Save your miracle.” 

“Of course. You trusted me to know when to use it.” 

He popped the cap off the bottle she handed him and drank it down. As he did so, Priestess busied herself checking the fasteners of his armor, brushing away any snow or dirt that might impede his movements. Then she made a sign and began to pray. 

“O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy. May your blessings be upon us…” 

This prayer would lead to no miracle; it was just a prayer, a benediction. Yet Goblin Slayer by no means saw it as useless or meaningless. He had never been so arrogant as to refuse anything that someone might do for him. 

He tossed the little bottle into the snow as he felt the effects of the potion spreading through his body. He tilted his steel helmet as if unsure what to say; he stared at the goblin horde growing ever closer. 

Finally, he said only, “There is a way.” 

“Yes, sir,” Priestess replied. She didn’t question him: not out of love, or dependency, or blind obedience. It was simple faith—a belief in Goblin Slayer, the man before her. 

He returned the level gaze she gave him. And then he nodded. That was enough. 

“I’ll leave it to you when to use Protection. And…” His gaze drifted slowly toward Noble Fencer. 

“……” 

Her generous chest heaved as she sucked in breath, but she was getting her breathing under control. Preparing to use magic, perhaps. Goblin Slayer could guess that much. 

No need for him to spell out the details, then. 

“When I give the signal, fire.” 

She nodded, sending a ripple through her honey-colored hair. He added one or two things further. At first Noble Fencer looked at him without comprehension, but then she said, “…I understand.” 

That was all he needed to hear. 

In just a short time, he had done what needed to be done. 

Now, there was nothing more to do. 

Goblin Slayer looked up at the sky. Were the heavenly hands still rolling the dice up there? 

“Let’s begin, then.” 

No sooner had he spoken than Goblin Slayer set off at a run through the snow. He was heading for the goblin army. The party nodded to one another, then started to get distance, rescued prisoners in tow. 

Rocks from High Elf Archer’s sling went whistling by. One, then two. She was unpracticed at it, but goblins went down under her barrage, and that was enough. 

Then Goblin Slayer’s inevitable opponent emerged. 

“IGARURUARARA!!” 

The goblin paladin. 

“Hrmph!” 

“IGRUAA!!” 

So battle was joined a second time. There was a ringing of metal on metal as their swords met, sparks scattering over the snowy field. The paladin’s aluminum sword beat down Goblin Slayer’s outstretched fang blade. 

Fwsh! At their feet, snow rose up like haze. The paladin rushed at Goblin Slayer again, but the warrior swept his attack aside and drew back. Goblin Slayer thrust in retort, but his blade was slapped down again by the aluminum sword. 

“So you’ve learned.” 

“IGAROU!” 

Goblin Slayer kicked snow straight in the howling goblin paladin’s yammering face. 

The monster fell back, blinded and gibbering. Goblin Slayer dealt him a blow with his shield. 

However, a ringing of metal was the only result. 

The goblin paladin had a shield as well. He was hardly making the most use of it, but he had brought it up in time to repel the attack. 

“…!” 

“GROOB!!” 

The two of them shoved their shields against each other, circling. Their breath came out swirled and white. 

Goblin Slayer had the advantage in physical strength, but the paladin’s small size was intimidating in its own right. The creature struck out at Goblin Slayer’s shin with his sword, but the adventurer jumped back, out of range. 

He kept his eyes fixed on his opponent, whose breath steamed, even as he fought to keep his footing on the slippery snow and adjusted his grip on the hilt of his weapon with one soaking hand. 

“GRARAB!!” 

“Hrk?!” 

There was a muffled thunk, and an arrow bounced off his head. It must have come from one of the goblin archers—their army was getting closer. 

This was why a helmet was so important. 

He shook his head to clear the echo of the impact, then took stock of the situation. 

“Where’s your honor?!” High Elf Archer demanded, letting loose another rock. It flew over the archer’s head, striking the goblin behind him. The elf clucked her tongue and fired another missile, this time nailing her target in the shoulder, breaking the bone. 

“GRAORURURU…!” 

She was hardly in a position, however, to keep the entire goblin horde at bay. The army was watching the goblin paladin’s fight, but that was only because it proved an amusing diversion for them. 

It did not mean that the effects of Lunacy had worn off. They were simply waiting, secure in the knowledge that whether the adventurer was victorious or was killed, the outcome would not change. Goblins naturally had no sense of what we might call the “knightly virtues.” Their logic was dictated only by the changing circumstances in front of them. Whether victory or defeat awaited this challenger, they would fall upon him the moment the combat was decided. 

He didn’t have time to waste. 

“Well, then,” Goblin Slayer muttered. He spun his blade around in his hand, dropped into a low stance, and raised his shield. The goblin paladin recognized this posture; he gave a hideous smirk. No doubt he remembered their earlier battle. Goblin Slayer’s round shield was facing him, edge out. 

“ORAGARARARA!!” 

He uttered a terrible war cry and set upon Goblin Slayer. His aluminum sword was at the ready. It would pierce this half-hearted defense easily. 

Behold! Yes, see the sword tip bury itself in Goblin Slayer’s shield. See how easily it passes through this confection of leather and wood and cloth! 

It goes through the shield, tearing the arm, piercing the gauntlet, stabbing flesh. Blood runs down the edge of the blade, dribbling onto the snow and turning it pink. 

The aluminum sword struck true, even tearing into Goblin Slayer’s shoulder. 

The goblin paladin heard the soft groan of someone trying to suppress pain. He smirked, thinking he had won. 

“You fell for it.” 

But in fact, it was the end for him. 

The aluminum blade went no farther. He put all his strength into it, but he couldn’t make it move. 

It was the hilt. The hilt of his sword, heavy enough to double as a war hammer, had become lodged in Goblin Slayer’s shield. 

“Hr—grr!” 

“ORAGA?!” 

And in a simple contest of strength, no goblin could hope to overcome a human. Goblin Slayer pulled the sword-pierced shield back, practically taking the goblin’s arm with it. 

It would be more correct to call it the shield he had allowed to be pierced. Otherwise—otherwise, why would he have deliberately revealed his best killing move to the goblin paladin? Why would he have attempted to intercept and attack with his shield even after his own sword was broken? 

“Goblins are stupid, but they are not fools.” 

For the first time, the goblin paladin saw his opponent’s face. Deep in the darkness within that steel helmet, he saw an eye glowing red. 

“But you are a fool.” 

“AGARARARARA!!” 

Goblin Slayer twisted his fang sword, ruthlessly tearing out the paladin’s throat. 

There was an eruption of vile goblin blood, polluting the silver world. Goblin Slayer, who had twisted his body to protect the aluminum sword, was drenched in the gore. 

“GORA, U…?!” 

“GROB! GROB?!” 

He stared at the goblins, who stood frozen with fear there in the valley. 

There was no better moment than this. This was precisely the time he had been waiting and hoping for. 

“Fire!” he yelled. 

“Tonitrus…oriens…,” Noble Fencer responded. And then: “…iacta!” 

Lightning flashed out. 

The mountain shook. 

The air expanded as electricity shot through it, but the lightning did not fall on the goblins. Everyone followed the spidering bolt with their eyes, up and up. 

The lightning struck the summit of the mountain. 

There was a rumble and a great shaking. 

That could only mean one thing. 

“H-hey, that’s a mite dangerous, isn’t it?” Dwarf Shaman said with a frown. 

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” High Elf Archer added, long ears twitching nervously. 

They surely understood: this would well and truly do in the goblins. 

“Mm,” Lizard Priest nodded knowingly. “It seems it has come.” 

A violent noise like the drums of war, or like the hoofbeats of an approaching army, was coming toward them. And indeed, death, clad in white, was stampeding down into the valley. 

It was an avalanche. 

“…!” 

The voiceless sound of surprise, and the scream, might have belonged to either High Elf Archer or Noble Fencer. The one who exclaimed “Oh, for crying out loud!” was probably High Elf Archer. 

“GARAOROB?!” 

“ORARAGURA?!” 

Uttering unbearable howls, the goblins were swallowed up by the onrushing snow. There was nothing they could do, no chance to run; they left not even footprints. 

In the midst of this chaos, one person jumped forward, acting faster than any other: it was Priestess. 

Now. The word came into her mind like a revelation. 

There was no hesitation, no reluctance. She clutched her sounding staff and offered up the soul-shredding prayer to the gods. 

“O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, by the power of the land grant safety to we who are weak!” 

The white tsunami smashed against an invisible barrier, parting neatly to either side. 

From within the miraculous protection granted by the Earth Mother, she looked at him. 

He was so far away. One man, alone, among the goblin army, outside of the Earth Mother’s miracle. 

She wanted to raise her voice, raise her hand, even though she knew they wouldn’t reach him… 

“Goblin Slayer, sir!” 

Then the white wiped out everything; all vanished from view. 

§ 

“…Is—is he—?!” 

She was the first to get up when it was all over: Noble Fencer. 

Now that Protection had faded, she had to shake the snow off as she rose. 

Everything was white. The snow had obliterated every trace of the fighting and killing that she and the others had wrought. Not so much as a whisker of the goblins remained; they were vanished utterly, as if she had only dreamed them. 

“…Where is he? Where’s Goblin Slayer…?” 

She looked around, looked behind herself. There was no hint of that distinctive armored form. Instead she saw Priestess, holding onto her staff, her breath heaving. She saw her comrades. 

Priestess tapped a frozen but thoughtful finger to her lips and looked at the foot of the avalanche. “I guess he must be underneath it all, having been swept up by the snow.” 

Goblin arms and legs could be seen poking like dead branches out of the snow that had slid into the valley. 

“Probably,” High Elf Archer said with a nod and a frown. Her ears twitched slightly, once, twice. “Snow is still sliding around in the distance. We’d better not talk too loud.” 

“In that case, we’d best go walk to meet him, I would say,” Lizard Priest said, clearing the white powder off his body with one great shake. He checked that his party, along with the former prisoners and the Dragontooth Warrior who was holding them, were uninjured, then he made a strange palms-together gesture. 

Thanks be to my forebears. All the more so as he had heard that it was a great cold that had buried them. 

“As the avalanche was not so large, I don’t imagine he has gone far,” he said. 

“……You aren’t…worried about him?” Noble Fencer asked. 

“Of course we are,” Dwarf Shaman replied easily. “He’s our friend.” 

He stroked his beard, pulled a wineskin out of his bag, and took a gulp. Fire and spirits were the way to warm the body. Then he gave a pointed wink. 

“But… Well, you understand by now, don’t you?” 

“This is Goblin Slayer we’re talking about,” Priestess said, a helpless smile crossing her face. 

Even with this testimony, Noble Fencer found she couldn’t accept this. 

Step by unsteady step, the party worked their way down the mountain, searching as they went. It was quiet now, much the opposite of their fighting retreat shortly before, but the path they were taking was enough to make one faint. With every step she took, Noble Fencer felt an oppressive weight settle on her. 

If I hadn’t said that I wanted my sword back…maybe he wouldn’t have felt the need to do that. 

It’s my fault. 

My fault. 

All of it… All of it my fault. 

“…ngh…” 

Now that everything was over—or rather, now that she was thrown into this circumstance so suddenly—she began to appreciate the full import of what she had done. Her arrogant strategy. The deaths of her friends. The attack on the village. The delay in rescuing the prisoners. And Goblin Slayer. 

She should have been able to do better than this. Even just slightly. Things shouldn’t have ended in this abject failure. 

Go back to the beginning: if she hadn’t become an adventurer at all… 

Her eyes, staring at the ground, began to blur; it grew hard to see. 

And yet, she just made out something moving. 

“Oh…!” She didn’t mean to make a noise; she clapped her hand over her mouth. 

Something was crawling on all fours through the snow. It must have noticed them coming, because it responded abruptly—by shaking off the snow and rising to its feet. It was a man. 

“I made a mistake,” he said. 

He was wearing grimy leather armor. A cheap-looking steel helmet. He had no sword at his hip, and the shield on his arm was shattered. 

“I should have been more worried about the impact than about suffocating.” 

Mistake or no, however, Goblin Slayer appeared perfectly calm. 

“…G-Goblin…Slayer…?” Noble Fencer could hardly be blamed for the note of disbelief in her voice. 

“Yes. You need something?” 

“Is that all you’ve got to say?” High Elf Archer asked in exasperation. 

“Hmm… So you’re safe.” 

“That’s my line… I’ve got to admit, I thought it was weird that you just happened to bring along rings for breathing.” The elf pressed her brow as if fighting a headache. But her ears bobbed happily. 

Suddenly it made sense to Noble Fencer. She looked at her hand. A magical ring, its effect long since expired, peeked out from among her bandages. 

The Breathe ring. 

Snow was just water, so… So… 

“…Did you know all of this would happen, all along?” 

“To an extent.” 

“Goblin Slayer, sir,” put in Priestess, “I’m used to the fact that you are who you are, but…” She concluded in a mutter, “You could have at least let us in on the plan,” and looked at him reproachfully. “I know you said you wouldn’t do anything outrageous, but I was still pretty surprised.” 

“Don’t be silly.” Goblin Slayer was on all fours again, digging in the snow as he spoke. “Our enemy was an intelligent goblin. What if someone had let something slip, undermining the plan?” 

“Who cares about what-ifs? We were worried about you!” 

“Hrk…” 

“Will you please tell us what you’re going to do, starting next time?” 

After a pause, he said, “I understand.” That was his whole answer. The rough voice readily suggested a sour expression beneath the helmet. 

Quite suddenly, Lizard Priest let out a happy hiss, a smile spreading across his jaws. “Goodness, milord Goblin Slayer, it seems your famous strategies don’t work on our dear cleric.” 

“You said it, Scaly! Even your nagas aren’t as scary as a woman scorned!” 

“Ha-ha-ha-ha! Even so! Even so. You speak true, master spell caster.” 

The dwarf and the lizard laughed together. They were tired, but their faces were cheerful. 

High Elf Archer only shook her head, looking away from them and into the distance. Noble Fencer followed her gaze to find a clear blue sky and a sun so bright it was hard to look at. 

“There’s about a million things I’d like to chew him out for,” High Elf Archer said, a smile just touching her lips. “But this is the way an adventure has to be.” 

Adventure. 

The word cut Noble Fencer to the quick. 

Go on an adventure—sneak into a monster nest—work your way through a maze… 

The friends with whom she had first attempted such things were gone, and she had only just met the friends she was with now. 

I see… So this was an adventure… 

“Hey.” 

“…!?” 

Surprised, Noble Fencer spun to look at the source of the unexpected voice. 

“I found it.” Goblin Slayer stood up again, holding something he had pulled out of the snow. 

The scabbard gleamed brightly in the sunlight. 

With a nonchalant motion, he pulled the aluminum sword out of his shield where it had become lodged. He shook it to clean off the blood—his own blood—then wiped it gently with a rag. 

Finally, he put it into the scabbard he had found with a click. 

“I was able to hold on to the sword, but the sheath was carried away with the goblin paladin, who still had it at his hip.” 

“……Oh…oh……” 

“I think an avalanche was a mistake.” 

“…oh…sniff…” 

Noble Fencer took the proffered sword in both hands; she could feel the weight of it. Her vision blurred even further; she blinked several times to clear it. Then she rubbed her eyes furiously, but no matter what she did, she couldn’t stop herself. She wiped her nose, but that didn’t help, either. 

Droplets of water began to fall on the sword, bouncing away. 

Goblin Slayer watched Noble Fencer very seriously as she stood weeping. Dispassionately, almost mechanically, he said, “You do cry a lot.” 

Noble Fencer clung to the sword and wept with all her might.