Goblin Slayer - Volume 6 - Chapter 6

Chapter 6 – To Each Their Own Battle

It was one of the laborers who noticed it first.

“Hrmph, and just when I thought I was done for the day.”

With a shovel on his shoulder and a long look at the setting sun, he heaved a sigh.

He was a worthless layabout of a man; he had no desire to enter the service of some merchant household, nor did he have the money to live a life of luxury. Thus, he found himself working with his spade in hand and only the sweat of his brow for company, but even so, he was ill content.

Damn, but I do like me them lady adventurers.

They may not have been dressed in the most beautiful clothes, but they moved around so freely. And then there were the girls in loose robes, the wizards and clerics. They were completely different from the prostitutes who went about in their makeup and perfume.

Of course, the really high-class courtesans were a breed apart, but they were also out of reach for man like him.

And then there were the other adventurers, the ones who shared their food and their beds with those women.

How easy their lives must be. Living just as they pleased, dying just as they pleased. It was enough to make a man jealous.

“They’ve got a good thing going. A li’l hack and slash, monster slaying, and treasure-chest plundering, and bam, you’re rich.”

Granted, even this man understood that things were not really so simple. But everyone wants to think they are somehow special, that they will uniquely succeed. And everyone wants to look at things in the way that most benefits them.

This man, who sat there playing with the idea of being an adventurer, was no different.

He didn’t have to be a huge success. He didn’t care if he never became a renowned warrior. All he needed was a bit of decent equipment, the chance to save a village or two, and maybe earn the thanks of the local girls…

Ah, or perhaps he could buy some noble girl who had fallen into slavery and look after her. That might be good. He could find a beautiful wizard woman to be his party member and slowly gain more and more companions. All gorgeous women, of course.

He would find secret caves no one else knew about (not that he knew about them at the moment, either), and that was where he would make his fortune. And finally, he would set up house with his favorite woman, coming home from his travails and asking her out on an adventure.

“…Heh-heh!”

The man didn’t particularly care that his vision of “modest success” lacked something in the way of realism. He was just enjoying an indulgent fantasy.

No one would point and laugh at him for it. As a way of passing the time, it didn’t hurt anyone.

Work, drink wine, eat food, enjoy women and friends, complain about the unfairness of it all, and occasionally dream a little. Live. That was enough.

“…Hmm?”

And again, he was the first to notice it.

He looked toward a corner of the training ground, which by now was mostly fenced in and nearing completion.

He saw a pile of dirt he had no memory of.

Dirt was a resource in and of itself, so anytime they dug up the earth, they had to deposit it in a designated location.

“Damn it all, who’s been slacking off on the job?”

It wasn’t that he didn’t understand how annoying the requirement could be. He himself had been known, on occasion, to put the dirt in some convenient location instead of the specified one.

But since he had noticed the problem, it was his responsibility to fix it, and that was annoying.

He entertained the possibility of just pretending he hadn’t seen the pile, but unfortunately for him, he had a shovel right there in his hand.

“…Nothin’ for it, then,” he muttered. What was the big deal? It was just a little dirt. Rather than have a guilty conscience tomorrow, why not do the job and sleep well tonight?

As the man approached the pile of dirt, he thought he caught a glimpse of a humanoid figure on the other side. It was about the size of a child—and the fading light of the sun wasn’t enough to obscure the cruel details of its face as it gibbered and grunted.

A goblin?!

The fact that he didn’t simply start screaming at that moment was praiseworthy. The actions he took next were also above reproach.

He grasped the shovel in both hands, crept toward the creature as quietly as he could, and raised his spade.

“GROB?!”

The point of the shovel, polished by contact with the earth until it was as sharp as an ax, shattered the goblin’s skull. Dark blood and brains sprayed out as the creature collapsed, and the man trampled gleefully on the corpse.

“Ha-ha! How ya like that, you—!”

When he finally pulled the spade back and saw the thread of blood dangling from it, the man frowned. Rational thought reminded him that this was a tool he was going to need the next day. He’d better wash it.

Along with the wave of revulsion, however, came a profound gratitude to his tool: when the moment had called for it, the shovel had served brilliantly to smash that goblin’s head in.

“…Where the hell’d it come from anyway? Did it dig this hole or somethin’?”

Flicking the blood off his shovel, the man smirked down into the tunnel. It was a crude but solid passageway. The goblin must have dug it.

The man couldn’t see the bottom of the hole. Not just because it was dark down there—the sun was setting even as he stood in place.

“…”

The man shivered. A nameless fear ran along his spine.

“No way. Forget it. I don’t need to go down there. This calls for an adventurer.”

Let them handle it. It wasn’t his job. Still, he would have to report it.

But at that moment… “Ow…!”

He felt a piercing pain run through his right foot, and suddenly, his vision upended as he tumbled to the ground.

The hell? He forced himself to bend so he could see his foot, where he discovered blood oozing from his ankle. “GROB! GROORB!!”

Then he saw a goblin holding a dagger slathered in some unidentifiable liquid.

No… Not just one goblin. Ten, twenty of them, snickering under their breath as they emerged from the night shadows.

“…    …”

The worker opened his mouth as if to cry for help, but his tongue seemed to be stuck; he could not make a sound.

A numbing pain came up from his stabbed foot. His throat was dry. There was some kind of liquid in his mouth; he tasted blood. He couldn’t breathe. His vision began to go dark.

Why hadn’t he noticed there was more than one goblin there?

If he hadn’t even seen that, then of course he hadn’t spotted the poisoned dagger one of the monsters held.

The man died shortly thereafter.

But of course, he was not the first to die that night, nor would he be the last.

§

“The topic of tonight’s lesson is ‘Eight Ways to Kill Goblins Silently.’ Now…”

That was as far as Goblin Slayer got in his lecture to the novice adventurers when there was a scream.

Adventurers had to deal with the darkness at many times, not just when coming home in the evening.

There was no guarantee, for example, that an adventure might not take place at night. And even during the day, ruins, labyrinths, and caves were often dim.

It was certainly worthwhile to train in the dark hours, with only the light of the moons and the stars.

At the very least, so thought the adventurers gathered there—the red- haired boy, the rhea girl, Rookie Warrior, and Apprentice Cleric. They and about ten others had gathered at the training grounds even after a long day of adventuring.

“Wh-what was that?!”

“That was a scream… Right?”

The young adventurers whispered urgently to one another, their faces tense.

“…”

Goblin Slayer, however, drew the sword at his hip. He acted quickly.

Ignoring the chattering students, he swept his gaze around the area, looking for the source of the scream.

It turned out it wasn’t just a scream. After a moment, a second came, then a third.

“H-hey! Just what the heck’s goin’ on out there—?!” the red-haired boy asked in bewilderment, but Goblin Slayer replied, “Don’t panic. Get up against the wall. Form a half-circle surrounding the spell casters. Front row, have your weapons ready.”

“Right,” Rookie Warrior said, his face a mask of anxiety as he moved to protect Apprentice Cleric. “…Hey,” he added, “this isn’t some kind of…drill or something, is it?”

“Even if it were,” Goblin Slayer said shortly, “we would have nothing to gain by treating it lightly.”

“Ooh… I hate this! I don’t even know if I’m scared or not!”

Then with a bout of dry laughter, Rhea Fighter picked up her diminutive sword and shield and assumed a fighting stance. Her face was stiff; even in the night darkness, it was obvious how pale she was. Fear, nervousness— clearly a combination of the two. Her pointy ears, not as long as an elf’s, trembled slightly.

“Tsk…” This click of the tongue came from the red-haired boy. He raised his staff and turned to face the other novices, who had yet to fully grasp the situation at hand. “Hey, didn’t you hear him? Don’t just stand around! Form up!”

“R-right…!” “Yeah, got it…!”

Maybe the fact that the words were coming from one of their peers helped them. Even those who had been frozen, unable to think or absorb the situation, finally lurched into movement. Each picked up their weapon and helped form the half circle against the wall, although it wasn’t very pretty.

“You there, get that shield up! Protect the people beside and behind you!” Apprentice Cleric shouted, whipping into action a group unaccustomed to such maneuvers.

It was surprising, when she thought about it: although she and Rookie Warrior had only really fought giant rats, they were experienced adventurers in their own way. Rhea Fighter and the red-haired boy were the same. They had taken a definite step forward from being pure beginners. After that would come the next step, and the next…

“…”

Goblin Slayer observed them but groaned so quietly no one could hear him. Should he leave the newbies to go check out the situation, or should he stay here and protect them?

Partly, he was unsure… And partly, he found he didn’t want to leave them alone.

A foolish thought.

It mystified even him. To neglect to gather information in these circumstances was the same as simply waiting for their collective annihilation. After a certain point, even thinking would become a waste of time. There were some things that shouldn’t have to be thought about.

Having reached this conclusion, Goblin Slayer said, “Hold here.” He looked around at the young adventurers then said, “If I’m not back in fifteen minutes, you will have to act on your own.”

“On our own…?”

“Because it will mean I am dead, or at least heavily wounded.” His voice was dispassionate. He forced himself to ignore the chatter this provoked among the students. “Returning to town would probably be the best course of action, but if it appears impossible, stick around here until morning.”

Then run. As fast as you can, without looking back.

Several more screams sounded. War cries, bellows of rage. The sound of weapons colliding and swords crossing.

Suddenly, the noise seemed to come from everywhere at once, crashing in on him from every direction. He found that on this spring night, still crisp with the breath of ice sprites, he could not tell what was going on.

The shadow of the half-built building was eerily large. Goblin Slayer let out a breath.

No…

“…One.”

Dashing as fast as he could, he nonchalantly raised his right hand and flung his sword.

It flew into the shadows of the materials piled by the building, evoking a strangled death rattle. Goblin Slayer followed it quickly into the gloom, where he braced his foot against the goblin his blade had run through and pulled his weapon back out.

A bloody shovel tumbled from the hand of the dead goblin, clattering as it fell to the ground.

“Goblins. I knew it.”

How pregnant with meaning were those brief words.

Goblins hidden in the night, two more of them. Although he couldn’t see clearly, their burning eyes were obvious.

Then there was a thick, sticky feeling on the bottom of his foot, and the rising odor of iron.

It was a novice adventurer, collapsed on the ground. He couldn’t tell what class, or how old, or what race.

The adventurer had no face.

Something sharp had torn mercilessly through the adventurer’s head from the crown all the way down through the face, but the slight swell of the chest and the build of the still-twitching limbs suggested a woman.

“GOROROB!!” “GROOOORORB!!”

The goblins jumped at him, yammering. Without a word, Goblin Slayer struck at them with his sword.

There was a sound of metal on metal. The goblins were carrying pickaxes.

Stolen tools, no doubt.

Without hesitation Goblin Slayer moved in, pressed back the pickax with one hand. But…

“GROB!!”

There was another. He had a pickax, too, and he was bringing it swiftly down.

“Hrg…”

The steel pick of the ax bit through his upraised shield. Such weapons were always strong against armor.

But this was perfect.

Goblin Slayer bent his left arm forcefully, pulling the pickax from the goblin’s hands. At the same time, he brought his leg up toward the goblin on his right, slamming a kick as hard as he could between the creature’s legs.

“GROOOROROROBB?!?!”

“Two.”

There was a disgusting feeling of something being crushed beneath his foot, but he didn’t care about the muffled scream.

He stomped on the writhing goblin’s head, his sword humming at the same moment. Just to his left, the now pickax-less goblin was trying to run; he flung the blade into its back.

“GOROORB?!”

“And that makes…”

The creature might not die instantly, but with its spine severed, it wouldn’t be able to move.

Goblin Slayer placed the heel of his boot against the back of the struggling goblin’s skull and pushed down mercilessly.

The feeling was like stepping on a ripe fruit. He wiped off the blood and brains and continued forward.

He pulled the blade out of the twitching monster, slicing as he went, sending it to its final rest.

“…Three.”

He forcefully pulled out the pickax that was still buried in his shield.

There was fresh earth on the pick. The goblins must have dug a tunnel from somewhere in order to attack the training grounds.

Were they so eager to assault this place? To kill the people here? Goblins.

Goblins.

Goblins.

He didn’t like it.

He didn’t like any of it. Heaven and earth spun.

There were four corpses. Three goblins, one adventurer. Just like that night ten years ago.

He could no longer run from it. Hadn’t he known that already? He was Goblin Slayer.

“…Is there anybody there…?!”

That was when somebody shouted a question and came into the shadows

—an adventurer.

Well, it made sense: what else would an adventurer do when faced with someone standing with a weapon in the darkness, the smell of blood drifting all around?

It took the adventurer, who carried a sounding staff, a moment to make out exactly what she was seeing, but when she did—

“Goblin Slayer, sir!” “Are you all right?”

“Yes!” Priestess gripped her staff firmly with both hands and nodded happily. “I was on healing duty again today. I used up my miracles, so I was resting in my room, but…”

Her gaze took in the fallen goblins…and then the corpse of the adventurer. Her lovely eyebrows knit her face into a frown.

Priestess knelt, unconcerned about the blood that stained her white vestments, and reached out to the body, which continued to twitch reflexively.

“Was it goblins?”

“Yes.” Goblin Slayer didn’t look at her but only shook the blood from his sword. “Do you have any miracles left?”

“Thanks to that rest, I can ask for three, just like usual.”

“Are our other…”—Goblin Slayer almost stumbled over the word—“… friends coming?”

“Probably…” “Good.”

Goblin Slayer finally turned toward Priestess. She looked up at him, her blue eyes visible in the pale moonlight. It occurred to Goblin Slayer how clear her eyes were, like glass beads.

“Can you join me?”

“…Yes, I will.” Priestess bit her lip, her voice trembling. She didn’t rub at her eyes, because she wasn’t crying. “Let’s go…!”

“Yes,” Goblin Slayer nodded. “We’re going to kill all the goblins.”

§

Not long after, the two of them arrived at the building that would serve as the training ground’s administrative center when it was complete.

Although it was to be the central building, it was not yet finished and felt very much abandoned. There were many gaps in the walls and roof, and the forms of many adventurers who had gathered with equipment in hand could be seen.

Thankfully, it seemed more than a few adventurers had made it through the crucible to arrive here.

“Hey, look! If it isn’t Goblin Slayer! Everything okay?”

The first person to greet them was the adventurer who stood guard by the doorway—Spearman. Given how he always seemed ready to jump directly into action, it was actually somewhat surprising to see him standing there.

“Yes,” Goblin Slayer said with a nod. He correctly parsed the intent of the question. “The ones I was looking after are all safe.”

“Yeah? Most of the kids went back home anyway, it being so late and all.”

“Before…it, gets dark…yes?”

There was one other person. A voluptuous witch appeared at Spearman’s side, sidling up like a shadow; a pale sphere of light floated in the air near her. A will-o’-the-wisp? No, this was no spirit. Perhaps the Light spell.

No one wanted to risk using fire, even magical fire, in this area. The wind this spring night was strong. If the fire were to catch on anything here, it would be a catastrophe.

“You’re both safe…” Priestess, perhaps relieved to see a couple of familiar faces, let out a soft breath.

She finally put a stop to the shaking of her knees, gripping her sounding staff with both hands and managing to look suitably resolute.

“We’re here, too!” The clear voice was like an encouraging pat on the back, and it brought a smile to blossom on Priestess’s face.

“You’re all here!”

“Ahh, and so are you. Though this be ever a place of practice battles, I didn’t expect it to become the grounds for a real one.”

“Those little bastards made me miss dinner!”

Up came Lizard Priest, who looked the same as always, along with Dwarf Shaman, who was leisurely rubbing his belly.

Priestess was running toward them before she knew what she was doing, when High Elf Archer held her back.

“You really okay? You’re not hurt? Those goblins didn’t do anything to you, did they?”

“It’s fine, I’m okay. Thank goodness you’re all safe…”

Thank goodness it didn’t turn out like that time.

Surrounded by her friends, Priestess found that her eyes were brimming. No one said anything about it. Who in the world could bear to lose their friends twice, or even three times?

“…”

Goblin Slayer watched his comrades for several seconds then slowly turned his steel helmet.

The key was to always be thinking—about what one should, and could, do.

This building was yet incomplete and fragile. They would not be able to barricade themselves in it for very long.

That being the case, they needed firepower. They were not a bunch of novices cowering in a corner. At that moment—

“Hey. Made it here in one piece, huh, Goblin Slayer?” His eyes met those of a well-built warrior.

Heavy Warrior appeared to have been through a battle already; the faint reek of blood hung about him.

Presumably, of course, it was goblins that he had killed. What else could it have been?

Goblin Slayer glanced around the building to see whether he recognized anyone else.

“You’re alone today?”

“She may be a knight, but she’s still a woman. There are times when she’s indisposed. The brats are keeping her company at the inn.” Heavy Warrior’s expression contained indescribable depths. He shrugged, causing his armor to rattle. “A party leader has to think about his people’s health.”

It had been a stroke of luck, really. Feeling indisposed had kept his party at home and, thus, out of this trouble.

“But listen,” Heavy Warrior said, grinning like a hungry shark. “When the three most-whatevers on the frontier are all in one place, things are bound to be interesting.”

There was, of course, no room for error in this situation. The death rattles of adventurers who had failed to make it to the impromptu base could be heard all around. Each time a goblin howl echoed through the night, the novices in the building looked at one another and shivered.

Adventurers were generally accustomed to being the attackers, not the attacked. Yes, they were occasionally ambushed, and sometimes they took on escort missions. But somehow, deep in their hearts, they continued to believe that they would never really be the hunted.

Priestess could be said to have been unlucky to have had this assumption so violently disproven, but then again, it was its own kind of good fortune.

In any event, if they didn’t get out of there—or rather, slay the goblins— they would not live to see the sun again.

All present shared this understanding. Spearman was glancing outside with a sour look.

“Are we just gonna let them put us under siege? Boring. I don’t wanna just hole up in here and die.”

“What…ever…the case, it might, be best…for everyone to link up, first.” “Yes,” Goblin Slayer agreed. “My charges are stationed in the square.” “Need a messenger, then,” Heavy Warrior said quickly. “Situation assessed—goblins. Come join us. That sort of thing. We have to let all the survivors know and get them here as soon as we can.”

“I’ll go!” High Elf Archer piped up immediately, raising her hand. “I’m the fastest runner around!”

“Perfect, get on it.” “You can count on me!”

And then she was off like the wind into the night.

Heavy Warrior watched her go then glanced around. Goblin Slayer and his party made five. Then there was Spearman and Witch. And himself.

Depending on how many among the novices could really be counted on in battle, they had about ten people to fight for them. He didn’t count the ones who were trying to curl up into little balls. Heavy Warrior made the decision: he wouldn’t involve them.

“So, Goblin Slayer,” he said. “We’re dealing with goblins. Who do you think is leading them?”

“Probably another goblin,” Goblin Slayer said without hesitation. “A higher one, I assume, but I doubt another lord has been born. Maybe a clever shaman…”

“Got any proof?”

“If someone other than a goblin were leading them, the goblins would be treated as foot soldiers, not the main force.”

It was true. No one but a goblin would think to use other goblins to dig a tunnel to attack the training grounds.

Heavy Warrior nodded. “We have to deal with the small fry, but we also have to make sure we take out the bigger fish,” he concluded. “And where would that bigger fish be…?”

“In my estimation, the little devils will have more than one hole,” Lizard Priest said, his jaw set. He slapped his tail on the ground and raised one scaly finger. “Presumably there will be one in each direction. The quickest solution would be to follow one of them back to its source.”

“About that,” Spearman said, keeping a close watch outside as he spoke. “How do we know which one goes back to their headquarters?”

“I’ve the same question. More to the point, most likely they’re all connected inside.”

In matters subterranean, no one could match a dwarf.

Dwarf Shaman took a swig from the wine jug at his hip then let loose a very alcoholic-smelling burp.

“Chances are they only dug one tunnel then split it off just before the attack. That’d be easiest, after all.”

“Sounds good, then. We go down the nearest hole. You good with that, Goblin Slayer?”

“I have no objection.”

“Then, the problem, is, those children.” Witch gestured meaningfully at the novices. “There are, others, aren’t there? What do we, do about…the little ones?”

“Leave ’em, bring ’em, or have ’em run away,” Heavy Warrior mused.

Spearman, however, gave him a grin and a poke on the shoulder. “I’ve gotta think a broadsword won’t do much good in a tunnel…”

“Aw, screw off!” The reminder of Heavy Warrior’s past failure struck a nerve. “But hell. I always liked being aboveground better than below it. I’ll take the kids. You handle the dirt.”

“Right,” said Spearman.

“No problem,” Goblin Slayer added.

The veterans had calculated all this in the blink of an eye. Although she was no longer exactly a beginner, Priestess found she couldn’t have gotten a word in edgewise. Unlike High Elf Archer, who might have chosen to refrain, Priestess couldn’t have spoken up if she wanted to. (Anyway, the elf seemed to see insouciant interjections as her role.)

It was a variety of opinions and perspectives that led to a sound conclusion. Objections and dialogue were not the same as denying what someone else was saying. But right now, perspective—something rooted in genuine experience—was what Priestess overwhelmingly lacked.

But…

What was it? This inarticulate anxiety?

Although she couldn’t put it into words, it may have been some sort of hint from the gods.

She thought of the alarm that had welled up in her when her party entered the cave on that first adventure. The mounting panic building in her little chest—the feeling that she had to do something.

Things would end badly if she just let them go on. She had to do something.

But what?

“Oh.”

The sound escaped her mouth the moment the possibility occurred to her.

The collective gaze of the other adventurers pierced her, prompting her to blush a little bit.

“What is it?” Goblin Slayer was the first to speak. “Goblins?” “…Uh—um!” Her voice was shrill. The focus on her became even more intent. It was enough to make her want to run away. “The other new adventurers, they’ve already gone home, right?”

“Yeah,” Spearman nodded. “All but the ones who wanted to practice night fighting. Gone the moment the sun set.”

“Where do you…suppose they are now?”

“What’re you getting at?” Heavy Warrior said, eyeballing her. He certainly wasn’t intentionally trying to frighten her, but circumstances were what they were. His very seriousness, his intent not to overlook any idea or information whatsoever, was itself intimidating.

“Well, um…”

Priestess flinched back.

Was there actually any value in her giving her opinion? What if it turned out to be nothing but a flight of fancy?

What business did she even have thinking she could—?

“Just tell us.” Goblin Slayer’s voice was soft, dispassionate. Absolutely the same as ever. Priestess gulped; she gripped her staff harder to hide the trembling of her hands.

She took a breath in then let it out.

“…The goblins… I think they must be after the novices on their way home, too.”

“What?!” Heavy Warrior exclaimed in spite of himself. His armor clattered, causing Priestess to flinch for a second. But she didn’t stop speaking. She mustn’t.

“Isn’t it strange? I know goblins are cowardly, scheming creatures.”

Because somebody taught me as much.

Taught her to think like a goblin. How they lived. The fright of them.

“If I were a goblin, the last place I’d want to attack is a building full of strong adventurers.”

And also, how they could use a large army as a diversion…

That was something he had said back when they fought the goblin lord— how long ago had that been?

She was still learning. She had experience yet to gain. But she did have some experience.

She herself just hadn’t realized it.

“…I believe she’s right,” Goblin Slayer growled quietly. “I overlooked that.”

“And I…I have an idea.”

Once Priestess had started speaking, the rest was easy.

Not that it made it simple to express her ideas clearly and succinctly, but speech itself came readily to her, and she didn’t hesitate.

“And so I’m—I’m going now.”

With everyone around focused completely on her, Priestess outlined her plan.

“Our adventurer friends include, um, two warriors, a cleric, a wizard…” She counted on her fingers. Rookie Warrior, Rhea Fighter. Apprentice

Cleric and Wizard Boy.

“I think just having me, another cleric, there could turn the tide. So…”

I’m going to help them. I want to go.

These earnest words caused the Silver-ranked adventurers to look at one another.

“…Time, is short…is it, not?” Witch glanced outside and gave a single seductive laugh but spoke encouragingly.

“I’ve got no idea what this girl is or isn’t capable of. So I’ll abstain,” Spearman added quickly.

“…Makes sense,” Heavy Warrior said. Then he squinted at Priestess, looking her over, up and down her willowy frame. “There’s always a chance that divide and conquer is the whole idea. Think you can handle this?”

“As for me, I have faith in her,” Lizard Priest said with a thoughtful nod and a roll of his eyes. He winked at Priestess. “We must strike at the heart of the enemy, but we must by no means abandon our young adventurers to do so. I think this is a fine ploy.”

“Perfect for a promotion test, I’d say,” Dwarf Shaman chuckled, stroking his long white beard. “D’you agree, Beard-cutter? Gotta push ’em out of the nest some day, eh?”

Goblin Slayer, sir…

Priestess looked at the man in the grimy armor beseechingly.

Now that she thought about it, she realized that this would be almost the first time she had gone on an adventure without him since the very first adventure she had been on.

Could she do it? She herself?

Priestess would by no means be alone, but she would have to rely on her own strength.

Could she fight the goblins?

Everyone kindly told her they believed she could do it. Even High Elf Archer, who wasn’t there, surely would have agreed.

It made her very happy; what more could she wish for than that? And yet…

If this person says I shouldn’t or can’t…

Then she would just have to quietly accept it. That would be best for everyone, she was sure.

But what he said was not what she feared. “Can you do it?”

“I…”

His question was so succinct, so simple. As he always was.

And yet…

It made her wish all the more to rise to the expectations implicit in it. She had to.

Priestess swallowed the half-spoken words, bit her lip, and then answered almost in a shout, “…I will!”

Goblin Slayer looked at her intently. Whatever was in his eyes was hidden behind his helmet; she couldn’t make out his expression, but still…

“Is that so?” He nodded slowly then rendered his verdict. “Then it’s decided.”

§

“Hraah!!”

“GROBR?!”

In the narrow confines of the cave, the mithril spear tip pierced through the goblin’s throat. The long, pole-shaped weapon in Spearman’s hands lashed out in time with the sounds of magic, flowers of death blossoming all around him.

One thrust, one kill. Four thrusts, four kills.

The goblins held up flimsy wood boards in place of shields, but they counted for little.

Only an amateur would imagine that the spear could not be used in a tight space like this; in fact, Spearman made it look like it was capable of anything.

Sweep, strike, block, stab. Stab, stab, draw back, and then stab again.

The repeating flurry of attacks was furious enough to control what was happening in front of them.

The buffed spear lashed out with the speed of a whirlwind, painting the walls all around with goblin brains and blood.

The gentle downward slope of the ground did nothing to upset the footing of these experienced fighters.

“Don’t you think about getting behind me!” “Inside! I see six—no, three!”

As Spearman struck an impressive pose, keeping the monsters at bay, High Elf Archer slipped up alongside him and fired a volley of arrows. Three bolts flew as quickly as magic, finding the eyeballs of three separate creatures lurking deeper in the hole.

“GORRB?!”

“GROB! GROORB!!”

There were not six, but three remaining. A simple calculation. If you had no confidence that you could hit, then you couldn’t shoot.

“One…!”

That was when Goblin Slayer made his entrance.

The sword was already flying from his hand even as he charged in, slamming it through a goblin’s throat.

“GRRRO?!”

The monster clawed at his throat as if he were drowning, but Goblin Slayer ignored him, grabbing a dagger from the corpse of one of the goblins with an arrow through his eye. Then he used it to slit the throat of a monster who had not yet gotten over the shock of seeing four of his companions murdered in an instant.

Blood spewed from the creature with a whistling sound; Goblin Slayer swept him aside with his shield and flung the dagger.

The throw may have been just a bit too strong; the knife missed its mark and lodged itself in a goblin’s shoulder.

“GORB!!”

“That’s three.”

Goblin Slayer, unperturbed, took a hand ax from the goblin drowning in a sea of blood. Then he buried it in the skull of the final goblin, and the random encounter was over.

A party of experienced adventurers needed only a single turn to kill ten goblins.

Spearman put up his weapon—he wasn’t even breathing hard—and looked to Goblin Slayer in exasperation. “Hey, you,” he said. “You have got to stop throwing away all your weapons. It’s a waste!”

“They are consumables.”

“Have a look around. You know they sell those magical throwing knives that come back to you after you throw them, right?”

“Goblins could use them as well,” Goblin Slayer said. “What if they were stolen?”

“We don’t have time for this!” High Elf Archer exclaimed. “Will you pipe down and help me collect my arrows?” Spearman was busy looking annoyed, and Goblin Slayer was searching the corpses for weapons.

The three of them seemed carefree enough, but they made not a single unnecessary movement. They scanned the area ceaselessly, checked their weapons, readied what they would need next.

Goblin Slayer groaned softly. The goblins had not treated their equipment politely; everything they had was in dismal repair. There were no good weapons here.

“Goodness gracious,” Lizard Priest said with a somber nod when he saw the scene. “What a pleasant feeling of security one gets from having two front-row fighters.”

“Says the lizard who’s always up front.”

“In…deed,” Witch mumbled calmly. “One, warrior…for, each of us, no?”

They had left the novices at the training ground in Heavy Warrior’s care and headed underground via one of the holes.

Unlike the parties’ normal five-and-two split, this time they formed a single group of six people. That meant a different formation from usual, too. Goblin Slayer and Spearman stood on the front row, with High Elf Archer behind them and the spell casters in the back.

Which was more important? High Elf Archer’s arrows or Lizard Priest’s spells? The answer was obvious.

“I got them,” Goblin Slayer said, handing over the arrows.

High Elf Archer looked at them and gave a click of her tongue. “Oh, for— The heads are missing!” She tossed them angrily back in her quiver of bud- tipped bolts. There was nothing to be done about it. “What about you, Orcbolg? Find any good weapons?”

“Beggars cannot be choosers.”

“Why’d you let the girl go without me anyway?” “Are you upset?”

“Not really,” the High Elf said, looking away. “But aren’t you worried about her?”

“If my worrying would help things go well for her, then I would.”

Yeesh…

But no sooner had High Elf Archer breathed a sigh than her ears pricked up, twitching.

“They’re coming.”

“Direction and number?” Goblin Slayer asked immediately, drawing a small leather pouch from his item bag as he did so.

It was his purse: the coins inside jangled. It carried an embroidered floral design and seemed to be quite old. He cinched the mouth of the purse tightly; it made a sharp noise as he did so.

“I dunno… The sounds are echoing everywhere…!”

“Well, we ain’t got time to discuss it in committee!” Spearman said, shaking his weapon to get the grease off. “No matter what, we can’t let them get up top.”

“Not many choices left. Want me t’do it?”

As experienced adventurers, they were quick to respond to the situation. Even as Dwarf Shaman spoke, he was reaching into his bag of catalysts, readying his spell. Witch calmly brought her staff up and begin focusing herself to intone her magic. Lizard Priest brought his hands together.

“Gracious, goblin slaying does involve the worst of both the troublesome and the unexpected, does it not?” he said.

“You’re quite, right,” Witch said with a languid chuckle, and then her luscious lips were whispering words of true power. “Sagitta…sinus…offero. Gift a curve to arrows!”

A wizard’s spells were words that rewrote the very logic of the world.

As an invisible flow protected the party, High Elf Archer and Spearman were shouting.

“They’re coming! Both walls!” “Fall back!”

Showers of stones and dirt came from both sides of the adventurers. At almost the exact same instant, they all jumped back.

“GRORB!! GROOROOBB!!” “GROOBRR!”

Was this what the word horde truly meant?

The average adventurer might expect not to see ten or twenty goblins in his or her life.

But more goblins than that, far more, were now pouring in upon them. The goblins howled like animals, and it was easy to guess what their shouting meant.

Kill them. Steal from them. Get revenge. Revenge for our brothers. Die, adventurers, die!

The men they would slaughter immediately. The women they would rob of every last vestige of dignity before putting them both to the sword.

They would take the one woman’s staff, bind her legs, and make her bear goblin young for them until she was too dead to be of any more use. Elf meat, they knew, was soft and kept a long time. They could chop off her arms and legs bit by bit and feast on them.

The women would weep; they would beg for forgiveness; but the goblins would ignore them.

Kill them, just as they would kill us!

“Drink deep, sing loud, let the spirits lead you! Sing loud, step quick, and when to sleep they see you, may a jar of fire wine be in your dreams to greet you!”

No doubt several of the little devils ended their lives never waking up from that dream. Caught up in the mist of wine Dwarf Shaman spat from his mouth, they found themselves under the influence of the Stupor spell.

Stumbling over their now-unconscious vanguard, the goblins began to topple like dominoes. Several were trampled to death as the goblins in the back tried to force their way to the front.

There was agonized screaming and shouting. It was pandemonium. “Fools.” Without hesitation, Goblin Slayer spun his purse, attacking the nearest monster. The speed and the centrifugal force of the coins in the little leather pouch was more than enough to split the skull of a goblin.

And thus the money all the villagers had saved so diligently, to pay for an adventurer to end their goblin troubles, was used to actually murder a goblin. Poetic justice at its finest.

“GRB?!”

“GRORB?!”

One monster found its eyeball popped like a bubble, found itself pierced to the brain, which was then further crushed in from the temple.

Stopping one or two goblins was easy enough.

Goblin Slayer kicked the first one aside, grabbing the sword at the creature’s hip in the same movement.

“Hrgh…!”

Another goblin had seized this moment of inattention to jump at him with a poisoned dagger. He met the creature with his shield, sending it flying.

More arrows came raining down, but as they were turned aside by an invisible power, he ignored them. They were no concern of his.

“I’m sending some your way!”

“Aw, don’t make more work for me!”

Despite his complaints, Spearman was putting on a display of superb technique. In a single stroke, he stabbed several creatures in front of him, and as he pulled the weapon out again, he thrust the butt behind him. It slammed into the skull of the goblin who had been pushed aside by the shield, crushing in his head and killing him.

“We ain’t lettin’ even one goblin past us!” “That has always been my intention.”

The two warriors stood back to back, goblins breaking upon them like a dark tide.

When it came to grandiosity and strength, Spearman obviously had Goblin Slayer outclassed. He threshed goblins like wheat with every swipe of his spear.

Goblin Slayer, naturally, restricted himself to making sure Spearman wasn’t taken from behind. He finished off anyone Spearman missed, dealt with those in front of him, and passed off to Spearman those he couldn’t personally finish.

They hardly thought about defense, leaving Deflect Missile to ward off incoming stones.

They simply focused single-mindedly on their weapons.

But of course, even for Goblin Slayer, things would never be so simple. “Shaman!”

High Elf Archer’s shout cut through the melee. At the rear of the goblin formation stood one monster with a staff, uttering a spell.

Light swelled from his upraised staff then flew outward. It was the most basic of all offensive spells, Magic Arrow.

It might not be very powerful, but if it hit, in some cases, it could still be enough to turn the tide of battle. What was more, because it was magical, Deflect Missile would provide no protection against it.

Surprisingly clever, for a goblin. But Spearman shouted eagerly, “Take it!”

“Magna…remora…restinguitur! An end to magic!”

Witch smiled indulgently and recited a spell almost in singsong. It was

Counterspell, and it would resist the words of true power the goblin shaman had spoken.

The moment they encountered Witch’s words, the majority of the incoming arrows vanished, only a scant few of them reaching Spearman and

Goblin Slayer.

“Could I, trouble you not to, make more work for m…e?” “That is your work!”

Banter for banter. Spearman waded into the host of goblins, even as blood dribbled from a wound on his cheek; it didn’t seem to bother him in the least. “They want arrows? I’ll give ’em arrows,” High Elf Archer growled, letting her spider-silk string bow do the rest of the talking.

One of the bolts went flying through the dust and the thick air, lodging itself, just as she had intended, in the shaman’s neck.

“There!”

“Any injuries?” The question came from Lizard Priest, who was evidently growing bored in the back; he slapped his tail impatiently against the ground. Without Priestess there, he was the party’s one cleric, the only one capable of healing miracles. He seemed rather displeased at having to remain so far to the rear, carefully conserving his spells.

“No problems,” Goblin Slayer answered briefly, checking himself over. There were places where his poor leather armor and mail had been pierced through; blood oozed here and there, and he felt pain.

In other words, I am still alive.

He continued to work his sword against the goblins in front of him as he groped through his item pouch, relying on the knots to guide him. He pulled out a potion and gulped it down then lobbed the empty vial with his left hand.

“GROORB!!”

“Die.”

The goblin had stumbled back under the unexpected blow; Goblin Slayer cut his throat mercilessly. Blood frothed at the creature’s neck; Goblin Slayer kicked him away and pulled out his sword, shaking off the gore.

“You have spells left?” he asked, steadying his breath. “Yes, thank…fully,” Witch replied with a smile.

“Us, too,” Dwarf Shaman said.

“Shall I produce a Dragontooth Warrior?”

“No,” Goblin Slayer said to his friend’s question, shaking his head thoughtfully. He grunted softly, looking up at the ceiling of the tunnel the goblins had dug.

“Orcbolg,” High Elf Archer said in a resigned tone. “You’re thinking of something unpleasant again, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Goblin Slayer said with a nod. “Unpleasant for the goblins.”

§

The adventurers in the half-built office building began to relax as the sounds of battle grew more distant.

“…Think they went that way?” “Seems like it.”

Maybe we’ll be rescued after all. Mom, Dad, maybe we’ll survive.

As they looked at one another and whispered, every word was one of fear or complaint.

This isn’t gonna help.

Heavy Warrior sighed to himself as he stood in the doorway, looking out.

He was losing heart, and he hated it.

It wasn’t that he didn’t sympathize with the novices.

Anyone, when they failed, when they encountered something difficult or painful, could find themselves cowed. Might stamp their feet in frustration.

Above all, these kids didn’t want to be killed by goblins. No one did.

But what was an adventurer who never went on an adventure? Fumble though they might, a true adventurer never gave up until the moment they died.

Even if the next roll of the gods’ dice might be critical. Just then…

Fwump.

There was a sound of heavy footsteps, which caused the ground to rumble gently.

The beginners trembled, swallowing nervously; they shut their mouths and stopped talking.

A dark shadow.

It lumbered past clutching a massive club in its hand.

Heavy Warrior didn’t have to plumb the depths of his monster knowledge to know what it was.

“Big, ugly visitor we’ve got. A hob.”

A hob. A hobgoblin.

A higher form of goblin that appeared intermittently. They lacked intelligence and were not particularly elegant fighters, but they did have endless strength. In many nests, they served as the chief, or sometimes as hired muscle.

“Hey, kids. Wanna see something neat?” Heavy Warrior spat into his palm, smeared it on the hilt of his broadsword, then gripped the weapon tightly. “I don’t know what the other guys taught you, but I’ve got just one lesson for you.”

Then he casually flung himself out the door. “HHOOOORRB!!”

One step, two, three. He advanced straight toward the gigantic goblin. It was only a goblin. But a goblin nonetheless.

It was no comparison to the goblin champion he had fought before.

Still, a direct hit from those muscles wasn’t likely to be a lot of fun. It might even be fatal, depending.

“No matter what overgrown lump you’re facing, if you’ve got enough info on him—”

Who would believe that such a massive weapon could be swung in a circle?

He stepped in.

He let the momentum of his body carry him. If you were strong enough, it wasn’t impossible.

His body began to bend.

The two-handed steel sword had cost vastly more than any of his other equipment. The price put it on a different level. And Heavy Warrior—

“—then, boys and girls, you can kill anything—even a god!”

—went in swinging.

§ Goblins only ever have mischief in mind.

Fairy tales tell us that much, but the chance to see it firsthand is rare. “GROB! GROORB!!”

“GORROOR!!”

How had this happened?

His mind worked quickly as his leather armor, still new enough to be stiff, crunched and cracked. He was supposed to have a sword in his hand, but he must have dropped it somewhere while he was running. Every time he took a step, the scabbard slapped against his leg, reminding him that his head was as empty as the sheath.

The night darkness seemed to be entirely filled with the cackling of goblins.

The shadows of the trees in the light of the twin moons loomed eerily, and a horde of eyes burned like stars in the blackness.

It was something most had seen only in nightmares. Perhaps the beginners

—beginners who would not even have a chance to finish their training—had never even dreamed of it.

Not one of them.

Most of them, when they imagined themselves in a crisis, also imagined coolly extricating themselves from it. Deep in a cave, surrounded by goblins? They would think of a clever way to turn the tables.

But never had they imagined that they might be surrounded by goblins on an otherwise perfectly open night road.

“…D-dammit!”

“This way, quick!” someone shouted, and they made a beeline for the woods.

They thought it would give them an advantage over being trapped in the field.

There had been, perhaps, fifteen of them at first. They had been meandering along the road after training, heading back toward town.

There would be more training tomorrow. But they wanted to go on adventures sometime soon. Such had been the subject of their conversation.

And what of it?

A scream had come from the tail of their group. They turned to see a girl ensconced in a dark mass.

“Nooo! No, stop, st—ahh! Gghh… Hrrgh…?!”

They could still hear her screaming as her life ended, her voice thick as she wept and cried out for her mother.

When he dove in and somehow managed to drag her away, it was already over. She was all deep cuts and ripped cloth, bone sticking through torn flesh. Of course she wasn’t alive. How could she be?

…After that, all had been chaos. “Goblins!”

Some people had shouted and run, attempting to flee; others had tried to face the monsters, but one disappeared, then another got separated… Now only five or six of them were left.

“I thought goblins were supposed to stay in caves…!”

“Well, they’re here now, so stop griping!” The warrior running alongside took off his helmet, which had grown too hot. “We just have to make it back to—”

He never got to finish.

A rock came down on his head from above, crushing in his skull. “Wh-wha—?!”

Above us?!

Another adventurer desperately wiped away the bits of brain that splattered on his forehead then looked up into the trees, where he saw them: the fiery, gleaming eyes of goblins.

“I never heard they could climb trees!!” He could count himself lucky that he didn’t just burst into tears right there.

He was still only fifteen years old. The strongest boy in his village. That alone had been enough to convince him to leave his hometown behind.

He knew how to swing a sword. Basic scouting, how to pitch a camp— and so on and so forth. He had thought that put him “in the know.” He realized too late how wrong he was.

The five surviving adventurers gathered together, trying to keep their knees from shaking.

They held weapons in trembling hands, tried to chant spells with unresponsive tongues, attempted to pray through overpowering fear.

The howling laughter of the goblins came again. “GOORORB!!”

“GROORB! GRORB!!”

They pointed at the terrified adventurers, closing in and jabbering loudly.

If the adventurers had been able to understand the goblin language, their fear would only have increased.

Two points for an arm. Three points for a leg. Ten for a head. And a torso, five.

No bonus for a man, but ten extra points for a woman. A most awful way of deciding whom to target.

And all this despite the fact that slings and throwing spears made it impossible to say who had killed what, and they would no doubt simply end up arguing about who had how many points.

The goblins thought this was a wonderful game they had come up with.

They hefted their weapons gleefully.

Was this the end?

The adventurers’ teeth chattered as they watched the goblins advance.

Up rose the rusty swords, the spear tips, the crude rocks, no hint of  mercy

—

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

That was when a miracle happened.

A flash burst like the sun, assailing the goblins with its power. “GROOROROB?!”

“GORRRB?!”

The goblins bellowed and stumbled back; then among them appeared a silhouette, and then another.

“Take—this!!”

“Yaaaaahhh!!”

Rhea Fighter wielded a one-handed blade, while Rookie Warrior swung his club this way and that.

Their strength was inelegant but effective. Bash, bash, bash. They were like a whirlwind descending upon the goblins. “GORB?!”

“GOROORB?!”

They might not exactly be able to carve the goblins in two, but if you slice a creature from the shoulder down to the torso, rending bone and flesh along the way, your enemy will die.

They didn’t need critical hits against goblins.

“E-ergh, I’m really not used to the feel of this yet!” Rhea Fighter moaned as she pulled her sword out of one of the monsters.

“They’re still comin’!” Rookie Warrior shouted back, kicking aside a goblin corpse.

He was imitating Goblin Slayer. If he were fighting this fight, he would drop his sword and steal another weapon.

Then again, Spearman would have acted more decisively, picking vital points and stabbing them quickly before moving on to the next.

And Heavy Warrior? He would have swept all the goblins away with one great swipe of his broadsword.

But I guess I can’t do any of that, so…!

Thinking of the heights he had yet to reach emboldened Rookie Warrior’s fighting spirit.

“Okay, you monsters, bring it on…!”

“Oh, for—! If you lose another weapon, no allowance until we buy a new one!” Apprentice Cleric shouted at Rookie Warrior, then she hurried over to the adventurers, holding up the hem of her vestments so she could run. “Any injured? Speak up! Come over here, I’ll treat you! Miracles for the grievously wounded only!”

Several of the adventurers all but crawled over to her. She didn’t immediately see anyone in need of emergency care. Nor did there appear to be anyone poisoned.

Still, this was hardly the moment for Thank goodness we made it in time!

Ten other young adventurers lay cruelly murdered in the street.

Apprentice Cleric bit her lip and pulled some bandages out of her item bag. She didn’t have the leeway to cast Minor Heal on everyone.

“Y-you guys…”

“We’ve come to—to help you!”

This ringing voice came from the priestess who held up the staff from which Holy Light shone. Her slender face glistened with sweat, and she glared at the goblin horde; it was her unshakable faith that kept the miracle going.

“Everyone together!” she commanded. “We’re going to get out into the field! In a confined space like this, we’re at the goblins’ mercy!”

“But… But if they surround us out there…”

“I’ll keep us safe with Protection… Just go!” Priestess shouted, calmly considering how to use her miracles.

Most likely, she would have to overlap two miracles to stave off the goblin attacks as they retreated. She could still only use three miracles per day, so it would be a critical failure to waste even one of them.

No Minor Heal today, either, huh?

She felt a pang at the thought, but this was the best way for her to fight. If she stayed firm in that belief, the all-merciful Earth Mother would continue to grant her light.

“ ”

Among the adventurers who had come to the rescue was a single boy with red hair, not saying a word.

The clamor of battle. The shouts of their two front-row fighters. The screams of goblins. The admonitions of the two clerics. The responses of the adventurers.

The boy took all this in, his mouth firmly shut, gripping his staff so hard his fingers turned white.

Why? Because in this five-person party, he had the most firepower of anyone.

I can’t use my spell carelessly.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake he had last time.

There were so many goblins. Including him, there were only three adventurers who could properly fight, yet the enemy was more than a dozen.

Could he take them all out with a single Fireball? No, impossible. The enemy was too spread out to catch several of them in a single blast.

But using up his spell to take out just one goblin didn’t make sense.

He didn’t have any time to mull it over, though. There were goblins everywhere, and standing still made you an easy target.

Just like that acolyte they had captured. What would happen to the girls here?

What had happened to his sister…?

Suddenly, Wizard Boy felt his vision grow hot as fire, yet he himself was utterly calm.

That weirdo of an adventurer, Goblin Slayer—much as Wizard Boy hated to admit it, he was always calm. If he let his anger dictate how he used his spell, this time he really would be a lesser man than that adventurer.

No—not that Goblin Slayer would say anything. But he would never be able to forgive himself.

So what do I do, then?

There was more to a wizard than flinging balls of fire and calling down bolts of thunder.

So what was there to do—?

At that moment, there was a flash like lightning in his brain. “Everyone, cover your ears!”

“Wha?! We’re—a little busy—fighting, here—!” “Hurry!”

“Aw, man!”

Rookie Warrior and Rhea Fighter weren’t happy about the sudden instructions, but they didn’t argue.

There was no time to waste.

The red-haired boy glanced at Priestess, who nodded solemnly at him. “I’ll leave this to you!”

It was just as Goblin Slayer had done for her during the battle after the festival, and again on the snowy mountain.

The use of spells, like so many things, required both the orders and the trust of the party leader.

And the boy she had trusted—the red-haired wizard boy—nodded and raised his staff.

“You too! Do what he says and plug your ears!” Apprentice Cleric shouted at the adventurers in her care.

Rookie Warrior and Rhea Fighter quickly dealt with the goblins in front of them then hurried to make some distance.

I’ll only get one chance.

From the boy’s mouth boomed words of true power, his spell unleashed upon the world.

“Crescunt! Crescunt! Crescunt!”

It was only three words. An invisible power welled up, floating through the air, spilling out in front of the boy.

What followed was a single sound.

HRRR RRRRRRAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAA AAH HHHH!!!!

The air shook.

§

It was like killing every bird with a single stone. Cutting the Gordian knot.

Such was the single blow from Heavy Warrior’s broadsword, along with the shout he gave.

In a tremendous blow, it cleaved through every inch of the hobgoblin—its club, flesh, and blood alike.

Black blood sprayed everywhere; the creature split clean down the middle before collapsing to the ground.

The astonished beginners could only stare as Heavy Warrior shook off his sword and stashed it once more on his back.

“Oh-ho.”

The entire area was filled with a howl that threatened their eardrums. Somebody’s scream? Where was it coming from?

He looked up at the sky, not that he was going to find the answers there. “Sounds like someone’s having a little fun,” Heavy Warrior said with a sharklike grin.

§

At that moment, bits of earth rained down from the ceiling, and the clinging moisture of them brought Goblin Slayer to a decision.

“Upward.”

He lodged the hand spear in a goblin’s throat then kicked the frothing corpse away, letting his weapon go with it. Instead, he grabbed the hatchet from the creature’s belt.

Goblin Slayer knew that he was nowhere near Spearman when it came to the use of spears.

“Open a hole above us!”

As the shout came to the back row, Dwarf Shaman was already digging through his bag of catalysts. “Another one? Well, comin’ right up!”

“A hole? Whaddaya want with a hole?” Spearman shouted as he worked his weapon to hold back the encroaching tide of enraged goblins. His body was covered in small cuts, evidence that he was not invincible. Even with several experienced adventurers on the front row, numbers would eventually win out. Small pains or small fatigues, piled atop one another, still amounted to death when the moment came.

“I have a plan,” Goblin Slayer said shortly and slammed the sharpened edge of his shield into a goblin’s forehead. Seeing that the creature still refused to breathe his last, Goblin Slayer took the freshly stolen hatchet and pretended he was chopping wood.

There was a satisfying splorch, and brains went flying all over the walls of the cave.

“But first, I want to frighten them deeper into the cavern.”

“Casting Fear and Tunnel at the same time is going to be a little much even for me!”

“Milord Goblin Slayer, they need simply be sent deeper in, yes?”

Dwarf Shaman was standing on his bag of catalysts in order to reach the ceiling, on which he was inscribing a sigil. Lizard Priest had moved up to cover him; now he bared his fangs fearsomely.

The moment had come for him to let his spiritual prowess, which he had conserved until this exact point, show forth.

Lizard Priest brought his palms together in a strange gesture and took in a breath, filling his lungs with air. He looked like a dragon preparing to use a breath weapon.

“Bao Long, honored ancestor, Cretaceous ruler, I borrow now the terror of thee!”

The moment he finished chanting, Dragon’s Roar burst through the tunnel. The noise that Lizard Priest breathed out of his jaws shook the very air.

The goblins, hearing a great and terrible dragon right there in the tunnel, felt their courage shrink.

Goblins are never that brave to begin with. They are at their most violent only when in a superior position or when taking revenge.

And when afraid, they have no concept of an orderly retreat. “GORRRBB! GBROOB!!”

“GROB! GGROB!!”

Squawking and dropping their weapons this way and that, they began to dash away. Witch cast Light to pursue their fleeing forms.

Lizard Priest snorted at the pathetic spectacle. “They will soon be back,” he warned. “Even a dragon’s power cannot last forever.”

“I don’t care,” Goblin Slayer replied, but all the same he kept his low, guarded stance and stared into the distance.

High Elf Archer, beginning to look tired, patted him on the shoulder. “Orcbolg, are you planning to use another scroll?”

“I had only the one.”

“…That doesn’t make me feel better at all.”

Goblin Slayer nodded as he watched Dwarf Shaman continue to work a pattern into the dirt.

“There is a lake above us.”

§

The boy’s shout, amplified by magic, echoed through the air and off the trees of the forest.

It was just a very loud voice. Hardly remarkable for something supposedly produced by words that could alter the very logic of the world.

His professors at the Academy would never have let him hear the end of it

—but he wasn’t at the Academy now.

It may have lacked the physical threat of Fireball, but his great voice was overpowering. Most important of all, the area of effect was far larger than Fireball’s. Goblins who were immediately nearby fell unconscious, while others froze in surprise, and still others forgot everything else and started running.

“GOOROB?!” “GROOB?! GRRO?!”

The boy gripped his staff, biting his lip so hard that blood dribbled from it, and stared fixedly at the goblins’ backs.

He had wanted to kill them.

Such selfish creatures they were. Violent and murderous. Yet, now they ran. And he was letting them.

It wasn’t enough.

There was his older sister to think of. The adventurers they had killed. The acolyte he and his party had rescued.

Then there was the humiliation they had all been subjected to. The hopelessness. The sadness. The anger. All the things that burned inside him.

To let all those things come bubbling forth—what a pleasure that would be! How wonderful!

Yes, but…

“We’re getting out of here!”

It was Priestess’s shout that brought the boy back to himself. She held aloft her staff, which still shone with Holy Light, and used it to gesture in the direction they should go.

“Head straight out of the woods and make for town!”

“You got it!” Rookie Warrior shouted back. He buried a blade in the throat of the unconscious goblin beside him then started forward. “Here we go. Getting home is our top priority! Follow me!”

“Let him lead the way! I’ll keep an eye on this group—you watch our rear!”

“Sure thing!” Rhea Fighter replied to Apprentice Cleric. In spite of all that fighting, she didn’t appear fatigued. Was that a rhea trait, or was it just her?

Rhea Fighter passed by the boy as she headed for the back. “Nice work. That was really something.” She could only smile at him in passing, but it was heartfelt.

After a moment, the boy nodded. “…Thanks.”

As the party surrounded the adventurers and began running, the boy stole a glance back over his shoulder.

The spell he had used was not intended to kill, just to give them an opening to escape.

It was true: his goal in this instance had not been to kill goblins.

It had been to help others. To get them out of there and safely back to town.

How satisfying it would have been had he been able to slaughter all the goblins.

But—yes, but.

I’m no Goblin Slayer.

The boy broke off from the battleground and faced forward, running with the others.

He didn’t look back again.

§

The goblins had come like a tide, and now they were swept away by one.

The lake water that came spewing through the ceiling turned into a mudslide, pouring into the goblin tunnel.

Unfortunately for them, the nest was on a downward slope. The party of adventurers had scrambled uphill a bit, and it was enough to keep them safe, but as for the goblins who had fled back into the tunnel…

“GORRRBB?!” “GBBOR?! GOBBG?!”

The goblins bobbed to the surface of the flood then sank again, drowning in the muddy water. It was an awful spectacle.

“I guess this feels good, as far as it goes,” Spearman said, smacking a drowning goblin in the head with the butt of his spear and watching it sink once more. “But we can’t pursue them like this. What if they just attack again when the water goes down?”

“When Tunnel runs out, cast some kind of ice spell.” Goblin Slayer issued his next instruction to Witch, whose expression was ambiguous. “The ice will expand when it freezes, destroying this passageway. They won’t be able to use it anymore.”

“Good. I, under…stand.”

“We will have to search aboveground for the nest and destroy it.”

Goblin Slayer had already been making some mental calculations. The goblins had stolen only construction tools, no food. The earlier quest had been much the same: they had merely kidnapped prisoners to help them pass the time.

All this meant that the heart of their operation could not be too far away.

What had the goblins thought when they saw the building under construction and the adventurers gathering there? He had no way to know.

“…I think I’ll let you guys handle that. Me, I’m beat.” Spearman grasped his weapon wearily then sat down at the side of the tunnel. “Next time you wanna double-date…I hope it’s something other than goblins.”

“I understand.”

On reflection, none of them had rested for several hours. Everyone had been fighting through the night. They were all eager to sleep like logs.

High Elf Archer, physically the weakest of these six Silver-ranked adventurers, found her ears drooping. “I’m so tired…”

“Don’t treat the earth like that,” Dwarf Shaman scolded her as she leaned against a wall. “He just said we still have to find and destroy the nest.”

High Elf Archer pursed her lips. “Yeah, I know, but…!”

She wasn’t really that upset. She wiped her mud-stained cheeks and muttered, “This is why I hate goblin quests.”

Most adventurers probably would have agreed with her.

The water burbled and coughed as it rose up and down. Was that the sound of goblins dying or just the flood rushing along?

“I’m quite impressed that you knew we were beneath this lake,” Lizard Priest said calmly as he watched the waters. “Has milord Goblin Slayer been to this area before?”

“Yes,” Goblin Slayer said dispassionately as he watched the monsters drown. “Long ago… Very long ago.”

Many goblins died that day, as did many adventurers. But the adventurers won.

The training grounds were defended.

Yet, even so, there seemed to be just as many goblins in the world as before.