Goblin Slayer - Volume 8 - Chapter 8

Chapter 8 – The Heart Of The Maelstrom

“GGRROROB!” 

“GRBBR! GOORGGBG!” 

Grumbled, filthy curses echoed through the burial chamber. The princess heard all of it from where she lay on the floor, bound with torn shreds from her own vestments. She tried to see, but the dark, the gloom, and the clinging miasma made it difficult. 

Her face was swollen, her tilted vision blurred with tears, and her nose and mouth were so dry they burned. 

Only natural, after the beating she’d received, she thought distantly. She must have looked terrible. 

The thought made her nose prickle, and tears threatened to gather in her eyes again. Then they spilled out, along with a stream of sniffles; the resolution to restrain them had been pummeled out of her. 

Whatever was waiting for her next, it wouldn’t be better than what had already happened. The thought terrified her. When she thought of the awful, blasphemous possibilities, even the chill of the dirty stones she lay on faded to insignificance. 

“GOROGGBGO! GROG!” 

“GGGOROGB!” 

At the altar, the one goblin wearing elaborate clothing was shouting something. 

His outfit was that of a magic user, one turned comically, hideously theatrical. His whole body was covered in geometric tattoos—they were “hands”—and he was the goblins’ leader. 

The princess found herself shaking at the idea that she would soon be beaten, raped, violated to the very brink of death. “Heek… Eek…!” 

“GGBGOROGOBOG!” 

“GOR! GBOGOGB!” 

The goblins had started laughing at the pitiful child again. They weren’t specifically amused that the king’s little sister had been reduced to such a state. No, they simply enjoyed the fact that someone more pathetic than them was cowering and weeping. 

If the goblins had known who she was, they would probably have treated her even worse. Goblins made no attempt to hide their jealousy or grudges. The girl knew full well that she had sunk into a dark pit where these monsters’ lusts raged unchecked. 

There was no help. 

There was no salvation. 

All was lost, all had been stolen from her, all debased. 

And yet, the goblins still intended to take every last vestige of what she had. 

They’ll never be satisfied. I’m sure of it. 

She could apologize, cry and beg, but it wouldn’t be enough for them, even if she died. 

The only way they might be distracted was if they tired of her, or forgot about her, or if their interest was drawn by some other poor victim. 

“Ooh… Ah… Ergh…” 

In light of that fact, she had resolved, at the very least, not to plead for forgiveness. Not because of a desire to resist the goblins, or out of pride. Simply because she didn’t want to sink so low, and because she knew pleading wouldn’t do any good anyway. 

She was under no illusions: the goblins would steal that resolve from her, too, and probably in just a matter of minutes. 

“GGBGBG!” 

“GRB!” 

The goblin leader lifted his staff—it was a dried-out hand—and waved it around, giving his subordinates some kind of order. There was a flurry of wet footsteps as the dirty monsters came closer, full of greed. 

The faces of her dearly departed mother and father flashed through her mind. Then she saw her older brother. 

Was he angry at her? she wondered. Worried about her? She could only imagine. 

All she wanted, the only thing, was to go home. 

But she never would. Not without a miracle… 

§ 

“I attempted to investigate at the temple, but their tattoo is of a kind I myself have never seen.” 

The elevator bore the adventurers downward silently. If it weren’t for the floaty feeling under their feet, they would never have thought they were in a moving box. 

High Elf Archer frowned and flicked her ears, whereupon Lizard Priest advised her, “Swallow.” She did as he said, and the discomfort in her ears seemed to vanish. 

“However, I strongly believe they have a spell caster with them.” 

“A goblin shaman, right?” Priestess said. 

“I can’t say for certain,” Goblin Slayer said, causing Priestess to blanch a bit. She was well past the point where she might go limp with fear, but such an enemy was not one to be met without anxiety. She gripped her staff and took a deep breath. Then another. Fill the lungs, then let it out. 

High Elf Archer patted her rising, falling shoulders. 

“…Doing all right?” 

“Yes,” Priestess said, smiling bravely. “I’m fine.” 

She glanced over at Goblin Slayer, who was talking to Dwarf Shaman and Lizard Priest. Planning and calculating, no doubt. It helped her relax to see them going about business as usual. 

“I think we can assume these are the same goblins who have been causing trouble in the area lately. He would be their chieftain,” Goblin Slayer said. 

“If you’re right about that, then…taking down the spell caster first would be the obvious way to go,” Dwarf Shaman replied with a stroke of his white beard. 

“Nay, but I think it would depend on the number and equipment of our opponents,” Lizard Priest argued. The cleric, a member of those most renowned warriors, the lizardmen, turned his long neck this way and that, vigilant. “In any event, were we to be ambushed when these doors opened, it would be something of a duck hunt.” 

“Projectiles, then,” Goblin Slayer grunted. “How troublesome.” 

“Hey, Long-Ears,” Dwarf Shaman said grimly. “Can y’hear anything below?” 

“Just because I’m an elf doesn’t mean I can hear everything, okay?” High Elf Archer frowned and closed her eyes, her ears working up and down. Everyone instinctively fell silent. Only the soft sounds of their breathing filled the space. 

After a few moments, High Elf Archer opened her eyes again. “…Hmm. There’s a lot of them, I think,” she said, but she didn’t sound very sure. “More than ten, I’d guess? Maybe even twenty. I hear a lot of footsteps. I can’t figure out what they’re wearing, though.” 

“Anything else you noticed?” Goblin Slayer asked. “Anything at all.” 

“Not a sound, but—” High Elf Archer twitched her nose. “There’s some sort of weird smell. From down below.” 

“Do you think it’s poison gas?” 

The answer to his question came from Lizard Priest. “No, I should think they are performing a ritual of some kind. Burning some sort of incense would be natural enough.” 

“Whatever it is, I guarantee it won’t do us any good to breathe it in,” Dwarf Shaman said. He humphed thoughtfully then clapped his hands as an idea occurred to him. “Say, Beard-cutter. Do you have those—those things we used once? The cloth-and-ash things that filtered out bad air.” 

“Those were improvised out of need. Given enough time to prepare, it would be better to soak a cloth in antidote.” Goblin Slayer pulled a bottle with a string wrapped around the neck from his item bag. “I’d rather not use a potion now, but I suppose this is the time for it.” 

“Oh,” Priestess said, raising her hand, “then let me…!” The party turned to look at her. She blushed, not quite used to being the center of attention. “Er, I just, ahem, thought maybe we could open with Holy Light like we usually do…” She sounded more apologetic the longer she spoke. “I thought maybe that would be… the safest thing to try…” 

Goblin Slayer did a quick mental calculation of their remaining spells. Three, and this would mean using one on entry. 

If the captive was safe—meaning alive—she would almost certainly ask for healing. 

That would leave them with one miracle. Was that “just one miracle,” or “one whole miracle”? 

He shoved the potion back in his pouch. 

“Handle it.” 

“Right!” 

His response was simple as could be, and Priestess nodded vigorously, her face lit up. 

“Very good. Mistress Priestess shall make our opening gambit, while I shall, I suppose, be on the front row.” Lizard Priest made a strange palms-together gesture, looking positively excited. “Thankfully, I’ve been able to conserve the miracles that I can ask from my forebears. What of you, master spell caster?” 

“Lessee, here… I’ve two more spells—no, make that three, but…” Dwarf Shaman dug through his bag of catalysts as he spoke then grinned. “How about it, Beard-cutter? What d’you want?” 

“A source of light,” he replied without even thinking. “The rest is up to you.” 

“You got it. That’ll be me, then.” 

“And I’ll just do what I always do,” High Elf Archer said, restringing her bow and feeling out how many arrows she had left. “You mentioned projectiles. That means shooting. I’ll stay loose. In case the dwarf falls over or anything.” 

“I won’t fall,” Dwarf Shaman said, glaring at her. “As long as no anvils stumble on top of me!” 

Huh! High Elf Archer went red and shot back something in kind, and then they were off and arguing, as usual. 

Lizard Priest, who seemed to find the sight relaxing under the circumstances, rolled his eyes in his head. “After that, the key will be…flexibility.” 

“…You don’t mean just act at random, do you?” Priestess said with a wry smile. 

“No,” Goblin Slayer answered, shaking his head. “Flexibility is something goblins aren’t capable of.” 

§ 

“O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, please, by your revered hand, cleanse us of our corruption!!” 

Thus came forth Purify. 

A sacred wind swept through that place of filth and pollution; Priestess’s prayer, offered in loud voice, broke through the elevator doors like a miracle. 

“I swept away the miasma!” 

“Perfect!” 

The adventurers jumped out into the room, now free of the choking fog. The rusted alarm, which had once been a trap, jingled once and then fell silent. 

“GGOBOGOB?!” 

“GORO?! GOBOGOR?!” 

Goblin jabber, words most likely of blasphemous import, sounded in the gloom. Dwarf Shaman, who could see in the dark, frowned and immediately grabbed some coal from his bag. 

“Hold your torch up, give us light, will-o-the-wisp, burn in the night! Onibi, I call on thee, give a little light to me!” 

He flung the coal into the air, where it burst of its own accord into a blue-white flame. The thing he had called forth with Control Spirit shone brightly in the dungeon. 

The space it illuminated turned out to be a burial chamber in the truest sense of the words. A pair of doors in the distance must have been the elevator to the depths that former adventurers had sought. There were signs of furious battle all around the dim stone room, along with shattered steel, tattered armor, and bits of skeletons in black outfits. 

If this had been any normal dungeon crawl, it would have been a place of absolute solemnity. 

But now, it was inhabited by goblins. The very heart of this dungeon was piled high with goblin junk, filth, and food scraps. 

By the walls all around were those who had tried this dungeon without a plan, or perhaps who had lost to the goblins… 

“That’s awful…,” Priestess said, involuntarily putting a hand to her mouth at the horror of it. Goblin Slayer grunted softly. 

Several corpses dangled there, suspended by meat hooks dug into their flesh, like strange, hideous fruits. It was all too easy to imagine that being hung by their skin was the last stage of untold tortures. 

“GOROBG!” 

“Ohh… Ah…” 

At that moment, among the confused shouts of the goblins, a soft, weak cry could be heard. It was the hostage—the princess, up on the altar. 

A goblin dressed in elaborate clothing, likely their leader, had her by the hair and was pulling her up. 

She’s alive! 

“One staff. Five swords, five clubs, two spears, seven bows, no hobs—twenty in all!” 

One of the adventurers was wearing grimy leather armor and a cheap-looking helmet; on his arm was a small, round shield, and at his hip, a sword of a strange length. 

Goblin Slayer, who had flung the torch from his left hand into the room, quickly assessed the situation. 

“As we expected. A shaman is—” 

“No…!” Priestess interrupted. 

Her joy at the princess’s survival was fleeting; now both her eyes were open wide. She was looking squarely at the goblin with the staff, tattoos all over his body. 

Was it fear? Past experience? No. A sharp tingle ran along the nape of her neck. 

A handout! 

Priestess correctly interpreted the revelation from the munificent Earth Mother and exclaimed, “That’s a priest!” 

Apostle of the heinous gods of Chaos! Non-Prayer to the rightful and just gods! 

“GBOB! GOROBGGRB! GOROBG!!” 

As if in response to Priestess, the goblin’s prayer echoed through the room. He waved his staff and gibbered in his bizarre tongue, and a hazy, sinister light began to gather around the altar. 

“That son of a…!” 

Far be it from High Elf Archer to let him get away with that: she loosed an arrow at the goblin, meaning to take him before he had time to react—but the arrow bounced away with a dry clack. 

“No way…! Protection?!” 

The goblin cultist gave them a vile grin, and they perceived a wall of pale light around him. 

Goblin Slayer knew well the strength of that light. He had relied on it more than once. 

It certainly wasn’t that he hadn’t thought of this possibility. His battle with the goblin paladin on the snowy mountain had been close to a year before, but he still remembered it vividly. 

But a goblin believer? 

In the whole world, there seemed few things less amenable to each other than goblins and faith. 

Now he clicked his tongue at himself to realize he had been making this unconscious assumption. 

“Try this, then!” 

There wasn’t a moment of hesitation in Goblin Slayer’s words or actions. He was not fool enough to throw away the advantage of surprise. 

No sooner had he spoken than he flung a cruelly shaped blade into the darkness. 

The knife, its blades bent like broken branches, went flying to one side. 

“GOBO?!” 

It traveled with a sound like a buzzing bee, until it found a goblin archer who was outside the protective barrier. Dark goblin blood spewed into the low light; the headless corpse tottered and fell over. 

The head, meanwhile, rolled into a corner of the chamber, there to rot for the next hundred years. 

“That’s one! Take out the archers. We’ll have to do this hand to hand!” 

“Ha-ha-ha! Understood!” 

While he shouted, Goblin Slayer pulled on the string he’d tied to his knife; meanwhile, Lizard Priest jumped into the fray. 

The powerful lizardman was a master of unarmed combat. 

“O sickle wings of velociraptor, rip and tear, fly and hunt!” 

But he didn’t need to stay unarmed: his catalyst, a fang in his hand, swelled and grew until he was holding a polished blade. 

Then Lizard Priest, breathing hard with the excitement of battle, stood solidly with his legs apart, his breath coming like steam from his jaws. 

“GOROBG!” 

“GOROOBG?!” 

“Eeeyah!!” 

From their own back row, the goblin archers loosed a volley of arrows, but Lizard Priest swept them aside with his tail and launched a kick. “Goblin arrows are like a spring shower!” 

He proceeded to use his Swordclaws, one in each hand, to eviscerate the nearest goblins. 

One, two. The bravest goblins—or rather, the ones who had been pushed forward by those behind—lost their heads. Who would willingly challenge such a terrifying beast? So much easier to target the little cleric girl standing near the back, or the elf alongside her. 

“GGBGR! GOROGOBOGOR!” 

The evil goblin priest rained abuse on his followers as they recoiled then issued new orders to his archers. 

Get up there. Shoot for their soft back row. 

But the archers, having observed the demise of their late comrade, didn’t budge. In fact, they tried to squeeze in behind the wall of Protection themselves. 

“GOROBG!” 

“GOBOGOROB?!” 

The goblin priest, enraged, kicked his archers out from behind the barrier—literally. An instant later, one of the foolish monsters had High Elf Archer’s arrow through his eye. 

“Too easy!” Her long ears flicked triumphantly as she scanned for her next target. 

Fortunately, there were a great many bodies and remains to stand on. Not that she was eager to perch on a corpse. 

High Elf Archer made one graceful leap after another, loosing her bud-tipped arrows in midair in quick succession. They pelted down on the goblin priest at the altar, but the invisible barrier refused to give way. 

It was just too tough. High Elf Archer frowned. There was no way that beast could be as devout as their girl. 

“Clean them up—I’ll cover you!” she said. 

If she couldn’t take out the leader, then she would change focus. As she pulled out her next arrow, she kicked off the wall in a wall jump. 

In response, Goblin Slayer raised his shield and moved forward. He let the howling Lizard Priest serve as a distraction, while he closed in on the altar where the archers were standing. “Currently four. Sixteen left. Five of them archers…!” 

“GGOBOGOG! GOBOROOBG!!” 

“GOROB!” 

The priest, with his bird’s-eye view, was not so blind as to miss Goblin Slayer’s approach. He spat an order to his spearmen, who tried to keep the adventurer from getting closer. 

Goblin Slayer didn’t have time for armed combat. He simply pounded the throwing knife into an enemy spear. 

“GOROBG?!” 

The broken blades entangled themselves in the haft of the spear, which broke. The goblin’s dirty eyes widened in amazement. 

Goblin Slayer let go of his weapon and brought his shield to bear. 

“GOROOOGB?!” 

“Five!” 

The sharpened edge of his shield split the goblin’s skull. He kicked the creature as it tumbled backward, sweeping down with his hand to grab the spear off the ground. 

“Six!” 

“GOOBOGORO?!” 

He pulled his shield out of the fifth goblin’s skull, using the momentum to propel his spear into the sixth goblin’s neck. He let go of the polearm amid a geyser of blood and drew his sword. 

“Fourteen left!” 

“GOROBG!!” 

The goblin priest, rather than blame the fact that his choice of orders was poor, excoriated his subordinates for their stupidity. 

The archers were looking this way and that, trying to decide whether to target the elf, the lizard, or the human. One of them hesitantly readied an arrow, then recalled that in fact there was a dwarf protecting a human girl, and aimed his arrow in that direction. 

“GORG?!” 

An instant later, though, something pierced him through the neck, and he died choking on his own blood. His arms flopped and the arrow shot off, pinging off the floor in an absurd direction. 

It was simply impossible to escape the aim of an elf. Now there were four goblin archers left. 

“Ho! Not bad for you, Long-Ears!” 

Speaking of Dwarf Shaman, he was indeed protecting Priestess, as the goblin had seen. He had a hand in his bag of catalysts even as he unleashed a flurry of ax blows to keep the goblins away. 

Thankfully, Beard-cutter had taken care of the handful of spear wielders. Goblins with clubs and swords he could handle, somehow. 

“GGOROGB?!” 

“GOOBG?!” 

One goblin, and then another. Goblin Slayer, Lizard Priest, High Elf Archer, and Dwarf Shaman each cut down monster after monster. 

“…………” 

But Priestess, observing the melee from the back, couldn’t shake the sense that the hairs on the back of her neck were standing up again. 

I wonder what’s causing this weird feeling… 

She was the only one with the opportunity to calmly evaluate what was happening. It was her role to take advantage of that. 

A battle was raging around her, and she was only standing there holding her staff. She desperately tried to keep her heart from racing at the thought. 

The goblin priest waved the relic in his hand, giving orders—if they could be called that—to his followers. 

He gave the captive princess one vicious kick, then another, in retaliation for what was happening. 

Priestess couldn’t imagine his heart was here. Couldn’t believe he was truly praying to the gods in heaven, or whatever equivalent he had. 

So why doesn’t the protection vanish? 

Was she to believe that the evil gods were so compassionate? No, it couldn’t be. 

For a miracle… For a spell… One always had to pay a price. Give something in exchange for twisting the very logic of the world. 

It could be the soul, shaved away by a prayer; it could be a spell committed to memory; a catalyst; one’s vitality. 

—? 

Suddenly, Priestess looked down at the blood pooling by her feet. A flash of insight rushed through her mind. 

She looked up and shouted: “Goblin Slayer, sir—she’s a living sacrifice…!” 

That was all it took. 

Goblin Slayer’s helmet moved even as he slashed the throat of the goblin in front of him. 

Red lines ran along the floor, visible against the goblins’ dark blood. Red-black lines forming a pattern whose channels led back to the altar. 

It looked familiar to him. 

He himself had helped with it on the farm more than once. 

“He’s bleeding them!” 

Indeed: the source of the blood was the goblin corpses—and the bodies of the adventurers hung on the wall. 

It was bad enough they had been tormented in life. Now the goblins would continue to take from them even after they were dead. 

The blood dripped from the corpses, flowing toward the altar, where it brought power to the deities of evil. 

“GOROGBG! GOROBOGO!!” 

The goblin priest cackled viciously. Priestess’s vision went red, and she felt something hot. 

This is unforgivable. Where had that thought come from? 

In the back of her mind, she saw… She saw her comrades from that very first adventure. 

How could there be salvation for anyone if they were to be the goblins’ playthings even after they were dead? 

“I’ll do it!” she shouted, raising her sounding staff. The adventurers all glanced in her direction then nodded. 

“Take care of it!” Goblin Slayer shouted, and Lizard Priest howled, “Be not hesitant!” 

A goblin archer was trying to load a third arrow, but before he could manage it, Lizard Priest’s massive body was hurtling through the air. He landed with his tail pounding the floor and slammed into the archer, practically breaking the monster in half. 

“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Know this, vermin: you have no escape!!” 

“GOROBOGO?!” 

“GBBGOR!” 

The two remaining archers flung down their bows and tried to run. It was an uncommonly wise decision for goblins—or would have been, if there hadn’t been an enemy directly behind them. 

“Thirteen… Fourteen!!” 

In less than the space of two breaths, the goblins found their heads split open and their brains splattered on the stone. 

Goblin Slayer gave the club in his hand a casual flick to get the gore off. 

“GOROBGOR?!” 

“GRR!” 

The five surviving goblin foot soldiers began to close in on the center of the room. The goblin priest was jabbering behind them, but they felt no obligation to listen to the likes of him. The goblins, each planning to put himself first in the fight that was to come, raised their weapons and charged at Priestess. 

There was no thought in their minds of taking her hostage. They just wanted payback, somehow; they wanted to take her and hurt her in revenge. 

“…!” 

Priestess, stiff, nonetheless stared down the oncoming foe. Dwarf Shaman inserted himself between them, and from a distance, High Elf Archer was taking aim. 

She could see Lizard Priest, too, and even him, all at once. There was nothing to be scared of. 

She filled her small chest with a deep breath, let it out, and then shouted: “O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, please, by your revered hand, cleanse us of our corruption!!” 

The great and venerable Earth Mother once more responded to the devout supplication of her follower, touching their world with her sacred hand. 

An invisible wave spread out from Priestess like a caress, washing over the chamber. The flowing channels of blood were transformed before their eyes into streams of pure water. 

This spell is intended to protect, not to harm…! 

That was why Priestess was sure the Earth Mother would permit her this usage. 

“GGBOGO?!” 

The goblin priest yammered in shock, and his voice scrambled Priestess’s cleansing wave. Untainted water, though, was not fit for a living sacrifice to the evil gods. The barrier protecting him vanished instantaneously, and the goblin priest was left defenseless. 

“GROBOGOG!” 

“Uhh… Ahh…” 

Well, not defenseless, exactly. 

The evil priest of the goblins grabbed the girl he had taken for the sacrifice by her hair, using her as a meat shield. 

One lone adventurer strode boldly toward him. 

He wore grimy leather armor and a cheap-looking metal helmet, with a small, round shield on his arm and a club he had stolen from a goblin in his hand. 

“Hmph.” Goblin Slayer glanced back over his shoulder. 

High Elf Archer’s arrows, Lizard Priest’s fangs, and Dwarf Shaman’s ax had destroyed the goblin forces. 

Priestess was safe. 

Goblin Slayer looked forward once more. 

The goblin priest, terrified, held the princess up desperately, struggling to protect himself. A mocking smile hung on his filthy face. 

Goblin Slayer said, “This makes twenty.” 

He kicked, sweeping the goblin’s legs out from under him, and where the creature fell, the club came down. 

Then it was done. 

§ 

With the battle done, a staggering silence fell over the burial chamber. 

The only sounds were the ragged breathing of those left in the room, and the gentle scraping of equipment. High Elf Archer kept an arrow loosely nocked in her bow as she looked around, but then finally, she exhaled. 

“Is it over…?” 

“…Looks like it,” Priestess said, the two companions sharing a relieved sigh. Then Priestess went up to the altar. 

What can I say to her? 

It wasn’t far, but that question made the journey feel immense. 

Should Priestess be happy the girl was safe—meaning that at least she had her life? 

Should she be angry the girl had stolen her mail? 

Neither felt quite right to her, and she reached the girl without having come to a conclusion. 

“…Oh.” 

Priestess could see her own confused expression in the eyes that stared vacantly up at her. 

The girl could hardly be called fortunate. And yet, it was because she had been chosen as a living sacrifice that she was still here. Wounded and heartbroken, her clothes torn, but not covered in filth. 

Even at that very moment, Priestess still couldn’t find the words. She looked this way and that as if searching for them. 

Then she spotted something. 

A bit of booty the goblins had stolen from an adventurer then tossed aside. It lay almost randomly on a pile of junk: some cheap mail, the kind that could be bought anywhere. 

It had been repaired repeatedly, so much that it might have been better to simply buy a new set. She would have recognized it anywhere: this mail was hers. 

“…!” 

Priestess grabbed it and pulled it close, and then she gathered the princess’s slim body into a hug as well. 

“Thank goodness…,” she whispered, the voice squeezing out of her. 

Was she glad to recover the mail, or the child? Even she wasn’t sure. But she doubted it was just one or the other. If she had retrieved the mail, but the princess had been dead, or if the girl had been alive and the mail lost, she couldn’t help thinking that it would have left a sting in her heart. 

That was why she hugged them both. 

She didn’t know how to put it into words. But there was no question. 

“Ooh, ah… Ah…!” It was all the princess could bear. She clung to Priestess and wept openly. 

“It’s okay,” Priestess assured her. She rubbed the princess’s back as the girl kept repeating “I was so scared. I’m sorry.” 

Goblin Slayer took this in with a sidelong glance then let out a breath. 

“Oh-ho,” Lizard Priest said, rolling his eyes as he detected the sound. “Are we relieved?” 

“…” Goblin Slayer thought for a moment then nodded slowly. “Yes. Because she seemed a bit unsteady. I mean her.” 

“Well, if she’s feeling better now, no need t’ask why, I suppose.” 

“But if one were to ask, I might suggest this.” Lizard Priest’s long neck turned, and he scuffed at the pattern carved in the floor. 

“What do you think of it?” 

“I should venture to guess that this place must have been intended to resurrect some dark god.” 

The channels created strange, complicated geometric patterns and were clearly some variety of magic. Then again, if this burial chamber was the heart of this dungeon, perhaps they were intended to summon some follower. 

“So that’s it for the job, right?” High Elf Archer said, her ears drooping tiredly. “We can get out of here?” She glanced in Priestess’s direction. 

But Goblin Slayer shook his head. “No. There are still goblins left above us. We must kill them all.” 

“Ugh,” High Elf Archer said, sounding profoundly disgusted, but Lizard Priest chuckled, “A most fearsome road home.” 

“Nothing to it but t’do it,” Dwarf Shaman added, taking a drink of wine. Priestess was still holding on to the princess, who had finally calmed down. 

Hence, what happened was not on account of anyone’s lapse in vigilance. 

Call it a roll of the dice, if you must. 

It’s just the way the pips come up sometimes. 

“G…” 

The goblin priest clung to life, despite his smashed skull. His brain whirled with even darker and more awful thoughts than before, and he reached out for his relic, his magical item. 

“GOR…B…” 

The priest had one selfish idea in his mind: After all I’ve done, they can’t fail to save me. 

Yes, it was self-centered. It wasn’t faith. Right or wrong, it was not a thought offered to the gods. 

So there could be only one answer. 

“GOROBOG?!” 

It burst forth. 

Like a seed in spring. Like a sprout pushing through the earth. 

The goblin’s back swelled and exploded as it grasped its way into this world. 

Splattered with the goblin’s blood and guts, spreading out like a hideous flower, was a grotesque five-fingered hand. 

“Hrm…” 

“Wha…?!” 

The adventurers were struck speechless by a sight so unholy they had to check to see if they were still sane. 

Goblin Slayer was instantly ready to fight, and Dwarf Shaman reached for his bag. In the blink of an eye, High Elf Archer had taken a handful of her few remaining arrows. 

But Lizard Priest—and Priestess. The two of them understood what this was. 

The goblin’s twitching limbs stretched out on the altar, scraping through the filth. 

It was a pale arm. 

An arm bigger, wider, more massive than a tree. 

An arm that had appeared from thin air, just a pulsating limb with twisted, grasping claws. 

The fingers, stained with goblin blood, reached out like serpents seeking their prey. 

Amazement? Terror? It was impossible to say. 

But Priestess would not let them threaten the girl she had clasped to her chest any more. 

She held the princess fast as her trembling lips formed the words. 

“A greater demon’s hand…!” 

Then came a blast of immense sharpness, and the young priestess screamed from the unendurable pain.