Goblin Slayer - Volume SS1.02 - Chapter 1

Gods, Gods! 

Roll the dice and play a game. 

Roll a one and I’ll comfort you, 

roll a two and I’ll laugh with you, 

roll a three and I’ll praise you, 

roll a four and I’ll give you a treat, 

roll a five and I’ll dance for you, 

roll a six and I’ll kiss you, 

roll a seven and it’s off the board. 

Chapter 1 – After Session, Scenario Hook The End of One Fight, the Shadow of Another

The crimson-stained earth grew darker as it caught the colors of twilight. The wind that whipped over the wasteland blew cold and carried with it the smells of death and rust, and air scorched by magic. 

Gods, what greed. 

The monk crouched by a few spears that had been stuck in the ground to stop horses, examining his surroundings nonchalantly. The field had been ringing with the cacophony of combat not long before, but now all was silent—the clash of swords, the whinnying of horses, incantations and war cries, death rattles… When the last sounds of the battle’s pomp and circumstance had faded away, only a pervading loneliness remained. 

The monk found that truly disturbing. 

“Master Monk, there you are.” 

The voice came as a surprise, though the footsteps had reached his ears. 

The general had dull golden hair tied up, and although her knight’s armor was old, she herself was young. She was responsible for one of the little fortresses here on the frontier and commanded a motley collection of soldiers and mercenaries. 

At the moment, she was leaning on her slender sword as if it were a walking staff; but even now the monk could still see her swinging the weapon from horseback. He’d heard she was of noble stock, and he believed the strength she’d shown would have made her ancestors proud. 

“You’ve turned out to be quite lovely,” he said. 

“…Is that sarcasm?” 

“Humor is one of my many talents, but I would never use it in regards to a woman’s looks.” 

The general blinked her right eye in confusion. 

The other eye was missing from her striking face; from her elegant body, an arm and a leg had been torn off. Her perfect form, blemished. The result of her intensity in battle, or perhaps its cost. 

Her bandages were caked in drying black streaks of blood, and her breath came shallow and painful. 

Still, she had acquitted herself in combat; she had survived and was still here. If that was not beautiful, what was? 

The general frowned in the scarlet of twilight, then coughed once. “Gathering up the bodies took time. I’m sorry you had to wait. Can you handle the funeral?” 

“But of course, of course.” 

The young monk got to his feet, looking almost lighthearted. Flecks of blood spattered his garments, but he seemed to pay them no mind. 

“How would you prefer the memorial to be done?” 

“What do you do in your sect?” 

“Our faith teaches that if the corpse is exposed and returned to creation, it will one day be reborn as someone stronger.” 

“You mean… Respawn?” She frowned as if the word was unfamiliar, or at least unpleasant. “…We dug a hole and tossed the enemy bodies in. I want you to say the prayers when we set them alight.” 

“Certainly, certainly.” 

The monk matched the general’s pace as they approached the earthworks lined with spears. An enemy cavalry charge had left some of the shafts broken, like a mouth missing teeth. As they walked through the uneven mass of shadows, the monk said, as casually as if he were discussing the weather, “They say those who don’t fit their niche are doomed to die… Heh-heh.” 

“I don’t necessarily have anything against your kind, monk. One of you even visited my home once, long ago.” 

My little sister rather took to him. 

That provoked an “Oh-ho” from the monk. Then he asked, “And what of the goblins? There were many on the field today. Would you see them given rites as well?” 

“Yes, I’m afraid,” the general said tiredly. “Goblins or not, we can’t have them turning undead on us.” 

They were heading for a corner of the wasteland that seemed as dark as if a pot of ink had been spilled upon it. 

It was the pit into which the bodies had been thrown. All of them monsters—Non-Prayer Characters. With the exception of the likes of dark elves, Non-Prayer Characters never carried off the bodies of their dead. This was because they expected that through a hex, they would become ghosts and return to fight once more. 

It was Pray-ers alone who retrieved the corpses of their companions. Some dismissed this practice as nothing more than pointless sentiment—but no person could live without sentiment. 

One was not supposed to have likes and dislikes, the monk reflected. Yet, the moment of an undead ghost’s destruction was one of great excitement for him. 

With this thought in his mind, he looked down into a trough positively piled with hideous little bodies. 

“The foot soldiers of Chaos are certainly plentiful,” he said. 

“Yeah,” the general replied. “And here I thought… I thought the Demon Lord was supposed to have been defeated five years ago.” There was just a hint of exhaustion in her sigh. “You know, sometimes…sometimes, I think it must be easy, simply living life hating anything that isn’t convenient for you.” 

The monk couldn’t be sure whether she meant mentally easy, or physically. Neither was a subject the monk felt like pursuing. They were staring into a grave full of demons, evil nagas, mutated insects, ghosts, and goblins. He guessed the woman would be just as happy talking about military matters instead. 

“Are you still hunting down the stragglers?” he asked, changing the subject. 

“We’ve found some of them. Though I’m hearing there are still periodic goblin attacks to the west.” 

“The west…” The monk turned his eyes to the horizon and the last light of the setting sun. Behind him, the deep blue of eventide had seeped into the sky, which was colored by only the faintest rays of sun. The stars would be out shortly, and the twin moons would begin to reveal their hazy light. 

“I’ve got no interest in being an adventurer. I don’t have much education. Hate farming, and I’m sure as hell not going to sell myself. How long is the path between someone like that and simple banditry?” 

“Heh-heh. Surely it is well and good for each to find their own niche in which to live.” 

“I guess at least I found it on my own, even if it was a struggle. Better than being coddled and given everything on a platter…” There was a faint smile on the woman’s face, then she grimaced with pain. The monk glanced at her. 

“You know of some such as this?” 

“The type who think it strange not to be taught how to do things safely or thoroughly even if they never say a word, you know. 

“Almost like they think it’s really worth that much to go that far for them,” she whispered. The monk could not imagine what memories must have prompted her words. 

“I don’t want people thinking I’m like them,” the woman said, “so I came here.” 

Probably my sister, too. 

She looked into the distance, far over the ruined field, and her eyes reflected the horizon. She must have walked through life always seeking a place where she could live. 

The monk lifted his chin and, as if to affirm her journey, pronounced, “The world will grow yet more disordered.” 

“Yes, and isn’t that a wonderful thing?” 

“Indeed it is, yes, indeed.” 

The two of them looked at each other, then burst out laughing. 

Peace and harmony were fine things. They would never go out of their way to destroy them. 

But they had discovered that in battle, they were alive. 

Whatsoever the armies of Chaos might throw at them, they would face it head-on and slaughter it. 

They had free will, could determine their own actions. 

That was the one absolute right they had, even as pawns, that could not be taken from them by the dice of Fate or Chance. 

Whatever lay at the end of the path they chose, so long as it was a choice they made, it would lead to the gods’ blessing. 

Besides, the general’s beauty would surely bloom better in the fertile field of battle than secreted away in some plot in the capital. The monk would have hated to see her plucked by some creature with no appreciation for her, and he was overjoyed that she had not chosen that path. 

Though he and the female general had simply happened to be walking the same way through life for a brief time, he nonetheless wished her happiness on the road ahead. 

“Perhaps we should begin the ceremony, then. Whether buried or burned, all life returns to dust.” The monk started veritably gliding down the slope. 

The general, looking down at him, asked offhandedly, “Master Monk, where do you intend to go with this battle over?” 

“Well now, let’s see. My journey merely takes me where the wind blows and in whichever direction my feet carry me, but…” He looked toward the sun as he went. There was hardly so much as a glimmer coming from it anymore, only a thin ray of light lining the horizon. To him, it seemed like a tower that stood at the edge of the world, and he judged it good. “I think the western frontier seems likely to provide me with a great deal of excitement.” 

Then the young lizardman priest rolled his eyes in delight.