Goblin Slayer - Volume SS2.01 - Chapter 3.4

“P-please spare me! I surrender! Y-yeah, that’s it! I—I surrender…!!”

It’s not long after that the last surviving opponent throws his rusty sword aside and begs for mercy. The sword skips across the greasy stone tiles noisily. You kick it away.

“I’m begging you! Spare me my life…! I swear I’ll leave the dungeon; I’ll never come back to this town…!”

There’s no compulsion to treat bandits and rogues like human beings. Especially not ones who skulk around the dungeon like monsters.

You could save this highwayman’s life. Or you could kill him. What to do? You let your sword rest low in one hand but always at the ready. You look at your companions.

“Hmm…,” Female Warrior says.

“I don’t care either way,” Myrmidon Monk comments. Both of them recognize that the battle is over and appear to have relaxed. Half-Elf Scout simply shrugs and shakes his head. As for your cousin… Well, you think you can guess.

That just leaves…

“We ought to offer him salvation.” Female Bishop is the last to speak, and when she does so, her voice is terribly calm, almost devoid of emotion. You raise an eyebrow as she shuffles forward, past you, raising her sword and scales with a ringing of metal. The bandit likewise regards the young woman who has appeared before him as if he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. “If this man here truly has had a change of heart, then we can spare him his life. Nothing simpler.”

Hmm, you grunt. Well, it’s all the same to you. The battle has already been decided. You return your sword to its sheath, clicking it into place. Female Bishop smiles faintly and nods, then turns toward you with a swirling motion.

That’s when the bandit grins, baring his teeth, and leaps up with a dagger drawn from his pouch. “I’ve got you now, you damn—”

In the same instant, his head explodes with a sound not unlike a ripe tomato.

“And if he has not changed, then he is fit only for death.”

Turning again with theatrical grace, Female Bishop pulls out the sword and scales with a flourish. The plates of the scales crashed into the man’s head, splitting his skull open. There’s a spray of blood and brains, almost artistic, across the wall, and you can hear your cousin suck in a breath.

“…I’m sorry to say, he made the choice himself.” Female Bishop, still sounding completely calm, doesn’t even spare a glance at the twitching corpse. The cold smile that comes across her cheek is flecked with blood.

Hmm, you grunt. Well, it’s all the same to you. You would have been content either way.

After a moment’s thought, you figure out what you want to say. “You look like you could hold your own in the front row.”

“Heavens, me? Don’t say such frightening things,” Female Bishop responds, sounding once again like a young girl; a frown creases her face as if she’s genuinely scared by the idea. You give her a light clap on the shoulder as a show of thanks, then motion to your cousin.

“Oh, uh… Right! Leave it to me!” You can hear nervousness and hesitation. But also vigor that overmatches them both. Your cousin hurries to Female Bishop. She offers her a word of appreciation for her effort, then gives her a waterskin and tactfully urges her to a corner of the room.

This is something about your cousin that you respect from the bottom of your heart.

“Hey… Are you all right?” As you watch the two women go off together, Female Warrior tugs on your sleeve. You shake your head and say that you don’t know. At the very least, it’s not so bad that you can’t go on. People each have their own heartstrings, some more sensitive, some less, and sometimes emotions can flare. Perhaps the bandit’s actions, the way he begged for his life, created such a moment for Female Bishop. When you consider the deep wounds she’s suffered in her past, it’s not hard to imagine. So long as she doesn’t bring it up, though, you feel it’s not your place to pry.

“You…,” Female Warrior starts, and then she shakes her head, “do have your good side.”

You shrug, then walk over to a pile of junk the bandits accumulated in a corner of the room. You tell Female Warrior you’ll trust her to stand guard, to which she replies listlessly, “Yeah, sure.” But you think it’s all right. You have faith in her now.

Half-Elf Scout and Myrmidon Monk follow you to go through the assembled loot. Honestly—this is what keeps people coming back to hack and slash.

“It’s how a man makes his money,” Half-Elf Scout says. “Can’t stop even if you wanted to.”

‘That’s how adventurers are.’ You nod at him, then reach a gloved hand into the pile.

“Pain in the ass,” Myrmidon Monk clacks—but you thank the two of them. Because neither of them said anything about what Female Bishop did just a few moments ago. As the leader of the party, it’s only natural that you should feel grateful to them for being considerate of another member.

They look at each other and then declare, almost in unison, ““Hey, it’s nothing.””

You chuckle and drop the subject, determined to continue your exploration.

Everything you find—perhaps you ought to have expected this—is adventuring gear. Brand-new armor, weapons, empty pouches, and rank tags. You load all these things, one by one, into one of the hempen sacks you were given as body bags. These beasts seem to have eaten up every adventurer who was careless enough to venture too deep into the first floor. Literally, you suspect—for there is no way to get a proper meal down here in the dungeon. A look in the stewpot makes it all too clear what the men had been living off. Maybe, you think to yourself, what Female Bishop did was exactly the right thing.

As Myrmidon Monk mentioned, what you encountered here were not men but monsters.

“…Yo, Captain,” Half-Elf Scout says suddenly. You look over to find him despondently holding a dirty cloth and some leather armor. The cloth seems to have served as a hair band; a few strands of golden hair still cling to it. The armor appears to have been white once, though you can hardly tell for the blood and gore splashed across it.

You recognize them both.

You glance back at Female Warrior, still keeping a vigilant watch, and at Female Bishop and your cousin just across from her. You can’t catch what they’re talking about. But you see your cousin giggle, and even Female Bishop’s stiff face relaxes into a smile.

No special need to say anything.

Having made the decision, you toss the hair band and armor into the bag.

They just look familiar, that’s all. There must be a million adventurers with golden hair or white armor. You murmur as much aloud, and Myrmidon Monk responds with a twitch of his antennae. “…I didn’t see anything at all.” Clack, clack go his mandibles, and then he makes a holy sigil in front of his chest. “May all those who died here be blessed with a fine wind.”

You nod and stand. You’ve done all that needs to be done. You have no more business here.

Let’s go.

“…Come on—let’s get going,” your cousin says to Female Bishop then. “It’s been a hard day. We need to make sure we get a nice, long rest.”

“Right. Right…,” Female Bishop replies, and the two of them get to their feet. You turn your eyes toward Female Warrior, and much as you expected, you find her giggling with that ambiguous expression on her face.

You and your companions form up, then check one another’s equipment. Nothing amiss. And no serious injuries, either. You nod your approval, then lead everyone out of the chamber, preparing to make your way back to the surface.

You say something to Female Bishop, who responds, “Oh, sorry,” and quickly riffles through her belongings for the map. Her guidance is clear and sure, with no hint of hesitation, and you start to think this is going to be okay.

Thankfully, as you proceed from hallway to chamber, chamber to hallway, you don’t encounter any wandering monsters. As you explore deeper and deeper into the dungeon, you’re going to have to start taking the journey home into account. Every warrior, however experienced, has a limit to their strength and focus. Repeated battles wear away one’s life. Even were it not so, how many chances does this Dungeon of the Dead really offer for life?

“I admit it was tough…,” your cousin says suddenly, when you reach the top of the ladder leading from the second floor to the first. You’ve taken a very brief break to collect yourselves and have a drink. She’s sat right down on the stone floor of the hallway and is smiling as if somehow relieved. “But now it’s a little less dangerous for those girls to adventure, huh?”

‘Sure’ is all you say.

The surface is practically before your eyes now.

When you reach the entrance—the exit—of the dungeon, you find it filled with a gentle light, so different from the darkness below. Up in the sky, you see the stars and the twin moons shining. It is well into the night by now.

The royal knight on guard duty must sense something from your demeanor, because she simply bows silently to you. After all, she can’t miss the blood-soaked bag you’re carrying or the evidence of a major battle.

You just shrug at her as you go past, walking slowly along the road to town.

“Oof, man… Talk about tired…,” Half-Elf Scout says.

“My feet are killing me. And I’m sweating from head to toe. I just want to wipe myself off…” Female Warrior groans miserably.

You nod at them; it’s understandable. This was your first time down to the second floor, and you had to endure a huge battle, to boot. You don’t believe you made any specific errors of judgment, but all the same, you’re impressed that everyone was able to keep pace.

You could thank them from the bottom of your heart, or you could thank Fate and Chance for keeping everyone safe.

“…I know!” your cousin says, clapping her hands as she patters up to you with her face shining. “It’s been such tough adventuring—why don’t we take a little break tomorrow?”

“Wha—? But…” Female Bishop’s face clouds over, and she looks at the others to see how they react.

Stupid second cousin, always dropping these ideas out of the blue.

You see that Female Bishop’s face is clean; your cousin must have been kind enough to wipe off the blood spatter. Even so, the tinge of fretfulness is unmistakable, and you can feel her getting nervous again. “…Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she asks.

“Well, we worked hard today. Didn’t we?” your cousin says back, looking at you. You think about it for a moment, then nod and say it’s probably all right. For one thing, everything you’ve heard suggests the pace of your party is considerably faster than those of most other adventurers. Although maybe that’s because…

“Not a man jack of them cares about anything but making money. Not that it matters to me.”

The remark Myrmidon Monk spit out is right.

All too few adventurers are truly interested in discovering the source of the Death that lurks in the depths of the dungeon.

The closer you get to town, the more ruddy-faced, grinning adventurers you see wearing ostentatious equipment. On some level, you could say those rogues were simply enthralled by the dungeon’s riches, just like the rest. There are those enthralled by the Death, by this awful maze. They’re like wandering monsters themselves, Non-Prayer Characters. That’s why you must challenge the second floor and, someday, the third. And you need to take care of yourselves now if you’re going to keep moving forward.

“True that,” Half-Elf Scout says. “Heading into parts unknown while we’re still rundown? That’s a death wish if I ever heard one.”

You’re glad that he agrees. In any case, the goal for today is to simply get back to the inn. Selling the equipment you found (dead adventurers swing no swords) and delivering the rank tags to the temple can wait until tomorrow.

As you say all this, you register how tired you are yourself. Don’t forget—you both fought and used magic today.

“I told you, rest is best.”

It remains a mystery to you just why your cousin is grinning as brightly as she is. But as you return a tired smile, you can’t help feeling…at home. It is the height of good fortune that you’ve encountered such rare and fine companions.

Full of the satisfaction of a job well done, you eventually collapse onto the pile of straw in the stables. You fully expect to sleep like a log tonight…