Goblin Slayer - Volume SS2.01 - Chapter 3.5

But ironically, complete exhaustion can actually make sleep lighter. Maybe some of the nerves of battle are still with you, because it seems like the slightest sound grates on your ears.

You sit up off the surprisingly comfortable pile of straw, picking bits of the stuff from your clothes. Half-Elf Scout, nearby, mumbles something in his sleep. Maybe Myrmidon Monk’s finding it hard to settle down, too, because he’s tossing and turning over in a corner of the stable.

Careful not to wake the others, you grab your beloved sword and slowly work your way outside. A pleasantly cool night breeze wafts a sweet aroma to your nostrils. Soap, perhaps. Is the fact that you can notice that a sign of how much your level has increased?

Now that you think about it, how long has it been since you came to this town? You’ve found excellent companions, adventured in the dungeon, and survived bouts of mortal combat. Each only represents a small bit of experience, but together they’ve really changed you.

“…And? Ever gonna talk to me?”

One of those priceless companions is standing just outside the stable. Female Warrior smiles at you, and, just as she once did, you beckon her to come take a seat on a pile of straw.

“Sure… Mm, soft as ever.” She sits surprisingly lightly, then draws her knees up to her chin, looking pleased. “Say,” she says, tilting her head like a child. “Were you hoping for something today?”

You smile and shake your head. No.

“Huh,” she mumbles with disinterest.

But what, you wonder, is this about? Isn’t she just as tired as you?

“Hmm? For some reason, the more tired I am, the more awake I feel.” She obviously went right back to her room to clean herself off, because her hair is glistening. “I guess you could say I’m…killing time?”

Makes sense.

Both of you realize this conversation is no different than it was last night. So what comes next must be the same, too. You wait silently, expectantly.

“…Aw, who am I kidding? That’s just an excuse…” She glances at you out of the corner of her eye and smiles faintly. “I thought maybe I should say thank you while I have the chance. Or something like that.”

And you, just like the other night, look up at the moons shining in the sky and smile.

‘Truth is, haven’t done much to be thanked for.’

You made good on the responsibility you accepted when you became party leader, and you brought everyone home safely. That’s really it—if anything, you should be thanking them.

You tell her all this as casually as you can.

“…True.”

Female Warrior imitates you, looking up at the moons and squinting against the night breeze. For a while, neither of you says anything.

You could say something to her, or you could keep the silence. After a moment’s thought, you tell her calmly that if there’s anything she wants to talk about, she should feel free.

“Oh, very encouraging. I think you’ve been spending a bit too much time with a certain monk.” She giggles, but you weren’t really joking. You meant every word. If she wants to talk about something, she can certainly talk; if she doesn’t want to, you don’t intend to drag it out of her. You’re happy to stay quiet if that’s what she wants or to talk if she would prefer. It’s not as if you have to know every detail of each other’s stories to be companions or friends.

But—if you had to call it one way or the other, you would say she looks like she wants to talk. In fact, she just said she’d come to talk while she could, so she shouldn’t be surprised that you’re asking.

“Hmm…,” Female Warrior murmurs noncommittally, her lips creasing into that teasing smile of hers. “I think you’re just humoring me. Did you learn how from that big sister of yours?”

She’s your second cousin, you insist. And this has nothing to do with her. It’s purely a matter of your own personality.

“Okay—so say I don’t want to talk?”

Then that will be what it will be. She can stay and watch the moons without a word or go back to her room and try to sleep. You return this answer as nonchalantly as possible.

Female Warrior watches you for a long moment, then finally, with a note of exasperation, says, “…Honestly. Sometimes I think I’m gonna go crazy talking to you…”

You don’t say anything back, just shrug. Female Warrior sniffs and pouts. Finally, she continues. “Listen, I… I’ve always believed that what happens twice happens three times.”

‘What happens twice?’

“Mm.” She nods. “Remember how when you met me, I was asking the temple to do some burials? Well…that was the second group.”

You do remember she seemed immensely calm despite the fact that her party had just been destroyed. You had assumed it was an attitude born from deep experience with the dungeon, but even so, you were surprised.

“When I started out, you know, I had some…older sisters, you might call them. Girls from the same orphanage. We figured that if we were going to be adventurers, we should all start out together.”

You’ve heard that’s quite common. Those girls you met were the same way. Not unusual at all.

Of course, whether children or elderly, everyone faces the same conditions. You have to play the game with the cards you’re dealt, win or lose with what is in your hand. Complain if you like—it won’t change anything. The dice of Fate and Chance treat all equally. Even the gods.

“Well, I guess I had good luck, if nothing else.

“Got attacked by some bushwackers, and the older girls all died.”

Female Warrior actually giggles a little as she says this; you can’t imagine what’s in her mind or her heart right now. She might be the only one who knows. You decide not to indulge in idle speculation.

“We thought, if there’s a Death down in the dungeon, maybe there’s a Life, too. But it didn’t go so well, that…”

You can’t judge the depth of feeling concealed in those whispered words.

The dead do not come back to life. That’s one of the immutable rules of this Four-Cornered World. Even the Resurrection miracle performed by the clerics at the temple only calls life back from the cusp of death. Like the pips of the dice, death cannot be revoked or changed. If the possibility exists at all, it must rest only in some legacy from the Age of the Gods or perhaps in a divine miracle—a real one.

But if all that dwells in the depths of the dungeon is the Death—if it is something truly beyond human understanding—then she simply gambled on that tiny sliver of a chance.

“With everyone dying around me, I figured I had to get out of there quickly.” If she dropped dead before she could bring them back, who would there be to resurrect her companions?

At this, a sly smile crosses your face, and you remark that that’s a poor excuse. What are the chances of a newly minted adventurer getting out of the proving grounds alive? Of course, you figure she knows that better than you do.

“Sorry,” Female Warrior says now with a catlike rasp in the back of her throat. “Ha-ha. It was just a joke. I made it up. Every word. Just thought I’d tease you a bit, that’s all.” She practically leaps to her feet. She kicks her long legs like a child playing a game. You don’t get up. You simply watch her. You ask if she’s feeling better.

“…Mn. I’m fine now. Thanks. I’m starting to want my bed, you know? …Think I’ll head back.”

You might have tomorrow off, but you did go on an adventure today. Best to get some rest, you tell her. She just waves her hand over her shoulder as you watch her go…

“Oh, one more thing,” she says. She turns back to you, and the gossamer moonlight paints her face a pale white as she whispers, “…This one’s real.” She giggles, and her face blossoms into a smile.

Before you can say anything back, she leaves the stables behind. You take care to make sure her name is held deep in your heart—not the number she bears but her real name. You won’t let yourself forget it.

Now that you have a chance to think, you’re startled by how much happened in the course of one day, one adventure.

The night is quiet again now that you’re alone. The only sounds you hear are those that drift to you from the inn, the opening of the gate, and occasional footsteps.

You know well why the gates might open at this hour, why a crowd of people might come into the town. Another village or city somewhere has succumbed to the Death, the people there have lost their homes, and at the end of their wanderings, they find themselves at this fortress city.

It’s a strange thing.

Everyone seems to wind up here, even though this city is built hard upon the wellspring of the Death that threatens the world.

There’s the loot that seems to flow endlessly from the dungeon. Whether you’re an adventurer or merchant, you can make a living here. However listless your steps along the streets of the city might be, you may enter into the dungeon with a glimmer of hope. There you might be swallowed by the Death, never to return.

Suddenly caught up in this chilling thought, you grip your beloved sword in your hand especially hard.

What is the Death? What is the dungeon?

The only way to know is to delve deep and find out.

A white wisp of smoke curls into the sky from the dragon’s mountain far away before it’s borne off on the wind to who knows where.