Goblin Slayer - Volume SS2.02 - Chapter 4.3

“How is he…?” Female Warrior asks, her voice trembling as she trots over to you. The moment the battle was over, your friends rushed together around you, each of them breathing hard. You somehow manage to move your mouth, but no words come out; instead, Female Bishop’s slim hand reaches toward your neck. She adjusts the cloth that you and Myrmidon Monk tied in such a hurry, delicately but carefully making sure it’s in place, and then she gives a quick nod.

“The bleeding’s stopped,” she says. “It’s a deep wound, but…well, this is a start.”

“All right. Thank goodness…” Your cousin’s grim look gives way to a breath of relief as she wipes some sweat from her brow. She’s a very effusive person, but you rarely see her look quite so panicked.

You struggle to tell them to prioritize getting home, and your cousin says, “I know,” and starts to smile. “Let’s go back up. We’ll save our spells as best we can…”

“…Why aren’t you healing him?” The question is abrupt. Female Warrior stands with her hands together in front of her chest, a cold, clear smirk on her face.

Tension comes into the air. From where you’re lying, you can clearly see your cousin swallow heavily. “Uh, well… That is…”

“You didn’t do it earlier, either. Why not?”

Your cousin, feeling cornered by Female Warrior’s pressing of the point, doesn’t seem to know quite what to say. Likewise, Female Bishop, her hand still at your throat, appears unsure where to put her sightless eyes and says nothing.

Rescue, instead, comes from a completely unexpected quarter.

“…Ain’t got a real choice. Didn’t know what would happen then, don’t know what’s gonna happen now.”

“Hmm,” Female Warrior says, her smile never slipping at Half-Elf Scout’s interjection. “Your point being?”

“We were outnumbered in that fight.” The scout’s accustomed easy attitude likewise never slips. His arms are crossed, and his tone is serious, but even that seems exaggerated, like he’s putting on a show. “With the cap out, we were down one. Someone to take care of him, that’d be two. The poor get poorer, y’know? …And this is the third floor.”

“…”

“Say we use up our miracles healing the captain right here. Then the next big, bad thing comes around the corner, and that’s it for us.”

“Oh…” You can almost see the blood drain from Female Warrior’s face. It’s not regret or fear so much as it is the realization of how agitated she had become—the adrenaline ebbing away.

The third floor—yes, that’s where you are. Not the first floor, which you walk almost with impunity now, nor the second, where you know how things work. You have no idea what other powerful, unknown beasts might wander these halls.

“…Yeah. Yeah, sure… Of course…” Female Warrior nods as obligingly as a little girl. It seems to bring your cousin back to herself as well. She shakes her head, rippling her hair, then bows politely. “Look, I’m sorry. I should have just explained. Please…”

“No, don’t worry about it… There wasn’t time. Hey… I’m sorry, okay?”

“It’s all right…”

The two of them look at each other uncertainly but fall silent.

Now that you think about it, you realize that since its formation, your party has been through a lot—but never something like this. The two girls aren’t used to having such a sharp difference of opinion that it brings them to argue with each other.

Their stumbling apologies are interrupted by the clacking of mandibles. “Break up the party and go our separate ways, apologize and make up—doesn’t matter to me either way,” Myrmidon Monk says. He’s standing directly beside you with his arms crossed and his antennae waving in a distinctly annoyed manner. “But whichever it is, let’s do it after we get this half-dead heap of human to the temple, shall we?”

“Yes, certainly,” Female Bishop says, and then she smiles. “I’m sure our dear leader hates to be kept waiting, don’t you think?”

Damn right, you try to say but can’t; you manage a slight smile instead. It causes someone to chuckle, and at that the entire room relaxes.

You likewise feel relieved. If your screwup had caused the party to fall apart, death would have been too merciful for you.

As everyone else promptly starts preparing to withdraw, Half-Elf Scout exclaims, “Hang on a sec!” He scuttles over to the scorched wizards, producing purses from the singed robes. “Ooh, these guys were loaded. Listen to those coins jingle. We’re rakin’ it in!”

“Well, at least you earned something from getting yourself hurt like that,” Female Warrior says with a glance at you. “Although I get the feeling we’re going to spend it all fixing you back up.” The gentle jab seems aimed at repairing the atmosphere.

You shrug, leaning on your katana like a walking staff to help pull yourself to your feet. The others are quickly alongside you to support you.

“Are you all right? Just tell your sister if it hurts…”

Stupid second cousin is what you want to say, but to be perfectly frank, it’s too much trouble. You’ve lost too much blood. You don’t feel pain so much as an overwhelming fatigue. Your eyelids feel heavy as lead.

“All right, Cap, chin up. We’ll have you back up to the surface in no time. Here’s hoping we don’t run into any more ‘friends’…”

“This’ll slow down our exploration a bit… Do you suppose this was only what they would call the appetizer?” Female Bishop asks.

“Maybe, and they say the stairs to the fourth level haven’t even been found yet,” your cousin replies. “We don’t have to rush—let’s just take it nice and easy!”

“Good advice, including for our trip home, here. We could get hit by slimes on the first level again.”

“No fair, saying that… That was so awful.”

As you listen to your friends chatter, you quietly swear on the Dungeon Master’s hair that you’ll have your revenge.

“Heh, guy’s gotta be bald, I guarantee it,” Half-Elf Scout quips, and things get even more relaxed among the party.

“Hey, with you out of action… I want to kick down the next door!” Female Warrior, now the party’s only dedicated front-row fighter, sounds like an eager child. You give a wry smile and a nod, and she laughs out loud, a cheerful grin blossoming on her face.

You’re not sure whether it’s deliberate, or if she’s really back to her usual self already. But the edge between her and your cousin is gone. Privately, you’re deeply relieved.

Female Warrior seems to intuit how you’re feeling, because she grins like a contented cat and jabs your cousin with her elbow. “Turns out he’s the first one to make us go to the temple, eh?”

“You know, you’re right! Somehow I always thought that would happen. I mean, it sort of had to, right?”

Female Warrior is grinning; your second cousin is smiling, too—curse them both.

You purse your lips, hoping to communicate: Shut up and get me to the surface already.

A second later, your consciousness blinks away like a cut string.

When you come to, a starry sky fills your vision. You felt like you were down there for ages, but it was really only about half a day. They say space feels warped inside the dungeon, and it seems to do the same to your sense of time. A cool night breeze brushes your cheeks as you raise your heavy eyelids.

The chill breeze and fresh air help you get a hold on your still fuzzy consciousness. You’re already well away from the dungeon entrance, nearly at the gate to town. Somehow you didn’t imagine you would live to see another starry night like this.

You could thank the gods; but if you don’t, that’s fine, too.

“Oh, you’re back. Hee-hee, see how easy it is when we don’t run into any slimes?” Female Warrior chuckles as she looks at you.

Your cousin nods: “We’re out of the dungeon, and everyone’s alive. I’d call that a good dive, wouldn’t you?”

With your slackened muscles, honestly, even standing is hard. You’ll have to let your second cousin’s remark go this time.

Female Bishop sees how you look and says, “Let’s hurry to the temple. We’re not out of the woods yet…”

“Yeah, it looks like he can’t even talk,” Female Warrior remarks.

It’s Myrmidon Monk who gives an Okay. Then he works his carapace-clad body under one side of you. “I’ll take this side. Somebody get the other one.”

“Just leave it to me!” Half-Elf Scout slips up to support the other side of your body. Then, with you leaning on your two party members, you all hurry through the streets of the fortress city toward the temple.

You attract the looks of passersby. Some of them are adventurers. At first, they appear pained to see your companions dragging your blood-soaked body. But they quickly realize that you’re still breathing, and with evident relief, they make way for you.

This is the fortress city. For those who would challenge the dungeon, the Death is ever present; it cannot be escaped.

They may not be your friends or companions or anything else, but they’re adventurers just like you.

It’s not a short distance to the temple. It feels strange, though—surrounded by your party members, it somehow doesn’t hurt so bad.

As you linger on the edge of death, the members of your party support you. They change places, then change again in a rotating array of faces and voices. If it hadn’t been you who had been struck down, if it had been someone else, they would have done the same. You’re sure of it. The thought brings you happiness as you struggle with your guttering consciousness.

Presently there’s a banging sound, and you realize that the temple doors have opened. Your friends all but drag you to the altar, and you hear them, as if from a great distance, requesting your healing.

The last thing you remember is a brief pronouncement from the nun, who regards your prone form with a cold glance:

“Huh. So you’re still alive.”