by Kumo Kagyu
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.
Faith can mean more than selfless prayer.
An offering to placate rampaging gods, a cry for the help you just happen to need—that’s faith, too.
What, then, was in the goblin’s heart? It was too late now to know.
“Ngh, ahh…!”
Priestess writhed with the pain, but her very breath froze in the air, tormenting her further.
The dim world of the dungeon was already painted over with white, the freezing snow of the blizzard so sharp it seemed to cut her skin.
The Onibi fires vanished in an instant, even the last smoldering flames of them winked out of existence.
Priestess, though, refused to move from where she was. She had in her arms a frightened, trembling, yelping little girl who was curling herself up as she tried to run from the terror. Priestess held her close in her thin arms, stiffening up and protecting her with all the strength in her little body.
“Hrr—rrooahhhh…!”
If there was to be a response, then, it would come from Lizard Priest, the very first party member to notice and react to the aberration. With his breath coming as steam, he jumped forward, unleashing a roar that reverberated around the burial chamber.
“Ah, you who have survived the white destruction! Maniraptora! Behold my deeds in battle!” He placed his massive body to shield them from the brutal cold emanating from the greater demon’s hand. Frost formed on his scales. His skin froze. Snow collected on his claws and fangs, causing his body to pitch.
Priestess blinked—her eyelids threatened to freeze shut—and adjusted her grip on her sounding staff with fingers that felt they might never come loose from it.
“We…need…a miracle…!”
“I am…afraid…not!” Lizard Priest looked toward Priestess, his usual lecturing tone undiminished. “I, as it happens, can no longer…use mine…!!”
Yes: be it magic or miracles, such feats demand a certain amount of strength to twist the very warp and weft of the world around one. Lizardmen were not built for the cold to begin with. Now Lizard Priest’s eyes were nearly closed, as if sleepy, betraying how near he was to the end of his endurance.
Thus, it would not do for Priestess to use the last of her precious miracles here and now. The young woman bit her lip and swallowed any objection.
“Scaaaalyyyy!!”
Lizard Priest’s intervention, though, did little to turn the tide. They were still in real danger of complete destruction.
Dwarf Shaman was shouting, and High Elf Archer was hugging herself, calling a warning. “Guys, this… This is bad…!”
There was no time even to acknowledge her. Goblin Slayer was on the move.
Blocking the sleet and hail with the round shield on his arm or letting it bounce off his helmet, he made a beeline.
“You are alive?”
“…I am, at least, not dead yet.”
Then, pointing his sword at the hand of the greater demon that was causing this snowstorm, Goblin Slayer supported Lizard Priest as if carrying him on his back. Goblin Slayer just managed to hold up the great weight of that body and work his way backward.
It was too late now to advance at a run. He didn’t have the equipment necessary to deal with the frozen floor.
“My thanks,” Lizard Priest said, to which the only answer was, “It was nothing,” after which Goblin Slayer looked around behind his helmet.
“Make a wall…now!”
“A wall, he says…!” Dwarf Shaman replied, his beard crunching as he moved. “You mean the snow!”
The dwarf slammed a palm down on the snow piled on the ground. He was just visible in High Elf Archer’s peripheral vision as she started running. For an elf, connected to nature as they were, a bit of ice was no real obstacle. “…This way, quick!”
“Right…!”
Priestess crawled along, supporting herself with her staff and covering the princess with her body; the cleric, too, was clearly at her limit. Her skin was pale and bloodless, and her sweet lips were turning purple. Her teeth chattered ceaselessly.
High Elf Archer had scant protection from the cold herself. Even so, she shielded the girls as best she could with her small body as they retreated. Her long ears were shaking.
“Orcbolg, hurry up…!”
“Y-yes…!”
It had only been twenty or thirty seconds, just a single turn. But to the adventurers, it seemed to take forever to collect themselves. The sight of them all huddling behind the stubby dwarf was almost comical.
“Ice Princess Atali, now, I call you, give this hero a dance, like the blowing flakes of snow through the air prance!”
At this moment of crisis, though, his craggy form looked as sturdy as a cliffside. The snow sprites he directed with Spirit Wall danced around the adventurers. Before the party’s eyes, the blowing, piling snow became a wall to protect them.
Fight snow with snow. It could even block out the cold.
“A simple snow cave… How about it?”
“…It’ll…have to do…” Priestess touched Lizard Priest’s freezing body—he was panting hard by now—and made a quick decision. She was no healer, but as a cleric of the Earth Mother, she knew a thing or two.
“Give me a healing—no, a Stamina potion!”
“All right.” Goblin Slayer pulled two bottles from his bag and tossed them to Priestess. “You and that girl should each drink as well.”
“Got it!” Priestess scrabbled at the stopper with stiff fingers. She doused a cloth from her item pouch with the contents and pressed it to Lizard Priest’s mouth.
His consciousness was fading, and trying to pour a potion down his throat might have choked him. Priestess watched Lizard Priest suckle at the cloth, and meanwhile, she drank from one of the half-frozen potions herself.
It burned as it went down her throat, and then she let out a breath of relief as she felt a heat in her stomach.
“Beard-cutter, Long-Ears, you drink something, too.” Dwarf Shaman, who was taking a gulp of wine as if to say his work here was done now that the spell was active, tossed his bottle to the others.
Goblin Slayer caught it and poured some of the wine through his visor. Then he passed it to High Elf Archer. “Drink. It will warm you. If you don’t move, you will die.”
“…You know I’m not good with this stuff. But I guess this isn’t the time to complain.” The elf took the bottle in both hands with a look of disgust then licked daintily at it. Then she poked her head up over the wall of ice to see what the greater demon’s hand was up to.
The hand, which had popped out of the goblin’s flesh like a flower pushing through the earth, was still up on the altar. After invoking the snowstorm, the “trunk”—cords of muscle bulging out—writhed and twitched.
It was a terrible sight, one High Elf Archer wasn’t eager to look at, but she was a scout. It was her job.
“…Looks like it can’t reach us here,” she said.
“Then we were successful,” Goblin Slayer answered. “How is the girl?”
“…She’s getting weaker,” Priestess said, gently giving the girl some of the potion from which she’d taken her sip. “I don’t think we can stay here long.”
“What do you think?” Goblin Slayer asked. He clicked his tongue when he saw how hard Lizard Priest was breathing. “…Never mind,” he corrected himself. “We must attack, or we must retreat.” Then he stashed his sword in its scabbard and let out a breath.
He looked around at his party. Dwarf Shaman had one spell left, Priestess a single miracle. Lizard Priest must already be at his limit.
The goblins were dead. The girl was rescued. There were still goblins above them.
The snowstorm was getting stronger. That was obviously the hand of Chaos, and yet…
“
There is no reason we must destroy it.”
There was only one conclusion.
“True enough,” High Elf Archer said with a hint of a smile. “You’re right. To borrow a phrase, it’s not a g—”
But that was as far as she got.
The wall of ice shattered with a roar, and High Elf Archer’s body went flying through space.
“Hrgh… Agh?!”
She slammed against the wall of the chamber with a sound like a breaking branch, and blood dribbled from her mouth.
What had happened? The answer was simple.
The greater demon’s fist had twisted up those ropelike muscles and jumped.
A blow from that fist, as large as any giant’s, was more than enough to punch through their wall.
The adventurers were showered with shards of ice, buried, and unfortunately, it was their scout who had taken the direct hit.
Priestess cried out, shouting the name of High Elf Archer, who was crumpled like a dried leaf.
“I’m…f…fine…” Her voice came in gasps, tiny and weak. When the metal helmet looked at Priestess, she nodded tearfully.
Goblin Slayer let out a breath. It was all right, then—not critical. If it had been, she wouldn’t have been able to hide it.
“So the bastard can move…!” As he rose up, clearing away the snow, though, Goblin Slayer was unable to act immediately.
In front of him was the greater demon’s hand, like a snake raising up its head.
Can it see me?
He seriously doubted it. Perhaps that meant it had some form of extrasensory perception or the like.
An old deer-hunting technique flashed through his mind: Put snow in your mouth, become a part of the scenery. Then go for the kill.
“What’s the plan, Beard-cutter?!” Dwarf Shaman had Lizard Priest’s massive body across his shoulders as if he were hiding under it. Priestess was crawling along, still holding the Princess, and giving High Elf Archer a shoulder to lean on as she got drunkenly to her feet.
Goblin Slayer didn’t know what to say right away.
It was not a goblin. So what should he do? It was not a goblin. This was no goblin.
This was not like that monster (whatever it had been called) that they had battled. This was different from the thing in the sewers, the dark elf, and even that ocean snake.
He realized with surprise how few things he actually had experience of.
Goblin Slayer thought. That was something his master had told him. All you can do is think.
You have no talent. No smarts. No skills. But you have guts. So think!
He thought. Would an icicle come crashing down or a snowball come flying?
What did he have in his pocket? In his pocket, he had…
“A hand.” He finally squeezed the words out. “…Let’s do it.”
Even he could hardly believe the sound of his own voice.
“Yes, sir!” came an answering shout, without an instant’s hesitation.
A young girl was looking directly at him, clutching a sounding staff in her frozen fingers and heroically trying to keep her body from shaking.
It was a demonstration of Priestess’s—yes—faith.
§
The greater demon’s hand was starved and withering.
A goblin’s flesh and soul—how much nourishment could there be in such things?
Adventurers.
It had to kill the adventurers, the Pray-ers.
The poor fools must be preparing themselves to die. Their lives. Their souls. Their despair.
The hand gently stroked the air, seeking these things.
There.
The senses of a greater demon, the thoughts of such a monster, were so far removed from those of the adventurers that they could not hope to fathom them. In the end, it was simply impossible to imagine what he—or she?—might be thinking.
But there was the dwarf, working his way slowly back with the lizardman, the elf girl, and the human sacrifice. The way the muscles thrashed when the monster recognized that dwarf had to be inspired by something we could call joy, or at least greed.
The muscles of the greater demon’s hand squeezed and bulged, the entire thing pulsating.
Then it leaped—at which exact moment a stone came flying from one side.
The hand stopped as if it had been slapped, the wrist turning this way and that.
“Over…here!”
It was just a rock. Sling or no sling, the girl’s slim build was not going to be enough to do any damage.
But there she was, a girl standing there, fighting back the fear and the cold.
When it spotted her, the movements of the greater demon’s hand became shockingly fast. It twisted toward her, its hideous fingers skittering along the floor like spiders.
“…Eek?!” Priestess exclaimed at the terror of it. It was moving fast, probably too fast for her to deal with. It would catch her, clasp her, twist and break her, squeeze and choke her. Her flesh and bones would be reduced to mush, her innards to a bloody soup; she would be utterly shattered before she was even dead.
“As if I would let you…!”
“—?!”
Priestess never shut her eyes as the hand closed in on her. And then the instant before it grabbed her, the arm was thrown sideways.
Was it because of the icy floor? No. Magic, then? No.
“Some call it Medea’s Oil. Others, petroleum. It’s gasoline.”
There was an adventurer with a cheap-looking metal helmet, grimy leather armor, a round shield tied to his arm, and a sword of a strange length at his hip. Even a beginner would have better equipment than this man, who now threw a small bottle on the floor.
A viscous black substance ran across the ground.
“!”
The monster couldn’t keep its footing (or was that handing?), slipping and struggling.
“Goblin Slayer, sir, fire…!”
“We can’t, it’s too cold,” he said sharply. “Fall back and go!”
“Yes, sir!”
Priestess ran as gingerly as she could, taking care not to slip on the ice as she made for a corner of the room. Goblin Slayer moved to cover her retreat, reaching into his item bag.
“‘Never leave home without it,’ eh?” He whispered the words Priestess spoke so often and pulled out a grappling hook.
He sent it flying toward the hand scrabbling along the ice and oil. He felt it set with a bite; surely not enough to cause pain, but…
“Hrm…!”
When he pulled it taut, the gigantic arm went sliding on the gasoline, slipping around. This would help make up in some small way the great gulf in their strength and weight. It was not enough to turn the battle in Goblin Slayer’s favor, obviously, so he had to be careful what he did.
“Come…!” He gave the rope a jerk as if directing a cow that refused to listen to him. He looped the rope around the hand several times as it continued to struggle with the gasoline.
Making the floor slick was well and good, but it would be pointless if he was caught in his own trap. He slid his feet along to maintain his balance. He dropped his hips, put his strength into his legs. If he survived this, he would have to put cleats on his boots—or perhaps cover them in fur.
“—!”
The enemy, however, was not about to simply let Goblin Slayer have his way. The greater demon’s hand twisted its wrist powerfully, as if swatting an especially annoying fly.
“Hrah…?!” Goblin Slayer was lifted into the air.
A moment later, he slammed into the wall of the chamber like a toy on a string being wielded by a careless child.
“Hrgh?!”
He heard his armor crack, but he didn’t let go of the rope.
He dropped to the ground, slapping the floor just before the impact to soften the fall. He was all right. Nothing hurt enough to be broken.
“Goblin Slayer, sir!— Goblin Slayer!!” Priestess, heading deeper into the room, turned back and let out a cry as if she might
burst.
“There is no…problem…!”
With a click of his tongue, Goblin Slayer stood up.
Yes, I can still do it. It’s dangerous, but possible.
He was still in better condition than after the beating that whatever-it-was had given him beneath the ruins. Perhaps that had been a higherlevel monster than he had realized.
Then again, it was always possible that his own level had increased.
Whatever. The point is, the difference between his power and mine is not absolute.
He snorted, finding his own thought comical, then supported himself unsteadily.
“How are you doing over there?”
“G-good!” Priestess said, quickly turning back toward her own objective. “I’m…almost there!”
When Priestess reached the double doors resting at the far side of the burial chamber, she pulled out an item.
The Blue Ribbon. The thing Sword Maiden had given him, and he had given her just now.
Priestess tied the Ribbon around one hand and pushed on the door.
When she did so, lo and behold, a blue light began to glow beside the door, and a row of symbols carved itself in the air.
It was a mysterious light, once lost. Priestess bit her lip as it shone upon her.
I knew it, Priestess thought, recalling Sword Maiden’s words. She put a hand to her small chest. This is the key to this place…!
Priestess quickly ran her slim fingers over the keyboard. It was all right. She could do this. “Anytime!”
“I see…!” Goblin Slayer pulled on the rope with all the strength he had left.
There was an answering snatch! as the hand grasped at the floor, fighting not to move.
It was a tug-of-war—for an instant.
“Hrn…?!”
Unexpectedly, the hand went limp, and Goblin Slayer took a tumble. The greater demon’s hand, which had ceased to resist him, worked its fingers even as it slid toward him.
“—Eek?!” Priestess let out an involuntary cry. She felt like the burial chamber was suddenly several degrees colder.
Magical energy swirled around the greater demon’s palm, the air creaking.
Another blizzard…?!
Priestess’s past battles flashed through her mind like an inspiration.