by Kumo Kagyu
“Hora…semel…silento! Stand silent, time!”
That instant, the wind stopped.
The flow of the atmosphere ceased; the sound from afar paused, stagnated, halted. Spearman’s words filled the world, bending its laws, and everything stalled.
This was the spell Slow.
“GARGLEGARG?! GARGLEGARG!!”
“GARGLEGARGLEGAR!!”
The gargoyles flapped and flapped but could generate no power, so they could not stay in the air. Gravity took hold of the three creatures, and in a matter of seconds they had fallen several dozen stories, shattering back to dust as they hit the ground. And no stone statue, once destroyed, could return to life again.
“What, all gone? They weren’t so tough.”
“I suppose a fall from this height does generally lead to death.”
Heavy Warrior pursed his lips, disappointed, and Goblin Slayer slid his sword back into its scabbard. The two of them quickly resumed climbing, but Spearman shot them an unmistakably discontented look.
“Geez, a spell like that, and you can’t even muster one word of praise?”
“It was a good strategy,” came back Goblin Slayer’s casual response. “I will use it sometime.”
“What, on goblins?”
“What else?”
This exchange caused Spearman to shake his head with a heartfelt weariness. Take goblins up high somewhere and then drop them? It didn’t sound like something most serious adventurers would contemplate. And to think he was being credited with the idea—Gimme a break!
“More important: how many spells do you have left?” Heavy Warrior’s words brought Spearman back to himself.
He grabbed a piton to steady himself, nearly too late, and called up, “One more.” It pained him to admit it, but a fact was a fact. “This isn’t my main class, remember.”
“All right, if we’re attacked on the climb again, we head back down and rest for a night. Then we’ll switch to a head-on assault.”
Heavy Warrior’s decision was swift and sure. To attack the enemy base with their spells exhausted or after they had been restored? No matter how you looked at it, the latter offered a better chance of survival.
Spearman understood that, and he grinned. “Even if we’re about to touch the sky?”
“If we’re right there, then it’s different,” Heavy Warrior replied, flashing his teeth as he laughed at Spearman’s lighthearted jab.
“You’re the leader.” Goblin Slayer nodded quietly. “I will follow your orders.”
“Good. In that case, on we go.” Heavy Warrior held out a hand for more pitons; Goblin Slayer dug in his pouch and brought out another bundle. He kept plenty with him because they were such a useful tool, and thanks to that there seemed likely to be no question of them having enough to reach the summit.
“Anyway, I guess they know we’re here. Let’s make sure they roll out the red carpet.”
“Right.”
Goblin Slayer made his short response and looked up at the man ahead of him. The vast broadsword across Heavy Warrior’s back was quivering with a rattle. In an immensely serious, grave tone, Goblin Slayer said, “Don’t drop that on me.”
“Aw, shaddup.”
Spearman guffawed without any malice, and Heavy Warrior sullenly continued to exert his muscles.
Their objective, the top of the tower, was not far away.
§
The spire’s summit presented an almost indescribable scene.
It was an open space with a depression like a round bowl, the outside ringed with pillars. The roof was a curved dome, as if a massive globe were descending into the space. On the ceiling was a star map, but its wild lines reflected no constellations any of the adventurers knew about.
The floor and the pillars were pure white, the blue sky peeking between the colonnades. And yet, there was a crushing sense of oppression. As Heavy Warrior drew himself up over the edge, he looked at the constellations and gave an unhappy wheeze.
“This is Chaos work for sure. Let’s go, and let’s not leave anything to cause us trouble later.”
He reached out a hand as he spoke, taking hold of a leather glove. He helped Goblin Slayer up, and the latter took in the surroundings.
“The climb was easier than I expected.”
“Probably because we’re three guys.” Heavy Warrior pulled the ring off his finger and put it back in his item bag. He quickly replaced it with his gloves and bracers, grabbing the broadsword from his back. “Wouldn’t want some kids to have to make that climb.”
“Man, that’s for sure.” The reply came from Spearman, who hesitated, frowning at the leather glove hovering in front of him. The plain, unsophisticated mitt took Spearman’s hand, pulling the last member of the party onto the roof. “I’d hate to make her do this. Heck, she probably couldn’t. A bit too top-heavy.”
The uncouth remark sounded strangely inoffensive coming from Spearman, though that was perhaps thanks to his personality. Heavy Warrior shot him a dubious look as he made a broad gesture in front of his chest with both hands.
“I do understand what you’re saying,” Goblin Slayer said, with another reserved nod. “One would not wish to tire out one’s back row. And mine is sensitive.”
“Is that what you’re worried about?” Spearman sighed deeply. “Don’t you have anything else? Women’s bodies are supposed to be praised! Busts! Hips! Butts!”
“What is the point of praising them?”
“They love you for it, and you get to be popular with the ladies!”
“I see.”
Goblin Slayer failed to rise to the bait any further, instead drawing his sword. He checked the strap of his shield, then rotated his right wrist, along with the weapon in its grip. Heavy Warrior glanced at him.
“Didn’t use up too much strength?”
“I’m fine.”
“Good.” Heavy Warrior slapped Goblin Slayer gently on the shoulder. “What about you?”
“I’m not as fragile as all that,” Spearman grinned, taking his spear in both hands and giving it a playful thrust.
For the leader to show that he understood how each member of the party was doing was an important way of relieving any anxiety on the part of the group.
And all the more so before a climactic battle. Heavy Warrior kept the point of his broadsword trained on a single spot on the rooftop. He ran his tongue over his lips to wet them.
“Let’s get started.”
And then, the enemy was there.
A swirling shadow in the middle of the roof, at the bottom of the bowl-shaped depression. Darkness gathered toward the wriggling, rising shadow. At length, it formed an old-fashioned overcoat, the figure wavering like a mirage.
“Foolish mortals…!”
The voice creaked like a dry branch, a sound a human most likely couldn’t make.
The figure was wasted and bent and looked as if it were standing in a swamp. In its knobbed fingers, it clasped a staff that appeared as old as its hands. Below its coat, a spirit flame burned. The man, the indisputable image of an evil wizard, spat at the hateful adventurers:
“How I loathe any who would interfere with my pl—!”
But he was cut off before he could finish.
A sword.
A crude, mass-produced sword of a strange length sliced through the air, its aim true, and pierced the wizard’s chest. He let out a gurgle, then fell to the ground, clawing at his throat.
“Hey, hey, you could at least let him finish. Is this it?”
“There is no need for us to confront him head-on.”
It was Goblin Slayer. Standing next to the smirking Spearman, the man who had launched his sword through the air shook his steel helmet from side to side. “And it appears he was not a serious opponent.”
Indeed.
The wizard had collapsed with a thump. As they watched, the sword in his chest withered away. It turned to rust before they could blink. A bony hand reached up, grasped and shattered it.
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“The ritual…is already…complete!” he howled as he pulled out the decimated blade. It was abundantly clear that this person was a Non-Prayer Character.
Heavy Warrior stood with his broadsword at the ready and glanced at Goblin Slayer.
“Maybe stabbing him in the chest wasn’t the best plan?”
“It’s about the height of a goblin’s head.”
Goblin Slayer had pulled out a dagger and settled into a low stance.
Spirit fire flickered in the wizard’s eyes as he shuffled forward.
“I cannot be killed by those who have words…!”
“You heard him,” Spearman said, almost as if stifling a yawn. “What do we do?”
“He said he cannot be killed, but he didn’t say he cannot die.”
Heavy Warrior grinned like he had when he’d bested his first giant roach. He nodded the way Goblin Slayer did when faced with a goblin.
“Only one thing to do, then.”
Without so much as a nod to each other, the party fell into formation and prepared for battle.
The wizard began shouting true words without a moment’s hesitation, bending space. With two or three words he invoked a spell, and what appeared—perhaps to be expected—were gray stone demons. They waited faithfully behind their master, and then, at a sweep of his staff, they launched themselves at the adventurers.
“Boorish barbarians! Yield before my vast intelligence!”
But the men against him were all warriors and had all achieved Silver rank. The hard work and perseverance that had led to Heavy Warrior’s skill with the sword were nothing to sneeze at.
“You forgot ‘great’!”
Heavy Warrior groaned as he plunged forward to meet the monsters and hold them to the left, right, and center.
“GARGLEGARGLEGA!!”
“GARGLE!! GARGLEGA!!”
When a careless statue came within reach, he seized the opportunity and destroyed it.
He struck an intimidating pose. This was a man who needed nothing but a sword and his own body. It would take more than numbers to faze him. With each sweep of his sword, dust trailed through the air like a banner.
“Then die like the barbarians you are!” the wizard cried, still wielding his staff from safely behind his gargoyles.
“Tonitrus…oriens…! Rise, thunder!”
Summoned by the words of true power, magic began welling up in the area. There was no wind, yet the adventurers were hit by an overwhelming force like an oncoming storm.
“‘Lightning’?!” Spearman shouted. He saw what was happening and stayed alert for his chance. “I could use Counterspell… No, it’d never work! I’m sorry, guys, I can’t do it!”
But this came in part from the recognition that his opponent was a far more accomplished magic user than he.
“Okay,” Heavy Warrior nodded, dispensing orders at a breakneck pace as he slaughtered yet another gargoyle. “Cover your mouths!”
“Cover your mouths,” Goblin Slayer repeated. His dagger was no longer in his hand; he was already searching through his item pouch.
He pulled out the egg and threw it in a single motion. Heavy Warrior pulled up the collar of his coat.
The egg described a beautiful parabola, but the wizard swatted it down like a fly and stepped on it.
“Very clever, you?!”
Instantaneously, a red mist floated up from his feet—powder and bits of shell. A paralyzing pain struck his mouth and nose and eyes. He couldn’t breathe or speak. Or, of course, chant magic. The wizard pressed his hands to his face and fell back with a voiceless scream.
The powder was a tear gas, including capsicum and other ingredients. However advanced one might be in magic, so long as one had eyes and nose and mouth, it was difficult to avoid.
“Now…you’re…mine!”
Spearman lost no time; he shot across the floor like an arrow from a bow. The gargoyles, pinned down by Heavy Warrior, were nothing to him. He headed straight for the wizard, touching a hand to his earring.
“Aranea…facio…ligator! Spider, come and bind!”
“?!”
The “spider web” easily caught up the agonized wizard. The wizard’s spirit flame guttered—and the instant it did so, the tip of a spear drove through his heart.
The blood that sprayed out was bluish-black. Spearman quickly gave the silk-wrapped body a kick to free his weapon and jumped back.
Needless to say, as he had declared earlier, the wizard showed no sign of losing his life to this. With gobs of blue-black blood pouring from his mouth, he tried to open his lips wide enough to speak another spell…
“Aw, shut it.”
Spearman wound the end of the spider web on the tip of his spear and used it as a gag. He shrugged at the wizard, who seemed unwilling to give up, his spirit flame burning with murderous intent.
“Looks like you weren’t kidding when you said you couldn’t be killed.”
“You don’t have to worry about a wizard who can’t speak,” Heavy Warrior said. “But it is a bit of a pain,” he muttered as he smashed the last of the gargoyles with his broadsword.
All that remained was to find the source of the wizard’s power, which had to be somewhere in the tower, and destroy it.
But so long as the sorcerer was alive, it was likely the traps and monsters would not disappear.
“Hmm,” Heavy Warrior grunted. Beside him, Goblin Slayer kept his dagger trained on their captive, ever vigilant. Then his helmet tilted somewhat, as if he had just thought of something.
“Why not just drop him?”
“…”
“…”
Heavy Warrior and Spearman shared a glance. They nodded and then laughed like naughty children.
“That’s it.”
“Let’s do it.”
The wizard, trying to speak around the gag in his mouth, was dragged to the edge of the tower and then given a firm kick in the back. Gravity had no words, yet it dragged him down, and soon he had met the same fate as the earlier adventurers.
In other words, he died easily.
“I wonder why he built this tower, anyway,” Spearman commented aloud, peering over the side at the bluish-black stain spreading on the ground below. His type usually set up shop either at the tip-top of a tower or in the lowest reaches of an underground maze. “It might have been more trouble to kill him if he’d been way underground.”
“Maybe he had a handout from the gods or something,” Heavy Warrior said bluntly, returning his broadsword to his back. He was still watching their surroundings carefully, perhaps because the danger of traps and remaining enemies had not lessened. “Come on, let’s find the loot. The boss is dead. If we don’t hurry, this tower might vanish.”
“Oh yeah, that’s right! An adventure’s gotta have treasure!”
Spearman set off running, his joy giving him courage. Heavy Warrior did not even consider stopping him. Attitude and actions were separate. Just as keeping your guard up and not being nervous were different things.
“He’s pretty good that way.”
“Yes.” Goblin Slayer nodded, picking up the rust-ruined sword and clicking his tongue as he tossed it away. “There are many things I could learn from him.”
“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”
While Heavy Warrior considered whether to laugh, he and Goblin Slayer set out on the search. They were looking for loot, treasure chests, effects—anything of the sort. For an adventurer, there was no greater joy.
In short order, they discovered a storage chest of red oak sitting in a corner of the roof.
“This is not my main class. Don’t expect too much,” Goblin Slayer warned them, then knelt before the chest. He rooted through his item pack and produced several specialized tools. First, he took a file like a thin blade and worked it under the lid of the chest, feeling around. He confirmed there were no traps, then held up a hand mirror to the keyhole and looked in.
Now it was time for the wire. Goblin
Slayer set to picking the lock.
“Hey, Goblin Slayer. Think about this: you didn’t stop a single bad guy today.” Spearman grinned as he watched the work over Goblin Slayer’s shoulder. “Meaning…”
“What?”
“I win!”
“Yes,” Goblin Slayer made no effort to refute him, only nodded. “So you do.”
Spearman flung his fist into the air with many a celebratory “Yesss!” Heavy Warrior stared up at the sky.
“Because it was not goblins.”
In his elation, Spearman seemed to miss the murmur, but Heavy Warrior certainly heard it.
At last, the lock opened with a click, and Goblin Slayer exhaled.
“It is a bit late to mention this, but there will probably be some fuss when we return.”
“Huh? …Oh, your elf girl?” Heavy Warrior thought of the tomboyish, excitable elf in Goblin Slayer’s party.
I guess we did kind of leave her out.
“I think I’m gonna be in even more trouble,” Spearman said. “But don’t worry. It’s tradition to have little excitement while you divide the spoils and drink some wine.”
“…As I recall, we said it would be three ways less expenses.”
“Yes,” Goblin Slayer said, “I believe so.” Then he added in a dispassionate voice, “Treasure, huh? Not bad.”
Heavy Warrior placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. Goblin Slayer accepted it silently. The lid of the chest squeaked as he lifted it.
“Fwaaaah!”
As the hero awoke with the morning sun, in a bed at the inn, she stretched her arms mightily. The sky outside was blue, and she felt energetic, strong, and ready to go.
“Okay! Today’s another day to give it everything I’ve got!”
She energized herself with a quick slap to each cheek, then used that energy to spring out of bed.
This was important, because the warm sunlight was so comfortable it made her want to climb right back under the covers. But it would be just a little bit too indulgent to squander such a beautiful day on oversleeping.
She quickly dressed. Her body was still youthful, but it had the curves of a maturing woman. Thinking about what was to come later that day, she made sure to wear her armor, too. Finally, she took up her enchanted sword, her faithful companion, and she was ready. One had to equip oneself with both weapons and armor, or there was no point.