Goblin Slayer, Vol. 3

by Kumo Kagyu

  Copyright

  KUMO KAGYU

  Translation by Kevin Steinbach Cover art by Noboru Kannatuki

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  GOBLIN SLAYER vol. 3

  Copyright © 2016 Kumo Kagyu

  Illustrations copyright © 2016 Noboru Kannatuki

  All rights reserved.

  Original Japanese edition published in 2016 by SB Creative Corp.

  This English edition is published by arrangement with SB Creative Corp., Tokyo, in care of Tuttle-Mori Agency, Inc., Tokyo.

  English translation © 2017 by Yen Press, LLC

  Yen Press, LLC supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Kagyu¯, Kumo, author. | Kannatuki, Noboru, illustrator.

  Title: Goblin slayer / Kumo Kagyu ; illustration by Noboru Kannatuki.

  Other titles: Goburin sureiya¯. English

  Description: New York, NY : Yen On, 2016–

  Identifiers: LCCN 2016033529 | ISBN 9780316501590 (v. 1 : paperback) | ISBN 9780316553223 (v. 2 : paperback) | ISBN 9780316553230 (v. 3 : paperback)

  Subjects: LCSH: Goblins—Fiction. | GSAFD: Fantasy fiction.

  Classification: LCC PL872.5.A367 G6313 2016 | DDC 895.63/6—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016033529

  ISBNs: 978-0-316-55323-0 (paperback)

  978-0-316-55326-1 (ebook)

  E3-20170719-JV-PC

  Life’s a roll of the dice

  Roll them day after day

  And it’s always snake eyes

  Someone said luck is fair

  Nothing changes til the day you die

  Laugh or cry, it’s all the same

  Snake eyes come up again today

  Oh snake eyes snake eyes!

  Show me a duodecuple tomorrow!

  A lone wisp of smoke trailed into a pallid sky.

  One could trace it back down to find its source, a small hilltop farm.

  Specifically, a small, brick building on the fringes of the farm.

  Smoke billowed from the chimney into the air like an upward brushstroke.

  A young woman stood at the stove in the little building, blowing mightily as she wiped sweat from her brow.

  Her skin had the healthy glow of a person raised in the sun. She was plump in all the places a girl should be—but she was not soft.

  “Hmm… About like this?”

  Cow Girl wiped soot from her cheeks with the cloth draped across the shoulder of her work apron and squinted contentedly.

  Her bright eyes were fixed on some pork hung neatly inside the shed, visible through the window.

  The smoke enveloped it, gradually bringing out the fat along with an irresistible aroma.

  Smoked bacon.

  Every year they took pigs that had grown fat on acorns and daisies and smoked them like this.

  There was plenty of pork in the little building, and they would let it smoke all day. They would keep up the process for several days—bacon was a labor-intensive product.

  So usually, he would lend a hand around this time, even if he did it silently.

  “Well, I guess when you have work, you have work,” Cow Girl said to herself, then laughed as if this didn’t bother her one bit.

  She knew him, after all. He would come home safely, no question about it, and then he’d help like he always did.

  This belief came so naturally to her she almost didn’t have to think about it.

  “Hup!”

  It felt good to stretch as she rose, after crouching so long to watch the fire.

  She stood, arms outstretched, ample chest bouncing, cracking her joints and letting out one more great breath.

  As she raised her face, a corona of light danced over the dark forest huddled on the horizon.

  Dawn. The sun. The start of a new day—although in fact, her day had already been well under way.

  Beyond the hill, the wheat fields that ran along either side of the road caught the sun’s rays and sparkled. The wind bent the crops gently, creating ripples in a sea of gold. The rustle of the stalks sounded not unlike the ocean.

  Or so Cow Girl imagined, anyway. She had never been to the seaside.

  Soon the farm’s roosters noticed the morning’s approach and began to crow.

  Their calls coaxed townspeople from their slumber, and thin streams of smoke appeared on the horizon. There were quite a few for such an early hour.

  The morning light revealed just how vibrant and lively the town was.

  Banners waved atop buildings, streamers in the shapes of dragons or gods whipping in the gust.

  The same wind made its way over to Cow Girl, brushing her cheeks as it passed.

  “Wow…” She trembled a little at the chill.

  The air felt good against her sweaty skin, but it was less cool and more uncomfortably cold.

  The sun striving to rise past the horizon radiated with a soft light.

  It was fall.

  The harvest season had come. Summer was over, and it was time to prepare for winter.

  Farm and town had both grown busy.

  Lively and prosperous, it was one of the world’s beautiful seasons.

  Though to Cow Girl, the world was always beautiful.

  She knew everyone was working hard—including him.

  Yet she also knew he would come and help her. And when he did—yes!

  “I’ll make him some stew with our fresh bacon!”

  First, she would have to make sure he was full and rested.

  Just the thought lightened her heart, and she all but skipped on her way back to the main house.

  After all, fall was also the time for the festival.

  §

  The fifth goblin fell around noon.

  A stone whistled through the air and caught him in the eye socket, crushing bone and finally striking the brain.

  The goblin crumpled where he stood with a thump.

  The sun shone on a tunnel entrance resembling a massacre.

  “………Hmph.”

  A warrior watched vigilantly from the shadows of some nearby rocks.

  He wore grimy leather armor and a cheap-looking steel helmet. At his hip dangled a sword of a strange length, and a small shield was on his arm.

  This shabby-looking warrior was Goblin Slayer.

  All he had done so far was subdue the guards, and he was already up to five goblins.

  That was not to say, however, that he had hurt his opponents very much.

  It had been more than two weeks since the goblins had taken over the mine, which was this village’s only source of reso
urces.

  Who knew how many more might be hiding beyond the jaws of this tunnel entrance?

  Some local women had been kidnapped. It hadn’t been long enough for any potential offspring to provide reinforcements. But hostages meant fewer options were open to him. And because the villagers would need to use this mine in the future, ploys involving poison gas or flooding were no good, either.

  Presumably, the remainder number fewer than ten. As he considered, his hands nimbly set another stone in his sling.

  He stood by a pile of excavated earth, where there was no fear of running out of ammunition.

  With close attention to the battlefield, it was possible to use a sling for an entire fight.

  “Wh-what do you think, Goblin Slayer, sir?”

  Beside him stood a youthful maiden tightly grasping a sounding staff with both hands.

  She was slight and willowy, dressed in plain but pure white vestments. It was Priestess.

  Goblin Slayer answered without looking at her.

  “By ‘what,’ you mean…?”

  “I mean, um, how does it look to you? What do we do?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  As he spoke, he slung another missile through the air.

  “GOORB?!”

  It split another goblin’s skull, one that had ventured out to investigate the guard bodies.

  “Six.”

  The goblin fell prone and rolled into the tunnel. Goblin Slayer counted off softly.

  It was simple, drawing like to like.

  Not that goblins “liked” each other in any meaningful sense. Most likely the one that had come out had simply drawn the short straw and been forced to go look.

  But the principle was the same: use dead or wounded foes as bait to draw out other enemies, then kill them.

  That was how he’d reached six total kills so far. He reloaded his sling in a businesslike manner.

  “But in any case, this is a problem.”

  “Meaning…?”

  “They have equipment.”

  “……Oh.”

  Now that he’d mentioned it, she could see it, too.

  Crude though they may have been, the dead goblins all wore armor and carried weapons.

  A sword, a pickax, a club, a hand spear, a dagger. Some of goblin construction, some simply stolen.

  “Didn’t they say three young women had been kidnapped?” Priestess asked, unease clear on her face. “We have to hurry…” Still, she made no move to rush in herself.

  It had been more than six months since she’d become an adventurer.

  More than six months since she had narrowly escaped death on that first quest. Months in which she had gone on to face death in battle many times.

  She was still just Obsidian, the ninth rank, but in many ways she was no longer an amateur. When she heard goblins had kidnapped some village women, she no longer panicked.

  Or perhaps she had simply grown numb…?

  Anxiety, born of her ever-growing experience, spread through her small chest.

  All the more reason she closed her eyes and clung to her staff, praying to the all-compassionate Earth Mother. She prayed the dead goblins would reach postmortem bliss, and that the captured women would be safely rescued.

  “It took too long for the request to reach us… Hey.” Goblin Slayer waited quietly for her to finish her prayers, then spoke up. “Can you search their corpses?”

  “Huh?” She raised her head in surprise, but her eyes met only his expressionless helmet.

  “I want to collect their equipment.”

  “Oh, um…” Priestess wasn’t able to answer immediately, glancing back and forth between corpses and the helm.

  Of course, it was not that she was afraid, or that the bodies were impure. Goblins or no, corpses were still corpses.

  She wouldn’t condemn whatever action he chose to take—but could she, a member of the clergy, desecrate those bodies?

  “If you can’t do it, then back me up.”

  “Oh, yes, sir.” Priestess nodded. “If possible, I’d rather…”

  Goblin Slayer made no sound of acknowledgment, but immediately set off running.

  Still in the same spot, Priestess heaved a sigh. She kept thinking she was used to this, but somehow she never was.

  Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the increasingly chilly wind. She was incredibly alert. She wished their usual companions were with them—especially the elf.

  While they were all technically a party, they didn’t always adventure together. That was how things had turned out today. Still…

  “Sigh…”

  Priestess found herself letting out yet another groan.

  She had too many things to think about, too many things to do.

  But Goblin Slayer is still fixated on goblins…

  Discussing things wouldn’t always be fruitful, of course, but with him you could hardly even get that far.

  “O-oops, need to concentrate…!”

  She came back to herself suddenly, giving a quick shake of her head.

  This was no time to be getting distracted.

  She held her staff under her arm, preparing her sling. She took a deep breath.

  “Are… Are you all right?”

  “Yes.”

  The faint but firm answer drifted back to her.

  Goblin Slayer approached the corpses with his usual agile yet unconcerned gait.

  “Hmm… Just as I thought,” he murmured. “But there’s no time to look around here.”

  He had no use for their armor or helmets. He looted a sword, scabbard and all, from one goblin’s hip, drew another’s dagger, and collected the pickax from a third.

  Pilfered equipment in hand, he headed straight back the way he had come.

  “GORB! GRROOORB!!”

  “Goblin Slayer, sir! They’re here…!”

  Goblin Slayer drove on while Priestess fumblingly fired a rock from her sling.

  Immediately behind him, a goblin and its reeking breath scrambled out of the mine entrance.

  The adventurers weren’t the only ones who could use the goblins as bait. The surviving monsters probably thought they had used their companions’ bodies to draw the human out.

  But Priestess’s stone hit the goblin on the shoulder, and he let out a great screech.

  “Good.”

  Far be it from Goblin Slayer to let such an opportunity go to waste.

  With a speed belied by his full armor, he flung something over his shoulder with his right hand.

  It was the sword from his waist.

  “GBBR?!”

  It pierced the throat of the goblin with a dull thock. Goblin Slayer hadn’t even turned around to throw it. The sword he’d stolen was already in his hand by the time the creature’s back hit the cavern floor.

  “Seven. Others?”

  Goblin Slayer dove among the shadows of the rocks, tossing his prizes onto the ground.

  “As far as I can see,” Priestess said, surveying the entrance to the tunnel, “none.”

  “All right.”

  He quickly focused on sorting through the stolen weapons.

  He attached the empty scabbard to his belt, using it to resheathe the sword he held. The dagger, too, went by his waist.

  Treating the goblins as an armory was his classic strategy.

  “We’re moving.”

  “What? Moving?”

  Now re-equipped, Goblin Slayer stood.

  Priestess, still crouching, blinked up at him in bewilderment.

  “I thought this mine only had one entrance.”

  “It did. Until two weeks ago.” Goblin Slayer hefted the pickax and thrust it out at her.

  “Eek!”

  The casual motion was easy to mistake for an attack.

  Priestess glared reproachfully at the helmet.

  “Goblin Slayer, sir! B-be careful with that!”

  “Look.”

  “What am I looking at…?”

  Puzzled, she obedi
ently leaned toward the pickax, studying it intently.

  It was well used, old and dirty, probably left in the mine. Its edges had been dulled from relentless use. They bore dark crimson stains…and particles of earth.

  “…?”

  Priestess probed the soil with her white fingertip. It was still moist—brand-new.

  “Goblin Slayer, sir, does this mean…?”

  “Yes.”

  Goblin Slayer nodded and rested the pickax on his shoulder.

  He was well aware that goblins had no knowledge of metallurgy.

  They didn’t dig holes to find resources—at least, not yet.

  This could mean only one thing.

  “I would dig a side tunnel and plan a sneak attack.”

  §

  He turned out to be exactly right.

  Goblin Slayer set off to the formerly undisturbed side of the mountain.

  But now, they found a new tunnel there—along with goblins, crawling out of the hole like worms.

  All of them were filthy with mud, tired, and clearly weary… In other words, a perfect opportunity.

  “GUAAUA?!”

  “Eight.”

  Goblin Slayer calmly flung the pickax, claiming his next life. The tool may have been blunted, but it was still sharp enough to shatter the creature’s sternum and pierce its heart.

  At the sight of their fallen companion, the other goblins started a terrible racket.

  And who could blame them? This was to be expected.

  These fellows had gone on raids in what was their equivalent of nighttime, and then they had been forced to dig this ambush tunnel.

  They were unable to sleep, lousy with fatigue, and the higher-ranking goblins were cracking the whip behind them. They had been told their reward would be a young priestess girl—but they figured by the time their turn came around, they would not find her much different from any other prisoner. Naturally, all this sapped their morale.

  Goblin Slayer preferred “twilight,” but “midnight” would work, too.

  Otherwise, what was the point of this tactic?

  He quickly took stock of the goblins, thrown into confusion by his ambush.

  “One spear, one pickax, two clubs, no bows, no spell-casters.”

  And just two adventurers.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  “Y-yes, sir!”

  Nodding, Priestess followed him as best she could.

  He had never and would never be so foolish as to throw away the initiative he gained through a sneak attack.