Goblin Slayer, Vol. 3

by Kumo Kagyu

  Goblin Slayer flew like an arrow at the foe while Priestess’s staff was raised high.

  “O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, by the power of the land grant safety to we who are weak!”

  An invisible field gave him additional protection beyond his shield, repelling the spears of the goblins finally collecting themselves.

  This was the miracle of Protection.

  “GRRORG?!”

  “Nine… Ten.”

  Goblin Slayer had never stopped moving.

  His sword flashed as he eliminated the hand spear goblin, then sliced open the pickax owner’s throat.

  Priestess coordinated with Goblin Slayer without so much as a word between them.

  This was the result of half a year together. Gripping her staff in one hand, she readied her sling with the other.

  “GOORB?!”

  The spear split in half against the force field, and the goblin, now weaponless, soon found a sword in its skull.

  Goblin Slayer didn’t so much as spare a glance as the creature collapsed, its brains staining the blade, but with a kick he flipped the pickax up into his hand.

  He didn’t like two-handed weapons, but at least his shield was strapped to his arm. He wouldn’t have any trouble swinging.

  “Next.”

  Goblins were feeble monsters, the weakest of the weak—nothing to fear.

  They boasted the size and cruel intelligence of children, perhaps the most common monster in the entire world.

  Yes…indeed.

  Fighting a few of them outdoors, Goblin Slayer could see where someone might believe that reputation. It was no wonder that many a village tough tried their hand at adventuring after chasing a few of the little creatures out of their village.

  A goblin came at him with an awkward swipe of its club, and Goblin Slayer caught both its arms, then its heart, with his pickax.

  Filthy blood hissed from the wound.

  “GOOROROROGB?!”

  “Eleven.”

  He didn’t even bother to spend time pulling the pick back out. He simply let it drop with the corpse.

  As he turned toward the last goblin, a stone whizzed past.

  “Hi…yah!”

  “GBBOR?!”

  The goblin yelped stupidly as the rock collided into its cheek with a dull thump.

  The creature slumped down. Goblin Slayer jumped on it without hesitation and thrust his dagger into its heart.

  “Twelve.”

  He gave a violent twist of the blade to be sure, then held down the goblin until it stopped twitching.

  Finally, he exhaled.

  Whatever advantages one might have, there was no time to relax when outnumbered.

  But at last, there was a lull.

  “Um, Goblin Slayer, sir?” Priestess pattered up to him, fishing in her bag for a waterskin. “Want something to drink?”

  “I do.”

  “Here you go.”

  He casually took the leather bag, made from a farm animal’s stomach. He removed the cap and chugged through his open visor.

  Their long acquaintance had led Priestess to fill the skin with a dilute grape wine.

  “You have to make sure you get enough to drink.”

  “True.”

  As far as she could tell, he was maintaining a good physical condition—in his own way. Still, it only seemed to be the absolute minimum.

  I guess it would be strange to say I’m trying to take care of him…

  Though she certainly believed he was someone worth taking care of.

  Glug, glug. As he drank, she thought to herself.

  “That was a good shot,” he muttered.

  She didn’t immediately grasp what the comment meant and gave him a puzzled look. But she soon realized he was talking about her sling.

  “Oh… I’ve been practicing.”

  She made a fist near her little chest and nodded firmly.

  Not that she took any pride in learning deadly arts. But in a certain sense, she was doing it to help people—so perhaps it could be considered one of her trials.

  If she were completely helpless in the face of danger, she would only be a burden to her companions. She had begun learning the sling simply to protect herself, but the weapon had proved remarkably versatile.

  Goblin Slayer finished his single-minded drinking and replaced the cap.

  “Good job.”

  …Oh!

  He tossed the words off casually, but they made her heart swell.

  Her cheeks, her whole face, were suddenly hot.

  He…just praised me, didn’t he?

  She could hardly ask him to repeat it, as unusual as it was.

  But Goblin Slayer kept talking as though nothing strange had happened.

  “We’ve seriously reduced their numbers. There are probably just two or three left, including the hob.”

  “A… A hob…?”

  Priestess’s voice weakened, not pleased with this scenario.

  “We haven’t seen any totems,” Goblin Slayer said with an easy nod, calmly holding out the waterskin to her. “Here, drink.”

  “Huh? Oh…”

  Priestess accepted it with a certain hesitancy. She touched her lips thoughtfully with a slim, pale index finger.

  “R-right…”

  Goblin Slayer ignored her reluctance to put her lips to the waterskin. Instead he used the tattered rags of a nearby goblin to wipe the fat from his dagger, then returned it to his hip. Next was his sword, still buried in its victim.

  He braced against the corpse and extracted the blade, checking the edge and cleaning off the grime before sheathing it.

  He confirmed his pack’s contents, the state of his equipment, and finally nodded.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Oh—yes, sir.”

  “Then we’re going in.”

  A hobgoblin. Two bodyguards. Fifteen monsters altogether.

  What became of them was not hard to imagine.

  Amazingly, there was some small light to be found among such darkness—all the women were safe.

  But how should they go about finding happiness again after being violated by goblins?

  Priestess could not imagine.

  §

  “He doesn’t use enough words! At all! Ever!” High Elf Archer pounded the table with her mug. “I see. Is that right? That’s right. Goblins, goblins, goblins— That’s it!”

  Her ears bounced up and down, mirroring her sloshing cup of wine.

  Her face, normally almost translucent, was bright red while her eyes began to roll.

  It was an unbecoming state for a high elf—that is to say, she was drunk.

  Night had fallen. Though located in a frontier town, the tavern at the Adventurers Guild was well attended.

  Most of the customers had either just finished a job or were preparing to go out on one, and passionate shouts to eulogize the fallen or hearten the wounded punctuated the din.

  Given all this, High Elf Archer and the angry steam rising from her ears hardly merited attention. But whether the mood of the bar and her inebriation went well together was another question.

  Spearman—by then a familiar face—took a swig of ale from his huge mug and said, “You’re upset about this now? How long have you known him?”

  “When I ask him if he has plans, I don’t really care if he says, ‘Goblins.’” She wasn’t bothered. High Elf Archer nodded to someone—though nobody was actually there. “He’s Orcbolg, right? I’m happy to overlook that. But!” She pounded her mug again, sloshing the wine to leave a red stain on her chest. “That is not the answer I expect when I ask for a little help!”

  “In other words,” Spearman said, dragging a bowl of nuts away from High Elf Archer, “he dumped you.”

  “He did not!”

  She slammed her mug down, though this time she put her whole body into it and heaved a veritable tidal wave of wine from the cup. Spearman ducked to avoid the flying froth.

  High Elf Archer pursed h
er lips and made a sound of displeasure, perhaps regretting the waste.

  “That’s the problem with you humans. You’re so good at making everything about one thing!”

  “But he did turn you down for your little adventure, didn’t he, lass?”

  “Quiet, dwarf!”

  She swung the cup at him. But thanks to his minimal height, she connected with only air.

  Perhaps because her aim was bad, despite being both an elf and an archer—or perhaps because she was roaring drunk.

  Dwarf Shaman was as red-faced as always. Stroking his white beard, he said with immense seriousness, “If y’ask me, I’d say you ought to be offering him help.”

  “If I’m always doing that, he’ll start thinking I want to help him.”

  “And don’t you?”

  “No!”

  She sat sulkily and muttered to herself.

  “Goblin this, goblin that. Get your clothes dirty! Don’t look at my items! Every single time…”

  Dwarf Shaman merely shook his head at the tantrum.

  “Never seen someone get so drunk on a single cup of wine. At least she’s easy on the coin purse.”

  “Is it not best to relax from time to time?”

  The last remark came from Lizard Priest, who was happily taking bites out of an entire round of cheese. The sight robbed him of the gravitas that usually accompanied a lizard clergyman.

  “Nectar! Sweet nectar! If all the world had a bed and a meal as fine as this, there would be no more wars.”

  “That and wine, perhaps. And then we would fight over what to eat with it.”

  “Nothing is ever easy in the material world.”

  Lizard Priest seemed to mull over his words, his eyes wandering the tavern.

  “For once, milord Goblin Slayer has gone alone with our dear priestess. Perhaps some feel threatened by this.”

  “There are, many, rivals, yes?” said a voluptuous woman elegantly savoring her wine—Witch wore a faint wisp of a smile.

  She filched a bit of food from Spearman’s plate while her eyes turned meaningfully to her neighbor.

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Guild Girl said with a chuckle.

  She was still in her uniform, though her workday was over. Perhaps she had simply stopped by the tavern before heading home. Her cheeks were flushed from drink.

  “My, how…easygoing.”

  “No, not exactly.” Guild Girl played with the cup in her hands, hoping to distract them a little. As she spun it gently, miniature waves lapped up in the wine. “I’m just…waiting for my chance.”

  “Waiting…for five years, no?”

  There was nothing Guild Girl could say. She just took a sip from her cup with an unreadable expression.

  When she had been assigned to the Guild branch in this town, he was one of the adventurers placed in her charge.

  How could she help but notice him as he quietly went about doing what needed to be done?

  She saw him off when he left, then waited for his return. There was nothing dramatic about it, to be sure, but—

  People’s feelings and affections built up in this kind of day-to-day as well.

  Though in that sense, I can understand this man’s approach, too.

  She glanced at Spearman, who Witch interrupted every time he tried to say something. Even Guild Girl could tell he was clearly trying to hit on her.

  He was rather handsome, outgoing, and kind to women. The one flaw in the diamond was his tendency to flirt.

  He was intelligent, strong, kindhearted, and cheerful. He made good money, and while he could be rough around the edges, he was never unbearable. Objectively speaking, he seemed like a decent man. Guild Girl didn’t specifically dislike Spearman. Barring the times when he used to make fun of Goblin Slayer.

  But, well, she didn’t fall in love with every halfway decent man she saw. Nor was she obliged to respond in kind simply because someone else had become infatuated with her.

  “Hmm.”

  But perhaps, she thought, this made her a rival in love.

  It is often said that the friendship of women is fickle, but Guild Girl wasn’t so sure.

  Spearman’s party member, Witch, sat without her characteristic hat but with an inscrutable smile.

  “It, is most, demanding.”

  “For both of us.”

  The two women exchanged wry smiles, then amicably nodded at each other. The man didn’t seem to notice.

  “It seems like there have been an awful lot of demon-related quests lately, given that the Demon God was supposed to have been defeated.” Spearman took a swig of his ale, perhaps finally brought to heel by Witch. “What’s going on?”

  Maybe she could talk to him about this. Guild Girl felt a little bad for him, and adventuring was a safe topic.

  “My superiors seem to think maybe our heroes missed some of the bad guys.”

  “I guess just doing in the enemy higher-ups doesn’t mean everyone can come right back home.” Spearman grabbed a nut and popped it into his mouth, chewing noisily. “Demons are bad news.”

  “They can disguise themselves as humans, among their other stratagems. They do not make for easy work.” Lizard Priest nodded deeply at Spearman, putting his palms together in a strange gesture. “I was most grateful for your help in this instance.”

  “Don’t mention it! There was a quest out, and I took it.” He waved away Lizard Priest’s gratitude. “And when your adventure doubles as a date, that ain’t bad, either.”

  As Lizard Priest had said, this time the five of them had dealt with a demon in human form.

  The quest itself had been terribly mundane: investigate a new cult that had spread through a town.

  The small town still boasted a temple of the Supreme God—but it seemed they had lost their sacred implement. The quest involved getting it back. When the question of whether goblins were involved came up, however, the answer was a firm no.

  It was not a goblin-slaying quest.

  “I will go goblin slaying, then,” said Goblin Slayer, and Priestess followed after him with a “Sorry” and a bow of her head.

  “Fine, we’ll handle it ourselves!” High Elf Archer had exclaimed, but even she knew they would be less prepared for combat without him.

  Just as they were deciding how to address this issue, Spearman called out to them.

  It was perfect. The five of them formed a temporary party and set about their investigation…

  Naturally, they found ample evidence of kidnappings, drug running, theft, and extortion.

  By the time they found the stolen implement, a blue diamond cut to look like an eye, they knew full well what was going on.

  Finding the cult’s headquarters, where they practiced their bizarre rituals, and capturing their leader was only a matter of time.

  “UUUUUUU…! AKAATERRRAAAABBBBB!!!”

  In the light of the diamond, the cult’s second-in-command revealed himself to be the real ringleader—a demon. Of course.

  And finally, the demon shed its disguise and engaged the adventurers in an epic battle.

  “As you’ll recall, it was my arrows that struck the final blow.”

  “Yes, we know. It’s all clearly written in the report.” Guild Girl noted High Elf Archer’s testimony in her paperwork.

  Now the markswoman was dramatically illustrating the battle with wild gestures.

  Guild Girl never tired of watching her. The elf was easily 2,000 years older than her, yet felt like a little sister.

  “Maybe you’ve had enough…”

  “It’s okay. I’m fine! It’s just one cup of grape wine. Easy peasy!”

  High Elf Archer was completely soused and clearly not “fine.”

  Well, everyone needs to experience a good hangover once in their lives. Guild Girl wore a dry smile and resolved to help the elf get upstairs once the alcohol wore off, then took another glassful herself. She tilted it back delicately, enjoying the sensation of the wine on her t
ongue. She thought back to Witch’s words from a few minutes earlier.

  Many rivals.

  Compared to the priestess, who could go with him on adventures, it was true that Guild Girl was at a disadvantage because all she could do was wait.

  What disadvantage? Don’t be silly.

  Around here, even a receptionist could take the offensive.

  Yet somehow, she was a tiny bit scared of taking that step…

  She was surprised how much she enjoyed their relationship as Guild employee and adventurer. But if it were to stop there…?

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Witch chiding Spearman as he tried to call, “Are you troubled, miss?”

  Guild Girl found herself breathing a small sigh. And at that moment…

  “—?”

  The swinging door to the building creaked open.

  Then came the sound of casual, indiscreet footsteps.

  High Elf Archer’s ears perked up, like a hunter catching the sound of a rabbit.

  Then they saw him: an adventurer in ridiculously second-rate equipment. Equipment so pathetic it caused a stir even among the Porcelain ranks—the complete beginners. An adventurer whose unique outfit was known to one and all at the Guild.

  Goblin Slayer.

  “I’ll take care of the paperwork. You rest.”

  The blunt instruction was directed at the priestess following behind him.

  She hardly seemed able to bear her fatigue. Her head bobbed up and down, eyelids half closed.

  A priest’s spells were called miracles because, exactly as the name implied, the caster made a direct supplication to the gods in heaven. The effort this demanded was no less than a frontline warrior’s, and it had taken a serious toll on this willowy young woman.

  “…Yeess, sir… Um…”

  “What?”

  “G’d night… Goblin Slayer, sir…”

  She nodded heavily at Goblin Slayer’s words and weaved her way up the stairs.

  He waited for her to safely reach the second floor on her unsteady feet before setting off.

  But the others could hardly just watch him walk up to the front desk.

  “Hey, Orcbolg, over here!” High Elf Archer called out at the top of her lungs after she recognized her distinctive companion through the haze of alcohol. She stood up and waved her wine cup madly at him, splashing its contents into Spearman’s snack.