by Kumo Kagyu
They would not have long before the goblins recovered from their confusion.
The Dragontooth Warriors didn’t last as long as I’d hoped.
Goblin Slayer quickly revised his plans. He had intended to move in only after the Warriors had reduced the goblin numbers a bit.
He did have one idea—not exactly a trump card, but something he had prepared in case they were facing something other than goblins.
But the farm was to their backs. They had to kill all their enemies here. Not one could be left alive.
Just as usual.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“That’s got to be a Disintegrate spell,” Dwarf Shaman said, stroking his beard as he dug in his bag of catalysts. “That’s an ill thing to face, but chances are they can’t do it more than once.”
“It is strange, though,” Lizard Priest said from where he crouched for cover in the undergrowth, watching the field alertly. “Would a spell-caster of such power normally split up his goblins?”
“Could he have some other aim?” Goblin Slayer muttered.
Dark clouds whirled above their heads. The elements lashed at them without mercy.
Goblin Slayer had a bad feeling. The same feeling he got when a goblin was sneaking up on him from behind.
“We have no way to buy ourselves time.”
“There is an old proverb, ‘A trap tripped is a trap no more.’” Lizard Priest swished his tail. “I think our best chance lies in a frontal assault, forcing his hand. You?”
“I agree,” Goblin Slayer said shortly, then turned his helmet toward Priestess.
She wiped the sweat and mud and rain from her face and met his gaze.
His helmet was similarly soaked from the deluge, stained with mud and gore, and the expression within it was inscrutable.
“You’re crucial. I’m counting on you.”
But she could feel his gaze on her. She blinked.
It was more than enough to shore up the faith in her heart.
He—Goblin Slayer—this helplessly unusual person—
He was counting on her. He’d said so.
“…Yes, sir!”
“All right. Everyone, you know the plan. It’s just as I told you earlier.”
Goblin Slayer took up his sword, readied his shield, and stepped forward.
Lizard Priest lined up beside him, his Swordclaw at the ready, his tail raised.
In the rear, High Elf Archer set an arrow to her bow, drawing back the string.
Dwarf Shaman held catalysts in both hands as he began to chant.
And Priestess held tightly to her holy flail, offering a prayer to the gods in heaven.
“Let’s go.”
And so the battle was joined.
§
The first casualty was one trying to crawl away from the smoke screen.
The goblin cocked his head, sensing someone was approaching, and shortly after he no longer had a head to cock.
“GROORB?!”
Goblin Slayer stepped on the skull as he pressed forward, crushing it.
He swept the creature behind him with the shield on his left arm and pierced the throat of another that jumped at him.
“Two.”
The fresh corpse fell back as he let go of his sword. He kicked it, striking out with the hand ax he had taken from its belt.
He cut the creature stumbling behind him at the base of its neck, claiming its life.
“Three.”
He flung the ax casually into the goblin horde before collecting a short spear from his latest victim, and then pushed on without a glance back.
“This is the way. Let’s go.”
“Understood!” Lizard Priest responded smartly, bounding along, his tail curled.
He swung the White Fang like a broadsword, cutting down several enemies at a slash.
“Behold! Fearsome naga, my forefathers, behold! We revel in this night!”
“GOROROR?!”
Raindrops danced, blood flowed, and flesh flew. Yells and screams resonated in the air.
Goblins were born cowards. It was part of why they were so cunning.
Loath to die themselves, they used their companions as shields. Enraged at the resulting deaths of their allies, they swarmed together to overwhelm the foe.
And because their enemies had done them this grievous injustice, any and all torture was justified.
Look! The enemy is only two. Some have fallen, yes, but numbers are still on our side.
And amid the rain and the lingering vestiges of that awful stink— Do you smell that?
A girl. An elf. A woman.
There is nothing to be concerned about. Do it.
“GOBBRO!!”
“GROBB!!”
It took only moments for the goblins’ confusion to turn first to anger, then to greed.
Some took up their multifarious weapons and endeavored to halt Goblin Slayer’s onslaught, and some brought out spears and sought to surround and kill Lizard Priest in his whirlwind of violence.
The more intelligent among them fled these terrible opponents and broke formation to escape.
But Goblin Slayer and his party were well aware that some were likely to try this.
“Pazuzu, Locust King, Son of the Sun, bring trembling and fear, on the wind you come!”
The goblins trembled at a sound like a high whistle on the wind.
And then they saw the source of the strange, howling rumble—a black wave rolling across the earth, straight at them. A storm of pitch.
It was a vast swarm of bugs, ready to overwhelm and destroy.
“GORRBGGOOG?!?!”
“GORGO?!”
The goblins tried desperately to sweep the biting creatures off their skin, unaware that it was only an illusion.
Fear was the most primal emotion in the world, and terribly effective at controlling the goblins. They fled screaming and gnashing their teeth.
They routed, dropping their weapons and running as fast as their legs would carry them in every direction.
As if they would get far.
“Gnomes! Undines! Make for me the finest cushion you will see!”
The goblins were ensnared.
The earth held their feet fast, and they flopped to the ground one by one. Sticky mud bubbled up around them.
“GORBO?!”
“GBORBB?!”
They struggled and fought but discovered they couldn’t get up.
Lizard Priest made his way relentlessly around the summoned swamp, doing his deadly work.
Claw, claw, fang, tail. He danced among the goblins, sweeping them away with every limb.
“Ho! Forefathers of mine, who are part of my very being! Accept this rampage!”
The lizardmen came from the swamps. This mud was no hindrance.
Lizard Priest carved through the goblins, then raised his great head and howled.
“Onward, milord Goblin Slayer!”
“Right,” Goblin Slayer said, coming up beside him. He carried some specially prepared leather.
He used his spear to stab one of the fallen creatures through the back. That was one. He took the monster’s sword and threw it. Two.
He advanced with his shield up, knocking down several more near one of the bodies. He braced himself against the cadaver, pulling a sword out of it. Three.
He used that sword to split the skull of a goblin that tried to block his progress. Four. He dropped the blunted weapon, kicking a body aside and taking its club.
Coolly and precisely, seeking the greatest effect for the least effort, he cut a swath through the enemy force.
“Gods, Beard-cutter. He surely can handle himself.” On the far side of the field, Dwarf Shaman laughed with a hunting horn in one hand and some clay in the other. That man defied belief. “Of course, without me here, things might not have gone so well…”
“Make a swamp,” Goblin Slayer had told him. “Don’t let them get away.”
Dwarf Shaman had had just
the thing.
Fear, then Snare. The effects would only be amplified by the fact that they were outdoors.
Two large-scale spells. Admittedly, he was blowing through his catalysts, but…
“Look alive, Long-Ears, you’re up next.”
He gave her a hearty smack on the shoulder, and she flicked her ears at him in displeasure.
“Don’t hit me. You’ll throw off my aim.”
“Don’t be silly. A horde this big, it doesn’t matter where you shoot, you’ll hit something.”
“You dwarves, never serious about anything… Those hits still only come after aiming.”
She inhaled quietly, then exhaled from her nostrils. To an elf, shooting was like breathing.
Her fingers worked the string rhythmically, sending her arrows soaring through the rain. In this world, the gods alone could match an elf for sheer volume when it came to shooting. And High Elf Archer was, well, a high elf, the heir of a bloodline that stretched back to the age of the gods.
And indeed, her targets were goblins mired in the muck.
Despite her protests, she could have hit them without aiming. But she was too dedicated for that.
After all, Orcbolg had agreed to go on an adventure with her! She wouldn’t let that opportunity slip away. She couldn’t.
“Adventurers always see their quests through to the end!”
And her rain of bud-tipped arrows joined the rain that fell from the sky.
Goblin Slayer himself shot like a missile across the field, not a moment’s hesitation in his step. This was not chance, but what needed to happen.
He had one aim—to reach the leader far behind enemy lines.
All the more reason…
“G—Grr!”
Dark Elf ground his teeth.
His thirty-goblin shield had been broken, the enemy was near at hand, and he had no time to focus on his chanting.
He thought of rallying his goblins, but he knew they would not come.
The one thing he could rely on was this. Dark Elf pulled his sword from its sheath.
“You damnable human!”
He struck, his blade a flash of silver light.
Goblin Slayer met it with his upraised shield. This was why he carried it. Its usefulness as a bludgeon was only secondary.
He immediately replied with a sweeping strike from the club he grasped in his right hand. He aimed for the head, hoping to shatter the skull or the spine.
But dark elves grasped motion as well as their forest brethren. In other words, far better than any human.
There was a spray of mud as the elf leaped backward, unperturbed by the swampy ground and not intimidated by the fearsome illusion.
Goblin Slayer’s club connected with nothing but air.
“Hrmph. To think that one equipped to see through my plans should live in this town…”
“…You don’t seem to be a goblin.”
Goblin Slayer and Dark Elf now stood some distance apart. The mud softly sounded slosh, slosh as they shuffled to find an advantageous position.
Dark Elf’s sword was clearly a better weapon than the adventurer’s club.
Fully aware of this, the elf took the time to interrogate his opponent.
“Who or what are you?”
“…”
“I had heard that some in this town had reached the rank of Silver… But I cannot imagine such an experienced adventurer would stoop to using a goblin’s club.”
“Are you their leader?”
Goblin Slayer replied with his own question. Indifferently. Just as always.
“Indeed I am,” Dark Elf returned, feeling a touch annoyed. His chest puffed out, and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. “I am the apostle of anarchy, recipient of a handout from the very gods of chaos themselves!” He bore a sword in his right hand, a magical item in his left. Dark Elf kept a low stance as he exclaimed, “And my goblin army approaches from every direction! The next life will soon welcome you and your—”
“I don’t know what you are. And I don’t care.” Goblin Slayer interrupted the elf’s proclamation. “…That goblin lord was more trouble than you.”
“”
There was a pause as Dark Elf processed what had been said.
“Wh-why, you insolent…!”
His agile toes took a refined, complicated geometrical step.
From this unusual stance, his blade came like a flash.
The barely detectable glow was the proof of its magic latency. It was a magic sword. Not particularly unusual.
Goblin Slayer drew up his shield to block the blow. The strike ran along the surface of the shield, curving up and over it.
No—
“Hrggh!”
Goblin Slayer grunted.
The thin blade warped, piercing through his chain mail through a seam in his shoulder armor.
Blood seeped out on his left side. Dark Elf didn’t simply have the better weapon, but was experienced in using it.
“Hah! You’re slow, human!”
His skill should not have come as a surprise. After all, his level was high enough that he could even use Disintegrate.
Elves and dark elves had fundamentally different physicalities from humans.
Humans were not really naturally endowed in any exceptional way, which made it difficult for them to gain the upper hand over an agile dark elf. Let alone one like this, who had tens or hundreds or thousands more years of experience. Confronted with Dark Elf’s eyes and hands and skills, just-passable equipment was as good as no equipment.
“I see. As their leader, you have no need to hold back.”
Not that it mattered to Goblin Slayer, of course.
The hit wasn’t critical. It didn’t hurt enough to impede his use of the shoulder. And it wasn’t poisoned.
He evaluated his own wound with his usual calm detachment, then elected to continue the fight.
“Still eager for more, are you, you dirty little worm?”
“…”
“Very well. See for yourself if we are less than a goblin!”
Dark Elf, who seemed to have jumped to some unwarranted conclusion, thrust the artifact in his left hand into the air.
“O lord of this great limb, prince of the hurricane! Set the winds blowing! Summon the storm! Grant me power!”
Something changed at that moment. An uncanny crackling sound came from Dark Elf’s body. It twisted and swelled. Then, one after another, they burst from his back.
Arms.
Deformed and bizarre, bones connected in the wrong places, bulging with muscles.
Five of them in all—seven, including the arms he had been born with.
“…Hrm.”
“Heh, heh-heh, heh. I see you cannot even speak, you accursed adventurer!”
The grasping appendages, like a spider’s or crab’s, were visible even from across the battlefield.
He was no longer truly a dark elf. His eyes were wild and bloodshot, his voice high, straining against the limits of all his senses and abilities.
He barely made a sound as he leaned in with his massive weight and dived at Goblin Slayer.
In the next instant, a geyser of mud shot from the earth, accompanied by a thump.
“What in the world is that?!” High Elf Archer shouted as she let off an arrow, catching an encroaching goblin through the eye. “Did that dark elf just grow arms from his back?!”
“Can’t be! Ridiculous!” Dwarf Shaman already had his ax out and was putting it to good use against the goblins.
The work of the Dragontooth Warriors and the two frontline fighters had reduced the enemy numbers significantly. As long as the party could hold its battle line, they had a strong chance at victory.
“Blast! Whatever he’s done, it seems to be some kind of magic. And it doesn’t look like anything we want to get mixed up in!”
“Oh, I don’t think we’ve anything to fear.” That was the third member of the party. Lizard Priest, his tail curled up, sou
nded more confident than usual. “It’s just a bit of instantaneous bodily transformation. Milord Goblin Slayer has everything well in hand.”
That left them free to concentrate on their role. With a howl, Lizard Priest leaped anew at the goblins.
§
It was fair to say Goblin Slayer was holding his own against an enemy who could attack seven times at once.
He blocked an attack from the left with his shield, then struck out with his club. He rolled away from blows that came from every direction, then rose to one knee.
A fist came pounding down from over his head. This time he dove forward, straight toward Dark Elf.
“…!”
Goblin Slayer swept his dagger in upward, but Dark Elf’s agility allowed him to dodge.
The creature’s arms allowed him to nearly fly over the mud.
“What’s wrong, human? You’ll have to get closer if you want to use that blade of yours!”
Now that the enemy had widened the space between them, Goblin Slayer had no choice but to advance.
Dark Elf waited without so much as a wobble, despite the five massive arms growing from his back. The sight of him standing there, his balance unaffected by the new limbs, was most disturbing.
“Well, the bigger they are, the better targets they make!”
True, Goblin Slayer was at a disadvantage one-on-one. But didn’t that simply mean he needed some friends?
High Elf Archer had just finished off some goblins nearby. Now she dropped to one knee and readied her bow.
She pulled an arrow from her quiver, nocked it into her bow, drew back, and released it in a single flowing motion.
Her aim was dead-on. The bud-tipped arrow slipped between the raindrops, struck Dark Elf in the forehead—
“……!”
—almost. The instant before it landed, a vast white hand suddenly appeared and snatched the arrow from the air.
It was like a whirlwind, like a pillar of stone. A hand swollen and bulging and twisted.
The translucent limb snapped the arrow like the branch it was and vanished.
Dark Elf smirked and held the cursed artifact in his left hand aloft.
No one would lead from the front lines without some kind of protection.
“He can deflect arrows…?!” High Elf Archer wailed, shuddering in terror.
It was said that in the depths of time, a giant had fought in the war between the gods of order and chaos.