Goblin Slayer, Vol. 1

by Kumo Kagyu

  “I’m saying we don’t have the strength. There’s only five of us.”

  “Numbers are not the issue. It would be much worse to leave this place be.”

  “Oh, for the gods’ sake!” The elf tore at her hair. Her ears pointed straight back. “What is happening here? I don’t even know anymore…”

  “…Will you go back, then?”

  “How can I?! After seeing what they did to that prisoner?! And my home… My home isn’t so far away from here…”

  “I see” was his only response to the agitated archer. “In that case, let’s go.” With that, he stood, announcing the end of their brief respite.

  Goblin Slayer went ahead without another word. The elf stared daggers at his back, grinding her teeth.

  “Calm down, long-ears. Enemy territory is not the place to start a fight.”

  There was a pause. “You’re right,” the elf said.

  The dwarf patted her gently on the back. The elf’s long ears drooped.

  “I’m sorry. I do hate to agree with a dwarf. Even when he’s right.”

  “Ah, there’s the long-ears I know!”

  Short bow in hand, the elf walked off. Priestess gave the dwarf a small bow as she went by. The dwarf followed, digging in his pack. And the lizardman once again made up the tail of their line.

  “Can’t be too careful,” the dwarf said.

  “Indeed. I ought to make preparations to pray.” The lizardman made his strange palms-together gesture.

  Following the map, the party soon found the gallery.

  The elf went in front, raised up on her tiptoes like a stalking cat. She gestured to the others how to proceed.

  Hence she was the first to see the vast hall.

  Just as the map showed, the gallery ran along the edge of a huge atrium. The ceiling had to be as high as ground level. Elves lived for thousands of years, and there could hardly have been a forest dweller as old as this room.

  Despite their age, the white stone walls still bore striking illustrations of the battles from the Age of the Gods. The beautiful gods fought with the terrible ones, swords flashing, lightning bolts flying, until finally they reached for the dice.

  It was a depiction of the creation of the world. If this place had once been a fortress, what must the soldiers here have felt upon seeing this? If the circumstances had been different, High Elf Archer would have let out an entranced sigh.

  But the circumstances were not different, and she kept her mouth shut.

  She leaned over the railing of the gallery and peered out into the atrium. By a wall that rose sheer as a cliff, she could see goblins.

  And not one or two. Not even ten or twenty.

  A vast host. Five adventurers could not have counted the number on their collective fingers.

  The elf swallowed. The smoldering rage in her chest went suddenly cold.

  That prisoner might have been made the plaything of every goblin in this room. The elf suddenly registered what might happen to her with the slightest slip.

  She didn’t have the courage to face this alone. She bit her lip to stop her teeth from chattering.

  “How is it?”

  The elf nearly jumped in surprise. Her ears flew back.

  How had Goblin Slayer come up beside her without her noticing?

  Partly, the elf had been focused on other things. But Goblin Slayer moved now with a delicacy she could never have guessed from his usual violent gait. He didn’t make a sound.

  He was not holding a torch, perhaps out of concern it might be seen.

  “D-don’t scare me like that…”

  “I didn’t mean to.”

  The elf glared angrily at the steel helmet. She wiped the sweat that had appeared on her forehead.

  “Anyway, see for yourself. There’s a lot of them.”

  “It won’t be a problem,” Goblin Slayer said calmly.

  He gestured to the other party members to join them, then quickly explained his plan.

  No one argued.

  The first to notice something unusual was a goblin who had crawled out of bed. It was almost time to change the guard, but the last patrol hadn’t come back yet.

  Well, maybe he’d go torment that elf a little more. True, it wasn’t as much fun now that her screams were growing weaker. Hopefully, they would catch another one soon.

  Unbeknownst to him, an opportunity to do just that was coming his way.

  The goblin gave a long stretch, loosening his thin frame and letting his bulging belly hang. Just as his stretch turned into a yawn, he saw something strange perched upon the gallery.

  A dwarf.

  A dwarf downing the contents of a red jar.

  “GUI…?”

  At that moment, the dwarf looked down at the bewildered goblin and spat at him. The spit came down in a mist.

  The goblin sneezed. This was liquor! That dwarf had spit alcohol on him!

  “Drink deep, sing loud, let the spirits lead you! Sing loud, step quick, and when you sleep they see you, may a jar of fire wine be in your dreams to greet you!” And then, once more, the dwarf let a few drops of his drink dribble down on the befuddled monster.

  The goblin was thoroughly perplexed by all this, but he knew enough to alert his companions. He opened his mouth and…

  …didn’t make a sound.

  His tongue moved and he drew breath, but his voice didn’t come out.

  Now, why do you suppose that was?

  Looking closely, the goblin could see a gorgeous human girl standing next to the dwarf, waving a sounding staff.

  “O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, grant us peace to accept all things…”

  The goblin did not seem to grasp the words the thin voice was saying. The rusty gears in his little head turned as fast as they could, but somehow he felt floaty and kind of…nice.

  The last patrol hadn’t come back yet. Why not catch another few winks until they did?

  He gave a great yawn and climbed back into bed.

  And then he died.

  He never knew he had been the victim of Silence and Stupor. Goblin Slayer cut his throat with a dagger before he ever had the chance to find out. The goblin opened his eyes, blood bubbling up at the wound, but Goblin Slayer pressed the dagger home and killed him.

  High Elf Archer and Lizard Priest came down from the gallery without a sound and put their weapons to work all through the great hall. They had to move quickly in order to finish the job while the spells cast by Priestess and the dwarf were still active.

  They had to be calm, ruthless. Cut the throat of a sleeping goblin, crush it down until he stopped moving, then go on to the next one. It wasn’t a battle. It was just work.

  But not easy work. The elf made a voiceless sound of fatigue. As she cut her third or fourth goblin throat, she could no longer hide the toll it was taking on her.

  Sweat beaded on her forehead. The blade of her stone knife was slick with fat that wouldn’t come off no matter how hard she wiped at it.

  She looked around, trying to see what her companions were doing. The lizardman carried a sword made from the polished fang of some beast. The white blade had already turned red, but the cutting edge didn’t seem to have dulled. It truly must have been forged by some miraculous power.

  Goblin Slayer, of course, moved easily from one throat to the next.

  And he doesn’t even have a special weapon. High Elf Archer watched his hands with the perspicuity of vision only an elvish hunter possessed. As he killed another goblin, he sliced a few fingers off to free the dagger from its hand, and traded his dulled blade for this new one.

  I see. The elf slid her own blade back into its sheath and copied him.

  She set about killing more of the sleeping monsters. Each one died without knowing that he wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last.

  And in the midst of the slaughter, the elf found her anger ebbing.

  It was not that she had forgotten the awful sight of the other elf. That was impossible. An
d yet…

  “………”

  In her heart, there was a mechanical coldness, strange and new.

  She swallowed unconsciously. Her eyes began to wander…in the direction of the man, in his cheap leather armor and steel helm, who was still nonchalantly cutting goblin throats. As he did his work, he took an extra moment to stab each body twice, to ensure it was dead.

  How can he think of going it alone? …Well, I guess he always worked alone before.

  What was she to make of this man? The elf didn’t know, but even as she was asking this question, her hands were prying the knife from a goblin’s fingers.

  They finished killing every goblin in the vast hall in a bit less than thirty minutes.

  The fine white stone, the captivating drawings on the walls—everything was drenched in goblin gore.

  When they call the battlefield a sea of blood, they aren’t kidding, the elf thought.

  At length, the dwarf and Priestess came breathlessly down from the gallery. Goblin Slayer looked at the gathered adventurers, then pointed deeper inside with his sword. He was covered from head to toe in blood, but…to the elf, it made little difference. The map made it clear there was another room farther in. They would search for any survivors and kill them.

  Her eyes met his—at least, she thought they did, though she couldn’t see past his helmet. With a nod, Goblin Slayer set off at his bold stride. As ever, he didn’t look back.

  The world was quiet. What would he do if no one noticed him leaving?

  Good grief.

  The party looked at one another and smiled noiselessly.

  It was Priestess who trailed after him first. The elf followed, her short bow as heavy as a lead weight in her hands. And finally the lizardman and the dwarf joined them, the whole party ready to make their way out of the hall—and that was when it happened.

  There was a thump of air. In the silence, it was almost enough to knock them off their feet.

  Everyone stood stock-still, staring in the direction they had meant to venture.

  Goblin Slayer quickly raised his shield and unsheathed his sword—one of the blades he had taken from a goblin—his attention never wavering.

  There was another thump, closer than the first. Something was coming.

  Then, out of the darkness, it emerged.

  It had a great blue-black body. Horns grew from its forehead, and a putrid stench assaulted them with the creature’s every breath. In its hands was a massive war hammer.

  The elf’s eyes went wide with shock, her voice a strained whisper. “Ogre…!”

  The first thing they heard as sound was restored to the world was the echo of that word.

  “I thought the goblins were too quiet. Good help is so hard to find these days…” The ogre’s mouth was like a rent in his face; his breath heaved out. His voice was a howl. “You aren’t like that forest dweller from earlier. You came here knowing this was our fortress, seeking to do us violence.” The ogre’s bloodlust was palpable, mesmerizing the adventurers. Golden eyes burned in his head.

  The party members each readied their weapons, dropping into low stances and preparing for a fight. From their ranks, Goblin Slayer said calmly, “What? You’re not a goblin?”

  “I am an ogre! Don’t tell me you didn’t know?!” he bellowed. High Elf Archer took advantage of this exchange to nock an arrow into her short bow.

  An ogre. A man-eater.

  If goblins were driven by a hatred for those who have words, ogres were moved only by their thirst to hunt prey. These faithless, Unpraying creatures struck fear into the hearts of adventurers everywhere. Anyone who had met an ogre and lived to tell the tale spoke of their fearsomeness and strength.

  They said a knight with a sturdy shield died when she tried to block an ogre’s attack, only to find her own shield buried in her head.

  They said a great warrior had challenged an ogre to a hundred-day battle, but that the monster never took a scratch, and after months of combat, Warrior fell exhausted.

  They said a wizard who knew a great many spells had tried to match wits with an ogre but was burned to death when it turned out the ogre knew even more spells than she did.

  Suffice it to say, ogres were stiff opponents even for those of Silver rank. A Porcelain rank, they might just squish like a bug.

  Fear was written on all the party members’ faces. Priestess’s trembling arms caused her sounding staff to rattle in her hands.

  But Goblin Slayer said with profound exasperation, “No. I didn’t know.”

  There was a tremendous cracking sound—the ogre was grinding his teeth. He looked at the warrior before him, in cheap leather armor and a steel helmet, as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

  “You cur! You dare to mock me?! I was granted an army by the Demon Generals—”

  “Hmm…I knew there had to be someone in charge,” Goblin Slayer said, shaking his head. “But I don’t know anything about ogres, or Demon Generals, or whatever.”

  In an excess of fury, the ogre let out a string of unintelligible howls. With every roar, he pounded his war hammer against the walls, shaking the ruins and causing the white stone to crack.

  “Then let me teach you about us, ignorant one!” The monster thrust out his great, pallid left hand and began to recite: “Carbunculus… Crescunt…” A faint light appeared in his palm and spun until it had become a flame. The flame burned red, then gradually white, and finally blue…

  “He’s summoning a Fireball!”

  “…Iacta!”

  Dwarf Shaman shouted his warning just as the ogre finished his spell. A sphere of lethally hot fire came flying through the air, trailing a tail like a comet.

  “Scatter!” High Elf Archer yelped. The obvious thing to do in the face of an area-of-effect spell like this one was to split up so the entire party wasn’t wiped out in one hit. As the party members ran in every direction, one among their number went bounding straight forward.

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

  Priestess stood there, tiny against the great ball of flame, her staff outstretched and her voice raised.

  And the Earth Mother, in her mercy, heard her heartfelt supplication. She granted the miracle of Protection.

  The fireball came up against an invisible wall and hung in the air, roaring as it burned.

  “Hrk…!!” Pressure and heat assailed Priestess, scorching her skin and hands and searing her flesh. Her staff clattered. Sweat beaded on her forehead.

  “O…O Earth…O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, by the power of the land grant safety to we who are weak!” Her lips dry, her lungs burning, Priestess repeated the prayer. But the tremendous heat was gradually melting away the invisible barrier…

  “Ahhh!” Protection was finally overcome by Fireball. The heat had been somewhat lessened by the spell’s long battle with Priestess’s miracle, but still, a powerful, hot wind whipped through the atrium, assaulting the adventurers. Moisture evaporated from the air in an instant, and the blood of all the goblin corpses boiled.

  But it wasn’t enough to cause damage.

  “Haa…ahh…” Priestess was on her knees, her tongue hanging out as she gulped air.

  She was in a state of Overcast—she had said more prayers than she could handle. The ritual connected her directly to heaven but effaced her own soul, and now her face was pale, and she was impossibly cold.

  “I-I-I’m so-so-sorry…!”

  “No,” Goblin Slayer said, taking a step forward and readying his shield. “You saved us.”

  Priestess, bent double, nodded vigorously and clung to her staff. “Good work,” High Elf Archer said, holding her up. “You’ll be all right. Now leave the rest to us.”

  “Detestable little girl!” the ogre said. “Don’t think I will let you have as pleasant an end as that elf!”

  “Think you can handle us? Then come and get her!” High Elf Archer swept in front of Priestess
and loosed the arrow from her still-drawn bow.

  The ogre swung his hammer and gave a resounding war cry.

  “Summon a Dragontooth Warrior,” Goblin Slayer said, his attention never lapsing as he held his shield up for protection. “We need more allies.” The steel helm did not look away from the ogre, and the sword, an inconveniently short thing he’d taken from a goblin, pointed toward the enemy.

  “Well said, milord Goblin Slayer.” Lizard Priest made his strange hands-together gesture, then scattered some small fangs on the ground.

  “O horns and claws of our father, Iguanodon, thy four limbs, become two legs to walk upon the earth!” In an instant, the teeth had risen up into a skeletal warrior.

  Lizard Priest immediately followed this with the Swordclaw prayer: “O sickle wings of Velociraptor, rip and tear, fly and hunt!” The fang he held in his joined hands grew and sharpened before their eyes, until it was the size of a scimitar. The lizardman tossed the newly made weapon to the summoned warrior and drew his own short sword from its sheath.

  “The Dragontooth Warrior and I shall go forth with milord Goblin Slayer! Support us from behind!”

  “Sure as stone!” The dwarf’s reply was as steady as a hammer striking home. He took a handful of clay dust from his pocket and tossed it into the air.

  “Come out, you gnomes, it’s time to work, now don’t you dare your duty shirk—a bit of dust may cause no shock, but a thousand make a lovely rock!”

  “Think I’ll let you get away with that, you tiny troublemaker?” The ogre ran forward, swinging his hammer. Maybe he meant to burst right through the front line to reach the defender in the rear. He had the power for it.

  But he was prevented by the archer, who fired arrow after bud-tipped arrow at him. “Dwarves can learn spells but not how to move their stubby legs, huh?”

  “Urraaaghh!” Every arrow found its mark, and one of those marks was the ogre’s right eye. He stopped in confusion and retreated, holding his face.

  “Pardon me, your long-legged majesty! We’ve all got to fight as the gods made us!”

  In that moment, the dust that had been floating in the air turned into a mass of little rocks that flew at the ogre’s huge body. This was the spell Stone Blast.