Goblin Slayer, Vol. 1

by Kumo Kagyu

  “Man! Not only do I get to make some serious cash; I get to impress my girl!” With these tactics in hand, goblins were simple to deal with so long as they could be forced into one-on-one battles. Spearman and the other warriors thrust their weapons left and right, everywhere finding a goblin to kill.

  Deep within the enemy ranks, however, they could see a vast form tower up, silhouetted against the moon.

  “There it is! A hob— Wait, is it?”

  “GURAURAURAURAURAUUUU!!”

  The great roar rolled across the bloodied battlefield.

  The creature was so large it could have been taken for an ogre. It held a club stained with blood and brains. A goblin champion.

  A goblin, yes, but one so powerful it could single-handedly turn the tide of battle.

  Far be it for any adventurer, though, to back down from a challenge just because it was twice their size and carried a big stick.

  “Ahhh, there’s the big one! I was getting tired of these small-fries!” The heavy warrior was the first to dive at the champion, with his weapon on his shoulder and a wild laugh on his lips. Rolling her eyes, Knight followed him, with her shield up.

  “Just when I was busy counting up how many goblin heads I’d collected,” she said.

  “Count ’em later! Fight now!”

  “You warriors have such one-track minds.” With this banter, they happily jumped into battle against the new foe.

  All over the field, weapons rang against one another, and blood spurted into the air.

  “And where is our fearless leader in all this?” Spearman asked, as he stopped to wipe the point of his spear on a wolf’s fur. His breath was growing ragged.

  Across the field, a new dark mass had appeared.

  Goblin reinforcements. There was no time to rest. He held his spear close and made ready.

  “Oh, I think, you know, the answer, to that,” Witch whispered in a honeyed voice, as she took a long draw on her pipe and slowly let out her breath. Sweet-smelling pink vapor floated on the wind, and every goblin who breathed it in found their senses dulled. In the distance, the reinforcements began to move more slowly as well.

  “Obviously,” High Elf Archer said with a laugh, firing at the stupefied foes. “He’s gone to slay goblins.”

  How could this have happened?!

  The goblin lord ran so quickly he was almost stumbling. As soon as he had realized there was no chance of victory, he had fled the battlefield. Behind him, he could hear weapons clanging, screams, the sound of spells reverberating.

  Some of those screams must have been adventurers. But most were goblins.

  This was supposed to be a surprise attack to establish a foothold in the area. And yet…

  It is we who take! So how did this happen?!

  His horde was lost. With his forces checked, there was no point in hanging around.

  As long as he survived, that was all that mattered.

  He would go back to the nest, use the captured women there to build up his ranks.

  Just like before.

  The goblin lord was a Wanderer, the lone survivor of a nest destroyed by adventurers. Now, he lived only to slay adventurers.

  It’s not so hard.

  His first victim had been the woman who had spared him “because he was just a child.” She had become food for him as soon as she turned her back.

  He had learned then that if you hit an adventurer hard enough on the head with a rock, they became quite pliant. When he found out a club was more effective still, he used that. Then, he had learned to use weapons and wear armor. From the way adventurers formed their parties, he gleaned the best ways to lead a horde.

  His long days of drifting had trained his body and mind until he was a match even for a human warrior.

  This would be the same.

  Beneath the two moons, the lord turned away from the battle and ran for his life.

  Through the grass, kicking up earth, toward the forest. Into the forest. There was a cave there. His nest.

  He had failed. But so long as he lived, there would be another chance.

  He would learn, and replenish his ranks, and the next time would be better. The next time—

  “I knew you would come here.”

  A calm, cold, almost mechanical voice caught him. Unthinkingly, the goblin lord stopped in his tracks. He readied the battle-ax he held in his hand.

  His eyes could pick out the figure standing before him in the dark. It was an adventurer in cheap leather armor and a steel helmet. A small shield bound to his left arm, and in his right hand, a sword almost too long to wield. He was spattered with blood from killing, standing in a nauseating puddle of it.

  “Fool. I see both of us used our armies as decoys.”

  The lord could speak the common tongue, though he despised it. He did not know who this adventurer was. But it was all too clear what had happened.

  “Your home is no more.”

  “ORGRRRRRR!!”

  The lord gave an earsplitting yell and leaped at Goblin Slayer. The lord brought his ax down in an arc, meaning to split the adventurer’s skull open, but Goblin Slayer blocked the blow with his shield. There was a noise of rending metal.

  Goblin Slayer gave a great shake of the shield and pushed the ax aside, then made a sharp thrust with his sword.

  “Hrm!” he muttered.

  The tip of his sword struck the lord in the chest but made only a dull thump. The goblin was wearing a chest plate.

  Goblin Slayer was unfazed but frozen for a second, and in that moment, the ax came at him from the side.

  An instant’s decision. He flung himself to the side, rolling to avoid the blow. He rose to one knee, panting.

  “…”

  Goblin Slayer stood and rolled his sword slowly in his hand, holding his shield before him.

  “GRRRR…”

  The lord made a sound of disgust and gripped his battle-ax with both hands.

  The gulf between them in strength and armament was immense.

  His wounds from before. The month of recuperating. He had needed that time to heal, and yet…

  Goblin Slayer was acutely aware that his skills had dulled. It would not be a problem, however. He would not let it be a problem. There was a goblin in front of him. That was all he needed.

  “…!”

  Goblin Slayer loosed himself like an arrow upon his foe.

  He moved in a low stance; with his left hand, he grabbed a fistful of grass, cut it free, and threw it at the goblin lord.

  In the second it took the lord to wave away the cloud of grass, Goblin Slayer thrust with his sword.

  Blood flying, a scream.

  “GARUARAARARAA?!” The lord swung his battle-ax in a frenzy, bleeding from the forehead. Before an observer could have clucked their tongue, a strike connected with Goblin Slayer.

  He felt himself floating through the air—and then landing painfully on the ground.

  “Oof! Agh…” The hard earth met his back, forcing the air from his lungs. He saw his shield had been split nearly in half.

  His skills may have rusted, but his muscles still remembered their part. The shield he had instinctively raised had saved his life again.

  “They’re no good at frontal attacks…,” he muttered, rising, supporting himself on his sword.

  “GAROOOO!!”

  The goblin lord was not going to miss his chance. He came charging through the grass.

  Goblin Slayer gave a small nod. He held his sword high, raised his battered shield, and faced the lord head-on.

  An instant later, he was dashing at the enemy.

  The goblin lord’s battle-ax came whistling through the air. Goblin Slayer held up his shield to meet it and thrust with his sword.

  Impact.

  The ax split the shield in two and bit deep into Goblin Slayer’s arm. The adventurer went flying once more.

  But in the same moment, his sword had sliced into the goblin’s belly, which now gushed blood onto the dark
field.

  “GAU…”

  But the wound was hardly fatal. The lord frowned angrily.

  “Ugh, hrk…?!” Goblin Slayer scrambled to get up out of the dirt. But he couldn’t stand. He tried to use his sword to heft himself up, but it was broken.

  “GURRR…” The goblin sounded almost bored. At least he would have his revenge for his fallen troops. He would cut off this man’s hands and feet, tie him to a post, and torture him to death. As he envisioned this grim future, the goblin lord began to cackle, then stalked slowly toward his prey.

  He gave a vicious kick to Goblin Slayer’s motionless helmet.

  Silence.

  The lord was not pleased. Prey were supposed to cower at the moment of death.

  But so be it.

  Death would put an end to this. To everything. Perhaps tonight he would have to be content with that.

  The goblin lord raised his battle-ax slowly.

  Crack.

  The next second, the ax was thrown backward.

  “GAU…?”

  Had he hit a tree root or something? The lord looked back in frustration, but there was nothing there. The nearest trees stood some distance away.

  “GA, RRR…?!”

  This time as he attempted to bring his weapon down, the lord found the ax would not move at all. No—it was his own body that was not answering his commands. His bones creaked like something was pushing against him. Like he was trapped between two invisible walls.

  “GA, GAO…?!”

  The lord’s eyes swept back and forth; he could not even fidget.

  What was…? What was going on…?!

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

  The answer to his question came in the form of a miraculously clear voice intoning a prayer.

  A beautiful young woman walked out of the nearby copse. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and in her trembling hands was a sounding staff.

  A young priestess praying fervently to the Earth Mother.

  This is her doing!

  “GAAAAUUAUAUAUAUAAA!!”

  The goblin lord howled every vile threat he knew at her. He would tear off her limbs and make her eat them! No, he would pound a spike so far up her ass it came out her mouth! He would break her fingers into tiny pieces one by one, burn her face until no one could recognize her…

  She looked so frail. Surely a bit of intimidation was all it would take to scare her off…

  “…!”

  But he was wrong.

  Face pale, biting her lip, Priestess still held out her quaking staff.

  The lord began to worry.

  “GA…RO…?”

  Perhaps this girl was not quite what she seemed.

  A change of tactics, then. The lord put on his most pitiful expression and begged for forgiveness. He would never do such a thing again. He had been wrong, so wrong. He would go and live quietly in the woods, never see a human village again. Please forgive him. Please.

  He babbled on in his pathetic version of the common tongue. Had it been possible, he might have thrown himself at her feet.

  It wouldn’t be the first time he had convinced an adventurer to spare his life through a show of repentance.

  The first time was long before he had become a lord—in fact, he had still been a child. Come to think of it, that adventurer had been a woman, too. “All right,” she had said, “but you must never do this sort of thing again.” He had agreed eagerly. And then, of course, murdered her as soon as she turned around.

  He took a black joy from his memory of that woman begging for help as he stabbed her to death. She had thought she was strong.

  If he could live now, there would yet be time to plot his revenge.

  And first of all, I will take this girl!

  “As if I would ever let you.” A cold voice rang out, bit into him.

  “GA, RR…?!”

  The voice sent ice through his veins like a wind from the bowels of the earth.

  Goblin Slayer came slowly to his feet.

  His left arm dribbled blood. In his left hand, he held his cloven shield. In his right, his broken sword.

  He strode boldly toward the goblin lord. He pushed his sword into the side of the paralyzed goblin’s neck.

  “GA…GO…?!”

  The broken weapon could not cut or pierce.

  But it could crush. The creature gibbered nonsensically as the blade pressed on his windpipe.

  “A lord? Ridiculous.” The lord tried desperately to struggle.

  “You’re a goblin.”

  The goblin opened his mouth, fighting for air.

  “Just a filthy…”

  But he could do nothing.

  “…worthless goblin.”

  The lord’s face changed color, and his tongue lolled out. Spittle foamed at the edge of his mouth; his eyes rolled upward in his head.

  “And I…”

  As the lord felt consciousness slipping away, a question rose in his vanishing mind.

  What? What are you?

  “…am Goblin Slayer!”

  The creature’s eyes remained rolled at the back of his head. The goblin who would be king spasmed once, twice, and died. There was a long silence.

  “That’s one…goblin head…”

  Goblin Slayer’s sword dropped from his hand even as the words fell from his lips. Then he slumped forward as though his strings had been cut.

  Priestess tossed her staff aside, rushed forward, and caught him. “Goblin Slayer, sir!” He was so heavy in her thin arms, covered in leather and metal and mud and blood.

  A moment later, the Protection miracle faded, and the goblin lord’s body collapsed next to Goblin Slayer’s. Priestess did not glance at it but looked over Goblin Slayer’s wounds. There was a deep gash in his left arm. In the worst case, it might go all the way down to the bone.

  “Please…don’t do these foolish things…”

  “…Urgh…”

  She put his groan out of mind as she pressed her palms to his wound, ignoring the blood that stained her hands.

  “O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, lay your revered hand upon your child’s wounds…”

  The prayer was soul-effacing, intent, and heartfelt.

  What happened on that first adventure…? I never want it to happen again…

  The Earth Mother graciously heard her supplication and touched Goblin Slayer’s arm with her shining finger. This was how Priestess used her remaining miracle.

  He had told her that he would distract the goblin lord while she used Protection.

  She was no longer disturbed by the thought of using two Protection miracles in tandem, not to guard her target, but to trap it. But she had not added the third Protection miracle as he had instructed.

  Perhaps it was a revelation that kept her from exhausting her miracles. For if she had, the life of this man—this strange, stubborn, serious man—would have ended here.

  “…Grief. I told you already…”

  “Goblin Slayer, sir!”

  To the rough voice that reached up to her, she answered with tears in her eyes.

  “…Foolishness isn’t what wins battles.”

  Goblin Slayer sat up painfully. Priestess helped him as best she could, wedging herself under his arm. He had been almost too heavy to hold. Now she tried to help lift him to his feet. Struggling to grasp him with her willowy, beautiful arms, Priestess supported him on her shoulder and stood.

  “You may…say that…”

  “…”

  “…But I think…you need to be more careful…!”

  “I do?”

  She was silent.

  “…I’m sorry.”

  Sniffling, sobbing, Priestess shook her head vehemently.

  Step by tearstained step, she began walking slowly, certainly forward.

  Taking care to take as much of his weight off her as he could, Goblin Slayer said calmly, “It was because I trust you.”

&
nbsp; Priestess smiled through the tears that ran down her cheeks. “…You really are hopeless, aren’t you?”

  She thought of her companions who had died on their first adventure together. She thought of the adventurers who were bleeding and dying even now. She thought of the goblins that had been killed. She thought of the goblin lord who had died before her eyes.

  As all these things spun in her mind, she became aware of the weight of the man leaning on her. It was all she could do to hold him up with her exhausted body.

  She advanced one laborious step at a time, barely moving. The sounds of battle were far away, and the lights of the city farther still.

  But with every step, her heart was glad.

  “To our victory, to the farm, to our city, to our adventurers—”

  High Elf Archer looked around at all her allies who had gathered at the Guild Hall, each with their various injuries.

  “—and to the weirdo who’s always on about goblins! Cheers!”

  A great shout went up from the crowd, and everyone drained their cup. This was the fifth or sixth toast, but nobody minded. They had come to the Guild Hall practically before the blood was dry from the battle, and they were giddy with victory.

  And what a victory it was.

  A hundred goblins destroyed. The goblins had had shamans, champions, and more on their side, and still they had been no match for the adventurers.

  Of course, the adventurers had not escaped unscathed. There were dead and wounded. There are always those caught by ill luck. So the commotion here was not only in celebration of victory but in remembrance of fallen friends. Everyone who took up adventuring knew that tomorrow it could be them.

  When the battle ended, Cow Girl and her uncle were caught up in the festivities as well, and the revelry quickly grew and spread.

  He—as always—sat on a bench in the corner near the wall.

  His left arm was bandaged to his chest, but the pain seemed to have gone. He watched the party in the reflection on the shining surface of a single gold coin.

  Dwarf Shaman had produced his personal stash of fire wine and was sharing it around. More than one rookie found themselves three sheets to the wind before they’d finished an entire cup.