by Kumo Kagyu
“IGARARARARAU!” The goblin paladin raised his aluminum sword high, howling a prayer.
“GROAAAB!!” The goblins behind him shouted in response, shaking their weapons and rushing forward. Their eyes were burning, and dirty saliva dripped down from their mouths.
Every shred of rationality was gone now, if indeed they had ever had any.
Lunacy: it was a miracle of battle granted by the god of external knowledge.
The goblins who followed the great paladin were caught up in a whirlpool of insanity. They spared no thought for past or future; their only desire at this moment was to rend the adventurers apart, to crush them underfoot.
The goblins, transformed into a holy army, literally knew no fear. Not even when arrows began to rain noiselessly down upon those in the vanguard, felling them. The goblins simply trampled the corpses into the snow, their zeal undiminished.
“This is why I hate goblins. Numbers are the only thing they’ve got!” High Elf Archer drew a bud-tipped arrow with a delicate movement, letting it loose even as she turned back to quip to her friends. Despite her failure to aim carefully, the arrow couldn’t miss its mark.
A skill so sufficiently developed was indistinguishable from magic.
“Then again, I do love these big open spaces for shooting! None of those cramped interiors!”
“Just watch what you wish for…!” Dwarf Shaman snapped.
“If you’ve got breath to talk, then you’ve got breath to run! Faster!”
“I’m runnin’! Fast as I can!”
The dwarf’s stubby legs made him the slowest runner in the party, even when he was going flat out. Then again, the entire party was moving somewhat slower than normal.
“What about you?” Dwarf Shaman asked. “How’s that leg holding up?”
“Honestly? It still hurts a bit.” Her leg, as slim as a deer’s, had been hit with an arrow not that long ago. High Elf Archer squinted one eye shut in distress, then loosed another bolt.
“I aver that at this rate, I do believe they will catch us,” Lizard Priest said. His movements were slowed by the cold, and needless to say, he was still hauling the former prisoners. He had summoned a Dragontooth Warrior and entrusted one or two of the girls to it, but it was not much faster than he was.
“The enemy ranks have thinned. I might recommend allowing me to face them alone.”
“N-no! You can’t!” Priestess, not normally so confrontational, shook her head vigorously. “It’s one thing to do something outrageous or unbelievable when it helps you win, but it won’t work this time…!”
One wondered if she realized she was all but repeating one of Goblin Slayer’s favorite sayings.
A stamina potion helped somewhat, but it could not completely restore physical strength. They had left the village, marched through the snow, spent the entire night assaulting a fortress, and were now engaged in another battle without ever having had the chance to rest. Fatigue dulled the mind, a dull mind led to mistakes, and mistakes, in this case, led to death.
“Gracious… Were it just slightly warmer, I could at least move more effectively.”
“No, you mustn’t—oh.” Priestess recalled something she had in her bag. She dug into her pouch and pulled out a ring. “This is the ring Goblin Slayer gave me, the one that bestows Breathe. It won’t help much, but—”
“Anything is more than nothing. I receive it gratefully.” Lizard Priest was still running, still carrying the prisoners, but he managed to slip Priestess’s ring onto one scaly finger.
The moment he did so, he made an impressed sound; the effect was that immediate and noticeable. It was not, however, enough to significantly change the situation.
What to do now?
Only one of them had large-scale firepower. Noble Fencer allowed the magical power to begin flowing through her.
“I’ll use Lightning to—”
“No.” Goblin Slayer rejected the plan forthrightly. “There will be a time to use it, but not now.”
“…?”
Noble Fencer gave him a questioning look as they ran along. His face was, as ever, hidden behind his mask, and she had no idea what he might be thinking.
He slipped off his gloves, massaged his fingers as if to loosen them up, then put his gauntlets back on.
“I’ll take rear guard. You back me up.”
“Right on it!” Dwarf Shaman said, as surely as a hammer forging a sword. Backup and support were what spell casters excelled at. “What’s snow but water? And what goes better with water than dirt?”
He spun like a top, barely glancing at the goblins as he slammed his hands down on the snowy ground. In each hand was a ball of mud, which would be a suitable catalyst.
“Gnomes! Undines! Make for me the finest cushion you will see!”
With a shlorp, the ground softened up. The snow melted away before their eyes, turning into water; it mixed with the soft earth and soon became a field of mud.
Snare: so long as it was cast in the opposite direction, it wouldn’t affect the adventurers. It caught only the goblins.
“GAROBA?!”
“ORAG?!”
The first creatures to arrive would tumble, flailing their arms, their feet stuck in the mud. They would then promptly be trampled by their companions. It would serve to reduce the enemy’s numbers slightly and slow them down a bit. Or should have.
“ORAGARARAU!!”
At that moment, however, the goblin paladin’s prayer rang out across the battlefield. And behold! The goblins, surrounded by a pale light, walked easily through the mud!
“Wh-wha…?!”
Dwarf Shaman was agog at this. Such a thing would never have happened were their opponents ordinary goblins. But these had a goblin paladin to lead them.
It must have been the Counterspell miracle.
“Gaaah!” Dwarf Shaman exclaimed. “Stupid, sneaky goblins!”
“Looks like we’ll have to let my arrows do the talking,” High Elf Archer said, launching a bolt at the oncoming goblin army. It flew in between the ranks of the monsters, as if threading a needle, straight toward the paladin…
“GAROARO?!”
“…Oh!” High Elf Archer clicked her tongue. Another goblin had jumped in front of the leader, sacrificing himself. “Ahh, darnit! I had him just where I wanted him, too!”
“The enemy numbers have been reduced. I’ll switch with you,” Goblin Slayer said, moving quickly to the back of the formation. With a casual swipe, he beheaded a goblin who had gotten too close.
He threw his sword at the next oncoming creature, kicking a spear at his feet up into his hand.
“Eight, nine.” He gave a thrust to check the weapon, then glanced over his shoulder and resumed retreating. “We can’t go straight into the village with them behind us. I recall there was a valley on the way.”
“If memory serves, it’s not too far,” Lizard Priest said.
“We’ll go there, then.”
He looked back, flinging his spear. It pierced the chest armor of a goblin up front, pinning him to the snowy ground.
“What’d I tell you, Beard-cutter?”
“Sorry.”
Dwarf Shaman pulled another sword out of the bundle he was carrying and tossed it to Goblin Slayer. Fighting this way, leaving the enemy corpses—and their equipment—behind, was tricky because it meant a less steady flow of armaments.
Goblin Slayer cut down one or two goblins, then, when the blade became dulled with fat and blood, he flipped it into a reverse grip.
“Hrk…!” There was a muffled crunch as he used the hilt and handle to crack a goblin’s skull. He held the blade in gloved hands, wielding it like a hammer, killing the goblin in a single blow.
“Thirteen!”
He wiped the brains off his improvised weapon and moved to strike the next monster. The whole hilt ended up buried in the chest plate of the goblin’s ostentatious leather armor; the creature fell so heavily that Goblin Slayer simply let go of the sword.
“Does it matter?” High Elf Archer shouted. “Just pick one!” It was her speed and skill that bought them the time to switch weapons; she drew three arrows from her quiver and fired them almost faster than the eye could see. Three goblins were shot through almost simultaneously and died so quickly that they didn’t even cry out as they collapsed to the ground.
That made sixteen.
Goblin Slayer didn’t hesitate. “I need something long.”
“That’d be the shovel, then!”
He caught the spade Dwarf Shaman tossed to him, swinging and striking with it, thrusting, the goblin corpses mounting.
Trying to make the most of the precious time they had been bought, the two young women moved around behind Lizard Priest.
“Just keep moving…!”
“…ngh.”
Priestess said. Noble Fencer only made a grunt of exertion.
“My thanks…!” Lizard Priest said. The girls were pushing him along from behind with their small bodies. As for the Dragontooth Warrior, silently carrying the prisoners, the party had never been so grateful for the familiar.
Goblin Slayer, wielding the shovel like a spear, slew another goblin.
“Nineteen!”
Six adventurers and four rescued prisoners against a veritable tidal wave of goblins led by a paladin: that was the nature of the fighting retreat down the snowy mountain. Everyone involved was utterly committed, ready to battle to the death. Their breath showed white in the chill air, obscuring their vision. Their feet were beginning to go numb from the snow, yet their bodies were hot.
The sword had brought down twenty goblins, then High Elf Archer’s arrows raised the total to twenty-four; Goblin Slayer had picked up an ax for the twenty-fifth and twenty-sixth, then thrown a hatchet for twenty-seven, which was followed by another arrow.
This battle, which had begun with the rising of the sun, had so far yielded thirty goblin corpses, and showed no signs of stopping yet. The halo of morning light shone on snow streaked red with goblin blood, running in great lines as if it had been laid down by an artist’s brush.
The struggle was desperate; it would not end until one side, adventurers or goblins, had been killed to the last person. That was the grim truth of goblin slaying.
“Go on ahead,” Goblin Slayer said as they came to the mouth of the valley.
The words as such might sound like he was volunteering to sacrifice himself, urging the others to leave him behind and escape while they could. Yet there was no sound of anything so tragic in his voice, which was as cool and dispassionate as ever.
“I will break them here.” His declaration elicited a look from the entire party.
“Can—can you indeed?” Lizard Priest asked. He had shifted his two prisoners so he was holding them in front of himself. If the need became great, he could shield them with his back.
“I can. I have no intention of letting them reach the village.”
After this brief answer, Goblin Slayer nodded at Dwarf Shaman. The dwarf gave a weary chuckle and shrugged. “Sorry, Beard-cutter, that was my last weapon.”
“Then, milord Goblin Slayer, take mine.”
“Thank you.”
In place of one of Dwarf Shaman’s armaments, he received a fang blade with Sharp Tooth, a sharpening spell, cast upon it. It was the fourth and final miracle Lizard Priest could perform.
High Elf Archer, who had been firing shots as fast as she could load them, let out a sigh. “I’d like to back you up, but… Do you happen to have any arrows, Orcbolg?”
The elves were friends of the forest; if there had been so much as a leafy branch in sight she could have made a bolt for herself. But in the whole silvery-white world, there was no tree to be found.
“Use my sling,” Goblin Slayer said, pulling a bag out of his item pouch even as he gave the fang sword a few tentative swipes.
High Elf Archer caught the bag out of the air, hearing the sound of rocks inside as she did so.
“I’m not much for slinging…” There was a frown on her face and a droop in her ears. Still, she knew she had no choice, and she wrapped a stone in the sling.
“You don’t like it because you’re no good at it,” Dwarf Shaman said with a chuckle. “I think it’s time I piled on the spells myself, Beard-cutter. What do you say?”
“I doubt there’s any purpose in continuing to conserve them. Do as you see fit!”
Dwarf Shaman laid down another Snare. The goblin paladin would simply use Counterspell again, but at least he would be forced to waste one of his miracles. It wouldn’t slow down the horde much, but it might buy the adventurers just a few precious moments…
Goblin Slayer was taking a deep breath in when Priestess ran up.
“Goblin Slayer, sir, here’s a potion…”
“Thanks. Save your miracle.”
“Of course. You trusted me to know when to use it.”
He popped the cap off the bottle she handed him and drank it down. As he did so, Priestess busied herself checking the fasteners of his armor, brushing away any snow or dirt that might impede his movements. Then she made a sign and began to pray.
“O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy. May your blessings be upon us…”
This prayer would lead to no miracle; it was just a prayer, a benediction. Yet Goblin Slayer by no means saw it as useless or meaningless. He had never been so arrogant as to refuse anything that someone might do for him.
He tossed the little bottle into the snow as he felt the effects of the potion spreading through his body. He tilted his steel helmet as if unsure what to say; he stared at the goblin horde growing ever closer.
Finally, he said only, “There is a way.”
“Yes, sir,” Priestess replied. She didn’t question him: not out of love, or dependency, or blind obedience. It was simple faith—a belief in Goblin Slayer, the man before her.
He returned the level gaze she gave him. And then he nodded. That was enough.
“I’ll leave it to you when to use Protection. And…” His gaze drifted slowly toward Noble Fencer.
“……”
Her generous chest heaved as she sucked in breath, but she was getting her breathing under control. Preparing to use magic, perhaps. Goblin Slayer could guess that much.
No need for him to spell out the details, then.
“When I give the signal, fire.”
She nodded, sending a ripple through her honey-colored hair. He added one or two things further. At first Noble Fencer looked at him without comprehension, but then she said, “…I understand.”
That was all he needed to hear.
In just a short time, he had done what needed to be done.
Now, there was nothing more to do.
Goblin Slayer looked up at the sky. Were the heavenly hands still rolling the dice up there?
“Let’s begin, then.”
No sooner had he spoken than Goblin Slayer set off at a run through the snow. He was heading for the goblin army. The party nodded to one another, then started to get distance, rescued prisoners in tow.
Rocks from High Elf Archer’s sling went whistling by. One, then two. She was unpracticed at it, but goblins went down under her barrage, and that was enough.
Then Goblin Slayer’s inevitable opponent emerged.
“IGARURUARARA!!”
The goblin paladin.
“Hrmph!”
“IGRUAA!!”
So battle was joined a second time. There was a ringing of metal on metal as their swords met, sparks scattering over the snowy field. The paladin’s aluminum sword beat down Goblin Slayer’s outstretched fang blade.
Fwsh! At their feet, snow rose up like haze. The paladin rushed at Goblin Slayer again, but the warrior swept his attack aside and drew back. Goblin Slayer thrust in retort, but his blade was slapped down again by the aluminum sword.
“So you’ve learned.”
; “IGAROU!”
Goblin Slayer kicked snow straight in the howling goblin paladin’s yammering face.
The monster fell back, blinded and gibbering. Goblin Slayer dealt him a blow with his shield.
However, a ringing of metal was the only result.
The goblin paladin had a shield as well. He was hardly making the most use of it, but he had brought it up in time to repel the attack.
“…!”
“GROOB!!”
The two of them shoved their shields against each other, circling. Their breath came out swirled and white.
Goblin Slayer had the advantage in physical strength, but the paladin’s small size was intimidating in its own right. The creature struck out at Goblin Slayer’s shin with his sword, but the adventurer jumped back, out of range.
He kept his eyes fixed on his opponent, whose breath steamed, even as he fought to keep his footing on the slippery snow and adjusted his grip on the hilt of his weapon with one soaking hand.
“GRARAB!!”
“Hrk?!”
There was a muffled thunk, and an arrow bounced off his head. It must have come from one of the goblin archers—their army was getting closer.
This was why a helmet was so important.
He shook his head to clear the echo of the impact, then took stock of the situation.
“Where’s your honor?!” High Elf Archer demanded, letting loose another rock. It flew over the archer’s head, striking the goblin behind him. The elf clucked her tongue and fired another missile, this time nailing her target in the shoulder, breaking the bone.
“GRAORURURU…!”
She was hardly in a position, however, to keep the entire goblin horde at bay. The army was watching the goblin paladin’s fight, but that was only because it proved an amusing diversion for them.
It did not mean that the effects of Lunacy had worn off. They were simply waiting, secure in the knowledge that whether the adventurer was victorious or was killed, the outcome would not change. Goblins naturally had no sense of what we might call the “knightly virtues.” Their logic was dictated only by the changing circumstances in front of them. Whether victory or defeat awaited this challenger, they would fall upon him the moment the combat was decided.