Copyright


GOBLIN SLAYER

KUMO KAGYU

Translation by Kevin Steinbach

Cover art by Noboru Kannatuki

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

GOBLIN SLAYER vol. 2

Copyright © 2016 Kumo Kagyu

Illustrations copyright © 2016 Noboru Kannatuki

All rights reserved.

Original Japanese edition published in 2016 by SB Creative Corp.

This English edition is published by arrangement with SB Creative Corp., Tokyo, in care of Tuttle-Mori Agency, Inc., Tokyo.

English translation © 2017 by Yen Press, LLC

Yen Press, LLC supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

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Library of Congress Cataloging.in.Publication Data

Names: Kagyū, Kumo, author. | Kannatuki, Noboru, illustrator.

Title: Goblin slayer / Kumo Kagyu ; illustration by Noboru Kannatuki.

Other titles: Goburin sureiyā. English

Description: New York, NY : Yen On, 2016–

Identifiers: LCCN 2016033529 | ISBN 9780316501590 (v. 1 : paperback) | ISBN 9780316553223 (v. 2 : paperback)

Subjects: LCSH: Goblins—Fiction. | GSAFD: Fantasy fiction.

Classification: LCC PL872.5.A367 G6313 2016 | DDC 895.63/6—dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016033529

ISBN: 978-0-316-55322-3 (paperback)

978-0-316-55325-4 (ebook)

E3-20170321-JV-PC





Contents


Cover

Insert

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter 1: Adventures and Daily Life

Interlude: Of the Gods Making Merry

Chapter 2: Goblin Slayer in the Water Town

Interlude: Of the Two of Them, Then

Chapter 3: Random Encounter

Interlude: Of the Young King

Chapter 4: Between Adventures

Chapter 5: Onward Unto Death

Chapter 6: Riddles

Chapter 7: Whispers and Prayers and Chants

Interlude: Of an Adventurer Quite Meddling with Other Adventurers

Chapter 8: A Moment’s Rest

Interlude: Of the Slaying of the Evil Sect

Chapter 9: The Monster That Must Not Be Named

Chapter 10: City Ruins and Magical Traps

Chapter 11: There and Back Again

Afterword

Yen Newsletter





Unto eternity her name shall shine

Sword Maiden, beloved of the Supreme One

A saint, one of the six Golds

In her hands, the scales of justice

And the sword of power


Because word-havers far and near adore her

Her prayers shall call

Divine miracles forth

And she shall fight alongside six Golds

To quell the Demon Gods


This duty discharged, she shall

Become the keeper of the law

Unto eternity her name shall shine

Sword Maiden, beloved of the Supreme One…





“If you don’t like it, you can go home.”

A clear voice rang out in the forest, which stood dark even at noon.

Trees, moss, ivy. This was a world where one trod on the bones of derelict chalkstone buildings, a place ruled by plants so profuse they ran all together. The ruins of a great city, perhaps built in the Age of the Gods—or at least in the first age of those who have words.

Even the elves reputedly acknowledge that no thing endures under the weight of months and years, and yet…

This scene was especially sad. Cracks ran roughshod over elaborate carvings; stone floors once flush now lay shattered. Through the branches that stretched overhead like a ceiling, a thin, dappled light, not enough to see by, seeped in. This place had been a city once—but now it was nothing, a ruin. Only the trees and plants lived here now.

Through this landscape marched five figures in single file, loaded with every imaginable item. They were, of course, adventurers.

The voice belonged to the young woman at their head, charged with scouting. Her long ears, the proof that she was a high elf, quivered.

“It doesn’t mean anything if you force it.”

“What doesn’t?” The response was curt, the voice almost mechanical.

It came from the second in line—a human warrior in a dirty helmet and leather armor. At his hip was a sword that seemed a strange length; on his arm was a small, round shield; and by his waist hung a bag filled with all odds and ends.

It was slightly better equipment than the latest starry-eyed youth from the country might have. But only just. He didn’t look like much. Yet his footsteps, the way he carried himself, radiated assurance.

As warriors go, he would have made a strange impression on anyone watching.

“This adventure!” High Elf Archer didn’t turn around. Her long ears flitted up and down restlessly.

Many elves were born rangers. They were scouts on a par with rheas, even if it wasn’t their main class.

She jumped over a protruding tree root with such ease that she seemed to weigh nothing at all.

“I don’t not like it,” the warrior said.

High Elf Archer’s ears jumped.

“This was what we agreed. I will not refuse to pay what I owe,” he continued.

Her ears drooped again.

The third person in line sighed at the man’s words.

Small, young, inexperienced, and the most beautiful in the group—a human girl. She gripped a sounding staff with both hands and wore the clergy’s vestments over her chain mail. She was a priestess.

She shook a reproving finger at the warrior, as if to say, It can’t be helped.

“Now, that won’t do. You need a better attitude.”

“…Do I?”

“Yes, you do. Just when she’s being so thoughtful of you and all!”

“Is that so…?” the warrior murmured, then went quiet. His expression was hidden behind his helmet. A short deliberation later, he turned his grim visor toward the elf and asked her directly, “Is it true?”

“Could you not ask that?” High Elf Archer said, puffing out her cheeks.

In reality, ever since she had requested “an adventure” as her reward for helping the warrior defend a certain farm, the elf had been in quite a merry mood.

Whether she would admit as much aloud, though, was another question.

“Ahh, give it up!” A rotund dwarf stroked his beard, giving a sincere chuckle.

He was fourth in line, a magic user, dressed in an Eastern style—Dwarf Shaman. He was even shorter than Priestess but built like a boulder. Conventional wisdom held that spell casters were weak, but dwarves were different.

Not that the brevity of his limbs was never a problem. Forging along animal trails was a particular hurdle for him.

“This is Beard-cutter here. Hardheadedness is nothing new with him.”

“…I guess so. Orcbolg is stubborn.” With that, High Elf Archer heaved a sigh. “Much as I hate to admit a dwarf is right about something.”

Dwarf Shaman gave an annoyed “hmph,” then smiled smugly. “How d’you expect to find a man with that kind of talk? You’ll be a two-thousand-year-old spinster!”

“Hrk!” Her ears jerked. “I don’t care. Why should I care? Anyway, I’m still young.”

“Oh, are you?” said Dwarf Shaman, his smile deepening as though he had found the opening he was looking for. “I should’ve known—judging by that anvil you’ve got for a chest!”

“This from a walking barrel!”

High Elf Archer’s lovely eyebrows bristled. She spun around and glared at the dwarf. Covering her rather flat chest with her arms, she opened her mouth to shoot back—

—but was interrupted by a hissing breath.

“The inhabitants of this land may have gone to the far side of time, but perhaps some decorum is warranted.”

The speaker was a lizardman with a talisman around his neck.

He was the tail—literally and figuratively, with his swishing behind him—of the formation. He was a giant, his breath wheezing out from his jaws. Wearing the traditional garments of his people and joining his hands in strange gestures, he was a lizard priest, who followed his forebears, the fearsome nagas.

“These lands are not the purview of people. Let caution abide, and do not invite trouble.”

“Hrm. Perhaps she was being a bit loud.”

“Hrk! What? It’s your fault for—”

“My dear ranger, please,” implored Lizard Priest.

The words starting it died on her lips.

Lizard Priest wasn’t the leader of the party, as such, but High Elf Archer didn’t have it in her to go against that imposing visage.

“Perhaps you could proceed. Climbing over that root looks apt to be a challenge.”

“…Yes, sir.”

“And dear spell caster, it will not do to distract our scout.”

“I know, I know.”

Dwarf Shaman didn’t seem to notice how High Elf Archer’s ears drooped under the withering reproof.

Meanwhile, Lizard Priest rolled his eyes in exasperation.

Priestess giggled, almost without meaning to. She liked how lively High Elf Archer and Dwarf Shaman got when they fought.

It’s nice that they’re friends enough to argue like that.

“Hyup!”

High Elf Archer vaulted over the tree root almost as tall as she was, in one, two, three steps, in an acrobatic display beyond what most people were capable of.

“You’re practiced at that,” the warrior, who had been watching, said quietly.

“Oh, you can tell?”

Along with High Elf Archer’s satisfied answer, a climbing rope sailed back over the obstacle.

The warrior gave it two or three exploratory tugs, then planted his feet on the root and began to pull himself up.

He climbed with a speed and lightness that belied all the armor he was wearing. Maybe this was what came of a life in the outdoors.

“All right. This will do.” From atop the root, his helmet turned as he looked down. “Next.”

“Oh—right!”

Priestess nodded several times and followed him.

She transferred her staff to her back and began to climb uncertainly, leaning intently against the root to support herself.

“But… Hrgh… To think a city this big could turn to ruins… Yikes!”

“Be careful.”

Vwoop. Priestess slipped on some moss and nearly fell, but the warrior grasped her wrist and pulled her up.

Her arm was so thin, it looked like the leather-gloved hand might break it in half.

“Th-thank you…,” she said in a vanishingly small voice, looking down at the root and blushing.

She rubbed her slightly sore wrist. Not that she was complaining.

“If you’re not hurt, we’re going down.”

“Right.”

Priestess made her way over the root, the warrior holding her hand to support her.

Once they were safely on the ground, High Elf Archer cocked her head and asked, “Everything all right?”

“Yes… I just…need to build up my strength a bit more…”

“Well, don’t go crazy,” the elf said with a flick of her ears. She narrowed her eyes and gave Priestess a meaningful look up and down. “You wouldn’t want to end up built like a dwarf.”

“I can hear you, long-ears! And I keep telling you, I’m just average for a dwarf!” Dwarf Shaman shouted from the other side of the root. “Anyway, nothing can win against the flow of time. Not your trees, not our caves… Nothing.”

The dwarf, after a helpful push up onto the root from Lizard Priest, steadied his resolve and jumped to the ground.

He landed on his bottom with a thump.

High Elf Archer frowned openly at the inelegant display. “Could you be any more ridiculous?”

“Look at my legs! They’re stubby! You elves, always so worried about how people see you.”

“If it bothers you, you could always use Falling Control.”

“Pfah! Use a spell for this? Have the elves no concept of frugality in magic?”

“Now, now…” Priestess broke in between them with a smile she couldn’t quite suppress. “If you get too loud, you’ll be in for another scolding,” she warned.

“Oh, who’s going to scold me? From an elf’s perspective, that snake’s just some kid…”

“Oh-ho?”

High Elf Archer’s ears jumped at the low rumble of a voice.

“Even the elves are not eternal. Perhaps the only thing that is, is eternity itself…”

The voice was accompanied by the swish of Lizard Priest climbing the root with the aid of his claws and tail.

He climbed gracefully and landed nimbly. It was impressive, even if a bit loud. “Perhaps it would be amusing to discover whether the high elves are eternal or not?”

“…I’ll pass.”

Perhaps he had intended his expression to appear playful or teasing. But to anyone without scales, it only looked like a huge lizard with his toothy mouth wide open.

High Elf Archer frowned and shook her head from side to side.

“And?” the warrior said. “Where are the goblins?”

“…There he goes again.” High Elf Archer gave a big shrug as though saying It’s not even worth responding and followed up with an even bigger sigh. “I went out of my way to find ruins that seemed like they might have goblins in them, just for you, Orcbolg.” You could be a little grateful.

At that, the warrior continued with, “Hmm. In other words, you were being considerate.”

“…Yeah, you could call it that.”

“I see.”

He had apparently been waiting for everyone to arrive. Now he gave a single nod and set off at the head of the column. High Elf Archer hurriedly followed after, overtaking him to resume reconnaissance.

All things considered, the warrior was a pretty good scout himself. Despite his quick, nonchalant, almost boisterous-looking gait, his armor was strangely silent. He might seem a simple brigand, but he stepped on not a branch, kicked not a stone.

“Ahem, no need to fret so, milord Goblin Slayer.” Lizard Priest pulled some rolled paper from his bag and opened it, studying it even as he walked.

It was faded, worn, seemingly half gone, but it appeared to be a map of the city they were in.

Taking care not to damage the paper, Lizard Priest ran a claw along it thoughtfully. “…There should be a shrine farther in. I, for my part, believe we should go there. What do the rest of you think?”

“Agreed,” the warrior said readily. He had stopped in his tracks and was feeling out the street—once flagstone—with a finger, looking for footprints. “There may be goblins here.”

“Is that all you ever think about?!” High Elf Archer said wearily.

“Is there anything else?”

“Look around!” she said, not dropping her guard, but spreading her arms wide. “Look at this! Wonder! Secrets! Mystery! Legend! Don’t you feel any of it?”

“There isn’t time for that.”

“…I can’t believe you.”

“Is that so?”

High Elf Archer pursed her lips at the terse answer. Her long ears flicked.

“Now, long-ears. If you rush the polishing of a stone, you’ll only break it.” Dwarf Shaman laughed, twirling his beard, at the petulant elf. “Just give it time. Gods, all you elves are so impatient.”

“That’s why you’re all so fat, dwarf—just eating and drinking, never doing anything.”

“Aww, what’ve you got against a little food and drink? You could stand to put on a bit yourself!” He took a long swig from the jug of fire wine on his belt, apparently unperturbed by her comment. “Though t’be fair, my long-eared lass, you’re not wrong.”

High Elf Archer gave Dwarf Shaman a look as he let out an altogether indelicate burp.

“Beard-cutter, have y’never thought it might go easier if you were to, say, move up in the world?”

“I have,” the warrior answered shortly as he crouched low, drew up to a wall, and peered around a corner.

“Oh-ho.” The dwarf let out a grunt at the unexpected answer.

The warrior looked left, then right, then continued on ahead. “To build my reputation, become Gold-ranked, and take wider work as an adventurer is one possibility,” he said.

“Then why’ve you not done so?” the dwarf asked.

“Because if I did, goblins would be attacking villages.”

Keeping watch next to them, High Elf Archer shook her head as if to clear away a headache.

“I’d heard humans could get tunnel vision, but…are they all this way?”

“I think he’s special,” Priestess said with a What can we do? smile.

So it had gone in the months since they’d met—confusing though it had been at first.

“He talks about a lot more subjects than he used to, though.”

“……”

The warrior silently continued his search with that same brisk walk. Priestess followed him, still smiling. I mean, look.

“And he’s easy to understand, isn’t he?”

“I get that, at least,” High Elf Archer said with a nod and a chuckle.

Dwarf Shaman and Lizard Priest exchanged a glance, then a wordless smirk.

They shortly came to the end of what seemed to have once been a broad main street and arrived at their destination: a large square and a gaping clearing in the trees. They could just see a white-walled opening, like the entrance to a cave.

“Don’t see any guards.” The warrior heaved a sigh as he took stock of the territory from the long grass in the dim shadows of the trees.

Since entering the forest, they hadn’t seen hide or hair of a wild animal, let alone any monsters.

“Oh, so…that means there aren’t any goblins!” From the back of the line, Priestess tried to encourage the disappointed-sounding warrior.

“Not necessarily.”

The answer was almost mechanical, but it didn’t appear to bother her. She had the air of a baby chick as she trotted behind him.

“I don’t believe they would let such a ready-made nest go to waste.”

“You don’t have to imagine they’re here if they’re not,” High Elf Archer said, then muttered to herself, “Goblins, goblins. Honestly.”

The warrior ignored her and said, “Or they may have only recently dug a tunnel from the nest to here.”

“Hey… Do you smell something?” High Elf Archer frowned. She hadn’t meant it as a response to the warrior.

Lizard Priest gave a slow shake of his head. “Sadly, my nose is of scant use in this forest. What kind of odor is it?”

“It’s kind of…huh. Like…rotten eggs?”

“…So they are here,” the warrior murmured shortly. At that, the adventurers each readied their weapons. High Elf Archer brought up her bow, a great yew branch strung with spider’s silk, along with an arrow that had a bud for a tip.

With a prayer to his ancestors, Lizard Priest turned a fang into a polished sword.

Dwarf Shaman reached into a small bag of catalysts, while Priestess held her sounding staff in both hands.

They set out quickly, spreading out to surround the entrance.

“What should we do? Do you want to go in? Or should I use my Protection miracle—?”

“No.” The warrior shook his head, cutting off Priestess’s anxious question. “Is there another entrance to these ruins—this shrine? What does the map say?”

“Not so far as I’ve seen,” replied Lizard Priest, who knew the map like the back of his hand. “Though, these being most ancient ruins, we cannot be sure collapse has not created one.”

“We’ll smoke them out, then.” With his shield-bearing left hand, the warrior dug in his bag.

What he drew out was yellowish and about the size of his palm; it looked like a hardened chunk of something. He used rope to tie the thing to a bit of waste kindling, until he had tightened them into a ball.

Priestess wore a slightly strained expression. Perhaps she remembered this thing.

“That’s—um…that’s pine resin, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“And…sulfur.”

“It will make a good, thick smoke.” Even as he spoke, the warrior easily struck a flint, setting fire to the smoke bomb. Being careful not to breathe the fumes that immediately began rising from the device, he tossed it into the hole. “And it will poison the air. It’s unlikely to kill them, but…” With that, the warrior drew a smallish sword from its scabbard. “Now, we wait.”

The smog from the smoke bomb rolled deep into the ruins.

The adventurers sighed to one another with a mixture of annoyance and trepidation.

“You do know the most vile tricks,” said Dwarf Shaman.

“Do I?”

“You don’t see it?”

But there was no arguing with the immediate results. Small silhouettes came running through the wall of smoke, clamoring in shrill voices.

They were cruel-faced monsters about the size of children: goblins.

“Hmph.”

When he saw the goblins were wearing leather cuirasses, he hacked at them with his sword like an ax through firewood.

Impact. Scream. A spray of blood.

He casually stepped on a goblin who lay faceup, a sword buried in its skull, and took its weapon for his own.

A short sickle. The warrior gave the bloodstained weapon a light twirl, then nodded. Not bad. The weapon had been made for a goblin to wield in a cave, but it felt natural in his hand.

“Our quarry have excellent equipment. Be careful.”

“This isn’t like any adventure I’ve ever been on.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No!” High Elf Archer let off an arrow with a frown.

It was made of a branch naturally suitable for a bolt, and it flew as though the shrine itself were drawing it in.

Three screams went up.

“Don’t you usually go inside ruins to fight goblins?”

“I suppose that is the conventional method.”

Lizard Priest danced from one writhing goblin to the next, finishing each with his sword.

“If one would join milord Goblin Slayer on his hunt, preparations must be made for what is least expected.”

“If you say so…”

Priestess cast a doubtful glance toward the warrior.

He was burying the sickle, held in a reverse grip, in a goblin’s throat. He tore the monster’s windpipe as he ripped out his borrowed weapon; then he immediately hurled it through the air. The blade spun into the cloud of smoke, and a goblin scream could be heard. His movements were brutally workmanlike.

“Won’t be needin’ spells at this rate, I suppose,” Dwarf Shaman said, readying gems for his sling.

It was just a provision in case the front line broke; he was in fact quite at his leisure.

“No.”

Now the warrior took up the dagger of the goblin whose throat he had torn apart, shaking his head as he tested the edge.

A dark poison of some description was slathered along the blade. The warrior wiped the poison off on the goblin’s tunic, ignoring Priestess’s shiver.

“Save your magic for once we’re inside,” the warrior said to Dwarf Shaman, putting the dagger at his belt.

He appraised the entrance to the shrine. Goblin corpses littered the ground, but there was no sense that more were coming from inside.

Had they killed them all? Or had some escaped?

“They’re tough…”

He pulled the sword from the body of the first goblin he had slain, wiping the viscera off the blade to refresh it. This would do.

He unhesitatingly slipped the sword back into its scabbard, then nodded. “Once the bad air clears up, we move.”

“Once again, not the kind of adventure I’m used to,” grumbled High Elf Archer.

“No?”

“Because it’s not an adventure! This one doesn’t count, okay?”

“All right.”

That was all the warrior said as he headed into the shrine. The party followed him.

A human warrior and cleric, a high elf archer, a dwarf shaman, and a lizard priest.

The planets and stars had completed nearly half of their revolution since this unusual group came together.

It had not been long since yet another fight in the endless struggle with chaos and disorder had come to an end. They went to ruins and caves around the cities of the frontier, searching each in turn. Many were the fortresses, shrines, ruins, and caverns that had gone forgotten in the long struggle. Allies of chaos might find respite in these places and wait for their time to come. One must always be on guard—but not only for monsters.

The rulers of the land, who had bought enough time to resume their petty rivalries, left such business to those who lived in the wilderness.

It was nothing: Adventurers would finish their fights and return to their daily lives.

People became adventurers out of a curiosity about unknown lands. Their dream was to make their way in the world by slaying monsters and finding treasure. And if they could earn a reward on their way to doing so, so much the better.

The warrior here cared little where the goblins dwelt, be it a cave or an ancient ruin.

Orcbolg, Beard-cutter, Goblin Slayer—he went by many names. But even as he strode boldly into the cavern, he was not yet an adventurer.

“Find all the goblins. Kill them.”

He was Goblin Slayer.





Evening. The sun was well past its zenith and would soon begin to sink.

The first one to notice his homecoming was the owner of the farm.

A little road ran to town beside the fields, now colored with sunset.

He walked slowly along it with his bold, nonchalant stride. As ever, he wore his grimy helmet and leather armor, his sword of a strange length, and his small round shield.

The owner had been out repairing a fence when he caught a whiff of rust and stood.

“…You’re back,” he said shortly.

He nodded, walking up to the owner. “Yes. I finished my work.”

“I see…”

The owner shook his head at the other man’s guileless manner and looked away from the helmet, which hid whatever the mysterious figure was thinking.

The owner had nothing to say to this person he had known—or thought he had known—since the man’s youth.

In fact, the owner found it hard to deal with this man. He could understand the man, didn’t want to dismiss him out of hand, but this was also not someone the owner wanted around.

“You know how many years it’s been?” he murmured without knowing it.

When goblins attack your village, it is like a force of nature, like an act of the gods.

Then, the man had had only one choice: to run. But he had not only saved himself; he was now fighting back.

Was that not enough?

“Yes.” He nodded as if he understood.

“Then don’t overdo it… I pity that girl.”

“…I will be careful,” he answered, with a touch of hesitation.

This was what made him so difficult, the owner thought.

If he was a man who cared about nothing, the owner would not have needed to care about him.

Perhaps he sensed what was on the owner’s mind, for he continued in his brusque voice. “I’m sorry. I would like to rent the stable.”

“…It’s the usual. Don’t fret the details, just do what you want.”

He seemed to bear this curt response without concern and merely went on past the owner.

Now on the farm proper, he went around behind the cattle barn. Past a mound of dry grass—just beyond. There was a stable so old it had been abandoned long ago.

Boards had been pounded into the walls and ceiling to patch the holes in them. It was a rough thing certainly, but it was the work of his hands, which he had done without complaint.

Cow Girl, the owner’s adopted daughter and his friend since boyhood, had insisted she would do it, but he felt that as the tenant, it only made sense that he should do the work.

“Oh!” Just as he went to open the door, a voice had sounded behind him with childish excitement. He turned and saw a young woman pointing at him—Cow Girl. She ran toward him, chest bouncing, waving her arms.

“Welcome home! Geez, you could at least tell me when you get back!”

“I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“It’s not disturbing me to say hello.”

“Isn’t it?” He nodded calmly; Cow Girl poked an index finger at him.

“No! So greet me properly!”

He said nothing for a moment, then nodded slowly. “…I’m home.”

“That’s better. Welcome home.” Cow Girl smiled, and her face was radiant as the sun.

“I heard you the first time.”

He opened the ill-fitting door with a creak and went into the stable.

Cow Girl followed him, squeezing through the door.

He stopped and turned his head, looking at the face of his old friend. “How is work…?”

“I’m kind of on break.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah!”

He didn’t seem especially interested. He tossed his bag on the floor; then he took a flint and set light to an old lantern hanging from a beam.

The stable floated into view, looking rather like a cave itself.

A mat was stretched on the ground, and the room was home to some narrow shelves and an assortment of mysterious loose change. Bottles, herbs, a strange weapon shaped like a broken cross, old books written in indecipherable letters, the head of some beast…and many more things whose nature Cow Girl couldn’t begin to guess at.

She suspected even most adventurers would not be able to fathom what he did with many of those items.

“Be careful.”

“Sure, right…”

He offered the words to her as she poked around the collection, then sat down heavily right in the middle of the floor. He took the sword from his hip and put it aside, sheath and all, then began noisily disassembling his armor.

Cow Girl knelt next to him, looking over his shoulders at his hands.

“Hey, whatcha doing?”

“Repairing the dings in my helmet, changing the hinges in my armor, mending my chain mail, sharpening my blade, and polishing the rim of my shield.”

“The rest I get, but…the rim of your shield? What difference does that make?”

“At the right moment, it can help.”

“Huh…”

His movements were diligent, dutiful. With a hammer, he worked off and replaced metal fittings, formed chain links of bent wire, and honed his sword and shield with a whetstone.

A weapon could be replaced with something taken from a goblin, but armor was a different matter. It was exceedingly unusual to see a goblin in a metal helm that might actually protect its life. And even if he did find one, he wouldn’t have the time to remove his own helmet and put on another.

An unlucky hit on armor that was on its last legs had a very good chance of being fatal. That made this work his most important, his most lifesaving.

Cow Girl watched his every move with a squint and a smile that suggested she was enjoying herself.

“…You find this interesting?”

“I guess. I always like to see what you’re up to.” She giggled and thrust out her chest in a bit of theatrics. “And? How’d your adventure go?”

She drew up to him, eyes shining. There was a sweet smell of milk on her.





In a supremely indifferent tone, he replied:

“There were goblins.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes,” he replied briefly, still working. Then, he added, “Quite a few.”

Cow Girl stared intently at his back, then…

“Yah!”

He let out a breath as he suddenly felt something heavy and soft on his back.

Cow Girl pressed up against him and mussed his hair.

His hands stilled; he turned to her with a suspicious look. “What is it?”

“Nothin’! Just want to congratulate you on a job well done,” she said good-naturedly.

“I’d be careful if I were you.”

“Aww, it’s fine!”

“It is not fine.”

“Anything interesting happen? What kind of place was it?”

He fell silent. Perhaps he felt nothing he could say would be of any use.

He mounted his newly polished shield on the wall, then went to ransack the shelves. He pulled out several bottles, a bag, and a mortar that came rolling down, then unsealed one bottle with gloved hands. Inside were the remains of a snake.

Ignoring Cow Girl as she muttered “ugh” from behind him, he put the snake in the mortar.

“Don’t touch it. You’ll get a rash.”

“Sure… So, um…”

“It was ruins in a forest.”

“Ruins… So, you went to slay goblins?”

“No.” He shook his head. “…I was invited by others.”

She nodded with a noise of interest, as he added the contents of one bottle after another to the mortar.

The snake, then a red powder—some sort of spice. Dried herbs. All irritants. He didn’t even make exact measurements; the process was just that familiar to him. He crushed everything in the mortar until it was all mixed together.

“…It seems it was once a city of some kind.”

“You don’t know its name?”

“Sorry. I didn’t care.”

“Well, I guess there’s plenty of them around here. This being the frontier and all.”

Once he was satisfied that the snake was completely ground up, he began rooting through a nearby shelf.

He came up with an egg—the shell of one that came from the farm. They had chickens, but they didn’t lay eggs every day.

He carefully poured the powdered contents of the mortar into the egg through a hole in its top. As he did, he murmured, “Come to think of it, there was a big…”

“Uh-huh?” Cowgirl said with a nod.

“A big tree root sticking out.”

“How big is big?”

“About as tall as you. It was hard work to climb over.”

“Huh. That’s really something.”

It was a childlike appraisal and, in its way, childlike wonder. She had lived most of her life on the farm, never going farther than the town; she had never seen such a thing. Now it was he who knew more of the world than her.

That left her a little sad but happy, too.

“And there were goblins,” he added as he wrapped the filled egg in oil paper and sealed it. His tone was disinterested yet gravely serious. “…It was strange. They were unusually well-equipped.”

Cow Girl tapped her chin thoughtfully before saying, “Hmm… Do you think they fled the battle here?”

“If so, they would have at least posted a guard.”

“Hmm… Well, if you don’t understand, I’m sure not going to figure it out.”

She gave a groan, then stretched out both arms with an “ahhh” and rolled onto her back on the floor.

Near the dim ceiling, the lantern burned and crackled.

“You’ll get dirty.”

“I don’t care,” Cow Girl answered with a hearty laugh.

Then… “Hey,” she said, rolling onto her other side to face him. “What if you took a break tomorrow?”

“No.” He shook his head quietly as he tucked the egg into his bag. “Guild Girl called me in.”

“Oh yeah? That’s too bad.”

He nodded. “It may be goblin slaying.”





“No, it isn’t goblin slayi—Wait, please don’t leave!”

Goblin Slayer turned around in annoyance, his hand on the door of the meeting room.

There were luxurious chairs, a shaggy carpet. One wall was covered with the heads of monsters and magical beasts, along with old weapons.

Surrounded by the trophies of adventurers through the ages, the man replied:

“But you’ve already said it isn’t about goblins.”

“Yes, well, that’s—that’s true, but…” Guild Girl, looking small in one of the chairs, seemed like she might break into tears at any moment. Clinging to a sheaf of papers, she said in a small voice, “It…it really does have to be goblins with you, doesn’t it?”

Goblin Slayer was silent. There was no guessing his expression under his helmet.

After a moment, he gave a quiet sigh.

Then he turned, walked quickly up to a chair, and sat down more aggressively than necessary. He looked at her sitting across from him and said:

“Be brief, please.”

“Certainly!”

Guild Girl’s face shined like a child’s.

She quickly straightened her papers, arranging them once more on the tabletop. The sheepskin paper she spread out in front of him appeared to be the résumé of some adventurer. Name, race, gender, skills, and a quest history were all included.

“I’d like to ask you to be an observer, Mr. Goblin Slayer.”

“An observer.” He nodded as if already convinced. “Is this for a promotion test?”

Adventurers were divided into ten ranks, from Porcelain to Platinum.

Ranks were determined based on how much reward one had gained, how much good one had done the world, and one’s personality. Some referred to these collectively as “experience points,” and that wasn’t inaccurate. It was, in effect, a simple measure of how much good one had done people and society.

But of course, there were those adventurers whose excellence stopped at their fighting skills. An adventurer’s personality was valued at least as highly as his or her abilities. Thus, higher-ranked adventurers would serve as witnesses at a test—essentially, an interview.

In this way, for example, a vagabond with amazing skills from who knew where could rank Silver or Gold immediately. Or rather, such a storybook system was the ideal. But it didn’t work out that way.

A male adventurer whose party members were all females, for example, would find it difficult to advance. Regardless of the circumstances, few people were willing to trust someone who looked like a philanderer with important quests. However strong they might be, fools whose strength was their only asset would remain Porcelain-ranked for life. Meanwhile, the best adventurers knew they were being watched and tried to act in a trustworthy manner.

…With the exception of a few of the historically extremely rare Platinums.

“But…” Goblin Slayer sounded uncertain. It was an unusual thing for him. “Are you sure I will do?”

Heavens. Guild Girl answered as if it didn’t bother her at all. “What in the world do you mean? You’re Silver-ranked, too, you know.”

“The association decided that arbitrarily,” Goblin Slayer said.

“That just shows how grateful everyone is to you.”

Guild Girl sounded confident, as proud as if she were talking about herself.

Goblin Slayer fell silent. For a moment, he looked up at the ceiling, but before long he grabbed the paper.

“Who’s being tested?”

Guild Girl gave a joyous nod the moment she realized he accepted, her braids bouncing.

“Th-thank you very much! It’s several members of a single party, each moving from Steel to Sapphire, in other words from eighth to seventh rank…”





“Please let it be this time… Please, please let me advance this time…”

In the hallway outside the interview room, a prayer sounded among the waiting adventurers.

The speaker was a middle-aged man dressed in rags.

Probably a monk—well, not just any monk.

His body was shrunken with age. With him was a beaten wood staff, probably a kind of weapon. His forehead was shaven, but apparently he had no oil to put on it, and his pate was covered in thin hair.

“Shut it, Gramps! You don’t have to chant all the time just ’cause you’re a monk. You’re bugging the hell outta me!”

The critic was a young man with hard eyes who very much looked the part of a warrior.

His words were harsh, but he himself fidgeted as if unable to stay calm. Each time he did so, his well-used armor and battle-ax bumped into each other with a scrape of metal on metal. They weren’t rusted, but they had seen better days. Not top-quality equipment.

“Damn. I should’ve at least polished ’em…”

“Too late now. The old guy’s the only person here with his own house. Makes you want to get religion,” a young wizardish woman whispered placatingly to the man with the ax. “And a little polish wouldn’t have made much difference, anyway.”

Ever-so-slightly pointed ears peeked out from her torn hood—a half elf. Her spell book, which she paged through restlessly, looked well used, too. The cover was falling off and had been reattached with glue.

“Ahh, take it easy. Won’t do any good to get upset…”

The speaker then gave a belly laugh. He was a young man, short—indeed, barely half the size of anyone else there. He wore unblemished leather armor, a dagger at his hip, and fur-lined boots on his feet.

He was a rhea scout—or anyway, so one assumed.

“Yeah, I know,” said the ax-wielding warrior. “But there’s a big jump between Steel and Sapphire—in both pay and quests.”

“If we can advance today, we can finally stop hunting rats in the sewers,” the elf wizard added.

The warrior resumed, fast as a swinging ax, “We can finally do better than the interest on our debts. Gramps here will be able to keep himself. This is important.”

“I need this, too. Spell books are expensive. If a prayer is what it takes to get us that rank, I’ll pray all day,” the elf muttered philosophically. She glared at the rhea scout from under her hood. “Anyway, don’t act like it doesn’t concern you.”

“Yeah, ha-ha-ha…” The rhea scratched his head in embarrassment. “I’m, y’know, I’m pretty scared of danger. And I don’t have any debts, so…”

“You bum.”

“Coward.”

The warrior and the wizard sounded exasperated, but the scout only shrugged.

“Next, please!”

Guild Girl’s cheerful voice floated out of the meeting room.

“Oh! That’s me!” The rhea scout jumped up nimbly.

The bald-headed monk clung to his armor, practically on his knees. “Please… Pleeease be strong…”

“I know, I know, bug off,” the scout said, brushing the monk’s hand away. He opened the door…

“…Yikes.”

…and his eyes went wide.

Three people sat in the meeting room. First, there was a guild employee, the bright-eyed receptionist. (One day he was going to spank her till she cried.) Second was another slim woman wearing the uniform of the guild. Who was this now? The rhea scout cocked his head. He couldn’t quite recall if he’d seen her before. And then there was a higher-ranked adventurer—but a very strange-looking one.

Cheap-looking helmet. Grimy leather armor. Equipment barely suitable for an adventure. He didn’t have his sword or shield, but there was no mistaking him.

“G-Goblin Slayer…”

“Is there any problem?” he asked.

“N-not at all, sir.” The scout answered the brusque man with an obsequious laugh, reaching back to close the door.

The truth was, the rhea did not hate the man called Goblin Slayer, the man who had gotten to Silver rank by taking simple goblin jobs. The rhea wanted money. He wanted fame. He wanted to be well spoken of. But he hated being afraid, and he didn’t want to die. He was confident Goblin Slayer must feel similarly. If he genuinely disliked anything about the man, it was that expressionless helmet…

Goblin Slayer watched the rhea scout sit down across from him.

The scout trembled slightly. He didn’t hate Goblin Slayer, but he didn’t find him easy to deal with, either.

“So, uh, this is it, huh? Advancement test.” The rhea gave a weak laugh and rubbed his palms together. “Let’s bust through Sapphire, past Emerald, Ruby… What do you say we go right to Copper?”

“I doubt we’ll go quite that far,” Guild Girl answered with a smile. She flipped through some papers in her hand. “I can’t help noticing your brand-new armor and boots.”

“Oh, you can tell?” The corners of the scout’s lips turned upward, and he stuck his small feet out on top of the table. His boots were unscuffed, thoroughly polished, and so black light could hardly escape their surface. “They’re pretty high-quality. I had them matted and everything. They’re perfect for me.”

“Really!”

He failed to sense what was coming.

“Why is it you’re the only one to have done so well for yourself when all of you have taken on the same quests?” Her tone was terribly businesslike, ordinary. “Those are quite luxurious even in light of your party’s aggregate reward. I hope there hasn’t been a miscalculation.”

Guild Girl bulled ahead, ignoring the way the rhea scout suddenly went stiff.

“Some rather ambiguous reports suggest that unlike your friends, you’ve been taking on quests on your own.”

“Oh, that’s, well, it’s—”

The scout hurriedly pulled his feet off the table.

He looked right, left. There was nowhere to run. He spoke as quickly as he could think.

“Y-you know, I recently had a care package from home…”

“A lie.”

The cutting words came from the employee who had remained silent until that moment.

The smile froze on the scout’s face, but inside he cursed himself.

She wore the sword and scales around her neck, the symbol of the Supreme God.

“I swear on the name of the Supreme God. What he just said was a lie.”

The Sense Lie miracle. Damn these seers!

That’s why he hadn’t recognized her. She was an inspector—a guild employee, but also a priest of the Supreme God, ruler of law and justice.

What was this? Had they suspected him? But why?

Guild Girl made a show of flipping through her papers. We know everything, the action said.

“It looks like you got new equipment after that raid on those ruins the other day… Oh, I get it.”

With a smile and a giggle, she clapped her hands and nodded.

“You told the others you were going ahead to scout, found a treasure chest, kept the contents for yourself, and sold them!”

“Erk…”

That was exactly what he had done.

On dives in ruins, monsters and traps were many and lethal. It was only natural that the rhea scout volunteer to do reconnaissance and that his companions agree. He had entered the ruins delicately, explored several twists, and then…

He’d found a treasure chest.

It wasn’t booby-trapped, and picking the lock was easy. Inside were dozens of coins, ancient but gold. Empty treasure chests were not a rare thing. And there was still plenty of room in his pack.

“Y-you see, th-that was… I…”

He laughed awkwardly, scratched his head like a scolded child, and nodded. It would be most to his benefit simply to apologize, he decided.

“I’m…very sorry.”

“Well, this does make things difficult.” Guild Girl laughed.

It was all too obvious that her flipping through the pages was just for show.

She had already foreseen all of this. The guild had an inn and a bar, and they weren’t just for the benefit of lower-ranked adventurers. The flow of money never lied.

“It’s people like you who give rheas and scouts a bad name.” She shook her head in disgust. “Well, it is your first offense… I think demotion to Porcelain and being barred from adventuring in this town is appropriate.”

“W-wait a second! How is that fair?!” Without meaning to, the rhea found himself leaning over the table and shouting. “I nip one little treasure chest, and you’re going to chase me out?”

“Excuse me?” Guild Girl’s tone was cold, and her exasperation was obvious—indeed, she was quite tired of him. “Just one treasure chest? Don’t be dumb. You can’t repair a broken trust with money.”

And one who would betray others’ trust had no right to be an adventurer.

Of course, being an adventurer meant fighting. No one asked about your history. There were uncouth people among the adventurers. There was no end of arguments—all the more important, then, that one be as sincere as possible. An adventurer who was not trustworthy was just a scoundrel.

And the guild dealt in trust and trustworthiness.

The rhea was capable enough to be promoted and had just been granted clemency because this was the first time. Did he not understand that?

“You are hereby demoted on grounds of falsifying a reward. If you wish to stay here, though, you may.”

“Erk…”

The rhea scout was at a loss for words. He struggled to think of some way to turn this situation to his advantage.

Everyone does it. No. That wouldn’t get him out of his punishment. Maybe if he said someone had threatened him, forced him to do it…

“It won’t help to try anything funny.”

She was right. The minister of the ruler of justice was watching him, eyes shining.

His only hope… He turned to his one escape, the person in the room most like him.

“C-come on, Goblin Slayer… I’m asking you, as a fellow adventurer…”

Beseeching eyes. Ingratiating smile. Rubbing his palms together in desperate supplication.

The adventurer, who had sat with his arms crossed silently throughout the entire scene, replied with a touch of annoyance, “Fellow?” His answer was point-blank. “I am an observer. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“But you… You’re an adventurer, too…”

“Yes, I am.” Goblin Slayer looked down at the pleading rhea. “Just like the ones you tricked.”

“…!”

The rhea scout turned bright red and glared at the two of them. For a brief instant, he had a vision of himself drawing his dagger and leaping at Guild Girl.

It was just possible.

“……”

But he would have to go through Goblin Slayer, a warrior strong enough to solo goblin quests that normally demanded an entire party. How much chance did the rhea really have in a hand-to-hand struggle?

“……”

Feeling Goblin Slayer’s gaze fixed on him from beneath that helmet, he swallowed heavily. He was as clever as any scout and certainly no fool.

“…You’ll regret this.”

His feelings flowed over into his parting words as he kicked back his chair and fled the room.

Guild Girl let out a breath as the door slammed shut. “Declined for promotion. Phew… That was terrifying…”

The smile perpetually pasted on Guild Girl’s face finally came off, and she slumped in her seat. At the end, under the scout’s glare, she had unconsciously begun to shake. She didn’t know what might have happened had Goblin Slayer not been there.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Goblin Slayer.”

She looked up at the steel helmet next to her, her braids hanging limply.

“No.” Goblin Slayer shook his head quietly. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Hardly! I remember how bad it was back when I was doing the association’s training course in the Capital.”

Still slumping, Guild Girl gave a faint smile.

“All those lowlifes who couldn’t open their mouths without making a lewd remark. Thought they’d pick me up just because I was pretty and young.”

“There are far too many of them, aren’t there? Especially in the Capital.” The inspector gave a sigh of exasperation and gently stroked the sword and scales.

“We have to take on people like that all by ourselves, so…you know?” With a little nod, she put one hand on the desk and pushed herself upright. Her braids bobbed. “It really makes you feel so much better to have someone you trust as your observer!”

“Does it?”

“Yes, it does.”

She always showed such confidence when talking about Goblin Slayer. He must have understood, because he quieted a little, then rose slowly from his seat.

“…If we’re done here, I’m going back.”

“Oh, sure. If you stop by the front desk, I’m sure they can get you your honorarium…”

“All right.”

Goblin Slayer headed for the door with his bold, casual stride.

Seeing him there, Guild Girl suddenly found herself speaking up.

“U-um!”

Now she’d done it. She’d said it. Guild Girl felt a twinge of regret.

Goblin Slayer, his hand on the doorknob, turned slowly. “What is it?”

Guild Girl hesitated.

The courage that inspired her to call out had vanished as quickly as it had come. She opened her mouth, paused, then decided to say only what was appropriate.

“…Good work today.”

“Sure,” he said as he turned the knob. “You, too.”

The door closed with a soft clack.

Guild Girl, left behind, stretched out on the table again.

“Phewww…”

The surface of the desk felt good against her cheek.

“Nice work.” Her colleague, the inspector, patted Guild Girl on the back with a softening of her implacable expression.

“I’m afraid that guy will just do something else.”

“Well, living adventurers are a precious resource. And he didn’t do anything clearly illegal…” It would be much worse if he threw away the whole framework of adventuring and became a serious troublemaker. “There are certainly all kinds of adventurers, from Lawful Good to Chaotic Evil.”

“As long as they are adventurers, they’re allowed to make that choice… Anyway, nice work.”

“Not at all. It’s simply my duty as a priest of the Supreme God.” The inspector smiled and waved away Guild Girl’s gratitude, but she could only sigh again.

“And from the perspective of the God of Law, was what I did just now…right?”

“Many people misunderstand the God of Justice, even the writers of our pageants.” The inspector cleared her throat with an “ahem,” itself a rather theatrical gesture. “Justice is not to punish evil, but to make people aware of it.”

Law was a tool and order a way of living well. Nothing more and nothing less. That was why the Supreme God did not hand down revelations. The intent was not that they follow the sacred word of God, but that they think for themselves and use their own judgment.

Guild Girl was still laid out gracelessly across the desk, her face turned listlessly toward her friend.

“What a nice thought.”

“If you can put it into practice. I’m still nowhere near Sword Maiden.”

“That’s not a very fair comparison.”

Sword Maiden.

Ten years had already passed since she had become a household name.

Guild Girl had been twelve or thirteen that year, when one of the Demon Lords had returned to life.

Sword Maiden was a legend from the time when humanity was fighting for its survival, longing for the advent of a hero, a Platinum-ranked adventurer.

A party of Gold ranks had made bold to challenge the Lord…

“And they succeeded. One of them was a humble servant of the Supreme God, Sword Maiden.”

The inspector blushed slightly and sighed like a daydreaming girl. “I love her,” she murmured. “Anyway, all I do is use Sense Lie. It’s not hard. There’s more work to do, right?”

“Plenty of promotion interviews to hold. And I have to fill out the paperwork to demote that guy…”

“You can do it, hang in there!” Guild Girl’s friend pounded her on the back again, but it wasn’t comforting.

Even so, it brought her back to herself a bit. “Right.” She nodded and looked up.

“So.” A teasing grin came over the inspector’s face. “Was that that guy you like?”

“Oh, um…”

Was Sense Lie still in effect? Guild Girl looked up at the ceiling, but the Supreme God was silent. She couldn’t quite meet her friend’s gaze, but she nodded honestly.

“Y-yes, he is… So?”

“Hmm. Well, can’t say I blame you. You’ve always had a thing for the helpful ones, ever since the Capital.”





“I was always looking for more of a, you know, stoic adventurer type.”

She hadn’t found one. At the time she had been disappointed, but now it seemed a blessing. They had met each other after Guild Girl had finished her training and been assigned to this town on the frontier. A newly registered adventurer had met a newly minted receptionist, and they had known each other ever since.

He had been completely focused on hunting goblins, ignoring everything else. For her, fed up with the leering swashbucklers in the Capital, he was a breath of fresh air.

“I admit, maybe this one’s a little too stoic…”

It’s great I can talk to him, but maybe he could at least ask me out for a meal or something… Nah.

Guild Girl shook her head.

Him inviting her out for a nice meal after an adventure?

She couldn’t picture it. And she didn’t have the courage to ask him herself yet. If only she could get a little…push.

“Well, you’re happy, that’s what’s important… So, how long can you afford to shirk your work?”

“Good question. Time to quit daydreaming and get back to business.”

She slowly sat up, composing herself. She straightened the papers on the desk. There was much to do: the report on the rhea scout and the promotion of the ax-wielding warrior, the elf wizard, and the bald monk.

She had been putting off a great deal of more quotidian work, too. Well, she would start with what was right in front of her. She took a pen resolutely in hand, opened the lid of her inkwell, and began to run the pen over the sheepskin paper…

“Hey.”

“Yiiwhat?!”

Guild Girl was completely startled at the voice so near, and her pen skipped along the page.

As she tried to settle the pounding of her heart, she saw that expressionless steel helm. She hurried to straighten her hair and control her breathing and not spill the ink in the process. She also swore to get a little payback on the smirking inspector later.

“Wh-what is it, Mr. Goblin Slayer?”

“I think you know.” His voice was as mechanical as ever, yet somehow cheerful. He held a quest paper in his hand.

Had he grabbed it from the bulletin board after he left? No, she didn’t remember there being any quests available.

And that paper… Does it request him by name?

Who was it from? Where was it from? She didn’t know, but it was a special form that had been delivered by post-horse from far away.

Apparently ignoring Guild Girl as she stared quizzically at the paper, he said shortly:

“Goblin slaying.”

Guild Girl gave him a weak smile.





“The reward is one bag of gold pieces per person. Come or don’t, it’s your choice.”

Somewhere in the guild tavern, Goblin Slayer was summing up.

It was barely noon, but some eager types had come out to drink, and the place was noisy.

Except for when they were fighting, adventurers naturally paid scant attention to the time of day. After a long time in some ruins or labyrinth, upon their return it might be night, it might be dawn; it didn’t matter. Sometimes they went dungeon diving in the morning with the intent to return that night, but it turned out to be the night of the day after. Caravan escorts might leave at noon. For all kinds of reasons, the lights at the tavern never stopped burning.

Today, as ever, the tavern was raucous with adventurers eating lunch and trying themselves against the wine.

In contrast, Priestess had been massaging her temples for quite some time as she listened.

“Okay, I get it…I think.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, mostly. I get that if I act this surprised every time you do something I don’t expect, I’ll never last.”

Their other three companions were also seated at the round table. His party. Her friends.

High Elf Archer was nodding along with Priestess despite her air of exasperation.

Lizard Priest munched thoughtfully on some cheese, tail swaying slightly.

Dwarf Shaman grinned, busy sewing gemstones into the back of his vest.

“Listen,” Priestess said as if she were lecturing a child at the Temple, shaking a shapely index finger at him, “I told you before. If we don’t feel like we actually have a choice, it doesn’t count as consulting us.”

“But you do have a choice.”

“To go or not go. That’s a very narrow choice.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Hmm.”

Goblin Slayer cocked his head quizzically. Perhaps he understood, perhaps he didn’t.

In the back of her mind, Priestess considered the possibility that he didn’t actually have a thought in his head.

“If we say we won’t join you, you’ll just go by yourself anyway, right?” High Elf Archer said.

“Of course.”

“Well, then, this really isn’t a discussion,” she said with a laugh.

“At least Beard-cutter has softened up enough to try to have a talk with us.” Dwarf Shaman had finished sewing in the gems and examined them critically as they caught the light.

“Utterly delightful! Sweet as nectar! …Erm. Yes, it is a promising trend.” Lizard Priest clucked his tongue as he spoke. Most of his cheese was gone.

“Well, we’ll make our choice, then.” Priestess took her sounding staff in both hands from where it had been leaning against the wall.

“Fine,” Goblin Slayer said shortly.

Priestess sighed for the umpteenth time, closed her eyes, and said deliberately:

“I’m coming with you.”

“……”

He went quiet at Priestess’s graceful smile, then after a moment muttered, “I see.”

“Well, you did come on my adventure the other day. Even though it ended up being goblin slaying.”

High Elf Archer bobbed her ears up and down excitedly. Ever the impatient type, she was already checking her bow, making sure she had arrows, sliding her bag onto her shoulder, and standing. “Heh-heh,” she giggled, stuck out her little chest proudly, and winked. “I’ll help you again—in exchange for another adventure. That’s all right, isn’t it, Orcbolg?”

“Yes.” Goblin Slayer nodded. “That’s fine.”

“And no poison gas bombs this time!”

“Hrm…”

“It’s only fair,” she said, her finger in Goblin Slayer’s chest.

After a moment he muttered:

“But it’s so effective.”

“Don’t care. Also, no fire and no floods. Think of something else!”

“But…”

High Elf Archer was no longer listening.

“Forget it. When those big ears start fluttering like that, whatever you say is going to go into one and out the other,” Dwarf Shaman muttered, annoyed.

Lizard Priest narrowed his eyes gleefully and touched his nose with his tongue.

“Even the snakelike cleverness of milord Goblin Slayer is rendered moot in the face of such a barbarian.”

“…Nothing to be done, then.” With hardly an attempt at a comeback, Goblin Slayer went quiet.

If that was what High Elf Archer demanded to come with him, there was no questioning it.

He’s a pretty straightforward person, isn’t he? thought Priestess as she met High Elf Archer’s eyes with a soft smile. They nodded at each other.

“Very well, then…” Lizard Priest opened his jaws next. He mulled over his words carefully, as if to show how thoroughly he had considered them. “In that case, it seems you will need every spell caster you can get.”

“Hang on, Scaly,” Dwarf Shaman said reprovingly, stroking his hair. “By that logic, oughtn’t I to come along, too?”

“Oh-ho, how impolite of me.” Lizard Priest rolled his great eyes in his head.

Dwarf Shaman gave him a friendly elbow. “Gods, you lot have backed me into a nice corner. I can hardly refuse now, can I?” Exasperatedly repeating, “Gods,” Dwarf Shaman set aside his needlework and began putting his tools away.

It wasn’t unusual to trade bulky gold coins for gemstones, then sew them into clothes so they wouldn’t be stolen. And a dwarf’s nimble fingers meant you never knew where they might be hidden.

Thrusting his arms through the holes in his vest and combing through his bountiful white beard with his hand, he grinned at the others. “And I’ve just taken care of my traveling expenses. I guess I’ll join you.”

“Oh?” High Elf Archer said, narrowing her eyes like a cat. “If you only guess, you don’t have to come.”

“Speak for yourself. No need to come along if you’re so desperate to avoid me.”

“Hrk…!”

High Elf Archer’s long ears flicked backward; she put both hands on the table and leaned in toward Dwarf Shaman.

“Oh, now I’m really angry. Okay, dwarf, you and me!”

“Ho-ho, grown a little spine, have we? Don’t expect me to go easy on you.” His smile seemed out of place as he set two wine bottles and two cups on the table. “Fire wine for me. Grape wine for you. Sound fair?”

“Perfect!”

Now there was an uproar. The contestants poured their drinks and flung them back.

“Oh, hey, look. Something’s going on!”

“Heh-heh… Wanna take bets?”

Of course, no adventurer could resist a friendly wager.

Spearman smirked happily; Witch took off her hat and immediately declared herself the bookmaker. A happy cry went up, and one adventurer after another, goaded by drink, loosened their purse strings.

The first gold coins to fall into Witch’s hat came from the hand of Female Knight. Next to her, Heavy Warrior stood, looking perturbed. “My money’s on the girl. Three gold pieces!”

“Hey, that’s pretty bold. You sure about that?”

“Heh-heh-heh. Call it a dark horse bet. I’m Lawful Good, after all, and I have the gods’ blessing…”

“Yeah, win or lose, the Supreme God ain’t the type to punish gambling, huh?”

“I’m for the dwarf, then.” “No, the girl!” “Drink! Drink! Drink!”

Watching the contest pick up steam amid the clamor, Priestess wore a look of trepidation.

“Shouldn’t we stop them…?”

“I doubt it will go on very long,” Goblin Slayer responded shortly.

After all, Dwarf Shaman was an experienced drinker, and High Elf Archer could barely hold her liquor. The winner seemed self-evident.

“No, no, our barbarian is most stubborn. The conclusion is not foregone.”

Lizard Priest happily watched the archer, her face bright red, go for another cup of grape wine.

“More! I got plenty more in me…!”

“Coming right up!”

She hadn’t begun to slur her words yet; her eyes hadn’t begun to drift.

Cups smacked down onto the table. Glug, glug, glug, in went the wine.

An appreciative noise went up from the crowd as she grabbed the cup and drained it in a single gulp.

As moments in time go, this wasn’t much; no one would remember it. Even so, they spent it merrily.

Standing next to High Elf Archer, who lay drunk as a lord on the table, Dwarf Shaman raised his fists and roared in victory. He didn’t seem to question how much prestige there really was in beating an elf at a drinking contest.

“All right, then, me next,” said Female Knight, but Heavy Warrior frantically stopped her. (“You’re a mean drunk.”) The girl and the half-elf boy in their party laughed and jeered.

Watching nearby, Spearman rolled up his sleeves, goaded on by Witch. Not to be outdone, Female Knight gave Heavy Warrior a shove.

An arm-wrestling contest began next. The participants might have been unwilling, but once it had started, they weren’t going to lose.

A chant bubbled up. Dwarf Shaman came forward to be the referee, and Witch held out her pointed hat again. It seemed there would be no end. Who would win, who would lose? Again there was a hail of coins.

Spearman won. Then, Heavy Warrior won.

“Okay! Me next!” cried Novice Warrior, but he was met with an “Oh, stop” from Apprentice Priestess.

Heavy Warrior nodded his approval at the boy’s bravado, then grabbed him as he tried to run and mussed up his hair.

Two inexperienced young men were next to arm wrestle.

With the onlooking adventurers cheering blithely for their favorite, Dwarf Shaman gave the signal to begin.

“Goblin Slayer, sir…”

It seemed like the appropriate moment. When Priestess looked up at him, the word “right” slipped out from underneath the helmet, and he nodded.

“Two! Three!”

“Hrm.”

He hefted the limp figure, who was somehow as beautiful as a branch. Goblin Slayer grunted at the weight, even though the body was so slim it looked like it might break in half.

He glanced at Priestess. She was smiling. What can you do?

“Don’t be mad later,” he murmured so quietly no one else could have heard, then bent slightly and positioned himself under High Elf Archer.

Then he rose, one hand on her behind, and hefted her onto his back with a motion that suggested a violent toss.

“Vwoo, wah…”

“I have no idea what you’re trying to say.”

“Hmm? Fooo…”

Was it the common tongue she was failing to speak? Or elvish? Or was it simply the language of dreams?

At Goblin Slayer’s curt words, a smile melted across High Elf Archer’s face.

“I’ll take her back to her room,” Goblin Slayer said briefly, rocking the elf gently as if she were a child. “But you have to help her change.”

“Yes, sir. Leave it to me.”

Priestess made a fist, the most natural person to help.

“Hmm! Now to rest, tomorrow to ride, and then to work…,” Lizard Priest said cheerily, stretching out his neck as if he could see it all already. “What fun it shall be to drag along our hungover friend.”

“If she’s still drunk in the morning, I’ll give her an Antidote.”

“Goblin Slayer, sir, that’s a bit much…”

Priestess seemed taken aback, but Goblin Slayer said blandly:

“That was a joke.”

Priestess and Lizard Priest exchanged a look, then burst out laughing.

It wasn’t the joke that made them happy, but the fact that he had made it.

It was rare for him to be in such high spirits.





Somewhere else—immensely far away, yet incredibly close.

Done! So saying, the goddess, Illusion, wiped the sweat from her brow.

She unrolled a large sheet of paper on which there was—gracious!—a vast dungeon.

Illusion spun about her map in an excess of happiness, then suddenly stopped.

Darn! That’s right. A dungeon isn’t complete without monsters!

That’s what adventures are supposed to be about, after all. Dungeons! Dragons! Tunnels! Trolls! A few traps wouldn’t hurt, either. What to do, what to do?

Illusion dropped a few goblins in, just to get started. You had to have goblins.

But she couldn’t figure out the next step. What to do?

Strong adventurers need strong foes, and weaker ones need enemies to match. Otherwise, the adventurers wouldn’t be able to get into the quest, and then no one would have fun.

And then along came a god who said, Let me show you a trick.

It was Truth. Really? Illusion looked at him doubtfully.

Truth, after all, had a reputation for doing rather unpleasant things.

He would whisper some evil thing in the ear of a quest giver, for example, repeatedly betraying adventurers and then silencing them forever. If a party was looking for traps with a ten-foot pole, he would place a trap eleven feet away.

Just watch, Truth said to the dubious Illusion and pulled a book out of thin air. Opening the dog-eared cover and flipping through the pages, he exclaimed, Come out, foul monsters! Come out, traps!

Truth touched pictures that could have been alive, and they appeared in his palm.

Then, before Illusion could say a word, he dropped the monsters and traps into her labyrinth.

Truth cackled at Illusion’s distraught Oh!

Now just hand out a little oracle to some heretic sect, and it’ll be perfect!

I wonder…, Illusion murmured, but it was too late.

The dice were already rolling.

…Oh.

Seriously?

Then, he and she showed up.





The water town was an old city two days east of the frontier across the plain, a great white-walled fortress that sat at the confluence of many rivers, under a canopy of trees so green as to be black.

Travelers came from far and wide to this city, built on a fortress from the Age of the Gods. It was full of boats coming and going, merchants with their goods, languages of every kind, chaotic and beautiful. Positioned on the western edge of the interior and the eastern edge of the frontier, the water town was the largest city for quite a ways.

A carriage clattered and bounced over a bridge, passing through a castle gate in the middle of a lake.

The gate was engraved with the crest of the God of Law: the sword and scales, the symbols of law and justice. Even on the frontier, where monsters and villains ran rampant, the light of the law shone. People could live in peace, even if only tenuously.

The carriage ran along ruts that had been carved into the flagstone over hundreds or even thousands of years. Some time later, it stopped in a large parking area, and adventurers jumped out one after another.

“Ahh… My butt’s sore!”

High Elf Archer gave a great stretch to loosen up a body that had endured much jangling on the long carriage ride.

The sun was high in the sky and would soon reach its zenith. It was noon.

All around them were shops supplying travelers, and the smells of food and drink wafted on the air: The scents of searing meat and sizzling fat. The sugary odor of baked sweets. The town had everything, from foods that could be found anywhere to startling foreign offerings.

The vendors were much the same.

Here, a dwarf merchant bellowing at the top of his lungs; there, an elf clowning about to attract customers. A rhea fruit seller was dashing about, selling apples as fast as she could move. Humans called out to one another. Farther away, a lizardman was preaching a sermon. And was that a dark elf running a shop?

“Oh-ho! Looks like a lovely place,” Dwarf Shaman said with a twitch of his nose, taking it all in. He slapped his protruding stomach. “An anvil for a chest, a wheel rut for a bum—you’ll get a balance yet. Time does wear away all things!”

“…Looks like it’s worn you away quite a bit.”

“Ho-ho-ho! But I stand tall among the dwarves!”

High Elf Archer glared at Dwarf Shaman as he guffawed in his usual great voice.

Priestess, an unintended victim of the dwarf’s comment, reached back and awkwardly tried to cover her underdeveloped rear end with her hand.

“A-anyway, shouldn’t we go meet our quest giver?”

“Yes.”

She had learned well from her mentor Goblin Slayer, master of the forceful change of subject.

He showed no sign of noticing this, though, as he pulled the now crumpled sheepskin page from his bag. It had gotten quite wrinkled from the careless way he had shoved it into the bag, but he didn’t appear to notice that, either.

“It seems we can find them at the Temple of Law.”

“This way, then!”

High Elf Archer’s argument was going nowhere fast, so she cut it off with an elegant flourish of her hand in the direction of the Temple.

“You know the way?”

“I’ve been here before.”

Then, she smiled widely and set off at a jaunty pace.

This, in fact, was the town where she had heard the song of Orcbolg—Goblin Slayer.

She made a show of swinging her hips as she walked down streets she knew and the others did not. Her four companions followed behind.

The streets were of closely laid flagstone, well traveled by carriages, and rivers crisscrossed the city everywhere, forded by ferries. The town was an incredible place, not least because of how it used the old ruins with hardly any alteration.

There were buildings, of course: shops and inns, even small apartments, all decorated with beautiful carvings. The streets were like a living fashion show, with people wearing the latest styles of both the frontier and the interior. The water town was the very epitome of a cosmopolitan city.

“But, um, well… Do you really think there are goblins here?”

Priestess looked down as she walked, as if her old vestments embarrassed her compared to the dresses of the girls walking by. Those were elegant, gorgeous, and womanly clothes. Not like hers, worn with the day-to-day work of adventuring.

She ought to have been embarrassed at being ashamed, though.

“I suspect so.”

Goblin Slayer’s blunt response gave no indication whether he noticed her discomfort. Either way, Priestess was grateful for him. He never got distracted.

“Oh-ho, hmm?” Lizard Priest stuck out his tongue in a show of interest. “And milord Goblin Slayer, what makes you say that?”

“This place has the air of a village that’s been targeted by goblins.”

“The air…?”

Dwarf Shaman gave a dubious snort from his round nose. The only things he could discern in the air were the smells of water, stone, and the food at a nearby shop. There was no hint of the rotten stink unique to goblin lairs.

“Can’t rightly say I follow.”

“That’s ’cause dwarves are so thick.”

“As if you understand him any better.”

High Elf Archer snickered at Dwarf Shaman as he stood with his arms folded and his head cocked.

She didn’t seem to mind even when he fixed her with his most intent glare. She just waved her hand.

“Now, now, elves live in the forest. I don’t expect to know anything about city smells.”

Dwarf Shaman was about to retort but was suddenly hushed.

From behind High Elf Archer, Lizard Priest had let out a sharp hiss.

“The middle of town is not the place for your commotions.”

“I know that. For someone so scaly, you sure are prickly.”

“You’re just soft, dwarf,” the elf said.

Lizard Priest clicked his tongue, and this time the two fell quiet. Priestess giggled at the scene.

The elf and the dwarf didn’t have it in them to argue anymore. They walked slowly through the sparkling town of water, taking in the sights. It was common here to see those who had words but were not human, as well as other adventurers.

Only Goblin Slayer was constantly alert to their surroundings.

“I don’t know about smells or whatever, but I really don’t think goblins are going to jump out at us right here in town,” High Elf Archer said with an annoyed sigh.

“You can’t be sure.” Goblin Slayer’s response was sharp. “I recall it happening once.”

Though his weapon was not drawn, he moved in much the same way as he did through a cave, with a bold but remarkably quiet stride.

He was the only one who attracted odd looks from passersby: an adventurer in grimy leather armor and a cheap-looking helmet, walking through town as though he were in a dungeon.

Perhaps some took him for some new kind of performer; it was nothing he could help. And if High Elf Archer hid her face from embarrassment, well, he couldn’t help that, either.

Despite all this, he was unlikely to change his ways.

“And where is this Temple of ours?” Lizard Priest’s tail waved gently behind him.

“Look, you can see it already. Right over there.”

High Elf Archer pointed with a slim finger to a building across the river. It was a stunning shrine made of white marble, featuring countless pillars. Even those seeing it for the first time understood that it was a temple.

The Temple of Light and Order, emblazoned with the scales and sword that represented law and justice.

“Wow…,” Priestess breathed at the sight. The Temple of the Earth Mother where she had grown up was hardly a poor building, but…

…This place practically screamed that it was the home of a god.

Her face relaxed with happiness, her cheeks a touch red with excitement, and turned back.

“Goblin Slayer, sir! It’s incredible!”

“Is it?”

He couldn’t have offered a more blunt response.

Perhaps they just had different ways of looking at it. It was clear to everyone that he was evaluating the Temple as a possible goblin nest.

“Gosh…!”

Priestess puffed out her cheeks, even though she knew it was childish.

Come to think of it…

She realized she had forgotten to ask the most important thing of all.

“Um, Goblin Slayer, sir?”

“What?”

“Is the quest giver a priest of the Supreme God?”

“No.”

He answered as if it meant nothing to him, then said:

“It’s the archbishop.”

At that, Priestess’s enthusiasm evaporated.

“Whaaat?!”

She would never have imagined the quest giver might be her.

Priestess gripped her sounding staff with both hands and let out an inadvertent cry. The person responsible for the law all across the western frontier. No, more than that. For she was known as…

…Sword Maiden.





There were many visitors to the Temple of Law.

In part, it was not just believers in the Supreme God who came to supplicate there.

The building was also a court, where judgments were made in the name of God. Cases ranged from simple everyday disputes to matters of life and death.

There was a ceaseless flow of those who wished to have their cases heard in the merciless light of God.

Deeper into the Temple, they passed through a waiting room full of such people.

Past the courtrooms where cases were heard, past hallways narrow with bookshelves to the innermost place, silent and lined with marble pillars.

In this deepest part of the Temple was a worship hall where an image of the Supreme God in the form of the sun was revered.

It was like something out of a myth.

The sunlight slipped down between the pillars in great golden sheets. There was no out-of-place noise; the silence was absolute. This was a holy place.

And at the altar knelt a woman, long staff in hand, praying.

She wore white robes over her robust figure. Her golden hair glittered in the sun. Her staff, which depicted a sword from whose hilt hung a set of scales, showed the equality of justice and law.

She was so dazzling one could only think that if the Supreme God were to be incarnated as a woman, this would be her.

Distressingly, her eyes were hidden with a black kerchief. Not that it in any way impugned her beauty; the cloth may even have made it all the more striking.

“—?”

Suddenly, she looked up.

The sacred silence had been shattered by bold, casual footsteps.

“G-Goblin Slayer, sir! Please try to be quieter…”

“This is an urgent job. If they don’t mind our entering, there’s no reason to wait.”

“I thought you seemed like the impatient type, Orcbolg.”

“Everyone’s impatient compared to an elf!”

“Such clamor is unbecoming. Be it a foreign deity or no, we are in the house of God.”

Loud, lively, rough, robust. To her it was tremendously nostalgic.

“”

The edges of her mouth softened ever so slightly, and the sleeve of her garment moved like a wave on the ocean.

She—Archbishop of the Supreme God, Sword Maiden—slowly rose.

“Goodness. Who might you be…?”

“We’ve come to slay the goblins.” Goblin Slayer answered dispassionately, in a clear tone and with what sounded like a quiet smile.

His attitude flirted with insolence, but he didn’t sound flippant. It was a tremendously adventurer-like way to speak.

Priestess stood beside him, goggling, painfully trying to figure out how to make her greeting.

This is Sword Maiden here!

The archbishop beloved of the Supreme God.

The Gold-ranked adventurer who, ten years before, had been the demise of the Demon Lord.

Not a hero of legend, but a unique presence who had emerged from humankind.

She was vastly beyond Priestess, freshly promoted to Obsidian. The difference between them was like the gulf between a goblin and a dragon.

When she had been an acolyte, Priestess probably could not have brought herself to be in this awesome place at all.

“I, um, that is, it’s…it’s an honor to meet you,” Priestess said in a strained voice, making a small bow. Her eyes shone and her cheeks were red.

“A most honored warrior and…a sweet, most honored priestess.”

From beyond the kerchief, a gentle gaze brushed Priestess’s cheek and then moved on, or so she felt.

She could hear her own heart pounding inside her little chest. She hoped it wasn’t audible to anyone else.

“And these august personages are…?”

“Mm. Their compatriots—their party members,” Lizard Priest said when the gaze settled on him. “I venerate the most fearsome naga, but rest assured, I shall give you all my support.” His unusual palms-together gesture was solemn.

Of course, his gesture differed from the way clergy of the Supreme God showed respect to one another. But that was not the point. What was most important was that he show his intention to respect others.

Everything began from that point. Without a flicker in her smile, Sword Maiden drew a cross in the air with her finger.

“Welcome to the Temple of Law. I am honored to receive you, O scaled priest.”

High Elf Archer and Dwarf Shaman, for their part, evinced little interest in the goings-on.

They gave slight bows from behind Lizard Priest, but they had their heads together, whispering to each other.

“Hmm. Quite something for human work,” said the dwarf.

“Yeah. What a beautiful picture,” said the elf.

Their admiration seemed to be focused on the ceiling high above their heads.

There, rich brushstrokes composed a mural depicting the battles of the Age of the Gods.

They had seen cave paintings before, drawn in blood on the walls of ruins, but this was something else entirely.

Order and chaos, Illusion and Truth, the gods raged against each other with body and spirit and soul.

Against a field of stars, miracles and magic whirled about, flew back and forth, shined, burned. Finally, the gods reached out for a cube and began to indulge themselves in throwing it.

The board they played on was this very world, and the pieces they played with, everyone in it.

Hence why those with words, those who prayed, tried to live correctly.

The two of them, who were kin to the spirits that filled this world, were not unlike the gods. While elves and dwarves respected the gods, however, they did not mindlessly worship them. The gods were very much “with” them; they would listen to the gods’ advice, but not be their slaves. This was why there were so few elf priests—though the dwarves still cleaved to the smithy god, themselves.

“Ho-ho. How very…adventurer-like you all are.”

An eccentric warrior. A pure priestess. A foreign priest. A dwarf magic user. And an elf ranger.

The archbishop gave the five of them a small, strange smile.

…?

Priestess thought the smile brimmed with loneliness and longing.

“And if so, then we are like each other. I welcome you wholeheartedly.”

It took but a moment.

Sword Maiden made a wide sweep of her arms, as if to embrace the adventurers. The gesture evoked a loving mother yet beguiling like a harlot urging someone into her bedchamber.

An average human man would have given a heavy swallow right about then.

Goblin Slayer, however, ignored all of this. “Enough complimenting each other. Tell us the details of the quest.” He was oblivious to the mortified look that came over Priestess’s face.

“N-now just a minute, Goblin Slayer, sir…”

Too much was too much.

Priestess grabbed his gauntleted hand and pulled him close.

“You can’t talk that way to the archbishop…”

“I don’t care.”

But Sword Maiden was gently shaking her head.

“I am most pleased that such a hardy adventurer has come to me.”

“Are you?”

“May I ask, out of personal curiosity,” she murmured, “if kin of yours were to join with chaos, could you kill them?”

“No,” Goblin Slayer replied bluntly. “I have no living relatives.”

“Is that so…?”

Goblin Slayer watched the bright red lips from inside his helmet as they whispered.

“So. Where are the goblins?”

Behind him, the other adventurers sighed.





“It began about a month ago.”

Sword Maiden nodded to the others to sit on the floor, then sat with her feet together, looking forlorn.

“Late one night, I sent an acolyte girl to deliver a message from this Temple…”

“Was she killed? Or kidnapped?” asked Goblin Slayer.

“…She didn’t come back that night. The next day, her body was found in a back alley.” A look of grief came over her face.

“Hmm.” Goblin Slayer cupped his chin in his hand, thinking.

“According to the person who found her, she appeared to have been cut up while she still lived.”

Sword Maiden’s words were calmness itself without a moment’s hesitation. But behind them was a slight tremble.

Was it terror? Intimidation? Or perhaps profound pain, sadness. Priestess couldn’t be sure.

“That’s… Well, that’s awful,” Priestess said.

“The very fact of murder is sad enough, though it happens from time to time…”

“While still alive…,” Goblin Slayer muttered quietly. “At that location?”

“…Yes.”

“Was any part of her eaten? Or was she merely killed? Do you have any other details…?”

“Come on, Orcbolg. You’re being insensitive, even for you,” High Elf Archer said, pursing her lips with a frown. She had noticed Sword Maiden’s clouded expression.

Goblin Slayer fell silent for a long moment, then said, “Please go on.”

“It was truly a terrible incident.”

Yes, terrible.

The Temple of Law was here, to be sure, but this was still the frontier. Not long ago it had been a lawless expanse, home to monsters and bandits. It could hardly now be without crime.

Though the light of the Supreme God shone abundantly, it was not enough to reach into twisted human hearts.

“Law and order… It is said they have continually been the weaker in the struggles of this world.” Sword Maiden continued, in a murmur, “Though evil has not triumphed in this world, neither has it been vanquished,” and joined her hands, offering a brief prayer to the god she served.

Waiting for her to finish, Lizard Priest stuck out his neck as if paying particular attention.

“So, is this to say the investigation has yielded no results?”

“…Yes. I am ashamed to say it, but it’s true…”

Perhaps an agent of chaos was involved or a follower of the Dark Gods? Or something else?

Amid a slew of hypotheses and conjectures, the town watch had immediately launched an investigation. For a city whose streets bustled day and night, there was surprisingly little evidence. And without evidence, there was nothing to be done, no matter how badly one wished to catch the criminal.

In the midst of all this, the water town experienced a dramatic rise in crime.

“Petty theft, random attacks in the streets. Violence toward women, kidnappings…”

“Hmm.” Goblin Slayer snorted as Sword Maiden mournfully related the state of things. “I don’t like it.”

“You don’t like anything, Beard-cutter,” Dwarf Shaman said, well accustomed to his companion, and gave Sword Maiden a wave as if to say, Don’t mind him. He rested his chin in his hand and his elbow on his folded knees. He didn’t even feel like having a drink of wine. “I admit it’s rather strange. But surely that’s not why you summoned us here.”

“You’re correct. They decided that if they could not track down the killer, perhaps they could catch him at his work.”

Thus, not only the town watch and guard, but adventurers, too, were dispatched.

They broke up into several groups, diligently patrolling the night streets and chasing down any suspicious characters.

It was a blunt approach, a plan marked by its practicality.

But it worked.

One of the adventurer groups saw small humanoids attacking a woman and cut them down.

In the light of the adventurers’ handheld oil lamps, the tiny corpses turned out to be…

“—goblins. Beyond doubt.”

“Hmm.” Goblin Slayer, who had been listening silently, made a sound of deep interest. “It was goblins?”

“Goblins… Not just one or two, I suppose,” Dwarf Shaman breathed, running his hand pensively along the flowing beard of which he was so proud.

Priestess tapped her finely formed pointer finger against her lips and made a thoughtful sound. “The question is how they got into town,” she said. “They certainly didn’t just walk through the gate.”

“That’d leave an underground route or the waterways,” Dwarf Shaman said.

High Elf Archer chimed in. “All these victims—those monsters weren’t just passing through.”

“What do you think?” Goblin Slayer’s helmet turned toward Lizard Priest.

The scaled priest gave a contemplative roll of his eyes, then opened his jaws and said, “Goblins…hmm. Goblins live underground. This town is built above a more ancient city. Surely there are ruins of some sort below it…”

“No question, then,” Goblin Slayer said decisively. “They’re stupid, but they’re not foolish. If I were them, I would simply nest in the sewers.”

“Once again, you demonstrate your ability to think like a goblin…”

It was hard to tell whether High Elf Archer was admiring or sarcastic.

“Of course,” Goblin Slayer replied with a nod. “If you don’t know how they think, you can’t fight them.”

Sword Maiden betrayed a hint of confusion at Goblin Slayer’s words, but nonetheless, she nodded firmly.

“Surely it was the Supreme God who guided an adventurer like you to accept my quest.” A faint smile rose suddenly to her face, and her voice was clear; her relief was evident. “I myself, after a month of reflection, concluded they must be underground.”

“A month?”

“Yes. And at first, I offered a quest to the adventurers of this town…”

“What did they do?” Priestess asked quietly, but Sword Maiden shook her head wordlessly.

“I see…,” Priestess said.

That was all the answer she needed.

They didn’t come back.

Many Porcelain and Obsidian adventurers who went to slay goblins met the same fate—like two of the three companions Priestess had first ventured into a cavern with.

Once the disturbing scene had been unexpectedly revived in her memory, it was not easy to wipe away.

Priestess almost thought she could catch the dank, rotten whiff of the cave and scrunched up her face a little.

“It was then that I heard a song of Goblin Slayer, hero of the frontier.”

“A song?” Goblin Slayer said, uncomprehending. “What do you mean?”

“You didn’t know? You’re a ballad, Orcbolg.” High Elf Archer drew a circle in the air with her pointer finger. “Turns out it doesn’t have much to do with the real you, though.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“But surely you know,” Lizard Priest said, narrowing his eyes. “Wherever there are bards, they will sing of valorous deeds.”

“To what end?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t see the connection, Beard-cutter.”

Not that he wasn’t interested.

Dwarf Shaman pounded his belly at Goblin Slayer’s display of perplexity.

“When word of your doings gets around, everyone will want you to slay their goblins for them!”

“Hmm…”

Sword Maiden’s eyes, hidden behind cloth, briefly met Goblin Slayer’s, hidden behind metal.

She bit her lip, then with a look of determination, bowed her head.

“Please. I beg you to save our town.”

“I don’t know whether I can,” Goblin Slayer said frankly. “But I will kill the goblins.”

It was simply not how one spoke to an archbishop, let alone a former hero.

Priestess said, “Goblin Slayer, sir!” and tugged on his arm, lips pursed. “You must find a better, you know, way to…talk…”

“It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

“That’s why it’s so important to be careful how you say it.”

“Hrm.”

Goblin Slayer let out a harsh snort, but even he could only fall silent.

Lizard Priest gave a jovial wave of his tail at the sight of his flummoxed friend, but his tone was serious.

“If they’re in the sewers, our usual tricks won’t work.”

“I’m kind of sick of our usual tricks, anyway,” High Elf Archer said dejectedly. “They’re…weird.” She gave him a gentle jab with her elbow. “You know what he means, right?”

“Yes.” Goblin Slayer nodded. “We have to go in and destroy them, but the underground area is large. It would be troublesome if some escaped.”

“No! Being in the sewers means we’ll be right below everyone who lives here. Get it?”

She didn’t know why she was surprised. Orcbolg had been this way as long as she’d known him. Burning down fortresses, making people douse themselves in guts, killing goblins in the most terrible ways, drowning them, using human wave tactics…

“No fire! No water! No poison gas! No entrails!”

“I told you, I have no intention of using any of those,” he replied in a tone he normally reserved for scolding Priestess, bringing High Elf Archer up short.

Her long ears jerked in annoyance, but she was the one who at last said, “Fine,” and desisted.

Lizard Priest ignored her mutter of “What’s with this guy?” and said, “But why can’t your town watch or your army handle these creatures?” He slapped the stone floor with his tail to emphasize his doubts. “I am not acquainted with the situation of this town, but surely this is not beyond their jurisdiction.”

“They…”

“…no doubt told you there was no need to involve the military for something as trivial as goblins,” Goblin Slayer said brusquely when Sword Maiden hesitated.

Sword Maiden looked down slightly, and her lips trembled. A most elegant answer.

It wasn’t hard to understand.

The adventurers went in precisely because the town watch and the military did not get involved.

The town watch took money to train and equip, and their families lived in town. If they were injured or killed, a pension would have to be paid to their relatives.

How different it was with adventurers, who took responsibility for everything themselves.

Above all else, the resurrection of the Demon Lord in the spring was still fresh in their minds.

“Can’t be helped, I suppose,” Dwarf Shaman said with a sigh and a stroke of his white beard. “Plenty of those demons still running around the Capital. I guess this is what adventurers are for…”

“Mrrm. Two sure founts of trouble are human money and human politics,” Lizard Priest said.

“I am most ashamed to admit the truth of your words,” Sword Maiden said, as if confessing a sin.

Tragedies in this world were many and endless.

As Sword Maiden had said, ever since the world’s inception, law and order had been lesser lights.

No one had the power to change that, not even slightly.

Even the Earth Mother, who offered salvation to those who were broken—her salvation was only for those who wished, asked, and prayed for it…

Hence why monsters were known as the Unpraying.

And yet…

“I do not much care for such things,” Sword Maiden whispered, turning her face aside.

She sounded like a young lady who had done some embarrassing thing.

“I don’t care.” Goblin Slayer cut through it all with a few curt words. “How do we get underground?”

“…”

Sword Maiden’s hidden eyes played across his helmet as if seeking some expression.

“Hey.”

“Oh. Yes, excuse me.”

The voice that answered his call was somehow distant, almost delirious.

Sword Maiden reached into the neckline of her thin garment, withdrawing a piece of paper from her generous bosom.

The folded sheet looked quite old; it seemed to be a map of the sewers.

“I think it would be best for you to enter the sewers via the well in the back garden of this Temple.”

Her slim, white fingers caressed the map as she spread it out on the floor. The wrinkled sheepskin made a rustling noise as she unfolded it.

“Hence, during your investigations, I offer you this Temple as lodging.”

“Mm.”

Goblin Slayer made a soft sound as he studied the map. It was discolored, already chewed by insects, but it spoke to the sheer size of the sewers. Perhaps it had made some sense to the ancient architects, but now…

“It’s like a maze,” Priestess said anxiously, looking at the map over Goblin Slayer’s shoulder.

Goblins worked their way completely through this underground labyrinth to attack humans? Facing them would be much harder than fighting other monsters, even poorly.

Maybe I’m just nervous. Had he noticed her quietly shift her gaze to him?

Goblin Slayer pulled the map closer, then tapped it lightly.

“How accurate is this map?”

“These are old plans from when the Temple was built…”

Sword Maiden shook her head gently. The gesture sent beautiful waves through her rich hair.

“But the city’s water does flow down there. If anything has collapsed, I cannot imagine it’s very much.”

“All right.”

With a nod, he nonchalantly rolled up the map and tossed it into the air.

Lizard Priest deftly stretched out his arm and caught it in his sharp claws.

“You’re our navigator.”

“Certainly.”

“Let’s go, then. No time to lose.”

No sooner had he spoken than Goblin Slayer set off with his bold stride.

The other adventurers looked at one another, then nodded helplessly.

“Well, that’s Orcbolg for you,” High Elf Archer said lightly, rising. She adjusted her great bow on her back, counted her arrows, then went after him at a trot.

Elves’ footsteps were so quiet they might weigh nothing at all; Lizard Priest found them all but inaudible. He gently opened the map he’d caught, double-checked it, folded it again, and put it carefully in his bag. “There do seem to be ruins deeper in, but we shall not know until we see for ourselves.”

“You said it. And we can’t count on our long-eared lass to lead the way. Beard-cutter is another matter.”

Dwarf Shaman stroked his beard, unable to watch them walk into such danger alone.

The two of them patted each other on the back, then stood up, looking pleased.

“You must excuse us, then. We shall be on our way.”

“Can’t keep long-ears and Beard-cutter waitin’ now!”

And the two of them departed.

Priestess had no time to gawk, either.

Scurrying to ready her gear, she straightened her garments and stood.

“Well, um, milady archbishop. I—I’ll be going, too.”

Ahem. She gripped her staff with both hands and bowed her head to Sword Maiden.

“If I may…,” Sword Maiden called out to Priestess as she turned to leave. She reached out one slim hand as if beckoning.

“Yes?” Priestess asked, looking questioningly at her.

“Perhaps it is not my place to ask this, as the quest giver…”

Priestess could not quite read Sword Maiden’s expression as she spoke. All emotion seemed to have left her lovely face, like a receding tide. It was hard to escape the impression that she had donned a mask.

“But are you not afraid?”

Her question was quiet but clear.

Priestess knitted her brow slightly; her eyes wandered the room. What should she say?

“I… Yes. I am afraid. But…”

Then, she said nothing more. She had never stopped being afraid, not since she had first entered a goblin den on that day long ago.

And yet…

Her averted gaze followed those adventurers, walking ahead of her, some ways away…

A towering lizardman. Next to him, a stubby dwarf. A slender elf. And…

A warrior. Dressed in a cheap-looking helmet, grimy leather armor, with a small round shield and a sword that seemed a strange length.

“Hee-hee.”

Standing there, nearly alone, a smile welled up on Priestess’s face.

She was a disciple of the Earth Mother, but if she were to pray to the Supreme God she would ask one thing:

That she never be without even one of these companions.

“…I’m sure we’ll be all right.”

And with that, she shyly offered a prayer under her breath.





“…All right, the papers are in order. Thank you so much for always making these food deliveries!”

“Of course. This is our livelihood, after all!”

“Ahh, everyone loves the things from your farm, though. They’re delicious—that’s most important—but they’re cheap, too.”

“Ha-ha-ha! …Yeah, everyone’s been so kind to us since…since what happened last spring. It’s been a huge help… Sigh…”

“Why the long face? Something the matter? If it’s the price, I’m sorry to say I can’t negotiate, though.”

“Oh no, uh… No. It’s just, he’s away, and I’m…you know?”

“Heh-heh! He’ll be fine. Mr. Goblin Slayer is always prepared.”

“I wonder. I guess he’s not the type to just wander into trouble.”

“Personally, I would think you’d be more worried about…other things. What with all the time he’ll have on his hands.”

“What other things?”

“Please. He’s in a far-off city with two women. And not a small city, either. There’ll be lots of opportunities…”

“B-but there’s a couple of men with him, too, right? A-anyway, he wouldn’t…”

“I admit, he’s never seemed like the type.”

“…Hey. In adventure stories, they always… I mean, the hero always saves the princess or the village girl, and then they get married, right?”

“Sure. Lots of plays and books like that.”

“Does it really happen?”

“All the time. Frankly, it leaves our female adventurers wanting for husbands.”

“…Okay. So, when he saves some girl, what do you think he looks like? To her?”

“Huh? Well…like the frontier champion, the slayer of goblins… I mean, speaking just to his looks…”

“……”

“Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please.”

“There’s a festival coming up, isn’t there? The autumn harvest.”

“Can’t miss it.”

“Let’s do it.”

“Let’s do it.”

And so they were decided.





A shrill scream echoed across the stone of the waterway built by those ancient people.

A goblin fell backward, a hatchet buried in its forehead.

Without flinching, Goblin Slayer kicked the corpse into the river of sewage that ran nearby. It fell in with a splash, then floated among the polluted bubbles for a moment before sinking out of sight.

“That seems to be the last of them.” Lizard Priest wiped the blood from his blade, a fang-sword that had recently been buried in a goblin’s throat.

The flame of an abandoned torch on the floor wavered, and the light danced over the carnage all around.

The bodies were perhaps 40 percent goblin; the rest were the rotting remains of adventurers.

And there, up ahead where the waterway split into countless branches, loomed a mysterious shadow.

“No… There’s something else.”

High Elf Archer was not one to miss something like that. As she spoke, she set another arrow into her bow. Her ears flicked up and down; then, with a faint hiss, she pulled back the spider’s silk bowstring and let it go.

With a twang like a fine lute, the arrow sliced through the air.

It arced, turning the corner as if it had a life of its own. A moment later there was a high-pitched “Gyaa!” and then a soft noise of something hitting the water.

“That’s the last of them.”

“Phew… Nice shot.”

At High Elf Archer’s exultant exclamation, Priestess, who had been clutching her sounding staff, let out a sigh.

She kept her spirit continually heightened, so she could invoke a miracle at any time. She was glad, though, that she hadn’t needed to use one—could save it for later.

“But…to find so many goblins right under the town…”

“This is what I expected.”

Goblin Slayer nonchalantly propped up the body of an adventurer. A bit of rotten flesh tumbled to the ground.

The corpse had been so well chewed by rats that it was no longer possible to tell whether it was male or female, but he didn’t hesitate.

Chain mail darkened with dried blood. A broken helmet. This was probably a warrior once. Their item bag had already been torn to shreds. Goblin Slayer looked through everything the goblins hadn’t already stolen and took a longsword, scabbard and all, from the body’s hip.

He drew the blade and found a cutting edge with no rust at all. Perhaps it had been well-oiled?

“They must have been ambushed.” One blow to the head most likely. Not even a chance to draw their weapons.

The sword was too heavy for a goblin and longer than Goblin Slayer liked, but it wasn’t a bad weapon.

“All right.” Goblin Slayer nodded, sheathing the sword again. Priestess let out a breath.

“It’s not ‘all right.’ May I?”

“Go ahead.”

Goblin Slayer pushed the adventurer’s corpse back on its side.

Priestess knelt near the body, her expression dark. She paid no attention to the filthy water that lapped at her white vestments.

“O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, please, by your revered hand, guide the soul of one who has left this world…”

Holding her staff, her eyes closed, whispering in a rhythm almost musical, she prayed, chanted, implored.

Prayed that the souls of the adventurers and the goblins who had died here might be saved by the gods who resided in heaven.

“Would that we could leave you in the soil rather than below it…”

Lizard Priest, following Priestess’s lead, put his palms together in an odd gesture, praying for the rebirth of those souls.

“But we take comfort that, by feeding the rats and bugs, you will return to the earth in time.”

The Earth Mother and the fearsome naga. Their gods were different; thus, so also were their doctrines.

But in wishing for the happiness of the souls of the dead, they were the same. They knew not where their prayers went, only that there was salvation.

Priestess and Lizard Priest looked at each other, knowing they had each discharged their duty.

“Hmm, there.”

Keeping half an eye on the two of them, High Elf Archer pulled an arrow from a goblin’s corpse.

She checked the bud at the tip and, satisfied that it wasn’t damaged, returned the bolt to her quiver.

“Just so you know, I’m not going to do like you, Orcbolg.” She fixed her eyes briefly on the armored adventurer with the inscrutable expression. Vwip went her ears, as if to show her mood. “It looks like this could be a long fight. And I don’t want to use goblin arrows. They’re so crude,” she grumbled.

Goblin Slayer’s eyes flitted to her. “Are they?”

“Yeah, they are.”

“I see.”

“Gracious me,” Dwarf Shaman sighed, stroking his beard.

He had had his hand in his bag of catalysts, ready with a spell, but…

He was looking far away, into the black beyond the light of the torch. As dwellers underground, they could see well in the dark.

“Makes you wonder just how many there are.”

But even his sharp eyes didn’t catch sight of any goblins.

It had been three days since they’d begun their exploration of the sewers, and this was the fifth time they’d been attacked today alone.





The sewers of the water town had been completely transformed into a goblin nest. Adventurers who entered the place soon found themselves attacked by the little demons.

The winding network of waterways—effectively a maze—was the goblins’ ally.

The party was attacked repeatedly at irregular intervals, and the search went on and on; they could never let down their guard.

“I am told that this is business as usual for adventurers of a labyrinth city.”

The normally stoic lizardman’s complaints were evidence of the toll fatigue had taken on them.

Battle alone would not have done this to them, nor simply walking through a cave. It was the constant vigilance that wore on their nerves.

“…”

Anxiety was clear on Priestess’s face, as well. Even her footsteps seemed somehow uncertain.

“Stay calm.”

Goblin Slayer, examining every inch of their route closely, was as blunt as usual.

He had taken a fresh torch out of his knapsack and lit it and was now tapping insistently on the walls.

“This is a stone wall. It’s unlikely they’ll ambush us through it.”

“Please don’t bring back bad memories.” Priestess frowned and shivered. The terror of that first adventure still haunted her.

“…I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” was all she said in response to Goblin Slayer’s quiet murmur.

Perhaps Dwarf Shaman sensed what was going on between them, because he chuckled quietly and said, “At least with this much garbage around, we don’t have to bother to hide our scents.”

“Please don’t bring back bad memories,” High Elf Archer said with a weary wave of her hand.

She stuck out her arm and took a sniff of her hunter’s outfit.

In the past, on another dive into underground ruins, Goblin Slayer had forced her to slather herself with goblin guts, alleging it would cover her scent. She had been able to wash her clothes and clean her body, but she had never really forgiven him.

“I’m warning you, Orcbolg, if you ever make me do that again, you’re in for it.”

Goblin Slayer was silent. He moved his head slightly from side to side.

Maybe he was checking the smell of the area. After a long moment, he answered.

“True, there’s no need this time.”

“Hrk.”

High Elf Archer’s ears went back.

The half-opened eye of a sniper fixed on Goblin Slayer.

“Hey, I just remembered.”

“What?”

“Orcbolg. You never apologized to me.”

“Because it was necessary.”

His answer could not have been more direct. High Elf Archer pouted with a “grrr” and fell into a sulk.

“…Hmm?”

Suddenly her ears bounced up and down, and she looked at the ceiling.

“What is it, long-ears?” asked Dwarf Shaman.

“Something feels strange… And I hear the sound of water. Above us?”

Just then, a droplet fell into the waterway—splish.

Ripples ran through the sewage. One, two, three.

“Hrm…”

Lizard Priest stuck out his tongue doubtfully and licked his nose.

Ploop! Ploop! More droplets fell.

Soon they were coming down nonstop.

“Is this…rain?” Priestess frowned, looking at the faraway ceiling. The surface of the riverine waterway was full of tiny waves.

High Elf Archer raised her hand uselessly to shield herself from the drops.

“How can it be raining underground?” she asked in confusion.

“The rain’s probably up above. It’s coming down here through the grates or the river,” said Dwarf Shaman, stroking his beard. He looked at Goblin Slayer.

“What do you say, Beard-cutter?”

“If we lose our light, it will be a problem.” Goblin Slayer was holding his shield above the freshly lit torch to protect it.

Useless torch, that it could go out so easily. In this respect, lanterns were better. Well, there were pros and cons to everything. Goblin Slayer clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“Footing will be more treacherous, too.”

“The rain will chill our bodies,” Lizard Priest added with a grim nod and look at the party. “I propose a brief rest. Opinions?”

The rain prevented them from either moving forward or going back. There were no objections.

Once they had decided, the adventurers acted quickly. Since the rain had only just started, surfaces were still relatively dry, but if they dawdled, they would end up sitting somewhere wet, and they would only get colder.

They hadn’t brought some canopy with them, but any adventurer worth their salt had rain gear in their kit. Once they had all put on their worsted overcoats, they sat in a circle together.

Then, Priestess transferred the flame from their torch to a covered lantern and set it in the middle of their circle.

It didn’t warm them much, but it was better than nothing.

“…Hey, Orcbolg. Why don’t you like lanterns?” High Elf Archer poked at the light in perplexity, then brushed at it as if to wipe away some soot. “You can just hang them from your belt. You don’t need to use a whole hand to hold them.”

“A torch can be a weapon,” Goblin Slayer said. “A lantern is useless if it breaks.”

“Huh.”

High Elf Archer seemed disappointed by his answer. She pulled her knees up to her chest.

Goblin Slayer looked at the waterway, ignoring the droplets that dripped from his helmet.

Priestess gave him a compassionate look.

“You should probably at least take off your helmet…don’t you think?”

“You never know when or where the enemy will attack.”

“You know, Beard-cutter, I’ve always thought you were a little rough on your equipment. You ought to repair them.”

“Yes.”

Dwarf Shaman, sitting cross-legged, pulled a wine jar from his bag of catalysts. Breaking the seal, he poured cups of clear fire wine, then quickly handed them to the rest of the party.

The damp smell of the air mixed with the wafting aroma of wine.

“Drink up now. Can’t do aught with a frozen body.”

“But I…”

“I know. Just take a sip, one mouthful. I know that’s all you can manage. I won’t hold it against you.”

High Elf Archer took the cup reluctantly—indeed, fearfully. She took a dainty sip, wincing as it burned her throat.

“Ohh…”

“Still a young’un when it comes to drink, aren’t you?”

“Are you all right?” Priestess asked.

“Y-yeah… But a drunken ranger won’t do anyone any good.”

High Elf Archer nodded at Priestess, who urged her not to force herself.

Then again, Priestess herself was rather unaccustomed to fire wine. She just pretended the potent wine was medicine and took a quiet sip.

The powerful flavor burned on her tongue. Her eyes darted around desperately.

“Well, I shall have a cup, too, then,” said Lizard Priest.

“Of course! Drink up!”

In contrast to the others, Lizard Priest, tail wrapped around his feet, took the brimming cup Dwarf Shaman handed him and poured it all at once into his massive jaws.

“Truly a surpassing flavor. I could drink a barrelful of it.”

“Even with my tricks, I can’t bring a barrel along. Have a splash, Beard-cutter.”

“…”

Goblin Slayer drank the wine through the opening in his visor, never taking his gaze off the waterway.

The rainfall changed from steady to downpour, and the sewage water churned, bubbling violently.

After a while, each of them lapsed into silence.

The patter of raindrops on their overcoats, the slosh of wine being drunk, their own shallow breathing—there was sound everywhere, yet the place seemed strangely hushed.

“We should put something in our stomachs,” Goblin Slayer said shortly, in a quiet voice. “A partially empty stomach keeps the blood from pooling. But too empty and we’ll slow down.”

“Well, if something simple will do…”

Priestess dug in her bag and came up with something wrapped in oil paper.

“Oh-ho!” Dwarf Shaman was tickled having sensed food coming on and gave High Elf Archer a grin and a poke with his elbow. “I knew it. Long-ears, see how your skills are lacking in certain areas?”

“Y-y-you—!”

But she had no comeback.

“…Maybe I’ll learn to cook,” she muttered, at which Priestess offered to teach her and smiled.

Their meal was hard-cooked bread and a bottle of watered-down grape wine.

It was made to keep a long time, but it was flavorless and cold. These were simply field rations, meant to fill their bellies and moisten their throats.

The adventurers chewed on the bread without pleasure, but also without complaint.

“I was hoping I could make something a little less tough, but…,” Priestess said apologetically, shifting as she wiped a bread crumb from her cheek and put it in her mouth. “I don’t think anyone feels much like eating anything too elaborate right here, anyway…”

“True enough…” High Elf Archer shrugged and made a show of holding her nose.

Full of waves churned up by the rain, the filthy waterway had become more of a filthy river. The sense of smell plays a large role in how something tastes, and here the aroma of grape wine was overwhelmed by moss, mold, and any number of other odors.

“I guess I just don’t understand why anyone would want to eat underground,” High Elf Archer said.

“Oh-ho. Just hang on there, lass.”

You’ll regret it when we get back up above, thought the dwarf as he stared at her with narrowed eyes, but High Elf Archer showed no sign of noticing.

“When we have borne this trial, then let us get something delicious for our stomachs.”

Lizard Priest, who had been drinking grape wine and fire wine in equal measures, jumped into the conversation.

Priestess agreed quietly, cradling her cupful of wine in both hands.

“Now that you mention it, what is good to eat around here?”

“Hmm. Indeed. Let’s see…” Dwarf Shaman stroked his beard. “Around here…”

“Fried river fish, veal liver, and grape wine,” Goblin Slayer said without taking his eyes off the water.

Everyone looked at him.

“And I have heard the grain around here is unpolished, so the batter is quite good.”

Dwarf Shaman, with nothing else to add, gave an exaggerated shrug. “You heard the man.”

“I see you are quite knowledgeable, milord Goblin Slayer.”

“One of my acquaintances is.”

Lizard Priest had leaned in with great interest, but Goblin Slayer’s response was brief.

“When I said I was coming here, they told me about the food.”

An acquaintance?

Priestess went over the possibilities in her mind: Guild Girl, Cow Girl, or Witch. Maybe Spearman or Heavy Warrior…

She realized how many more acquaintances he had now than when she had joined him a few months earlier and giggled under her breath.

Thus, their short respite from their adventure passed amicably.

But every adventure is rife with danger; in the field, no place is really safe.

It happened about the time the wine was working its way through their bodies, warming their limbs.

“…Hmm?”

Goblin Slayer suddenly made a sound. He immediately rose to one knee and stared intently at the water.

“Something wrong, Goblin Slayer, sir…?”

“No,” he muttered. “…But be on your guard.”

Priestess nodded at his vague answer.

He must have sensed something. Priestess quickly began to pack her bag, but with one eye to her surroundings. Even if there was nothing there, it was about time for them to be moving on.

“I will help you. Milord spell caster, your blanket.”

“Right here.”

No one had to tell them what to do. The veteran adventurers moved quickly and efficiently.

High Elf Archer, stooped like Goblin Slayer, kept a hand on her quiver, listening. Her long ears bouncing up and down were the sharpest in the party.

“…Something’s coming.”

Each of them immediately readied their weapons. Goblin Slayer took out the longsword he had just collected, Lizard Priest a fang-sword. Priestess held her staff anxiously; Dwarf Shaman had his sling; and High Elf Archer drew an arrow from her quiver.

“Beard-cutter!”

“Right.”

Goblin Slayer grabbed Dwarf Shaman’s lantern with his left hand, the one tied to his shield. There was no time to light a torch. Should he hold the light in his hand?

No. He hung it by his hip instead.

All of them looked past the rain to the far side of the waterway, where the low-hanging mist had dispersed into a fine haze.

This time, all of them could clearly hear the sound of splashing water.

It wasn’t the waves. Something was coming through the water toward them.

Without hesitation, Goblin Slayer shined the light of the lantern on the mist-cloaked shape. They could just discern a crude water vessel, like a raft, fashioned of driftwood.

“Goblins!”

The next instant, the monsters on the raft let loose with their handmade bows. Their shots lacked precision, but in the narrow space, they fell like the rain already pelting them.

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

Not just the arrows, but even the drops of water miraculously stopped falling on them.

The impassable barrier gave off a faint glimmer. At its center stood Priestess, clutching her staff with both hands. The prayer had cost some of her own spirit, but it had reached heaven, and the all-merciful goddess had granted the miracle of Protection.

“I can’t hold it for lo—”

“It’s enough.”

Priestess was beginning to sweat, but Goblin Slayer reassured her briefly. The longsword was already in his right hand, and his shield was on his left. “How many?” he asked.

“I can’t count them!” yelled back High Elf Archer as she nocked another arrow into her bow, and the bowstring sang as she loosed. “What are you going to do?”

“What I always do,” Goblin Slayer said, unmoved by the hail of arrows. He spun the longsword in his hand into a reverse grip. “Kill all the goblins.”

He held the sword above his head and then, almost too fast to see, he flung it.

Since there was no intent to harm Priestess, the blade could pass through the Protection barrier, as per the rules.

The sword cut through the incoming arrows and pierced the head of the goblin that appeared to be the chief. He didn’t even have time to cry out as he collapsed into the sewage, and the staff he had been holding hit the water with an impressive splash.

“GROOARRB!!”

“GAROOROROROR?!”

The goblins began to howl at the loss of their shaman, and for a moment, the attack faltered.

“That’s one. How many spells do you have left?”

“Plenty. I’ve been saving them!” Dwarf Shaman answered as he put a gemstone in his sling and loosed it.

“…Tunnel, then. Make us a hole.”

His eyes widened at the frank instruction.

“Don’t be silly now. You want to destroy that town up there?!”

“Not up. Down.”

Goblin Slayer reached into his bag.

“Dig under the waterway and drain it,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“But a city is like a finely wrought machine!” Dwarf Shaman shouted. “Upset even one thing, and the sewers might overflow!”

“It’s not fire. It’s not water. It’s not poison gas.”

His puzzlement would have been comical at any other time, but now High Elf Archer shouted at him, “Something else!”

“…Hrm.”

Goblin Slayer went quiet, then started to dig through his bag.

The goblins, of course, were not standing idly by. They fired arrows as quickly as they could, their raft drawing ever nearer to shore.

Priestess, her hands still on her staff, gave a cry.

“I can’t hold it any longer…!”

“You don’t have another one of those Gate scrolls, do you?” Dwarf Shaman said.

“If I did, I would have brought it.”

The tactic he had used against the ogre was still fresh in their minds, but a Gate scroll was a very valuable item and not easy to obtain. Part of what made Goblin Slayer unique was his willingness to use something so precious without a moment’s hesitation. After all, he had presumably intended to use it against goblins at some point.

As he spoke, Goblin Slayer pulled something from his bag.

“You have a strategy?” Lizard Priest inquired.

“We attack the moment Protection wears off,” Goblin Slayer replied.

“Of course.”

“Goblins or raft? Which is best?”

“Raft, I suppose.”

“All right.”

With that brief exchange, Goblin Slayer turned to Priestess.

The girl was clinging to her staff with all her might; she could hardly spare the effort to look his way.

Goblin Slayer glanced up for a moment. What to tell her?

“…Cast Protection again. Solidify our defense.”

“Y-yes, sir!”

Priestess nodded firmly. Goblin Slayer let out a breath. His empty right hand worked open and closed.

He needed a weapon. Maybe he could at least find a knife somewhere…

“But a moment, milord Goblin Slayer.”

Lizard Priest produced a beast’s fang from his pack and grasped it with a strange gesture.

“O sickle wings of Velociraptor, rip and tear, fly and hunt…”

A prayer to his venerable forebears. An appeal to his ancestors.

His two scaled hands ran across the fang, imbuing it with the power of the fearsome naga. As he spoke, it grew and sharpened into a Swordclaw.

“I believe this is the length of blade you prefer. Oh, but…try not to throw it. If you can.”

“I’ll try.”

Goblin Slayer took the proffered blade in a practiced hand. Not bad.

“Only…a little…longer…!”

The invisible barrier was beginning to groan under the ceaseless arrow fire.

The groan turned to a crack, and then the shield shattered into dust.

“Close your eyes and mouths, and don’t breathe. Here goes!”

In the next instant, Goblin Slayer flung the egg in his left hand directly at the raft.

“GARARAOB?!”

“GRORRR?!”

Screams.

Ground-up pepper and snake bits mixed with shattered eggshell in the air. Goblins’ eyes ran. They choked on the mixture and flailed about with the pain.

Slicing through the red haze, Goblin Slayer and Lizard Priest leaped aboard the ship. The raft swayed with their weight, sending one or two goblins into the muck.

A loud splash and a spray. Droplets rained down.

“Hrm.”

Goblin Slayer grunted as he laid into the creatures struggling to maintain their footing on the rocking vessel. As he did, a goblin seized the moment to grab him from behind. With his shield, he gave it a resounding smack.

Clang. “GAROU!”

“…So you have armor, do you?” Goblin Slayer spat in annoyance. Without slowing, he spun, kicking the howling goblin clear off the raft.

“GROOROB?!”

The creature struggled mightily to climb back out of the sewage, but his armor was too heavy.

Finally, the hideous face slipped beneath the surface. A few bubbles came up, and then the goblin, like a piece from a game board, was gone.

“Hmm.”

In a single motion, Goblin Slayer struck a nearby monster with the flat of his sword. The goblin and the grimy tears he had been crying went helplessly overboard.

“GAROOARA?!”

“It’s easiest just to push them off.”

“O, fearsome naga! See your child’s deeds in battle!”

Lizard Priest’s only response to Goblin Slayer was to bellow this prayer and leap at the goblins.

As the goblins began to recover their sight, they tossed their bows aside and frantically drew their swords.

But they were too slow.

They fell to claw and fang and tail, to sword and shield, fist and foot. With nimble movements and long-studied tactics, the two warriors worked their way from one end of the raft to the other.

Goblins were weak, after all.

In a toe-to-toe battle with experienced adventurers, the average goblin didn’t have a glimmer of a chance. A couple of the creatures jumped into the sewage in their panic. Having forgotten they couldn’t swim, they promptly drowned.

“Sixteen.”

Even so, the goblins had not lost their chief advantage.

“But we may be in difficult straits. They are many.”

Which was to say, numbers.

Where one was slain, two more appeared; where two drowned, four came forward. Four became eight. Eight became sixteen. Sixteen became thirty-two.

How many goblins could fit on the little raft?

“GOOORRB!”

“GROB! GOOBR!!”

The two adventurers met the mass of goblins and slew one after another. But there was no end to them.

Though the adventurers were more than two themselves.

“GRRB?!”

A bud-tipped arrow flew through the air.

Focused entirely on the threat in front of him, the goblin missed it until the shaft was buried in his eye and he was tumbling to the ground.

“An elf doesn’t even need her eyes open to make her shot!”

It was, of course, High Elf Archer, standing on shore.

Her ears stood straight up, and she fired arrows faster than the eye could see. Quick—so quick that everything else seemed to pale.

Among those who had words, there was none who could shoot better than an elf. Even in the furor of battle, her arrows hit only her targets. In a breath, she had emptied her quiver, but that didn’t mean she was out of arrows.

With a distasteful cluck, High Elf Archer picked up some of the goblins’ bolts from earlier.

“These things are so crude.”

But crude or no—even if the arrowheads were made of stone—the elf would not miss.

One goblin, growing impatient, picked up a bow again. He stooped down, using his friends as a shield (playing dirty, as goblins were wont to do), and readied himself to take a potshot from the shadows.

Actually, for a goblin, his aim was fairly careful.

“ORGGGG…”

His target was that impertinent little elf.

The rough bowstring made a squeaking sound as he drew it back.

An elf. And a woman, at that. It would be fun to take her alive…but then, killing her would be pleasant, too.

He’d shoot her in the eye. Or perhaps the ear? With a hideous smile, he let the arrow loose…

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

It never came close to High Elf Archer, but only bounced away with a clatter.

The all-merciful Earth Mother could hardly refuse the supplication of her disciple, could she?

In the next moment, the would-be goblin archer fell prey to one of High Elf Archer’s arrows and met his end.

“Thanks.”

“Not at all. I have to earn my keep, too…”

High Elf Archer winked at the girl next to her. Priestess smiled stoutheartedly and held her prayer.

“I can keep them off our back row,” Priestess said. “I’m counting on you to handle offense!”

“Sounds like a plan! And I have just the thing here!”

It was Dwarf Shaman who answered her, scavenging in the bag of catalysts he had so carefully conserved until that moment.

He had a handful of clay in each hand.

The edges of High Elf Archer’s lips turned up in a smile, but she never looked away from the goblins’ raft.

“We know already, just get on with it! Dwarves take forever to do anything!”

“Put a rock in it. You’ve your fighting style, and I’ve mine.”

Dwarf Shaman began to roll each fistful of clay into a ball.

He breathed on them, mumbling something, then gave a great bellow:

“Beard-cutter, Scaly! Fall back!”

At the same moment, he pitched the dirt balls through the air. His lips overflowed with words of power.

“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!”

As they watched, the little balls transformed into massive boulders and smashed into the boat.

Stone Blast enhanced with an influx of spiritual power to be even more impressive than usual.

“M-milord Goblin Slayer!”

“Right.”

The two adventurers on the raft exchanged a quick glance, then shoved through the fleeing goblins, making a huge leap to shore.

Behind them, there was a roar, and sewage surged up like a geyser. Droplets of the filthy stuff rained down on Goblin Slayer and Lizard Priest as they rolled onto solid ground.

The raft sank to the bottom of the sewer, goblins and all. A few monsters had escaped by the skin of their teeth, but their armor dragged them down and they disappeared.

No one spoke as they watched all this happen.

The rain had never abated; it felt cold as they stood still, flushed with the heat of combat. Their breath fogged; the stench of blood and sewage rose around them.

High Elf Archer asked in a somewhat strained voice:

“So, what do we do next?”

“…Give me a break,” Dwarf Shaman said morosely. He pulled out his jar of wine and undid the stopper. “That little trick just now really took it out of me.”

Next to him, Priestess slid weakly to her knees.

“Let’s…rest, for a moment. I need it, too…”

“No.” Goblin Slayer shook his head.

Despite having just come through a pitched battle, he didn’t seem to be breathing hard; he was staring squarely at the water.

“We have to move immediately.”

“Hwa…?”

Priestess looked up at him vacantly.

He looked around vigilantly, still holding weapons in both hands.

“I concur.” Lizard Priest nodded, making his strange hands-together gesture. “That battle was not a quiet one. Even with the rain to dampen the noise…”

Something else may have noticed us.

Just as he said this…

There was another splash.

High Elf Archer looked at the water with a grim expression.

“Escaped the goblins only to be caught by the wolves, have we?” She shuddered as she invoked the old proverb.

The surface of the sewage quaked; waves grew up and began rippling closer.

The next instant, huge jaws exploded out of the murky water.

“AAAAAARRRIGGGGGG!!!!”

The instant after that, the adventurers decided on a tactical retreat.

They ran for their lives through the rain, scattering droplets everywhere. They made their way without hesitating, despite the dimness of the sewers. This was only because they were led by High Elf Archer and Lizard Priest, whose agility helped them maneuver through the darkness and around minor obstacles. Priestess and Dwarf Shaman simply followed in their wake.

The willowy priestess and the stout dwarf were not naturally quick runners. Goblin Slayer, the lantern still hanging from his belt, protected them as they ran as fast as their feet would carry them.

Behind him, the surface of the water thrashed again.

He chanced a glance back. Massive white jaws filled his vision: long and narrow, vast, and brimming with sharp teeth. The mouth that loomed out of the darkness was more than enough to bite a person in half.

The jaws closed around empty air and sank back into the water, but they were gradually gaining ground.

“I’ve determined one thing from my observations,” Goblin Slayer said, his breathing even. “That is not a goblin.”

“I could’ve told you that!” shouted High Elf Archer, who had not looked back to see the beast for herself.

There are monsters called alligators, also known as “swamp dragons.”

Dragon is just a name; they are more closely related to lizards. They are not the creatures of legend.

They are, however, hideous: their bodies and jaws long and flat, forcing them to crawl about. Still, an alligator slicing through the water with its long tail is no laughing matter.

In this place, the white alligator hurtling toward them was more to be feared than any mythical beast.

“Hey, Scaly! Ain’t that your cousin? Do something about him!”

Dwarf Shaman was working his stubby legs as hard as he could. Spittle flew from his mouth as he shouted.

“Most unfortunately, when I entered the clergy I had to abandon all ties to my family.”

“What, don’t you ever even go home?”

“It is quite far.”

With a harsh breath, Lizard Priest took Dwarf Shaman’s feet out from under him with a sweep of his tail.

“Whoooa?!” Dwarf Shaman exclaimed as his legs left the ground and floated through the air.

At about the moment he expected to be back on the ground, he found a great, scaly arm wrapped around him, holding him. Lizard Priest didn’t slow for an instant as he grabbed up Dwarf Shaman and kept running.

Those unique lizardman eyes darted about.

“And to be clear, spell caster, that wyrm is no relation of mine!”

“Oh-ho! I like this! Nice and easy!”

Apparently unperturbed by his friend’s remark, Dwarf Shaman rode on Lizard Priest’s shoulder, laughing all the while.

“Wh-where do you think it c-came from?” Priestess asked from behind them, gasping for breath.

Praying to the gods puts a terrible strain on the soul and spirit. It is no easier than physical combat. Hence she was nearly out of breath, her feet unsteady; she felt she might fall at any moment.

Goblin Slayer gave a click of his tongue and picked her up by her narrow waist.

“Wha—?!”

“Get your breathing back under control.”

Priestess yelped, startled, but after Goblin Slayer’s short response, she found herself caught up under his arm.

She kicked and squirmed from embarrassment, both at their physical proximity and at being a literal burden to him.

“I—I’m all right! Y-you don’t have to carry me…”

“Stop struggling. I’ll drop you.”

“Ohh…”

“You have one more miracle left, correct?”

It would be trouble if she collapsed here and now, his words informed her.

“I may need you to use another spell.”

After a moment Priestess’s cheeks flushed, and she replied quietly, “Right.”

“I think we would be well-advised to get off the waterway,” Lizard Priest said. Holding Dwarf Shaman on his shoulder with one hand, he reached easily into his bag with the other and pulled out the map.

He kept running, reading the map even as raindrops began to streak across it.

The damp and the rain, even the sticky air, were the friends of Lizard Priest, who had grown up deep in the jungle.

“Let’s give him the dwarf! We can get away while that monster’s having dinner!” High Elf Archer, leaping through the rain like a deer, said in apparent sincerity. “I’m sure it’ll get food poisoning!”

“As if elves were so nutritious!”

Priestess interrupted High Elf Archer and Dwarf Shaman, pointing ahead with her staff.

“S-something’s coming from ahead of us, too!”

High Elf Archer’s ears whipped up and down, listening closely.

Splash. Something was striking the water. Three somethings, in fact. Oars? She knew the sound.

“More goblins?” she said tiredly. She seemed to be feeling their earlier battle.





Another boatful of goblins was approaching along the dim canal.

“Wh-what do we do…?” Priestess looked up at Goblin Slayer with frightened eyes.

“……”

He said nothing in response, but instead doused the light of their lantern.

“Priest,” he said. “Does the path branch anywhere up ahead?”

“I assume so. These sewers are rather labyrinthine.” Lizard Priest scratched a claw along the map as he answered.

“Hang on, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but poison gas and fire are—”

“Not allowed. I know,” Goblin Slayer said to High Elf Archer. He gave a short sigh.

“We’ll go with your plan.”

“…?”

High Elf Archer and Dwarf Shaman exchanged mystified looks.





The goblins struggled to make their warship (or what passed for a warship among goblins) go faster. Their leader, a shaman, thrust his staff forward and, with a screech, urged his rowers to row harder.

It had been quite some time since the sounds of battle had ceased to echo through the sewers. Most likely, their comrades were already dead, but that was fine. What mattered was that the adventurers, their enemies and prey, be tired. They couldn’t let this opportunity go.

The goblins were at their limit. These tunnels were pleasantly dank, but this rain was growing unbearable. Goblins couldn’t care less about filth or sewage, but that doesn’t mean they like being wet. They wanted a warm place to sleep. They wanted good food.

And if they had some captives to torment, so much the better. It felt like so long since they had tortured and killed those adventurers who had come into the sewers a while back.

That was why they had to seize this chance.

Maybe there would be an elf among these adventurers. Or a human. Women, perhaps. There had to be!

They sang an awful goblin song as they rowed along, completely out of sync with one another. Like many of the boats of those who had words, all hands aboard the goblin warship were soldiers. One ship might have been vulnerable. But this flotilla of three vessels would not have blinked at an entire party of novice adventurers.

Or so the goblins believed, whatever the reality might have been. And that made them dangerous. The thought that they might still be weak even in a group never once crossed their minds. Their faces twisted with desire, spittle dribbling from their mouths, they devoted themselves to rowing faster.

The eyes of the shaman, quite capable of seeing in the gloom, fixed on a single point of light—a flickering glow that could only be an adventurer’s lantern. Most unfortunately, humans needed light, for the dark made them blind. In the depths of these lightless holes, the goblins were at their strongest.

Flush with the assurance of victory, they went toward the light, all unassuming.

But they didn’t see any adventurers. In fact, they discovered the light was simply a reflection in the water.

“ORAGARA!”

“GORRR…”

The shaman was suspicious; he gave one of his subordinates a smack with his staff and a jabbering rebuke. The goblin, who had simply had the bad luck to be near at hand, gave the water a searching, desultory poke with his oar.

Then:

“ORAGA?!”

The goblin was missing his head.

The pale jaws of some monster exploded out of the water.

“GORARARARAB!!”

“GORRRB! GROAB!!”

The goblins set up a clamor as they rushed to their battle stations. In the grip of panic, some jumped overboard and tried to escape. Others stood and fought.

It didn’t matter. The goblins closest to the water were the first to be torn to shreds.

The shaman angrily waved his staff and began to chant a spell…





“Looks like they have the numbers, but not the advantage,” Lizard Priest observed.

“Mm. Can’t say I feel sorry for them,” Dwarf Shaman replied.

The adventurers watched everything from the darkness of a side path.

“O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, grant your sacred light to we who are lost in darkness.”

Priestess prayed to the Earth Mother, protected from the rain by Goblin Slayer’s shield. In response to her prayer, the all-compassionate goddess sent the Holy Light miracle upon the alligator’s tail.

“If I can’t use gas or fire or water, this is the best I can do.”

Goblin Slayer sounded more than a little annoyed. Watching him wearily, High Elf Archer tried to comfort him.

“Whatever. We survived, that’s what counts.”

This is what adventures are supposed to be like! She sniffed and pushed out her thin chest. She was quite pleased, as was obvious from the jovial bouncing of her ears.

“I can’t believe they fell for a little trick with some light, though.”

“They’ve learned adventurers move by light.”

“Really?”

“I don’t know when, but at some point, it became conventional wisdom among them,” Goblin Slayer said, watching the battle in the sewer unfold. “They’re no more than scavengers. They have no concept of making things.”

He was right. Goblins made clubs and stone tools or perhaps shaved down other equipment to fit themselves, but that was all. Items, food, livestock… They stole what they needed rather than producing it.

And why not? Villages full of stupid humans were just waiting for them to come and take anything they wanted. Since they could sate themselves through theft, there was no reason for them to do anything else. As long as they could get enough girl children and adventurers, they were set.

“Still, dull as they are, they’re not foolish,” Goblin Slayer continued, although he did not let his attention wander from the battle. “They learn to use items quickly. If you showed them how to build a boat, they would pick it up before long.”

“You know them pretty well,” High Elf Archer said.

“I’ve studied them closely,” Goblin Slayer replied immediately. “This is why I’m careful never to give them a new idea. I kill them instead.”

Leaning against the wall, Dwarf Shaman stroked his beard.

“What you’re saying is, someone taught them how to build those boats.”

“Yes.”

Priestess finished her prayer and let out a breath. She wiped sweat and rain from her brow.

“Are you sure? Maybe the shaman came up with them…”

“It’s possible. But if their numbers increased here naturally, then that…whatever that thing is…”

“Um…the alligator?” Priestess offered.

“…Right. That thing wouldn’t have surprised them. I don’t think they would have used boats if they’d known about it.” Muttering, he added, “Cowards to the core.”

“What is it you’re getting at, milord Goblin Slayer?” Lizard Priest asked quietly.

Goblin Slayer seemed to have something specific in mind. His response was all too pointed.

“This goblin infestation is man-made.”

Goblin Slayer waited until the sounds of battle had subsided, then suggested a temporary withdrawal.

No one objected. They were out of spells and out of arrows. They didn’t have enough items and their strength was running low. They walked silently into the dim sewers, putting the battle between the goblins and the alligator behind them.

Some time later they arrived at a ladder. They climbed to the surface only to be greeted by fat raindrops. Priestess was already soaked through, but the drops just kept coming. She turned her tired face to the sky. In a small voice, she murmured:

“It doesn’t look like the rain’s going to stop.”





Very well. First, the subject of the Demon Lord, who was supposed to have been dealt with already.

The wise men are already investigating due to rumors of some undesirable elements spreading evil teachings. While we await their report, inform the rulers so we can be prepared to respond at any time should she reach out to us.

Next…what’s this? The rising price of potions?

I see. Demand is rising and supply can’t keep up. A most serious concern. As adventurers, merchants, townspeople, and indeed, monsters grow more active, we’re seeing more injuries…

Very well. Open the royal herb garden to all doctors associated with or assisting free clinics.

Given what the world has come to, I suppose there’s no other choice. But I shall not relax the harvesting limits. Be more alert than ever for anyone trying to harvest illegally. Deal with such people firmly but fairly, excepting cases of justified self-defense.

Next is… Hmm. This is the regular report from the Adventurers Association. This can wait.

Minister, prepare a summary of this report, highlighting only the deeds of Silver ranks and higher. Then, find someone with the time to read through it and look for anything relating to the Dark Gods or the Demon Gods.

Next…the alliance with the elves, the dwarves, and the lizardmen, is it?

Gods. Diplomacy with demi-humans… Pardon me, that’s no longer polite, is it? …With other peoples is always such trouble. It’s not that they aren’t trustworthy, but their cultures are so different, and I can’t have them moving freely through my territories. We’ll accommodate them in every way possible, but do not let down your guard. I don’t want any problems.

Yes—supplies. We mustn’t forget matériel for our own troops. How is the formation of the transport unit coming? I hear many of the lower ranks bring their own meals.

And next…proposals for dealing with goblin damage, I see.

From Sword Maiden. What, again? I haven’t enough men to send the army against every wild monster that wanders into a village. We have other problems! Dark Gods! Demon Gods! Can’t they deal with goblins on their own?

Yes, such is my will on these matters… Hmm? Minister, I said that the adventurer report can wait…

……What’s this? From the wise men? …

…Well, now. It seems one of them has not only found a hint of the evil ones’ plans, but also is already moving to neutralize it. Ah, it’s good to have help one can rely on! I think we can safely say we’ve seen the last of this little problem.

Why? Because a Platinum adventurer—one of our great heroes—is going to deal with it!





“Ahh…”

Priestess let a smile spread over her face as the warm steam embraced her naked, rain-chilled body.

Beyond an open door was a wide area of white marble, filled with elegant but not ostentatious carvings. The room was lined with benches to relax on amid the steam of the bath and its ever so slightly sweet aroma.

The innermost area housed a statue of the Deity of the Basin, the beautiful goddess of the bath. Water flowed continuously into the wash bucket from the mouth of, of all things, a lion. The place was utterly luxurious. The water presumably came from the rivers that ran through the entire city.

This would never have passed muster at the Temple of the Earth Mother, where adherents cherished poverty and had barely a rag to wash with. This, however, was the great bath of the Temple of Law—a steam bath. It was a fixture unique to the Temples of the Supreme God, who had commanded that those who administered the law ought to be pure of body.

And this was the most elaborate of the Temples of Law on the frontier—words could hardly describe it!

“…Right. Just for today.” With one hand, Priestess held a towel to cover her lovely chest; with the other, she made the sign of the Earth Mother.

Her skin, usually covered by chain mail and a priestess’s vestments, was an almost translucent white. Priestess walked into the bath buoyantly, that pale skin moistening in the steam. Thankfully no other bathers were around, in part due to the late hour, so she didn’t hesitate to scoop an overflowing ladleful of water from the wash bucket.

“Oh…!”

The scent that wafted around the room came from the fragrant oils poured into the bucket.

She had not had the impulse to dress up ever since she had been moved to join the clergy, but in the back of her mind, she recalled the elegant girls they’d passed several days earlier.

“Well, I’ve come all the way here, after all. It’s all right.”

She glanced left and right, then turned toward the statue of the Deity of the Basin made of fragrant Saunastone. The statue, heated to a very high temperature, boiled water in an instant, filling the room with rose-scented steam. The goddess was depicted as a naked woman; for balance, there was a statue of an old man in the men’s bath.

Or so she had heard—Priestess herself, of course, had never been in the men’s bath.

The Deity of the Basin was said to tell bathers their fortunes, but she didn’t have a temple of her own, nor followers. Or perhaps it could be said that every bath was her temple and every bather her disciple.

Priestess, cloaked in steam, was quite thankful to be among the deity’s followers. She sat on a bench with a quiet thump. Next, she took up an accoutrement found in every bathhouse: a branch of white birch. She struck it against her body very gently, almost as if patting herself.

“Mmm…”

Her muscles, gone stiff and fatigued from long hours underground, began to relax. A few minutes later, when she had finished with the birch, her bare skin glowed a faint pink. She let out a long breath, leaning against the backrest of the long bench.

“Everyone else should’ve come with me…”

She’d asked if the elf wanted to come but had gotten a vigorous shake of the head in response.

“It’s like…the spirits of fire and water and air are all mixed up together. I don’t like it much.”

The dwarf and the lizardman had expressed a preference for wine and food over baths and headed off into town.

And then there was Goblin Slayer.

He had said something odd about sending a letter and shortly after was nowhere to be found.

“Oh! I’ll come, too!” High Elf Archer had said and gone after him, and Priestess couldn’t say she didn’t understand how the archer felt.

Sir Goblin Slayer…

Yes, he was the one that Priestess’s thoughts settled on.

“Gosh… It’s been half a year already…”

Half a year since she had nearly died in that goblin den. Since he had saved her life.

Even now, she had dreams of that adventure. Sometimes she saw herself not as she was, but as one of the girls kidnapped by the goblins. Sometimes she had a fleeting dream that she and the other three novices had come through the adventure safely.

Both had been within the realm of possibility for her.

What should she have done—that day, that hour? What was she supposed to have done?

If.

If she had finished her first adventure successfully…

She certainly wouldn’t know any of the friends she had now. And then what would have happened in their fight in the underground ruins or with the goblin lord?

What would have happened to the city, the people on the farm, all her friends, everyone she knew, all of the adventurers? And him—Goblin Slayer? Would he have survived?

Priestess was not egotistical enough to believe she had saved his life, but…

“He’s not such a bad person.”

She brushed her hand over her waist, where he’d wrapped his arm around her not long before. Compared to his arm, hers looked thin and fragile. He looked like a hero—and sometimes an avenging demon—but he was probably neither of those things.

“……”

At some point, Priestess had pulled her feet up onto the bench and curled up in a ball. Her head was pleasantly floaty from the steam, and thought after thought drifted through it like bubbles on the surface of the water. Surrendering herself to them, she felt an unusual combination of comfort and impatience.

It was like waking up earlier than usual on a day when she didn’t have to work. She could just fall asleep like this. But maybe it would be better for her to get up and move. She had to do something. She felt there was something she had to do…

“What should I do…?”

“About what?”

“Yikes!”

When a gentle voice answered her dejected mumble, Priestess jumped up so quickly the bubbles went scattering everywhere. Her eyes darted up to see a body as plump as ripe fruit.

“Hee-hee. The blood’s going to rush to your head at that rate.”

“P-pardon me, I was just thinking aloud…”

Priestess hurriedly bowed her head to the archbishop standing before her—Sword Maiden.

“That’s quite all right,” she said, with a shake of her head that sent long waves through her beautiful golden hair. “On the contrary, I apologize for startling you. My duties kept me late…”

Priestess found herself charmed by the woman. She didn’t wear so much as a thread of clothing, but she did not try to cover herself, nor show any concern at her nakedness. She was so well-endowed not even a woman could quite bring herself to look away. Her sole covering, the cloth over her eyes, somehow only made her more alluring. The atmosphere was almost reverent: Her body, dappled in sunlight and shadow, made her look different and freshly beautiful at every moment. What was more, steam on her body brought out the flush in her skin, such that even Priestess found herself swallowing heavily.

But…

“Um… Are those…?”

Priestess’s voice faltered.

Faint white lines ran along Sword Maiden’s otherwise perfect body. Many, many of them layered upon one another. Some narrow, some thick, long and short. Some ran straight as an arrow, while others made patterns as though they had been tugged and pulled. The slight pink tinge to her skin made them stand out all the more.

Tattoos? No, they couldn’t be. These were…

“Oh, these…”

The archbishop traced a crooked line that ran across her arm with a slim white finger. As her fingertip pressed into the soft flesh, she almost seemed to be stroking it lovingly.

Priestess had only seen these in books, but still she looked down self-consciously. She couldn’t bring herself to keep looking at them.

“The marks of a mistake.”

Sword Maiden smiled, speaking of the scars all over her body as though they were hardly worth noticing. The expression seemed to bubble up of its own volition.

“They hit me on the head, from behind… That was more than ten years ago now.”

“Oh, um, I…”

Priestess understood now all too well what that meant. What should she say? How should she say it? Her voice grew strained, and she didn’t look at the other woman.

“Are you…all right…now?”

Sword Maiden stopped moving for just a second. If her eyes hadn’t been hidden, surely Priestess would have seen her blink. “You’re quite a kind person, aren’t you?” she said softly, and her expression faded until she looked like a carving. “Most, when I tell them, say that they’re sorry.”

“I—I just…”

…couldn’t think of anything else to say, Priestess thought, but the words caught in her throat.

She could hardly say that to Sword Maiden.

“Hee-hee… You shouldn’t worry.”

Sword Maiden reached out and picked up the birch branch. Her movements were so elegant and precise one would never have thought her eyes were covered. Then, she slapped the branch against herself like a whip, a soft “Mm!” escaping her lips. Priestess averted her eyes, but couldn’t help glancing, glancing, glancing.

Sword Maiden finally stopped working herself over with the branch, as if she knew Priestess was watching.

“With these eyes…,” Sword Maiden murmured and put her face close to Priestess’s.

Priestess gulped quietly.

“With these eyes, I see many things… A great many things.”

Priestess let out a single strangled breath through her nose. A mildly drunk feeling came over her, not unlike when she had smelled the sweet, flowery aroma.

“Things you cannot imagine…”

“Oh…”

Then, just like that, Sword Maiden left the overawed Priestess and withdrew into the billowing steam of the bath. She cloaked herself in the clouds like a shy girl. The ripples of her flaxen hair were merely shadows now.

“That man with you…”

“What…?”

Priestess shook her head to clear the warm fog from her mind.

“Goblin Slayer—isn’t that what he called himself? He seems a most…reliable person.”

“Oh, uh, ahem… Yes. He really is.”

Priestess had the innocent look of a child revealing a treasure. The edges of Sword Maiden’s lips turned up ever so slightly in an enchanting smile.

“I am most glad that your investigations seem to be proceeding smoothly.

“But…,” she added, with candidness reminiscent of him. “…No doubt one day he, too, will disappear.”

Priestess swallowed gently.

She sees me.

She could feel those sightless eyes on her; it made her skin tingle. Sword Maiden’s eyes were covered. And yet, Priestess felt Sword Maiden was looking straight through her, into the depths of her heart…

“U-um, I—I…!”

“Yes. Best get out of the bath before you get light-headed.”

Priestess had stood without realizing it. Sword Maiden gave her a long, slow nod, and Priestess fled the bath, stumbling slightly on the slick white floors, desperate to escape that gaze.





She didn’t quite know how she had managed to dry herself or put on her nightclothes after she got to the changing room. She only knew that suddenly, she was standing in the hallway of the Temple of Law, the night breeze blowing around her.

Sometime during the evening, the rain had abated, revealing a starry sky, beautiful and cold. The twin moons seemed to cast a chill, even though it was summer. Looking at them, Priestess hugged her shoulders and shivered.

She knows.

It came like a flash of insight, like a revelation.

That woman knows.

Knows what?

About the goblins.

She felt a chill in her heart far greater than the one on her skin.





“Whoop, this is it.”

Orcbolg—that is, Goblin Slayer—had said they should meet at the Adventurers Guild.

It was, of course, next to the town gate—larger than the guild in their frontier town but smaller than the Temple of Law. It had an administrative office, tavern, and inn, along with a manufactory and sundry among other amenities. All like the guild back home, but this one was quite different in appearance.

It was built of white stone, which lent it an air of tranquillity. It looked like it could have been a bank. Not that High Elf Archer had ever been to a bank. What struck her instead was the sheer size of the place.

“Whoa, look over there. That’s a high elf…!”

“No way. I’ve never seen one before!”

“Whoo! What a specimen! And I don’t just mean as an elf!”

She had been to this city before, but the nearby adventurers still watched her with fascination. Their mouths said whatever they wanted, and their eyes bored into her with stares of curiosity or lust.

“……”

High Elf Archer furrowed her brow very slightly. It had never bothered her before, but she had grown used to her comfortable life in the frontier town.

This is kind of…upsetting.

Maybe it was because unlike the little frontier town, this was a big, advanced city.

There were a great many adventurers milling about. High Elf Archer looked around with a flick of her ears.

“Let’s see, where’s Orcbolg…? Ah, there he is!”

There was no mistaking that cheap-looking helmet and grimy armor. Goblin Slayer was sitting heavily on a bench in a corner of the room, arms crossed. It was how he always sat, if not the usual place he would be. But there were other things that were different from usual.

A party whispered together, clearly mocking him. Perhaps they thought he couldn’t hear them, but to High Elf Archer’s long ears their voices were as clear as if they’d been shouting.

“Geez, what’s with the filth?”

“Yeah, what river’d he wash up from? Gimme a break. We’ve got standards around here!”

High Elf Archer glared at them and gave a “hmph.” She didn’t like anything about this. She walked through the hall toward the bench, as if wading through the adventurers’ stares, and deliberately stomped along in a way quite at odds with her usual silent footsteps.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Orcbolg.”

Then, she sat down next to him—right next to him. She cuddled up to his side. Like a cat, she watched an excited mutter run through the rabble of adventurers and smiled. That’d show them. High Elf Archer chuckled under her breath.

“Sorry. I kinda fell asleep. Were you able to send your letter?”

“Yes,” he answered blandly.

Well, it didn’t seem like he was mad at her for oversleeping. That helped her relax just a bit. She didn’t have to worry about it, either, then.

Whether or not he knew what she was thinking, he showed his receipt to High Elf Archer. It boasted a wax seal indicating the letter had been accepted.

“I found an adventurer going the right way, so I asked him to do it. I’ve already paid him, as well.”

There was a post system—anywhere the roads went, a post-horse could go. Most mail went that way, but with a bit of money, you could also hire an adventurer.

After all, adventurers were just roughnecks with armor, weapons, and strength. If you paid them enough, they’d see your letter got to its destination—especially handy in emergencies or if the letter had to reach some remote place the postal system couldn’t go. And if you filed the quest through the guild, they would confirm when it was completed. That helped prevent couriers from running away with your item or just throwing a letter away and pretending they’d delivered it.

Of course, one would never entrust an unknown young tough, however strong he was, with an important delivery. One of the advantages of the guild ranking system was knowing who to trust with your packages.

“Come to think of it, I’ve never written a letter,” High Elf Archer said, adding a “hmm” as she looked intently at the quest form. “What’d you write? Reporting back that you made it here safe?”

“Yes, in a way.”

Uh-huh…

She was pretty sure she understood, and it brought a slight blush to her cheeks. High Elf Archer all but tossed the receipt back at him. He must have written to that farm girl. I’m sure of it. “Gosh, Orcbolg, so you do have a soft side.”

“Do I?”

“Sure do.”

“Really…”

Uh-huh, uh-huh. High Elf Archer’s ears bounced up and down happily; she was quite taken with the conclusion she’d jumped to.

“Okay!” She hopped off the bench, feeling renewed.

Her hair blew behind her as she stretched, trailing through the air like a shooting star.

“You needed to do some shopping, Orcbolg? A weapon or something?”

“Yes.”

Goblin Slayer nodded, then stood slowly. He tapped his hip with one hand. He indicated the scabbard, often occupied by his sword with its strange length or some primitive, stolen armament. During the previous day’s adventure, his usual willingness to unflinchingly throw away his weapons had left it empty.

“I don’t trust a dagger… You’ll buy clothes?”

“Sure. That sewage really stinks. I’d hate for the stench to get stuck on me…” You’re the only one who doesn’t seem to notice. High Elf Archer narrowed her eyes at him. “You dousing me in goblin guts was way worse, though.”

“Erk…” Goblin Slayer groaned quietly, still standing there in front of her. “…If it upset you that much, should I apologize?”

“Go ahead. I don’t care.” She gave a light, easy wave of her hand. Perfectly calm. “I guess if you apologized, I could probably stop bringing it up.”

“…I see.”

His response, of course, was the same as always.

So was the atmosphere in the Guild Hall. The mob of adventurers, of staff, all were looking at them with curiosity. And some, perhaps, with envy. What’s a high elf doing with a vagabond like that? Everyone had their own theory: There was some mistake, or someone was being had. So on and so forth.

“I noticed,” Goblin Slayer said quietly, and every ear in the room tried to catch what came next, “that despite the sewers here, there are no giant rat–slaying quests.”

“Huh. Now that you mention it, I guess you’re right.”

As she craned her neck to look at the quest board, High Elf Archer happened to notice some snickers. Even if they didn’t speak, their expressions said it all. Country boy. She could see them looking almost straight down their noses. You think there’d be rats in our sewers? In a town this nice?

But High Elf Archer only gave a happy little chuckle and looked around the room.

“Well, shall we go?”

When, with a smirk, she took Goblin Slayer’s hand, the mutter became a roar. She enjoyed that more than she could say. The sensation of his rough leather glove in her hand was novel, too, and her smile only broadened.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

They were soon back on the road she had come down shortly before, heading back toward town.

“What?”

“Do you need underwear under there?” I’ve always wondered.

Goblin Slayer gave an unusually deep sigh at her words.

“Don’t ask me.”

High elves would ask what they liked, of course, and she paid scant heed to his reaction. Holding his gloved hand with a kind of fascination, she glanced at his face.

“So. Just a sword you needed, Orcbolg?”

“No. Some other things, too.”

“Hmm.”

High Elf Archer thought back to everything in Goblin Slayer’s item pouch.

All the items she couldn’t identify, all the things she’d never seen. All the equipment she would like to know the feel of. An irresistible curiosity bubbled up in her little chest, and without a hint of reluctance, she smiled and asked:

“Whatcha gonna buy?”





“So, what’s with that thing, anyway?”

The next day, back in the sewers once more, the elf was looking at Goblin Slayer with one hand on her hip. He had a new sword on his belt, oddly sized of course, and a small cage hung next to the scabbard.

Inside, a little bird with light green feathers chirped cheerily. The sound seemed out of place in the polluted sewers.

Goblin Slayer gave her a puzzled look.

“You don’t know this bird?”

“Of course I do.”

“It’s a canary.”

“I said I know that,” High Elf Archer replied, ears back.

Beside her, Dwarf Shaman tried to hold back a chuckle.

“You’ve been upset about this since last night, haven’t you?” the dwarf said.

“Doesn’t it bother you? It’s a bird! A little canary!”

They proceeded slowly and quietly into the sewers, through the dark, but her anger wouldn’t cool. Her long ears, perfect for scouting, bounced restlessly up and down. For a second, her almond-shaped eyes darted to Goblin Slayer behind her.

“Well, it’s not going to destroy us if we touch it, right? Like your scroll?”

“Do you believe canaries are fatal to people?”

High Elf Archer’s ears gave a great jump, and Dwarf Shaman managed to let only a low chuckle escape him.

“G-Goblin Slayer, sir, I don’t think that’s what she meant…,” Priestess broke in, unable to let this pass.

She shuffled along in the middle of their line, holding her staff with both hands.

“What?”

Goblin Slayer looked back, and she found herself staring at his metal helmet. She was suddenly lost for words.

It had been one night since the bath. She hadn’t slept a wink, but when she had gotten up in the morning…nothing. Maybe all her nervousness had simply given her a strange fit of the imagination.

Sword Maiden had appeared at breakfast and said a word of thanks to the party as she passed by. All hint of the previous night’s indecency had vanished from her bearing, as if it had never been there.

Yes…I’m sure it’s nothing. It was always nothing.

Just a mistake on her part. Of course it was. It had to be…

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing…”

Priestess went stiff at Goblin Slayer’s brief, quiet question. She exhaled gently.

“That is, what I mean is, why did you bring a canary with us?”

She glanced toward the birdcage. The grass-colored creature was hopping happily up and down on a branch.

“I mean, it’s cute, but…”

The man in front of her was Goblin Slayer. He was not one to be frivolous or irrational when it came to killing goblins.

“Canaries make noise when they sense poisonous gas.”

“Poisonous gas…?”

Goblin Slayer nodded, explaining in his typical dispassionate tone:

“The goblins in this nest are educated. It would not surprise me if they had set traps such as you might find in old ruins.”

“Come to think of it, don’t human miners use birds to detect bad air underground?” Dwarf Shaman gave a knowing nod, holding his bag of catalysts. “All things considered, dwarves are less worried about poisonous gas than we are about dragons coming after our treasure.”

“Oh, really?” High Elf Archer smirked as she peeked around the corner, then motioned the others to follow her.

Goblin Slayer went after her, taking slow, careful steps. He had one hand on his sword. The other held the torch, and his shield was mounted on his arm. Just as always.

“I heard once of a dwarf kingdom that was destroyed when they dug up some underground demons,” Goblin Slayer said.

“…Well, that’s bound to happen once in a while,” Dwarf Shaman said morosely and then fell quiet. It seemed Goblin Slayer had struck a nerve.

It has always been the way of things for countries to fall, prosper, war, and fall again for every kind of reason. The world has never lacked for lands both rich and ruined.

“I see,” said Lizard Priest, his tail waving behind him. “And if I may ask, milord Goblin Slayer, where did you come by such knowledge?”

“A coal miner,” he said, as if it were obvious. “There are many in this world who know much that I do not.”

After a few minutes’ walking, they came to a dead end, though not a natural one. The path was blocked by a waterway as wide as a stream, and something had destroyed or swept away the stone bridge that had once crossed it.

High Elf Archer stuck her thumb up and held out her arm, eyeballing the distance.

“We might be able to jump it, if we had to.”

“Any other routes?” asked Goblin Slayer.

“Let us see…” There was a rustling sound as Lizard Priest unfolded the old map. The ancient drawing was covered in a variety of newer marks, reflecting the adventurers’ discoveries. He traced waterways and passages with his claw, then gave a slow shake of his head.

“This large waterway appears to bisect everything. Although there is a possibility one of the other bridges is intact.”

“A thin hope.” With some surprise, Dwarf Shaman leaned out over the water and poked at the broken stone.

“Whoa, don’t fall in,” High Elf Archer said, grabbing him by the belt.

“Sorry… Mm. This is the work of many a flood over many a long year. It didn’t wash away just yesterday.” So muttering, Dwarf Shaman came back to the hallway. He showed everyone a bit of debris he’d collected, then crushed it in his hand.

“I’d be willing to guess the other bridges are in more or less the same condition.”

“Then, we jump,” Goblin Slayer said without hesitation. “First one over carries a rope. A lifeline.”

“I—I have a rope,” Priestess said gallantly and pulled a coil of rope, complete with grappling hook, out of her bag.

It was just like her that it should be neatly rolled up. And it was a testament to her real strength that it appeared never to have been used.

“Ah, the Adventurer’s Toolkit,” High Elf Archer said fondly as she narrowed her eyes and peeked into Priestess’s bag.

It was a bit of equipment aimed at novice adventurers, containing everything they might need on the job. Rope with grappling hook, several lengths of chain, and a mallet. Tinderbox. Backpack and waterskin. Eating utensils, chalk, a dagger, etc.

“You’d be surprised how useless most of that stuff is. Grappling hook excepted.”

“But when you go adventuring, you shouldn’t leave without them.”

“Huh,” High Elf Archer breathed, then grabbed the end of the rope that didn’t have a hook. She took one or two steps back, then ran as lightly as a deer.

“So, Orcbolg.”

She leaped and landed on the far side without a sound, then tied the rope to one of her arrows and stuck it in between the flagstones.

“What about that Gate scroll? You learn that from someone, too?”

“I heard once of someone who tried to use Gate to go to a sunken ruin, and the water killed them.”

That woman—that is, Witch back at the Adventurers Guild—must have told him the story.

At a signal from High Elf Archer, Goblin Slayer grabbed the grappling hook and jumped across. He made a heavy, dull sound on landing, as one might expect from a person in full armor.

“Impressive,” he said as he handed the hook back to High Elf Archer, who tossed it back to the far side.

“You really will do anything to kill goblins, won’t you?”

“Of course,” was all he said.

He must have decided the interview was over, because he fell silent and began looking all around the hall.

“Can you jump, lass? I’ll be getting Scaly’s help myself…”

“Oh, right. Well, um, I’m next, I guess.”

At the urging of Dwarf Shaman, Priestess, who had been gazing around somewhat vacantly, hurriedly picked up the hook. She stepped back for a running start, then jumped across with a little shout, her expression darkening just a bit.

He set traps and killed children without hesitation; he was clever and merciless. To her, he looked very much like a goblin. Maybe he knew that better than anyone.

No doubt one day he, too, will disappear.

The thick, honeyed voice came unbidden to her mind, ran through it like a river before slowly fading away.





Their investigation of the sewers went more smoothly than it had the day before. This was partly because they had a better grasp of the pathways, but more than that, they had changed their philosophy.

Goblin Slayer had determined to completely avoid any encounters with goblins. He walked with his unconcerned stride, holding the torch and sneaking along like a cat. High Elf Archer seemed to be taking after him; her footfalls were as light as a feather. Sometimes they would slip past goblin patrols; at others, they chose routes with no goblins.

Priestess, Dwarf Shaman, and Lizard Priest followed after them through the hallways.

“I never thought I’d see the day when you would let a goblin go, Orcbolg,” High Elf Archer whispered.

“I am not letting them go,” he replied, pressing himself against the wall and peeking around a corner. “First, we cut off the head. We slaughter the rest after that.”

“I wonder if it’s another goblin lord or ogre,” Priestess murmured anxiously, but Goblin Slayer only shook his head and said, “I don’t know.”

Goblins were at the bottom of the monster hierarchy. Almost any kind of creature might be leading them. A dark elf, some kind of demon, even a dragon…

“I suppose it will do us no good to stand here wondering about it.” Lizard Priest took the folded-up map from his bag and opened it nimbly with his claws. Thanks to his excellent night vision, inherited from his forebears, he could read it even without a light.

“I should think we have not yet glimpsed even the shadow of the tail of the one who is behind this.”

“What you mean,” said Dwarf Shaman, “is that we’ve got to keep heading farther in.”

“Farther upriver, to be precise.” Goblin Slayer had stood and was holding the torch over the map to read it. He traced a path with one leather-gloved finger. It followed the waterway up, past the site of their random battle the previous day.

“Their boats came from farther up the river of sewage. It’s safe to assume they have a base somewhere in that direction.”

“If we keep going upriver…that means we’ll end up off this map, right?” Priestess’s white finger followed Goblin Slayer’s along the paper.

The map Sword Maiden had given them was only of the city sewers, after all. It showed only a fraction of the vast ruins that sprawled beneath the water town.

“Will we be all right?”

“We won’t do anything foolish.”

Priestess adjusted her grip on her staff, unable to calm herself, but Goblin Slayer was decisive.

It wasn’t clear whether that was out of consideration for her. But at the sight of his unchanging countenance, Priestess’s tense cheeks relaxed, and she smiled.

“Right, that’s right. Let’s not do anything foolish or silly.”

She held her staff firmly, forced her knees not to shake, and looked ahead.

“Upriver, huh? That’ll be this way.” High Elf Archer went on, ears bouncing, without a moment’s reluctance, and the rest of the party followed.

A short while later, just as they reached the very edge of their map, the air changed noticeably. The simple stone hall gave onto a gallery covered in wall paintings. The moss-covered pavement became cracked marble. Even the water went from polluted to clear. This was obviously not a sewer anymore.

“There are traces of soot here.”

Goblin Slayer, studying the wall paintings intently, held the torch aloft and pointed at a spot near the ceiling.

High Elf Archer stood on her tiptoes to get a look.

“You mean there used to be lights?”

“A very long time ago.” Goblin Slayer nodded, wiping a bit of soot from his finger. “Goblins have excellent night vision. They don’t use lights.”

“Hmm…”

Lizard Priest leaned toward the wall and gave one of the paintings a thoughtful scratch with his claw. Humans, elves, dwarves, rheas, lizardmen, beastmen—every race who had words was depicted in full equipment, the old and the young, men and women.

“Warriors or soldiers…no.”

Their outfits were not uniform enough to be soldiers. Mercenaries, perhaps, or…

“Adventurers.”

“I have heard it used to be quite lively around these parts,” Dwarf Shaman said, standing to one side and following the brushstrokes closely with his eyes. The paint, weathered over many long years, flaked off at the slightest touch. “This style of painting hasn’t been current for four, five hundred years now.”

“Oh,” said Priestess, looking up and around, “could this be…”

The carefully constructed gallery. The painted figures. The clear water. It felt much like a place she knew very well. Tranquil, quiet—not to be trespassed upon. Not a temple…

“…a graveyard, perhaps?”

Catacombs.

That’s what this was; she was convinced. She brushed the paintings—the people—with her delicate hand. They were those who had fought on the side of order in the Age of the Gods—and this was their resting place. She sank to her knees in mourning for all those who had come before and clung to her staff.

High Elf Archer stood above Priestess as she prayed for the repose of these souls, as if guarding her. Her shoulders slumped.

“It’s a goblin nest now.”

Her words evoked a twinge of sorrow as they echoed for a moment and then faded away. For the elves, who lived thousands of years, even the Age of the Gods did not seem so long ago. Or perhaps she was moved to be standing amid the graves of the warriors her mother and father had told her about in stories.

“‘Even the brave are at last brought low,’ huh…?”

“That doesn’t matter now.”

Goblin Slayer cut off the girls’ somber ruminations. He quickly scanned the area, and when he was satisfied there was no immediate threat of goblins, he set off at a brisk trot.

The reaction was very much like him. High Elf Archer and Priestess looked at each other.

“What do you think about that?”

“I guess…he’s still our Goblin Slayer.”

Priestess’s reply was a mixture of resignation and fondness.

High Elf Archer stood gracefully and walked after the warrior; Priestess scurried behind them both.

“Hrm. No one ever accused Beard-cutter of excessive patience.” Dwarf Shaman followed next with a huff. “You’ll probably scare those little devils off just by showing up.”

“That would be a problem,” Goblin Slayer said quietly. “I hate it when they run.”

The party smiled wanly at his overly serious response, and the adventure was back underway—into the catacombs.

Everything about the architecture here was different from the sewers. The path twisted confusingly, turning back on itself, branching off, like a maze. From above, the catacombs might have appeared like a spider’s web.

“They must be built like this to confuse any monsters that wander in, keep them from disturbing the dead warriors,” Dwarf Shaman explained with an impressed whistle. Even the dwarves’ best stonemasons would not have found it a simple matter to create halls like these. “To wander this place as a lost spirit…that’d be a cruel fate.”

“Yes, for it removes one from the round of death and rebirth,” Lizard Priest said. “But this place has already fallen into the hands of the goblins.”

There was no doubting the place had become a seedbed for chaos.

“Above all…,” muttered Lizard Priest, adding a few strokes of charcoal to the sheepskin paper, “the drawing of a map cannot be done halfheartedly. Each of us must remain vigilant.”

“Well, this room first, I guess.”

Holding her staff with both hands, Priestess looked up at the thick, heavy door. It was the ebony of the night sky, worked with a border of gold, and it seemed to defy the flow of time. Miraculously for being in such a damp place, the door showed no sign of rot or wear. It was clearly enchanted with some age-old magic. Other than a touch of rust around the keyhole, there was not a scratch on it.

“It’s not locked,” High Elf Archer said. “And there don’t seem to be any traps—at least not on the door itself.” She finished inspecting the keyhole, nodded slightly, and stepped to the side. “This isn’t my specialty, though. So don’t blame me if things go wrong.”

“Here goes,” Goblin Slayer declared, then kicked in the door of the burial chamber.

The adventurers tumbled into the room like an avalanche.

Once they were all inside, Dwarf Shaman pounded a wedge under the door to hold it open. He always kept the tool on hand against any unexpected situations, and the easy way he used it suggested long familiarity.

Lizard Priest kept his weapon up to protect Dwarf Shaman from any ambush. While the dwarf worked, it was High Elf Archer’s job to search the room.

The burial chamber was about ten feet square, floored with nine tiles in rows of three. High Elf Archer spun around to scan the room, an arrow ready in her bow…

“Look at that!”

“How awful…!”

High Elf Archer and Priestess both swallowed heavily, expressions of open disgust on their faces.

The room was empty save for several stone coffins. In the center, a shape came into view in the faint light of the torch. Someone was tied up, spread-eagled as if to deliberately expose them.

The shape appeared to be a human figure, head hung in exhaustion—a woman with long hair. She wore faded metal armor. Perhaps she was one of the adventurers who had gone before them and had not returned.

“Goblin Slayer, sir!”

“No other choice…”

With Goblin Slayer’s permission, Priestess ran up to the captive woman.

She knelt and asked, “Hello? Hello? Are you all right?” There was no answer.

The woman didn’t even look in Priestess’s direction. Her head simply hung there.

Had she lost all strength? Or was she…?

“…! I—I’ll try to heal you…!”

Priestess pushed aside her fears of the worst and began to pray to the Earth Mother for healing.

“O Earth Mother, abounding in mercy, lay your revered hand upon—”

With a soft swish, the woman’s hair fell to the ground, right in front of Priestess as she raised her hands to invoke the miracle.

Empty eyes stared up at her.

It was a person.

Was.

A dusty skeleton, dressed in the skin of a woman who had presumably been flayed alive.

“It’s wrong! This…this is all wrong!”

Priestess gave a choked scream.

At the same instant, the entryway sealed with a crash.

The wedge clattered across the floor, mocking them.

“Hrr—!”

Lizard Priest immediately charged the door with his shoulder, but it didn’t budge.

“This is trouble! I think the door has been barred!”

“Come here, Scaly! Maybe you and I together…!”

Lizard Priest and Dwarf Shaman slammed into the door with all their might. It groaned, but didn’t give. It showed no sign of opening at all.

“GROOROOROROB!!”

“GORB!! GORRRRB!!”

Cackling voices echoed from the other side of the stone wall, mocking the adventurers’ futile struggles.

High Elf Archer bit her lip.

“Goblins…!”

“So they got us,” Goblin Slayer spat in annoyance.

They should have expected it. The goblins could hardly miss a party of adventurers trespassing in their home.

Cornering cautious prey was difficult. It was much easier to ambush them—to set a trap. The goblins knew no adventurer would leave a woman in trouble.

Every once in a while, all the cruel wit in their little heads could outfox even a human. This, along with their fertility, was what had allowed them to survive for so long.

“No…!”

They were trapped. The reality of it rendered Priestess speechless. Her knees shook, her teeth chattered, and she thought her legs might give out. The tragedy of that first adventure sprang to life in her mind.

“Calm down.”

The rebuke was as dispassionate as ever. It wasn’t meant to support her in her fear, but break through it. She nodded fiercely, as if clinging to his words. Her face was pale, and something gleamed at the corners of her eyes. If he hadn’t been there or if she had been alone, she surely would have fainted.

And that would have meant death—or something far worse.

But beside her stood Goblin Slayer, his guard up, his weapon at the ready.

“We’re still alive.”

The canary began to twitter noisily.





“Gas!”

No one was sure who said it first.

“GROB! GORRB!!”

“GROOROB! GORRRB!!”

The tweeting of the canary mingled with the screeching laughter of the goblins on the other side of the door.

A white mist had begun to seep into the room through several holes that had been bored in the walls. The adventurers packed into the center of the burial chamber as though surrounded. They were certainly in dire straits.

“We’re in trouble now. They’ll finish us all in one fell swoop.”

“Not all gas is deadly… But I’m sure it means us nothing good, whatever the case.”

Lizard Priest clucked his tongue, and Dwarf Shaman groaned and wiped sweat from his brow. His eyes had happened upon the awful skeleton in the woman’s skin.

Looking all around the room in desperation, hoping to find an escape route, High Elf Archer gave a cry.

“It’s no good! There’s no other way out!”

“What…are we going…to do, Goblin Slayer, sir…?”

Priestess still had not received the Cure miracle, which could neutralize poison, and even its effects would only last for a short while. When it wore off, that would be the end. With no idea how long the gas would keep coming, all she could do was to buy them a little time.

Priestess looked imploringly at Goblin Slayer, her eyes bright with tears.

He made no response.

“Goblin Slayer? Sir?”

“……”

He was rummaging silently in his bag.

As Priestess watched, he pulled out a black mass and thrust it at her.

“Wrap this in a hand cloth, and put it over your mouth and nose.”

“Is this—charcoal?”

“It will protect you somewhat from poisonous gas. If you have any medicinal herbs with you, put them in the cloth, too. Quickly, if you don’t want to die.”

“Yes, sir!”

Priestess hurriedly took the charcoal and sat down in place to dig through her own items. When she had pulled out six clean hand cloths, she found a scaled arm reaching over from beside her.

“Let me help you. Toxic vapors do not much affect me.”

“Th-thank you…!”

The two of them quickly began to wrap charcoal and herbs in each of the cloths, making simple gas masks. Priestess continued to prepare cloths for her companions as Lizard Priest wrapped one around her face.

“Goblin Slayer, sir!”

“Thanks.”

“Here, take these, too…!”

Two gas masks, one made with a larger cloth. He seemed to guess what she had in mind; he immediately wrapped the large cloth around the birdcage. Then, he pushed his own mask through the visor of his helmet and began digging through his bag again. It was full of objects none of the others could identify.

“Gods. You have everything but the kitchen washbasin in there, don’t you?” Dwarf Shaman said as he struggled to try to fit his beard into the cloth Priestess had given him.

“Only the minimum,” Goblin Slayer replied, grabbing two bags from the mess of items. “I wanted to bring masks such as doctors use when treating the Black Death, but they’re too bulky.”

“So, just what do you have in mind, Beard-cutter?” The dwarf seemed to be grinning gallantly under his mask.

Goblin Slayer tossed one of the bags to him. Dwarf Shaman scrambled to catch it, then gave a questioning look at its unexpected heaviness.

“What have we here?”

“Quicklime and volcanic soil.” Goblin Slayer was as dispassionate as ever. “Mix them together and plug the holes.”

Dwarf Shaman suddenly slapped his knees. Even with the mask, his grin was evident.

“Concrete!”

“It won’t dry very quickly,” Goblin Slayer said, but he nodded, and Dwarf Shaman thumped himself on the chest.

“What are you worried about, Beard-cutter? I’ve got the Weathering spell!”

At that, High Elf Archer swiped the bag from Dwarf Shaman’s hand.

“Hey, long-ears, what are you doing?”