Goblin Slayer, Vol. 2

by Kumo Kagyu

  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

  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 f
or 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.