by Kumo Kagyu
The goblins shrieked as if they had been burned, clutching their faces and stumbling backward. Their retinas had been burned. And Goblin Slayer, though he had covered his face immediately, had suffered the same.
“…Hr…”
“Orcbolg, this way!”
But nonetheless, he could hear a clear voice despite the white darkness.
High Elf Archer—she who possessed skills beyond those of any ranger—reached out for his hand.
“Sorry.”
“Never mind! Not that I have any idea what you’re thinking.”
With her guidance, he took the last one, two, three steps.
She jumped gracefully, and Goblin Slayer scrambled up onto the altar.
Lizard Priest’s tail reached out, pulling Goblin Slayer safely under the mirror.
Goblin Slayer shouted, “Falling Control—bring it down!”
“Hrrf, ’course! Come out, you gnomes, and let it go! Here it comes, look out below! Turn those buckets upside down—empty all upon the ground!”
“…That makes…,” Goblin Slayer muttered. He turned around, supported by Lizard Priest’s tail.
With his right hand, he took firm hold of Priestess. Her hand was trembling gently.
High Elf Archer still gripped his left hand, hard enough to hurt through his leather gauntlet.
Dwarf Shaman gave him a hearty slap on the back. Even now, with his spirit drained, he was as jolly as ever.
Goblin Slayer took in the sight of the goblins through his light-scorched eyes. They shouted in confusion, fear, pain, greed, and hatred; they floundered uselessly.
“GO?! GROB?!”
“GRAROORORORORB?!”
No sooner had Dwarf Shaman completed his complicated invocations than the boulder slammed into the ceiling.
The ceiling that had been rattled by the explosion, struck by the eyeball monster, and shaken by the goblin champion’s roar.
The ceiling whose stones had been held up for countless ages by tree roots.
But none could best time.
And here, time had a little help from mass and weight and the power of the spirits.
The gnomes, rulers of earth, directed all their power directly downward.
First, a little fracture ran along the ceiling. Then, it cracked, and then a bit of it, too heavy for the roots to support, gave way.
And then…
“…Fifty, and…three.”
An instant later, the howling face of the goblin champion was buried beneath an avalanche of dirt and vanished.
That was the end.
It was not long before it all seemed over, like everything had died.
This place where a fine brown dust rose into the air—had it really been a chapel just moments earlier?
Now, any sign of what it had been was covered in dirt and rubble and rocks and debris. Where the ceiling should have been, there was only a nest of twisting roots. Faint sunlight—or, now, the light of the moon and stars—filtered through them.
It was nighttime, early summer. The stars that shimmered above were said to be the eyes of the gods watching from the high heavens. They watched over this place, but now there was nothing that testified to its former inhabitants.
Except perhaps—just perhaps—the terrible goblin bodies that could be glimpsed amid the debris.
…No.
There was the mirror.
In the middle of the devastated shrine was a mountain of rubble where an altar might once have been. At its peak sat a huge mirror, reflecting the light of the stars back into the sky.
Then, there was a crash.
“Pfah!”
A sweet voice sounded, and the mountain of rubble crumbled ever so slightly.
A rock was shoved aside, and making a narrow tunnel through the dirt came…an elf girl.
It was High Elf Archer, her face grimy with dust.
“G-good gods, Orc—Orcbolg! What were you thinking?!”
She squirmed like a cat that had fallen in water, her ears laid back. A thin layer of dust seemed to be the worst she’d come off with. Priestess, who crawled out after her, gave a soft sigh. She coughed several times, spitting dirt out of her mouth.
“Th-that was surprising…”
“Surprising? That’s what you call it?”
“I guess I’m kind of…used to it by now.”
“Oh, for—!”
High Elf Archer reached out to help Priestess up, still fuming.
Lizard Priest’s eyes rolled in his head at the scene as he crawled out; then, he sat down heavily. “Heavens above… Such is our good luck to have a Gate mirror at the right moment.”
As he heaved a sigh, the Dragontooth Warrior next to him shook its head, too, in a clever touch of artistry.
The altar still stood. That was why they were all still alive… But there was one strange thing.
Dirt and dust were piled all around them, but the altar in the center of it all was clear.
The reason was the mirror, which the Dragontooth Warrior was now supporting by itself. Held up by the warrior and Lizard Priest, it had transported the falling debris through its Gate. If it hadn’t, the adventurers would have been as dead as the goblins all around them.
“It absorbed all the rubble. It’s only a shame it’s so heavy,” Lizard Priest said.
“Well, you did most of the work, Scaly.” Dwarf Shaman clambered out next and thumped down next to Lizard Priest with a cackle. “Guess it’s a bit big for a shield, isn’t it!”
He could finally drink without interruption. He lost no time in pulling out his wineskin and taking a swig. His cheeks were pale from the drain his spells had put on his spirit, but quaffing some alcoholic spirits quickly restored a healthy flush.
“Got to say, though, I feel a wee bit bad for the ones on the other side.”
Only the ancients knew exactly how to use this equally ancient artifact. It was impossible to say who had brought the thing here, but surely this was a misuse of the Gate.
The mirror connected a goblin nest with the underground of the water town—why did it lead to those ruins?
“Maybe this is how people got around back then. Eh, Beard-cutter?”
“Not interested.”
There was Goblin Slayer.
The last to emerge from the mountain of rubble, he showed no sign of fatigue, speaking calmly and dispassionately. He was covered in dust and spatters of blood, but his cheap-looking steel helmet and grimy leather armor were just the same as always.
Priestess, who had finally gotten to her feet with the aid of her staff, pursed her lips at the sight of him.
“We are very lucky we weren’t underneath the town.”
“If we had been, I would have thought of something else.”
She puffed out her cheeks with a groan. He was, of course, unmoved.
Goblin Slayer’s steel helmet turned this way and that, surveying the area.
He took in Priestess’s look of exasperation, the jovial-looking Lizard Priest, and Dwarf Shaman, who glowed redder and redder as he drank.
And finally, he came to High Elf Archer, who was glaring daggers—or perhaps arrows—at him through slitted eyes.
“Hey,” he said.
“…What?”
“No fire, no water, no poison, no explosion.”
He sounded a touch impressed with himself.
In the moonlight, a smile came over High Elf Archer’s face. A smile as translucent and beautiful as if it were made of glass.
“Orcbolg?”
“What?”
“You’re an idiot.” And she gave him a kick that sent Goblin Slayer sprawling backward into the rubble.
To her, that world seemed a pure white, a blank space utterly suffused by light.
The warm air, the refreshing breeze, the rustling of leaves, the grass against her bare skin. All of it.
All of it was revitalizing, full of light, leaving no place for chaos. She walked through it all regally, feeling a gentle ease in her heart
.
Yes—she was at ease. That surprised her.
These past several days, she had felt an unwonted warmth in her heart. She could not fathom what it was, but she had an idea of where it had come from.
It had begun when she had slept with the injured man—or so she thought.
He was an average warrior of no special genius, whose body spoke of a singular devotion to training. All the more reason she treasured it more than that of any hero. She even saw the value of each of the scars in his skin and hers as she pressed against him.
Suddenly, she stopped.
Soft footsteps were making their way through the grass of the Temple garden.
Something black amid the white. A hazy, dark silhouette.
Her lips parted slightly, and a thin smile crept onto her face.
How could she forget that form?
“How good to see you well.”
The silhouette—he—nodded briefly.
He was wearing leather armor and a steel helmet; at his hip was a sword that seemed a strange length. Many a time she had dreamed of him, a swimming darkness concealing his warrior’s form.
“I’ve come with a question,” he said and strode boldly up to her side.
She was briefly lost as to how to act. Should she remain aloof, or would an honest smile be better? To look too delighted would be childish and shameful.
“Yes, what is it? If it is within my power to answer…”
In the end, she chose her usual calm smile. To her, that seemed most like her. She hoped he would think so, too.
She wondered what expression he wore. The misty form she saw revealed nothing. Though even if she had been able to see, his helmet still would have hidden him from her.
And that was just a bit of a shame.
In a soft voice, he said:
“You knew everything, didn’t you?”
She felt her heart skip a beat, her cheeks grow hot. She drew her sword-and-scales staff near to herself, then gave an invigorating stretch of her back.
How she hoped her voice would not tremble.
“…Yes. I did.”
She could hear him breathe softly, “I see.”
It was the same dispassionate tone he had used when they had first met and when they had spoke in bed.
She found that strangely, impossibly saddening.
Only now did she realize she had expected something to change. She had never had such an unsettling feeling before.
“But…how did you figure it out?”
“I didn’t.”
She gave him a curious cock of her head.
“I intended to ask that of everyone who was in a position to know.”
“Everyone…,” Sword Maiden murmured. “Heh. Is that so…?”
She found herself puffing out her cheeks at the touch of disappointment.
That’s disgraceful. Don’t be so childish, she chided herself.
“Perhaps I should have been less forthcoming, then…” She sighed lightly and looked at him—at his shadow. “Still…I’m not unhappy to be the first one you asked.”
Her lips turned up slightly, forming a half circle. Did she do it? Or did it just happen? She herself wasn’t sure.
“May I ask why you suspected?”
“A number of reasons.”
The dark shadow shifted slightly in her vision. It had a bold, unconcerned gait. Yet it made no sound.
She loved the way he walked.
“That white… What was it called?”
“Alligator?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “Something like that. I don’t believe that was a random encounter.”
“You think it was a planned encounter, then.”
“At least to the extent that it tried to chase us away and unilaterally attacked the goblins.”
“Do you know you sound just a tad paranoid?”
He shook his head in reply. “You have ruins like this and yet no maps and no rat-killing quests. Adventurers avoid the place. There aren’t even any patrols. It’s impossible.”
“Aren’t you knowledgeable.”
“…Yes,” Goblin Slayer said. “When it comes to adventurers, I am.”
“Hee-hee.” A giggle burbled up from the back of her throat at his blunt answer.
“In other words, there had to be something standing guard down there… A familiar.”
“…”
She said nothing, only stared at him with the smile pasted on her face.
She hated to admit it—but it would be shameful to deny it, as well. He was right: The alligator was a guardian of order in the service of the Supreme God, the protector of the city’s underground.
The chill of the rain, the heat of battle, the stench of goblins, the rusty blades piercing scale and skin.
She had entered the bath to ease the sensations she shared with the alligator.
The thought of the way she had exposed herself to the priestess there made her cheeks burn so brightly even she could feel them.
“Ironic, isn’t it?” she whispered. “That the messenger of the Supreme God should protect the city and the city alone.”
“Then you know.” The ones who killed the woman, spilled her innards, and left her corpse— “They weren’t goblins.”
He was right again.
Goblins are cowardly, cruel, brutal, and not very smart. It would probably never occur to them to linger in human territory to vivisect and devour their prey.
Their unfortunate captives were always taken back to the nest, to be diligently stripped of their virtue there. Or, if the prisoners were numerous enough, the goblins might simply toy with them until they died.
Whatever the case, their death would not be easy.
She knew all of this.
“…No, they weren’t.”
The scene was burned into her memory—quite literally.
She had been shut up in a dark stone chamber, riddled with her own filth and that of her captors, crying piteously…
They had burned both of her eyes with a torch. That was more than ten years ago now.
“They were planning something with that mirror… The supporters of that infamous Demon God. The mastermind is—”
No longer in this world.
Somewhere altogether separate from them, everything was wrapping up.
She slumped against a pillar, turning her unseeing eyes to the landscape beyond.
“After all…”
The white world swam before her. She looked at that endless blank and sighed. It was the sort of thing a young village girl bored of talking might have done.
“After all, if goblins attacked, I’m sure I would just…break down weeping.”
Sword Maiden was quite aware of the movements of the Evil Sect, against which she herself had once stood. When she had learned of the ghastly rituals of living sacrifice they were performing, she had a good idea of what they wanted to achieve.
Revenge on her. Most forms of such retaliation, she could have endured.
But goblins.
Her feet trembled. Clutching the sword and scales, she finally stood. She was glad her eyes were hidden by the bandage.
Who could she tell?
Who could she tell that the hero called Sword Maiden needed to be saved from simple goblins?
“Who would believe me?”
As she spoke, she pulled back the cloth of her vestments gracelessly and began to massage her own shoulders. Her lips curled teasingly, and she said in a smirking tone:
“What do you mean to do with me?”
“Nothing.” He sounded the same as ever: dutiful, even, mechanical, cold. “Because you’re not a goblin.”
She pursed her lips as if she were sulking—no, in fact, she was sulking.
“That’s why you don’t ask why, isn’t it?”
“If you want to talk, I will listen.”
“Oh-ho.” A languid breath slipped out of her. “I wanted someone to understand.”
A long gust of wind rustled br
anches and leaves and grass.
Fear, sorrow, pain, terror, helplessness—such things are in this world, and in this world are people who do what inspires such things.
“…I just wanted someone to understand.”
Goblins lived under the town.
They emerged from the sewers at night to attack people in the streets. Adventurers who were sent down after them didn’t return; there was no knowing who would become their victim and when. Goblins might be hiding under the bed, in the shadow of the door. If you fell asleep, they would attack you. She was sure everyone would feel that fear, just as she did.
“But in the end…no one did…”
In the end, no one lived in fear that goblins would kill them. It was always someone else who would die. Never them.
“…I can give you that Gate mirror.”
She put a fawning smile wide across her face. Even she knew it was all too obviously fake and fragile.
“Surely you understand… You of all people must…”
He interrupted her brusquely:
“I got rid of it.”
“What…?” For the first time, something other than a smile crossed her face. Surprise and a hint of confusion. “That was an ancient relic. A treasure worth thousands of gold pieces.”
“Other goblins might have learned how to use it.” He spoke coldly, bluntly, as if to emphasize his disinterest. “We encased the mirror in concrete and sent it to the bottom of the canal. It will make a good bed for your white—whatever it’s called.”
His silhouette did not waver an inch. He sounded as if this was the most natural thing in the world.
“Heh-heh. You are most…most interesting indeed.”
The overwhelming ordinariness of his speech made her feel all the stranger. She felt like she was floating; there was an uncommon ease of heart.
“There can’t be many like you.”
“Perhaps.”
“Say. May I ask you something?”
“I can’t promise I’ll know the answer,” he murmured.
“Now that you’ve slain the goblins…has anything changed?” She spread her arms as she asked, like an innocent girl sharing a little secret.
Heroes—heroes were different.
When a hero put an end to the Evil Sect, justice and the world and peace and so on were all saved. But what of someone who helped a pitiful girl who was afraid of goblins? People would go on living quietly; the river would keep flowing. Nothing would change. Nothing.
