Goblin Slayer, Vol. 5
Copyright
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. 5
Copyright © 2017 Kumo Kagyu
Illustrations copyright © 2017 Noboru Kannatuki
All rights reserved.
Original Japanese edition published in 2017 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 © 2018 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 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316553223 (v. 2 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316553230 (v. 3 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316411882 (v. 4 : pbk.) | ISBN 9781975326487 (v. 5 : pbk.)
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
ISBNs: 978-1-9753-2648-7 (paperback)
978-1-9753-2783-5 (ebook)
E3-20180811-JV-PC
O adventurer,
what tragedy that you should die.
Scant space there is on a tombstone.
O adventurer, your name I do not know,
but though you have not left it to us,
O adventurer, if you call me friend—
O my friend,
what tragedy that you should die.
“It went that way!”
A voice, clear as a bell, could be heard even over the blizzard that engulfed the battlefield.
It came from a young woman with sparkling blue eyes and beautiful, honey-colored waves of hair tied in two pigtails. She was an adventurer, but the nobility she displayed would not have been out of place at some lavish party.
Her face, which she might have covered in makeup at some point in her life, now ran with anxious sweat despite the surrounding snow. A cuirass protected her generous chest, while leather armor cradled a waist so slim she didn’t need a corset.
A silver sword glinted in her hand, a valuable family heirloom. It was made of aluminum, light and sharp, forged by a lightning-hammer against a red gem.
Thrust, thrust, block. She would repeat the motions she’d learned, again and again, and the enemy would have no hope of getting near her.
Beside her, a female warrior dove into the fray, speaking roughly but with an undercurrent of affection.
“I know! Just make sure you don’t slip and fall on the ice!”
“Gosh! I’m not that much of a klutz!”
That remained to be seen. The female warrior wore only thin armor, and pointed ears peeked out from beneath hair the color of leaves in autumn.
The half-elf brandished her thin sword; it flashed as she moved with steps like a dancer. The other girl, Noble Fencer, had chased off one enemy, and she wouldn’t miss the opening the foe’s fear afforded them.
“ORARARARAG?!”
“GAROARARA?!”
First one, then two, of the ugly little creatures died, dirty blood spewing from their chests, viscera exposed to the open air.
In the whole world, there was probably not a single person who wouldn’t recognize these monsters. Non-Prayers with dark green skin, crooked teeth, and the intelligence of cruel children. The weakest monster to walk the land: goblins.
They were visible here and there through the blizzard, growling or dribbling drool. They wore nothing but animal pelts over their bare skin; it wasn’t clear whether this was because the cold didn’t bother them or because they didn’t know any better way to warm themselves. For weapons they carried only stone axes or clubs, along with some crude spears made from shafts of bone.
Yet even so, they made no move to run from the adventurers. The goblins felt nothing but hostility, hatred, and lust for them.
“They’re so pathetic, it’s almost funny,” Noble Fencer said with a cute little snort.
“Heh-heh! Nice work, girls!”
A voice came from somewhere, sounding easy, unperturbed by the whipping snow.
The bright, almost innocent tone of it drew a frown from the half-elf.
“We’re not here to chat! Get to work!”
“Sure thing.”
With no sign or sound for warning, a dagger appeared, sinking into the space between a goblin’s ribs.
A backstab, straight through to the heart. The creature’s eyes went wide, and it dropped dead.
The corpse shifted from a little kick from behind; it fell forward, revealing a diminutive rhea scout. He braced himself against the body and pulled out the dagger he had buried in it.
But however stupid goblins may be, even they wouldn’t overlook an opportunity like that.
“Hrgh?!”
“GORBBB!!”
“GROOOB!!”
The monsters closed in, relying on their numbers for strength, waving their clubs. Giving a great yell, the rhea scout jumped backward.
“Don’t be getting distracted on the battlefield, now!” A small but sturdy figure pushed past the scout to protect him. The dwarf wore a monk’s habit and had the look of a boulder. His weapon of choice was a war hammer. The block of metal smashed mercilessly into a goblin’s skull, sending brains flying everywhere, releasing the creature’s nasty little soul to the afterlife.
“Well, I’m very sorry, Lord Monk!”
“Think nothing of it,” the dwarf replied evenly, brushing an eyeball off his hammer. “Hey, spell casters. We’ve still got one or two in the distance there.”
“Of course. I can see them perfectly well.”
The response came from a middle-aged wizard dressed in the plainest of pure white robes. The human had an incongruous smile on his face while he stroked his own forehead as if to imply his abundant wisdom. A hand emerged from his robe, quickly forming a sign, while he brandished his staff with an expert gesture.
“My dear noble girl, perhaps you could lend me a hand?”
“You’ve got it!” Noble Fencer puffed out her chest and nodded. On her lovely finger was a ring that shone with a jewel, and she and the wizard spoke words of true power together.
“Sagitta…quelta…raedius! Strike home, arrow!”
“Tonitrus…oriens…iacta! Rise and fall, thunder!”
The words overwhelmed the very logic of the world, and the twin spells assaulted the goblins: the wizard’s Magic Missile sent several supernatural arrows flying, while Noble Fencer’s Lightning spell thundered down on them, turning snow to steam.
Afterward, the only goblins that remained were filled with holes or fried to a crisp. The ground had been laid bare by the attack, but the snow continued to come down without mercy. It would only be a matter of time before the earth was covered again.
“Well, I guess that’s it,” the half-elf warrior said, shaking the blood off her blade and sheathing it.
Rhea Scout whistled. “Aren’t you in a good mood.”
“Can’t say I’m very happy about you letting your guard down,” Dwarf Monk said reproachfully, but the wizard broke in, “Oh, spells cure all ills. It turned out all right in the end.”
The party, having successfully survived a random encounter with a group of goblins, once again patted themselves on the back for their battle prowess. They had cooperated well, and no one had been hurt. True, they had resorted to some spells, but still, a flawless victory.
The adventurers’ eyes burned with a passion that resembled both hope and ambition at once. Behind them was the northern village and all its defenseless residents, who lived under the threat of monsters. Ahead of them was the mountain, dangerous and severe but majestically white and snowcapped nonetheless. Somewhere on its slopes was the entrance to an underground cave.
It didn’t matter if they had to fight goblins. In fact, all the more reason to go. If goblin slaying wasn’t adventuring, what was?
“Yeah, don’t worry,” Noble Fencer said boldly, her golden hair whipping in the wind. She turned to her fellows and announced, “I have a plan!”
Dear Goblin Slayer,
I hope this letter finds you well. The season of snow sprites has come, and the cold with it. An adventurer’s health is his most important resource at this time of the year. Please take care not to get sick.
As for me, I’m surprised but happy to say that after our last encounter, I have had no dreams of goblins, and in fact, things have been quite peaceful. It’s all thanks to you and your friends. I send you my heartfelt gratitude. I should like to have written sooner and am embarrassed that I cannot even plead busyness to excuse the belatedness of this letter.
Nor do I feel it’s quite appropriate for me to immediately trouble you again—so I must ask your forgiveness, for that is exactly what I intend to do. It so happens that there is a quest I would like to ask you to take on.
It’s a common enough story: a certain young noblewoman fled her parents’ house to become an adventurer. She took on a quest, after which all communication from her ceased—a sad, but also not uncommon, outcome. That one of her parents visited the Guild to offer a quest to find the girl isn’t special, either.
The one thing I wish to note is that the quest the girl had undertaken was a goblin-slaying one.
I’m sure you see where this is going.
The search quest her parents filed specifies that “the most reliable, high-ranked adventurers” should apply. But of course, hardly anyone in the advanced ranks takes on goblin-slaying quests. When the Guild consulted me on the matter, I could think of no one besides you.
Knowing you, I’m sure you’re quite busy (I heard about what went on at the harvest festival), but if you should have a few spare moments, I would ask that you use them to extend help to an unfortunate young woman.
I pray for your good health and safety.
Yours,
“It’s from Sword Maiden. She says she’s praying for you… Human letters are so passionate.” An elf’s cheerful voice sounded brightly on the winter road.
The road stretched on and on across the windswept plain. The only things that could be seen were dead trees and snow-covered shrubs all the way out to the horizon. The sky had been painted a dull gray by great, broad strokes of cloud; there was nothing of interest to look at anywhere.
In this drab world, the elf’s lively, happy voice stood out. Her thin form was cloaked in hunter’s garb. A bow was slung across her back, and her long ears twitched playfully.
High Elf Archer’s catlike curiosity was by no means limited to adventures. She gave the letter in her hand a jaunty fold, gripped it in her long fingers, and passed it back behind her.
“I haven’t seen many letters. Are they all like this?” she asked.
“Hmm…”
The human girl she passed the letter to gave an ambiguous smile, looking a bit shy. Even as she took the piece of paper, she seemed hesitant to read it.
Her willowy body was covered in mail, over which hung clerical garments, and in her hand, she held a sounding staff: she was a priestess. That was it—this missive had the whiff of a love letter. It would be wrong to say she didn’t wonder about it, but she also didn’t quite feel comfortable reading someone else’s mail. If someone did it to her, she would find it very difficult to come back from.
“But… But it has gotten very cold, hasn’t it?”
So instead, she resolved to change the subject of the conversation, by force if necessary.
The farther north they got, the heavier the clouds in the sky became, until sunlight couldn’t penetrate them. The wind was growing bitter, and sometimes it brought something white with it.
It was winter. That was made obvious enough by the snow that had started to pile up along the road.
“I’m chilly,” Priestess said. “Maybe it’s my own fault. Mail isn’t going to help me keep warm…”
“This is why metal products are no good!” High Elf Archer gave a triumphant chuckle and stuck out her little chest, her ears bobbing up and down proudly. It was true: her hunter’s cloak had nothing metal on it.
“Pipe down,” a dwarf spell caster said. “Frankly, I’m amazed you’re comfortable in clothing so thin.”
“What’s that I hear? Are elves tougher than you thought?”
“Tough and slow to catch colds are different things, lassie,” the dwarf said, stroking his beard, provoking an angry “What?!” from the red-faced elf.
Their friendly argument was just as boisterous as ever. Priestess smiled. “Some things never change!”
“Mm,” a massive lizardman nodded from beside her. “I envy them the energy to make such a commotion.” The blood of his ancestors, the fearsome nagas, flowed in his veins—and he was from the southern tribe. Lizard Priest’s scaly body shivered in the freezing cold of the snow.
Priestess found this hard to watch and looked up at him with worry. “Are you okay?”
“It’s a question of my ancestors, who were equally vulnerable to cold. I could be facing extinction.” Lizard Priest rolled his huge eyes and his tongue flicked out of his mouth. He continued in a joking tone, “Milord Goblin Slayer seems calm enough. You’ve had a good deal of experience of this, I suppose.”
“…No.”
Lizard Priest had spoken to a human warrior who led the column. He wore grimy leather armor and a cheap-looking steel helmet. A sword of a strange length was at his hip, and a small, round shield was tied to his arm. Even a novice adventurer would probably have had better equipment.
Goblin Slayer: that was what people called this adventurer, a man of the third rank, Silver.
The only thing that was different from usual was the crudely wrought arrows he held in each hand.
“I first learned my trade on a snowy mountain.” He worked on the arrowheads as he walked, not looking back at his companions.
“Oh-ho,” Lizard Priest said admiringly. “Not a kind of practice I could imitate.” His tail swished.
Goblin Slayer didn’t slacken his pace as he said, “I wouldn’t want to do it again.”
As ever, there was no hesitation in his stride; he walked boldly, with an almost nonchalant violence.
“Um, Goblin Slayer, s
ir!” Priestess came rushing up to him with little steps like a small bird, clutching her staff in both hands. “Thank you, um, for this.” Apologizing for making him interrupt his work, she passed the letter back to him. It was a good opportunity, since High Elf Archer and Dwarf Shaman were still occupied with arguing.
“You understand the gist of the quest?” He held the arrows in one hand, blithely taking the letter with the other and folding it up. Priestess caught a brief glimpse inside his item pouch as he put the letter away. As usual, it was stuffed with all manner of seemingly random things. But for him, there was an order to it, an organization, and he no doubt considered everything in there to be necessary.
Maybe I should try to organize my items a little more carefully, too…
Priestess made a mental note to ask him about it and nodded. “Um… We need to rescue the woman, right? From the goblins.”
“That’s right.” Goblin Slayer nodded. “In other words, it’s a goblin-slaying quest.”
And that, more or less, was all there was to it. Shortly after the harvest festival in the frontier town, a letter had arrived from the water town. It was from the archbishop of the Supreme God there—known as Sword Maiden—and just as before, it addressed Goblin Slayer by name.
This eccentric adventurer would certainly not turn down any work involving goblins. And so Priestess, who had brought word to them from the temple, along with High Elf Archer, Dwarf Shaman, and Lizard Priest, headed north with Goblin Slayer.
It was early afternoon, and they would soon arrive at the little village at the foot of the snowy mountain.
“I hope the girl’s all right…”
“Yeah. I hate to think about it…” High Elf Archer, apparently having tired of arguing, waved her hand as if to shoo away the awful idea. Her tone was light, but her drooping ears spoke for the sadness she felt. “Honestly, I doubt any goblin hostage is safe.”
“Well… Uh…”
Priestess and High Elf Archer gave each other stiff smiles, and it was clear what they were remembering.
“If she’s alive, we’ll rescue her. If she’s dead, we’ll bring back part of the corpse, or her personal effects.”