Goblin Slayer Side Story: Year One Vol. 1 Read online

  Copyright

  KUMO KAGYU

  Translation by Kevin Steinbach Cover art by Shingo Adachi

  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 GAIDEN: YEAR ONE volume 1

  Copyright © 2018 Kumo Kagyu

  Illustrations copyright © 2018 Shingo Adachi

  Original Character Design © Noboru Kannatuki

  All rights reserved.

  Original Japanese edition published in 2018 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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  First Yen On Edition: October 2018

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Kagyū, Kumo, author. | Adachi, Shingo, illustrator. | Steinbach, Kevin, translator.

  Title: Goblin Slayer side story year one / Kagyu Kumo ; illustration by Shingo Adachi ; translation by Kevin Steinbach.

  Other titles: Goblin Slayer gaiden year one. English

  Description: First Yen On edition. | New York : Yen On, 2018–

  Identifiers: LCCN 2018027845 | ISBN 9781975302849 (v. 1 : pbk.)

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

  Classification: LCC PL872.5.A367 G5613 2018 | DDC 895.63/6—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018027845

  ISBNs: 978-1-9753-0284-9 (paperback)

  978-1-9753-0285-6 (ebook)

  E3-20180920-JV-PC

  The horizon was filled with darkness; the setting sun’s crimson blaze illuminated a misshapen horde. A breeze carried the stench of rot across the field.

  Zombies, ghouls, skeletons, and wraiths alongside grinning alter-planar demons, their lips dripping foul liquid.

  It was an army of the undead. An army of the dark.

  The advancing host represented the gravest possible threat to the forces of Order.

  A young crown prince, confronted with this army of Chaos, rubbed his stiff hand. The diamond equipment he carried was light as a feather, so it must have been born of nervousness.

  The army of the Prayer Characters had spread itself out across a small hill, and this prince was one of its generals. From the foot of the hill, he looked back, casting a glance over his assembled companions. As they waited anxiously for his signal, the prince, as their leader, had to turn back and face the devils approaching them.

  Whether they had any hope of winning was not the question.

  Victory was their only option.

  Above all, though, it was not they themselves who would determine the course of this battle. All those gathered on this field were nothing more than helpers, assistants to the one who would save the world.

  They were prepared to die in the endeavor…

  “Your Highness! Your Highness! Everyone’s ready!”

  The voice that shook him out of his reverie was incongruously cheerful. In the midst of the formation, he could see a young person, small in stature. It was the captain of the self-proclaimed Rhea Brigade, a group of volunteers. The prince couldn’t suppress a hint of a smile.

  “Is that right? Well, we’ll be prepared for them whenever they arrive, then.”

  “Yes, I think so,” the rhea said. “The elves and the dwarves are a little nervous. The lizardmen looked downright happy, though,” the rhea added, then offered a small smile.

  “Battle is the greatest joy they know,” the prince said. “Heartening allies to have in combat.”

  “True enough, that. If you’re all so kind as to fight on our behalf, then at the very least we can manage a bit of running around.”

  Rheas had an almost magical ability to make themselves invisible, and for the moment, their usual nonchalance had vanished. They were serving as excellent messengers here on the battlefield. It would have been foolish to take the little people, brave though they were, and pit them against the enemy.

  When the prince said as much, though, the rhea inquired with a chuckle, “But what will you do if there’s an enemy you humans can’t kill?”

  Still, they were well suited to the communications role the prince had assigned them. There was no one else who could so skillfully sneak across a battlefield filled with flying magic and the clash of weapons, undetected and unafraid.

  I’ve got to admire the rheas, he thought.

  “Right, then. Tell everyone that we’ll start on my signal. Just as planned.”

  “No changes? All right, then.”

  As soon as the short exchange ended, the rhea vanished. No race in the world could match them in sheer talent to become invisible.

  Upon deeper reflection, the prince thought to himself that humans were no match for the elves when it came to bows, or the dwarves and their axes, or even combat in general when compared to the lizardmen.

  Simply put, the prince was only general of the human forces. The elves, dwarves, lizardmen, and rheas had gathered here strictly out of goodwill. And the prince was deeply grateful for it. He took a deep breath, then rose from his folding stool.

  “Have you prepared Turn Undead? We want to give those wretches a proper greeting.”

  “Indeed, Your Highness,” answered an old woman, the high priestess of the God of Knowledge. She was hardly of an age to be on the battlefield, yet here she was with her head held high. “But those creatures,” she said, “they aren’t cursed. It’s something more like an illness. As if they were already on the cusp of returning to dust…”

  “I figured as much. Very well.”

  The prince took in a breath and let it out. His hand closed, then opened.

  “Troops… The scales are ruthless. The dice, even more so. No one can say what our destiny is.”

  The leaders and staff in the camp silently turned toward him. A royal magician used one of his spells—precious, yet at this moment, wholly appropriate—to weave an enchantment that carried the prince’s voice on the wind. The army of Order would hear their leader’s impassioned words clearly.

  “It may be that Order will one day be destroyed. That all will burn, and we will be forgotten.”

  As the prince’s voice rose, he took the reins of his beloved horse. He put his feet in the stirrups and lifted himself into the saddle. It had been so long since he had done so, he had feared he had forgotten how. He took a breath.

  He glanced to either side: the royal guard, dressed in a jumble of various equipment, were grinning at him. They were all yo
ung, of different races and social classes drawn from different branches of the military, united only by the patina of grime that seemed to cover them all. No one would have assumed they were handpicked elites.

  You lot, the prince thought with a chuckle, then lowered the diamond visor of his own helmet. These were his comrades, companions with whom he had navigated mazes, won citations for martial valor, and who had finally coalesced around him as his guard.

  Good gods. This is nothing like an adventure.

  “Just don’t forget, the same is true of our opponents. The dice are merciless—but fair.”

  On this side, there was a great army with only themselves to rely on. Across the field were as many monsters bent on consuming the earth.

  The prince took it all in, then offered his final exhortation:

  “There is indeed hope for victory. We must seize it!”

  A lusty battle cry went up, so passionate and proud that the creatures squirming on the horizon took an involuntary step back.

  Gear clanged and throats shouted themselves hoarse. The army worked up their morale with a great stomping on the ground.

  Down with demons! Down with Chaos! We’re going to knock you into the next dimension!

  “Miracles!”

  The first order. The clerics who peppered the battle line began to offer up their prayers to the gods.

  O you many gods, who are seated in heaven. Please, protect us. Be our salvation. Grant us victory, we implore.

  Protection, Blessing, and Holy War shone out. Miracles came from every god: the Supreme God, the Earth Mother, the God of Knowledge, the God of Trade, as well as the God of War.

  The prince nodded. No doubt the forces of Chaos were relying on the dark abilities of their own evil deities.

  “Archers, ready the first volley!”

  Human hunters, along with the ranks of experienced foresters provided by the king of the elves, drew their bows with a collective tremor of string.

  They aimed up, at a diagonal. The humans grimaced, intently focused, but the elves never lost their easy smiles. Why should they? They spent every waking moment with their bows. Shooting was as simple as breathing.

  “Loose!!”

  The elven arrows went three times faster, higher, and farther than the human ones. They traced a great arc through the sky, then came down like rain upon the forces of Chaos. Their silver arrowheads would be certain to damage even the undead.

  At the same time, there was a fluttering sound from the army of the Dark Gods, as of many ragged cloths flapping at once. Dark shadows, dancing in the sky, were deflecting the hail of arrows:

  Giant bats.

  They spread their massive wings like a canopy over their allies’ heads, horribly loyal to their evil friends. The bats fell with a cacophony of shrieks, but thanks to them, damage to the enemy forces was minimal.

  Had Order just been forced to waste ammunition? Or had they whittled away some of the enemy’s airpower? Of course, the prince would view things in the latter way.

  “How stupid do you have to be to leave the good, solid ground?” the prince muttered, and the adventurers of the royal guard smirked at one another.

  A little humor was a good thing; it kept one relaxed. Just one of many pearls of wisdom the prince had picked up while adventuring.

  “All right, keep going! Spell casters, unleash your magic!”

  They had the initiative. They couldn’t let the enemy find an opportunity to strike back.

  The royal magicians brandished their staffs and began intoning words of true power in loud, clear voices.

  Fireball was the favored spell. A volley of them went flying at the enemy. The spheres of flame burned white-hot as they flew, exploding among the ranks of the foe. There was a vast noise, and enemy soldiers went flying into the sky like twigs, torn to pieces.

  It was clear, though, that the effect was not as dramatic as it normally would have been. The humans weren’t the only ones who could prepare their defenses.

  Insofar as they were ones with the underlying logic of magic, the evil gods might even have had an advantage…

  “DEEEEEVLLLIIIVVVVVIL!!”

  And at last, the Dark Gods saw fit to make their move.

  No sooner had the unearthly noise sounded than a swarm of hard-carapaced bugs assaulted the forces of Order, falling like a hail of pebbles. There was an earsplitting sound of wings as the insects flew, then crashed into the holy barrier. Most were stopped by the divine miracle, but more than a few broke through. In the blink of an eye, foot soldiers, knights, archers, wizards, and monks were riddled with holes, many dying.

  “Steady!” the prince shouted, waving his sword even as one of the insects glanced off his helmet. “Vanguard, charge!”

  The knights gave their steeds their head and, with a great bellow, went on the attack. The noise of hooves rattled the ground.

  At the same moment, there was an eerie wha-pum, wha-pum of war drums, and the lizardman skirmishers launched into battle.

  These two units were seemingly polar opposites, yet in fighting prowess, they were almost indistinguishable.

  “DAAAAEEEMMEMMMEMMEOOOON!!” came the Dark Gods’ cry.

  The enemy army had recovered from the fireballs, and now a contingent of dullahans rode forth. The combined speed of the oncoming horses, along with the total weight of their riders, lent the knights’ spears enough force to knock down a castle wall. Their collision on the battlefield created a virtually indescribable noise of combat.

  The screech of metal on metal rang out, and horsemen on both sides went flying. Spears pierced clean through shield and armor alike, while others fell from their horses to suffer broken bones or to be trampled by their own mounts.

  Corpses littered the battlefield in an instant, but of course, it was the end of nothing.

  “Ahh! Behold, behold! I am a fang, the descendant of Archaeopteryx!”

  The lizardmen swooped among the enemy like shadows, eliciting screams from first one villainous creature and then the next. Claw, claw, fang, tail. The sons of the nagas knew no fear; their conduct in battle was irreproachable before their forefathers. They howled out that the fire that fell from heaven had already taught their people of destruction eons ago.

  Yet, the vigor of the dullahans, having broken through the knights’ charge, was likewise undiminished. They waved spears encrusted with blood; it looked like they would simply overrun the entire army.

  “Spear wall, ready!”

  It was the job of the foot soldiers to prevent that from happening. Lined up in three rows, they plunged the butt ends of their lances into the ground, creating a three-tiered wall of spears.

  Normal horses might have feared the pointy barrier, but the pale and evil mounts of these riders did not. Irritated by the obstacle in their way, the dullahans brandished their weapons. The spears were quickly cut down at the shafts, and next, the spearmens’ heads began to go flying…

  “Yaaaah! All in, troops!”

  That was when the dwarven shield breakers appeared. The hooks they carried caught the dullahans’ shields and pulled them away, whereupon the dwarves’ battle-axes came into play.

  Ax and war hammer swung, crushing and smashing. Fearless, undaunted, wave upon wave broke forth, shoring up the battle line. The meaning of the term dwarf fortress became clearly evident.

  Can we win?

  Who could blame the prince for the passing thought? If all went well, there was no doubt. Yes, the forces of Order might be considered to have the upper hand to this point.

  But oh, wait and behold.

  The Dark Gods chanted their spells, and a fell wind began to blow over the battlefield. The soldiers who encountered the miasma found that their flesh and organs rotted and dropped away even as they lived; they collapsed writhing to the ground. There was no question: they were being turned into the undead.

  When bitten by a zombie, eaten by a ghoul, or when one’s soul is frozen by a wight, it’s as if one becomes their own t
ormentor. Those who die in battle should rightly return to the earth, but instead they were being incorporated into the enemy ranks as undead warriors.

  The longer the battle went on, the more the forces of Chaos would consume and grow. A true “dawn of the dead” might not be so far away…

  “Stay steady! Those aren’t the men you know! Destroy them, and give your comrades-in-arms back their bodies!” the prince shouted, but the beginnings of panic were written on his face.

  Ranged to the right and left of the prince were his handpicked knights. If they could only break through and surround the Dark Gods, the situation might be salvaged…

  But how many knights would have to die to achieve that? Would they, too, become undead?

  The answers to those questions would affect more than just this battle. When the fighting was over, how would he find new people? How could the land be made fertile again? How could the towns be brought back?

  They might win the battle, but could they really save the world?

  “……”

  Stop.

  Even the gods didn’t control the pips on the dice, much less a mortal.

  The prince gave a violent tug on his horse’s reins. He would start with what was in front of him. It bothered him, deeply disturbed him, to know that he could not finish this through his own wisdom and talent alone.

  The course of this battle depended on six people who were far away.

  The adventurers delving the Dungeon of the Dead.

  §

  High Priestess opened her eyes when she heard the leader say it was about time to go.

  No—opened her eyes wasn’t quite the right expression. It had been a long time since she had seen anything but darkness.

  Things have probably started up above, the leader murmured, inspecting a weapon.

  The overflowing miasma, the sensation of the cold flagstone, the crushing sense of menace. She could remember the break they took in the hallway between burial chambers like it was yesterday.

  She heard the faint, familiar clacking of the leader’s armor. No doubt he was inspecting his cleaver, just like usual.

  “Are you all right?”

  High Priestess was pulled back to herself when someone suddenly spoke to her.