Chapter Text
Goblin Slayer was finishing his patrol. Carefully stepping on the icy-crusted snow, he walked along the fence and turned into the copse. His gaze slid over the shining surface in search of traces of monsters, and only after making sure of their absence, the adventurer moved on. A withered plow. An old barn. A dry tree that finally collapsed. Nothing went unnoticed, and he carefully examined the ground around him. But the snow-covered field dozed peacefully, ready to bloom in the summer and again grow a rich harvest. Its white cover was absolutely pure.
Before heading into the house, Goblin Slayer paused for a moment, peering into the distance. Against the backdrop of a bright open space, his gray figure looked like a dead insect frozen near an immeasurably huge window, and only the clouds of steam escaping from under the helmet removed this obsession. At some point, he swayed in the wind, as if wanting to break away and move with fast steps deep into the frost-gnawed forest. But this moment passed - and Goblin Slayer headed towards the house, the small windows of which glowed from the inside with a pleasant honey light. As if by chance, he touched the stonework of the fence, brushing away the snow. There was a single mark left on the wall, a dark spot in the middle of the snow-white surface. He was here, he lived here, this was his refuge.
When he was already approaching the house, a humming voice was heard in the hallway, and a girl emerged from the slightly open door. Singing something, she hurried to the cart, holding the flask with both hands, from which came the warm smell of fresh milk. Catching Goblin Slayer's gaze, Cow Girl perked up and motioned for him to come closer.
“I’m going to the town, Goblin Slayer,” the girl said, carefully placing the flask in the corner of the cart. A strand of hair fell across her face, and Cow Girl brushed it away with a flick of her hand. “Do you want to come with me?”
Goblin Slayer did not even think of bothering her, but still delayed his answer. Some things were more difficult for him than others, and making the kind of decisions was on this list.
"I was going to fix some equipment."
Cow Girl straightened the harness and thoughtfully ran her fingers along the stiff tape.
"New Year is soon. For once, you could take care of yourself instead of your equipment.”
The old spotted ox exhaled a cloud of steam, and his dark bottomless eyes reflected the serious face of Cow Girl.
“Of course, you can refuse...” the girl said quietly and looked up at Goblin Slayer. Suddenly her eyes sparkled with a sly light. “But who will help me with all these flasks then?”
Without holding back a smile, Cow Girl fluttered into the hallway and appeared on the threshold with a new flask in her hands. Goblin Slayer waited a moment, as if not understanding what was required of him, but a second later he walked towards the house with an even step.
The metal of the flask warmed his hands. Approaching the cart for the third time, he saw that his footprints had mixed with the neat imprints of Cow Girl’s boots, forming one snowy path, and for some reason this seemed important to him.
Cow Girl was cheerful, but her high spirits did not prevent her from scrupulously tracking every detail. The merchandise was tied up festively with bright ribbons, and not a single flask was missed as Cow Girl counted them, gently touching the warm lids with her index finger.
“...nine, ten, eleven... Everything is in place! All with New Year wishes and colorful ribbons!” she reported and, looking at Goblin Slayer, frowned. “It wouldn’t hurt for you to dress up too.”
Several snowflakes flashed like cold lights on his armor as Goblin Slayer turned around and stared at the girl in bewilderment.
“You could wear a sweater, or a raincoat, or a jacket...whatever you want!”
“Fabric...” he couldn’t find the words right away, it was so obvious, “is a poor protection. Goblins can easily tear rags, this is the worst choice possible.”
He didn't expect how tender her smile would be in this colorless, snowy world. Here, among the clearly defined boundaries of light and shadow, the girl’s face was the only warm spot that retained its colors. Goblin Slayer looked at the girl intently, trying to remember this moment, but could not look at her properly, as if his gaze smoothly skirted Cow Girl and returned to the forest again.
A sharp gust of wind interrupted this pause. The smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, and Goblin Slayer, not without surprise, discovered some kind of deep fatigue on the girl’s face.
“You don’t change, Goblin Slayer,” Cow Girl said quietly, “and I’m not forcing you to do it. But there is one thing I want to show you..."
She took a step closer before turning around and heading into the house.
“People are not goblins.”
He froze. What a strange thing to say. The idea of clothes also seemed ridiculous to Goblin Slayer, but he knew how to make concessions when necessary.
***
The city was much busier than usual, and it seemed that the latest news about The Demon King had not affected on it at all. The fair was full of people, elves and other creatures that would not be found on any other day... Merchants dressed in colorful capes, smiling broadly, barked people, music was playing, motley groups were bargaining, playing cards and having simple conversations among themselves. Flocks of children, jostling and laughing, ran from counter to counter, either stealing colorful stones to sell them later for next to nothing, or simply playing games known only to them.
The creaking ox cart was slowly approaching the Adventurer's Guild when the booming sounds of footsteps were heard from inside. A second later, the door swung open and the wind that rushed out hit Goblin Slayer in the face, returning the flexible feather on his helmet to its usual tattered state. Near the entrance, several blurry but neat footprints remained in the snow – High Elf Archer ran a little further than she had planned. Not at all embarrassed, she jumped up to the cart and extended her hand to Goblin Slayer.
“I knew it was you! Hey, Orcbolg, what’s up?” Without waiting for an answer, she smiled and went to Cow Girl to discuss plans for their little walk. Actively gesticulating, the elf explained something to the girl, and she listened attentively, occasionally nodding her head.
The grumbling of some frozen adventurer was heard from the remaining open door, and Priestess and Lizard Priest hurried out into the street.
“The lady behind the counter said you would definitely come today, and it turned out to be true!” Priestess smiled happily, and although this smile seemed too bright to her, the girl could not suppress these emotions.
“Well, of course we came,” Cow Girl laughed and patted Priestess’s blond hair. “Otherwise, we would have let ourselves down in the first place, how can you miss a walk around the fair in good company?”
The girl nodded in agreement. She was fiddling with the strings of a warm fur cape in her hands and clearly couldn’t wait for this little adventure to begin. Goblin Slayer looked at the gold thread embroidered patterns on Priestess's clothing and mentally continued the pattern where it left off. Spirals and curls twisted crookedly before his eyes.
“Do you like my cape, Gobs?” asked pleased Priestess. “I bought it yesterday because I couldn’t resist the beauty!”
“Hm,” he responded. Priestess was still staring at him, and Goblin Slayer decided he needed to add something. “It looks nice.”
“Have you...decided to dress up too?” Priestess asked quietly, as if they were talking about something shameful. Goblin Slayer found himself receiving wary glances from the rest of the group. Priestess hesitated.
“I mean...it's great that you decided to wear regular clothes and not armor...though the helmet still looks great... Just like everything else! Good choice... You look almost normal in these clothes-”
“Hah, that was a little too revealing,” Elf Archer laughed loudly, hugging the embarrassed girl. “But think of it as a compliment, Orcbolg. You look normal!”
The guild door opened and the last member of their company appeared on the street - Dwarf Shaman, who was still arguing with someone. In his hands was a half-empty mug of beer. He raised his eyebrows a little, noticing embarrassed Priestess and still giggling High Elf Archer, but did not ask questions, and, rubbing his mustache, grumbled:
“It’s nice to see you all, but we still shouldn’t have rushed: some people haven’t finished dinner yet.”
“’Some people’ is just you, old man,” Elf Archer laughed. “As if those chicken wings weren’t enough for you!”
“Don’t be cunning, cheat, you also went to your room with a plate full of sweets!”
“What a vile lie! The elves are content with little,” the archer snorted.
“Well, in that case, the elf is more likely to be Orcbolg than you,” the dwarf laughed and turned to Cow Girl. “Miss, do we have any supplies?”
“Oh, of course.” The girl deftly jumped off the cart and pulled out several bags of food. “Here’s our snacks, the walk promises to be long, so there’s a lot of stuff here. I've also recently tried new bread recipes. You will be surprised by its delicate taste! And, of course, there’s no limit to the cheese and wine.”
“Thats great! Thank you very much.” Previously silent Lizard Priest exhaled with noticeable relief and wagged his tail. “Nectar, nectar...”
The main street was brightly lit. The enchanted garlands shimmered in all sorts of shades and covered the gray winter sky like a thin spiderweb. Overseas sweets and spices filled the street with the aroma of the holiday, and Priestess could only turn her head right and left, barely keeping up with her friends, so she wanted to have time to look at everything.
“This year they really tried to prepare for the fair!” the girl exclaimed, once again catching up with the group. “These garlands shine more beautiful than the stars in the night sky! And look how wonderful the decorations are!”
“Pfft, you have to be kidding me!” High Elf Archer rolled her eyes. “These crudely made trinkets are not worth attention. The real treasures are ahead - on the central square, so hurry up.”
“Okay, okay, I go,” Priestess sighed, leaving a parting glance at the counter. The merchant, having lost a potential buyer, grumbled something after her irritably.
Colored tents floated past Goblin Slayer in succession and were hidden behind the villagers crowded around them. He didn't notice any weapons, armor, or potions, so there was no reason to stop. They will still have time to look at souvenirs after they'll reach their destination.
“Uh…it’s getting crowded here!” Priestess noted. Goblin Slayer silently agreed. Previously, their company had moved along the street without any problems, but now this path was more like a labyrinth, the walls of which did not stand still. As they moved forward, more people joined their route. It seemed that many wanted to get to the central square.
Goblin Slayer noticed that their group formed a chain, the beginning of which was Lizard Priest, and the end of which was himself. He was satisfied with this situation: the risk of losing Priestess or Dwarf Shaman in the crowd was small.
Due to the lively atmosphere around them and the discomfort caused by the crowd, no one paid attention to the mysterious cloaked figure who appeared around the corner and followed them, however, maintaining a sufficient distance.
“Well, well, don’t forget about the plan, first to the armor shop.” High Elf Archer was uncompromising. “Give you free rein – and you’ll run in the wrong direction! First we inspect the most important, and then we’ll see how things go. If you want, you can- ah!”
She jumped up and cursed indignantly in Elvish.
“That idiot stepped on my leg!”
“Perhaps, Long Ears, it really is crowded here,” Dwarf Shaman grumbled from somewhere below. “And just like that, they’ll crush me. Hey, Priestess, let's run here and turn onto another street before we get lost."
The girl did not hear his request - she was looking at the shiny piece of jewelry.
“This amulet is priceless!” Priestess exclaimed enthusiastically, stopping at one of the tents. “How could something so beautiful be created by human hands?”
“It’s not even created by humans, it’s something much more ancient... Listen, you better come over here...” Dwarf Shaman frowned. “Hey, Orcbolg, who is this-”
Suddenly the dwarf fell silent. He disappeared from sight behind someone's broad back.
People kept arriving. From all the streets they streamed towards the center, forward, forward - an inexorable living wave. Goblin Slayer involuntarily imagined goblins in place of people: a stream of rage, stench and green bodies. The image confused him and for a second, he felt terrible. Danger writhed around him like a dense cocoon, trying to touch and injure him. He closed his eyes, trying to push the sight out of his mind. When Goblin Slayer opened them again, his friends were already being carried away in different directions.
“Wait, guys, don’t leave!” the high elf panted. Working furiously with her elbows, she paved the way, and yet the stream carried her further and further with every second. “We need to find our beloved shaman friend…and Priestess!”
“I’m here on the right, on the right,” Priestess squeaked somewhere to the side. “I’ll be right there!”
“Now it’s too late to come, meet me in the armor shop, okay, Priestess? Okay, Orcbolg? Fine?.."
Goblin Slayer nodded, but no one else expected an answer from him - he was alone in the middle of a huge crowd.
Ahead he heard swearing - someone started a drunken fight. Goblin Slayer carefully held the back of the man in front of him, trying to use this to get around the noisy group blocking the path to the square.
“Watch where you're going, idiot! Or maybe you are looking for problems?! Then you will find them soon!” The closest neighbor bared his teeth at the adventurer and, muttering curses under his breath, disappeared into the crowd.
Goblin Slayer froze in confusion. People smiled, frowned, laughed, without ceasing to talk, their distorted faces floated past him in a colorful swirl.
A crowd of goblins does not bode well. He deals with the crowd of goblins mercilessly and as quickly as possible, cutting, burning, crushing the vile green bodies. Time is a dangerous enemy, it devours your strength and fills your body with fatigue. The battle must be over as quickly as possible: then, perhaps, the curved iron blade will not have time to reach the body, the new flow of goblins will not be taken by surprise and there will appear for a few minutes to rest. A few minutes, after which Goblin Slayer will take a stronger hold of his sword and continue on his way. His goal is in the depths of the caves.
He never keeps up with it.
"Are you Goblin Slayer?"
He would have stood there for a long time, but the question that sounded right above his ear instantly pulled him out of the veil of detached reverie. The source of the sound was so close that Goblin Slayer instinctively grabbed the hilt of the blade, slightly exposing the blade.
“No... don't get me wrong, I'm just here... to ask a few questions about goblins.” The owner of the voice, a guy in an expensive suit and an old patterned cloak, laughed as if sensing the warrior's tension. "I want to know more about their caves."
The guy stood very close, practically breathing down Goblin Slayer's neck, so he tried to move away, which, however, was unsuccessful. Someone pushed him in front, making a rude comment, but the adventurer easily managed to stay on his feet. He tried to at least turn to face the speaker.
"Is it a quest?"
“No...” The stranger tightly squeezed Goblin Slayer’s hand, like a saving straw, and the force was pretty unpleasant. With some confusion, Goblin Slayer tried to pull his hand out of the grip, but it only tightened. After rummaging a little through the layers of clothing, the guy pulled out from under his cloak the adventurer badge that hung on his neck. The name “Helmaer” was engraved on the badge shimmering with pearl-like color.
“My name is Helmaer, I recently became an adventurer, so I’m still of Porcelain rank. I was just given an order for goblins, but I don’t know anything about them, so I decided to ask an older and more experienced adventurer..." Helmaer winked, slyly looking into the black slits of the helmet.
It turned out he was a newbie. Being careful is a good quality. Goblin Slayer relaxed slightly, pleasantly surprised by someone else's prudence, but his voice sounded as dry and indifferent as before:
“How many goblins are there?”
“Hmm, judging by the customer’s words, there are four of them in total.” The dark eyes of the young adventurer shone with an excess of emotions, and even the hood on his head could not hide it. The excited adventurer seemed to be afraid that his interlocutor would leave, and hung with his whole body on the hand, which Goblin Slayer could hardly feel anymore.
“Four is a good number, I would even call it optimal for a beginner.”
"Really? This is wonderful!" The young man did not hide his excitement. “And how to clear the goblin cave? Explore the area better, and then surround them in a cave and finish them off?”
“This way, there may be lapses, and the chance of being attacked might increase,” Goblin Slayer countered calmly. “This is a common mistake for beginners. The cave is the domain of the goblins, and it would be much more effective to kill most of them outside of it. For example, luring goblins with smoke."
"Eh? Goblins can sneak attack too? I always thought they were just stupid monsters.” Helmaer blinked in surprise.
"This is wrong."
It was a rare case when someone had asked him questions about goblins so patiently. A loner for most of his life, Goblin Slayer didn't get to talk about his experiences. Even when a motley company in the form of Priestess, High Elf Archer, Dwarf Shaman and Lizard Priest began to accompany him in battle, none of them showed a clear desire to know more about ways to kill goblins. Goblin Slayer did not insist. At the right moment, he simply explained the bare minimum that they needed to know. Is it necessary to cover yourself in blood? Yes, it is, so the goblins won’t smell us. No, we shouldn’t make noise, it won’t scare them, they’ll just find us faster. No, little goblins are also a threat and need to be killed. (Yes, I'm going to kill them all.)
Goblin Slayer had told these fragments before—to the Priestess, to curious adventurers, to local residents. The expressions on the faces of the interlocutors changed quickly, and he had long remembered this sequence: interest, slight concern, disgust. He didn't have time to finish. He did not have time to tell how exactly the goblin’s flesh burns and why it is so important to crush the skull completely, without leaving the slightly shell-shocked goblin alive. He did not have time to show off his anatomically accurate drawings of goblins and the numerous trophies in the form of fangs and bones that he kept for studying. Was it necessarily? Was it important? Well, of course it was. Someone must know this, someone must collect and store this information. He can handle it, even if no one else helps. Goblins learn and evolve, so Goblin Slayer cannot afford to relax and miss out on this knowledge. He must know everything about goblins.
And now a pair of eyes looked at him with genuine interest. In this gaze there was a request to open up, to share, to tell everything, to pour out every last drop.
And yet he felt some discomfort. A strange hand carefully felt his pants, apparently checking for money. Goblin Slayer awkwardly stepped forward and talked further about goblins. He was not afraid of the possibility of losing a couple of coins. At least his hand was finally saved. This young man is thin, but his strength is incredibly great. He will become an excellent warrior, Goblin Slayer thought absently, glancing at Helmaer’s armor and once again moving away from the touch from behind. Something disturbs him at the sight of an old cloak, almost worn out from years of use, hiding an expensive leather suit underneath. It's not worth worrying about, what a nonsense. The guy could spend all his money on new leather clothes, and then realize that cold weather is approaching. And from warm clothes – he only had an old cloak. He just doesn't want to freeze, Goblin Slayer convinces himself.
Or he doesn't want to be discovered. No one will look at a newcomer adventurer wrapped in such rags.
It seems that Hugh noticed the older adventurer's gaze, because he further inquired:
“As for the equipment…what kind of equipment do experienced warriors like you usually wear? I heard that you have a lot of things like throwing knives and potions. Is this all necessary?”
"Not all. But in the face of goblins, the better prepared you are, the safer you will be. The quantity and quality of equipment is determined by common sense and the thickness of the wallet,” Goblin Slayer explained.
Helmaer nodded again and again, agreeing with the elder's instructions. But his eyes ran over Goblin Slayer’s body, as if the guy was nervous and was waiting for something else. Why is he so close? You don't have to stand that close just to ask for advice. Is he worried that his words will be difficult to understand in a noisy crowd? Goblin Slayer was puzzled by this, and not only was he close, but his ass was still covered by someone's hand. The hands of the people closest to him are at his sides or holding something, the angle of the grip shows that the owner is behind him, which means the hand on his pants could only be a beginner’s.
“Wait, can you move back a little?” It seemed as if the hand was holding him tighter and tighter. Goblin Slayer had never been a master negotiator, and this request embarrassed him somewhat, but enduring someone else's touch was even worse.
"Goblin Slayer, you have a nice ass."
“What do you mean?..” he asked incomprehensibly, without taking his eyes off the newcomer. The hand slowly disappeared under the cloak. Helmaer laughed and began to explain something, but Goblin Slayer did not listen to these words. Something else was hidden behind them - the screech of iron, familiar to his ear. A small sword flashed under the old cloak.
This adventurer is a threat!
Goblin Slayer pushed aside the slow passers-by and rushed away from the thick of the crowd. Under the windows of one of the houses there was an empty sales tent, which people avoided. Fortunately, there was room to maneuver in the shadow of the tent. Goblin Slayer drew his sword and began to carefully peer into the crowd. Several rows of wooden boxes stacked on top of each other formed an unreliable shelter from the eyes of passers-by, but did not interfere with the battle.
Helmaer soon appeared, and in his hands, in addition to the sword, was a small sheet with a spell. After a little hesitation, the guy tore the sheet. Goblin Slayer was alert, expecting a fireball or something similar, but nothing happened.
Tensed like a string, he was ready to repel any attack, but none of his senses, heightened over the years of battle, helped him catch the moment when Helmaer made a lightning-fast dash.
These are truly newbie moves, Goblin Slayer thinks, but barely has time to defend himself. Something slows him down, as if his body has become too heavy for sudden movements. It must be a spell effect.
Their blades crossed several times, and it seemed to Goblin Slayer that the young man did not care about his own safety: with unreasonable persistence, he entered the killing zone only to push the adventurer back. This is ridiculous. Goblin Slayer could have killed him long ago if he only could move at normal speed. Despite the slight dizziness, he was ready to swear that his eyes were not deceiving him and the guy was holding the sword incorrectly.
At some point, Goblin Slayer found himself too close to the stonework of the house, and as he was about to jump away and take a better position, Helmaer knocked his blade out of his hands. Goblin Slayer felt like time stood still when the guy ran up to him with his sword raised. But his instinct deceives him again, and instead of a slash with a sword, he receives a blow to the solar plexus.
Even grabbing the wall, Goblin Slayer could not stay on his feet and slowly sank to the ground, breathing heavily and rapidly. Lose so quickly. He felt no shame. This spell slowed his reaction. The environment worked in the enemy's favor, and Goblin Slayer did not have extensive experience fighting humans. No, there was no shame in such defeat, but he must be ready to defend himself before it'll be too late. This guy could be dangerous.
Helmaer approached slowly, and Goblin Slayer gazed in fascination at the blurry ends of his polished boots. The guy grabbed the older adventurer by the wrists and twisted his arms behind his back. Goblin Slayer breathed quietly, clenching his teeth. He felt confused, lost, as if what was happening was overtaking his thoughts and going further and further, to a place where the tenacious mind of the adventurer could not catch up with it. He was roughly turned onto his stomach.
Goblin Slayer tried to break free and roll to the side, but the sudden weakness made all desperate attempts to free himself useless and absurd. A tight noose tightened his wrists, and the adventurer realized, not without regret, that the guy had borrowed his own rope. It won’t be easy to get out of such a non-slip and tightened rope, Goblin Slayer thought. He vaguely had a presentiment of something bad, but decided to briefly stop resisting, which was only wasting his strength in vain. He had to wait for the right moment.
Helmaer squatted down next to him. After hesitating a little, he grabbed Goblin Slayer’s helmet and carefully but persistently turned his head to look through the slots of the helmet. The warm breath from his mouth condensed into a watery mist. The guy drew something on his helmet and smiled. Weird. This is weird. Goblin Slayer tried to pull away in disgust, but Helmaer grabbed his shoulders tighter and looked straight into the adventurer's eyes, despite the semi-darkness of his helmet.
“I heard a bard singing about brave Goblin Slayer a few winters ago. I was interested by this story."
The guy looked into the distance thoughtfully. The older adventurer was silent, waiting for him to continue.
“Now I have met you in person. I like to think of it as a great luck...” Hugh grinned and turned the helmet, forcing Goblin Slayer to look directly at him, “but, well, this meeting could not have happened without my efforts.”
Long, thin fingers probed his body, probably searching for a weapon, and Goblin Slayer decided he'd had enough. The obsession of this adventurer was frightening, and these shameless touches finally convinced him that he needed to act.
"Why?"
It was surprisingly difficult to hide the anxiety, and, probably, it was the tremble in his voice that caused another joyful smile from Helmaer. It doesn’t really matter whether the enemy smiles or not, Goblin Slayer thinks, gradually loosening his bonds. Why does he notice the useless detail? He needs to focus on the rope, then soon he will be able to break free and fend for himself. And yet, a moment of weakness forces Goblin Slayer to ask more firmly:
"What do you need?"
“You’ll just keep me company, that’s all,” Helmaer explains in a friendly manner. Goblin Slayer waits, tension hanging in the air like the sound of a vibrating string: not loud enough to fully hear, but shrill enough to know it's there.
"I hope you can tell me how to clear out the goblin ca-"
"I will do it. I will go with you."
Goblin Slayer agreed as soon as he heard this request. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when he heard those words. Killing more goblins is something he is always willing to help with. This is where the conversation should have started. False curiosity, feigned politeness, threat - all this was unnecessary. But now the guy’s intentions are clear, his ridiculous pretense has been dropped, like autumn leaves hiding underneath the black lace of intertwined branches. Now that Goblin Slayer has agreed to help, there is no point in continuing this show.
Goblin Slayer waits for Helmaer to remove the ropes from him.
He waits.
Waits.
Time is a dangerous enemy, and with every second of delay the feeling of approaching danger increases.
The young man silently sat down on one of the boxes and, stopping fiddling with his clothes, intercepted the older man and placed him on his lap. Goblin Slayer looked at the ground, which suddenly seemed too far away. He's a little nauseous.
"I don't understand..."
"What you do not understand?" Helmaer said mockingly. His voice trembled impatiently, smooth and slippery - a voice that did not inspire confidence.
Goblin Slayer didn't like this situation. The struggle with the rope all this time was to no avail, and the guy was not going to stop. The adventurer found himself in a much worse trap than he expected. A warm hand slid down his back and touched his pants again, and Goblin Slayer thrashed furiously in the adventurer's grip, experiencing some strange internal horror, the cause of which he did not understand.
This fight does not last long. Goblin Slayer winces from another attack of dizziness and stops resisting. He needs to keep himself cool.
He's not in danger. Helmaer seems interested in maintaining a dialogue, and although his intentions are unclear, this guy won't harm him on a holiday, in the middle of a crowded street. Such a murder will attract attention, it is almost impossible to escape unnoticed, so Goblin Slayer evens out his breathing and concludes: the young adventurer just wants to humiliate him.
This is not the first time he has encountered this. Many adventurers look down on Goblin Slayer. Perhaps some polished armor or a slightly friendlier attitude could fix this. But here is Goblin Slayer: a frighteningly silent, untrustworthy guy in shabby equipment who takes quests only for killing goblins.
This is not the first time he has encountered this. Then why is he so worried?
Because no one has resorted to physical humiliation before, Goblin Slayer thinks briefly.
First he heard the screech of metal, then the sound of tearing fabric, and the cold blade moved along the curve of his buttocks to the intimate part in front.
Goblin Slayer's skin, previously covered in pants, were now blown with cold air.
“Stop rushing from side to side! We explore the surroundings of the cave, and such noisy fuss will alarm the goblins. Hey, stop twitching! Do you understand what I'm asking for?"
Yes, Goblin Slayer almost said, but then he caught himself: an answer was not required. Something is wrong in this situation. His thoughts are blurry, indistinct, and nothing even remotely resembling a plan is visible on the horizon. He just wants to leave. He needs to leave.
For a short time it seemed to him that he had managed to escape. A comfortable darkness appeared to obscure his vision, and he was almost surprised when, a moment later, he found himself in the arms of the young adventurer, who was almost tenderly hugging his frozen body. Goblin Slayer squirmed to avoid the touches, but accidentally let the hot, hard body part touch his thighs.
He knew, no, he felt that this was going to happen, but only now, realizing the proximity of this event, he was truly horrified.
"I don't want..." It was nothing but a whisper.
"What? But you just said himself that not a single goblin can stay, didn’t you?”
He is better than many able to concentrate on the battle at the moment of death threat. A lot of battles could have ended against Goblin Slayer, but here he is, alive because he was able to stand up for himself.
I can do it now, he thought. I need to stop this. Need to do something.
The world floated before his eyes, and Goblin Slayer looked at the footprints on the snow in confusion. Did he really leave them? Beneath the thin white layer was the dark dirt of the pavement. It was so wrong and strange. Human voices came to him from somewhere far away, as if he was in goblin cave. He felt nauseous again. The bright garland lights became a blur of ink, and Goblin Slayer blinked in confusion. There is not so much light in caves.
Several cold fingers circled the ring of muscle, massaging it, then one of them roughly pushed inside. It took several rhythmic thrusts before the dry and narrow passage tightly wrapped around the tip of the finger.
“O-oh, sorry,” Hugh said frustratedly. “The cave is too narrow to walk through. However, I am ready for this!”
Something liquid ran over this finger, and the burning friction was replaced by a feeling of wetness and slipperiness.
Goblin Slayer thinks about how far away the central square is and feels tired.
The crowd floats past him. It goes around the tent and moves forward, somewhere towards its goal. There are so many people around and none of them are screaming in pain - there are no goblins nearby. No one is crying but Goblin Slayer hears the laughter of happy people celebrating the holiday.
Why aren't they scared? It seems to him that something terrible is happening. But it doesn't seem same to people around.
The young man's fingers pressed and circled with moderate force, little by little soothing the tense muscles. One slid in and came back out, covered in lubricant, only to burst inside again. A second finger was soon added, and Helmaer laughed as the adventurer jerked at its insertion.
It doesn't hurt that much, Goblin Slayer thinks absently. As an adventurer, he experienced much more serious injuries.
“The preparations are complete, Goblin Slayer. Three people can enter side by side. Hey, what's wrong?” The young man gently shakes him by the shoulder and frowns. "I expected more of you."
The crowd floats past Goblin Slayer. What would they do...if goblins showed up now?
“Get ready, the battle is beginning!” whispers Hugh or Ham or whatever his name is...
If the goblins had appeared, the crowd would have stirred more actively. Like water stirred by a warm breeze, the crowd would become agitated and alarmed...
“You said that before entering a cave, we should examine the environment?” Cold fingers touch him, and it's so terrible that-
...then people would rush down the main street in one flow. The flow would have buried weak or too young inhabitants, and the goblins would have been delayed a little while dealing with them. Goblin Slayer frowns. No, that wouldn't happen. He wouldn't allow this. After all, it is his goal to kill the goblins.
He screamed as the entire length was buried inside him. Helmaer pulled out painfully slowly, and for a split second Goblin Slayer hoped it was all over.
The passerby turned around in search of the source of the sound and smiled when saw him. Goblin Slayer looked away, unable to help but feel a vague sense of betrayal.
“Don't make any noise, it'll be better for both of us,” Helmaer whispers. “We have to keep moving forward, hang in there. All the goblins are hiding in the depths."
Goblins... He thinks about them so much. Their gnarled, shriveled limbs reach out to him in his nightmares, and he sees their blurry traces in the marks left by a spoon in the porridge. He opens the door and says good morning to Cow Girl, and the goblins, like green mold on a forgotten piece of bread, crawl inside his head.
Goblin Slayer twitched weakly and Helmaer nodded in agreement.
“That’s right, don’t need to wait for too long. But you shouldn’t rush either.”
And yet he picked up the pace, Goblin Slayer thinks, and only a few seconds later realizes that it is his own heart pounding. He closes his eyes and listens to this knock.
"Goblin Slayer, thank you for the demonstration."
The stiff rope fell from his hands to the ground. Helmaer carefully pulled away, releasing the adventurer, and Goblin Slayer felt a liquid substance rolling down the inside of his bare thigh into the torn pants. His legs loosened, unable to keep his body balanced, and Helmaer hurried to help him to stand.
Looks like it's over. Looks like this is the end.
Goblin Slayer winced. Disgusting. He suddenly thinks about those poor women in the caves and almost imperceptibly shakes his head - no, it’s not the same. He was simply wounded, as sometimes happens in battles. He can't be a victim.
Helmaer puts his hand on his shoulder, and Goblin Slayer shivers. He feels vulnerable and completely helpless. Everything is going wrong so wrong, and everything is going too fast, and he didn't have time to defend himself, and he should have been stronger, and this shouldn't have happened at all-
"Sorry about the torn clothes"
The young man wiped his hands on Goblin Slayer's pants, took out a scroll with engraved symbols, rolled it up and put it in Goblin Slayer's pocket.
“Perhaps you would like to meet, and then we can fight together again.”
The young adventurer's eyes, still innocent and clear, tried to catch his gaze, and Goblin Slayer involuntarily held his breath. There was a rustle of fabric, and heavy weight fell on his shoulders. He clutched tightly to the cloak that covered him and froze.
"It was an honor to meet you"
Leaving a farewell kiss on his helmet, the guy disappeared into the crowd.
People were passing by, and sometimes their glances caught a glimpse of Goblin Slayer, who stood slouched against the stone wall, in a kind of peaceful daze. He tried to remember what exactly he was doing here, but the garlands shining with soft light confused his train of thought. People were passing by. The colorful stream of strangers' faces, the touch of cold hands, torn pants - everything that happened mixed up in his head into one vague mass, and Goblin Slayer suddenly thought that this was just a bad dream.
He would really want this to be a dream.
It was getting dark. Large flakes of snow began to fall from the sky. The ringing voice of High Elf Archer was heard nearby. The rough stone wall stood motionless, as before, but for some reason he no longer had enough support of it. Goblin Slayer sank to the ground and silently sobbed.