Slayer 01-12 - Goblin

“Yes,” Priestess said, and she meant it now, not like a borrowed cloak but like armor she had earned. “I do.”

“Sister,” he had said. Just that word. Then he walked away.

Priestess, they called her now. The name felt like a borrowed cloak—fine, but not yet her own. At the Guild, her silver breastplate still gleamed without a single scratch. Her robe was white as fresh snow. She had passed the examination, received her porcelain rank, and chosen her first quest with the bright, terrible naivety of a candlefly meeting a lantern. Goblin Slayer 01-12

He lit a second torch. The corpses caught. The smell followed them for days.

“I know.”

The party had been confident. A young swordsman eager for glory. A martial artist who cracked her knuckles. A scout with a quick smile and quicker hands. They had laughed at the simple job: clear a few caves, collect the bounty, earn a name for themselves.

Then the champion threw a net over Goblin Slayer. “Yes,” Priestess said, and she meant it now,

Holy water. Not against the undead. Against the floor .

They took quest after quest. A farm where children had gone missing. A mine where tools were stolen in the night. A village where the well ran red. Each time, the pattern repeated: Priestess cast Light to reveal the dark warrens. Goblin Slayer walked forward without hesitation. He used fire, water, smoke, poison, falling rocks, collapsing ceilings. He did not fight fair. He did not want to fight at all—he wanted to annihilate . Then he walked away

“The goblins are dead.”

“You saved me,” he said. Not grateful. Not surprised. Just… stating a fact, as if he had forgotten that such a thing was possible.