"Hah... hah... hah..." No!
Its windpipe had been slit, yet the Goblin Lord did not die immediately. It forced its mouth wide open, sucking for air through both mouth and nose, writhing like a fish flopping on dry land.
In that instant, its mind collapsed into despair.
As long as I survive, there will be another chance.
Unlike those lower goblin lackeys completely ruled by beastly lust, as a king, it was supposed to be heaven-blessed! Why would it die? How could it die?!
It would remember this lesson. It would seize more women to breed its kin. Soon it would rise again, and next time it would do everything perfectly...
Unfortunately, it would not have that chance.
"Gala—gala! Hah... hah... ga—ga..."
"May I dispose of it?" A cold, emotionless, level voice came from behind.
"Please do."
Durandal closed her eyes and turned away. Behind her, the raging mountain fire had already been artificially extinguished. The section of forest caught in the blaze was left bare and scorched.
Tap.
Across the charred, withered ground walked a man clad in cheap leather armor and an iron helmet. A small shield was strapped to his left arm, and in his right hand he held a sword of middling length.
Behind him stood the Priestess, the High Elf Archer, the Dwarf Shaman, and the Lizard Priest.
"Lady Durandal, the battlefield has been cleared," Rita said softly as she landed lightly at Durandal's side.
Descending from the sky with a heavy impact, Kiana dismissed the flaming greatsword in her hand and said with visible disgust, "So this is the so-called leadership-specialized goblin?"
"Yes."
Watching Goblin Slayer approach step by step, Durandal gave a slight nod. "If there are no other monsters, then it is the one."
Perhaps it was only an illusion, but as the man looked at the Goblin Lord lying there bleeding out, something in his gaze was deeply unsettling. For a fleeting moment, it was as if wailing demons loomed behind him.
"Thank you."
Passing by Durandal, Goblin Slayer seemed to mutter to himself, "Goblins—regardless of age. Beneath their ugly, twisted exterior, their hearts are filled with wicked desire. They must be killed."
"No mercy. No discomfort. They are cunning. To prevent feigned death, decapitation and dismemberment are the correct choices."
Hearing this, a faint glint passed through Durandal's azure eyes, but she still nodded. "Understood."
"The only good goblin is a dead goblin."
The words were like a bone-chilling wind blowing straight from hell, freezing both body and soul of the Goblin Lord sprawled on the ground, weeping and spewing venomous curses.
The next moment—
Shing—
"Slitting the throat alone is not enough." Unhurriedly, Goblin Slayer drew his short sword and roughly tore the crown from its head.
"The vitality of this kind of superior breed is tenacious. If you leave the corpse intact, who knows what contingencies it might have left behind."
"Goblins are stupid—but not fools."
Watching the man brimming with icy killing intent stride toward it, the Goblin Lord struggled desperately to rise. But blood loss and suffocation drained its strength. Its body grew colder, utterly powerless.
"Goblin Lord? How laughable." Since goblins were bald, Goblin Slayer grabbed its ear to gain leverage.
"You are merely a goblin..."
Thud!
The short sword in his other hand plunged into the Goblin Lord's chest—beside the heart.
The Goblin Lord's expression froze instantly. Its face turned a ghastly blue-white, eyes bulging. Its split mouth revealed a tongue darkened by lack of oxygen. Bubbles frothed from its lips as it could only produce faint, broken gurgles.
Squish. Squish.
With a twist of his wrist, the blade carved through the area around the heart, producing a wet, grinding sound like meat being minced. Blood sprayed wildly, making the scene even more frenzied.
"You are nothing but a filthy, damned..."
Suddenly reaching in, the man tore out the Goblin Lord's swollen heart, indifferent to the revolting blood and gore splattering across him.
"...goblin."
By then, the Goblin Lord was already completely dead, incapable of any response.
"And even this is not enough."
Turning to face Durandal and the others, his expression hidden beneath the iron helmet, Goblin Slayer crushed the heart in his hand.
Before his words fully fell, he swung his sword backward.
Slash.
A grotesque head rolled across the ground and came to a stop at Durandal's feet.
He flicked the blood from his short sword and looked calmly at her. "Do not let mercy ruin you. Knightly spirit should not be used on beasts."
Indeed, every word he had spoken was meant for Durandal—for these young ladies experiencing adventure in the countryside.
The valiant knight princess was undoubtedly strong, but in his eyes she was too merciful, too gentle. Against goblins, she had merely slit the throat without damaging the spine.
Was she following some code of chivalry about not excessively damaging a foe's corpse?
It was no wonder Goblin Slayer misunderstood. Aside from breaking the Goblin Lord's leg, her attack had simply been a "gentle" cut across its neck.
During their brief cooperation, Durandal's conduct had been concise and efficient, giving a strong sense of reliability. Goblin Slayer was grateful for her assistance.
That was why he offered the reminder in good faith. Though his tone remained stiff, he truly meant well. He did not wish for her to follow in the Sword Maiden's footsteps. Caution was never wrong.
Durandal sensed his goodwill and responded with a gentle smile. "I will remember. Thank you."
The man gave a silent nod and continued deeper into the forest. Parting a clump of grass, he said, "It is not over yet."
Following his indication, the group looked ahead. At the base of a hillside not far away, tangled shrubs concealed a rather large cave.
Self-evidently, it was the Goblin Lord's nest.
"Exterminate them all."
...
The moment they entered the cave, a gust of foul, fishy wind rushed out, stinging the eyes of Durandal, Kiana, and Rita.
Goblins—hundreds of them crammed into a narrow, enclosed space—ate, drank, and excreted without restraint. Cleanliness was never part of the equation.
Even though the three activated the air filters in their Valkyrie armor to block out the stench, merely imagining the reek of garbage within the cave was enough to make their stomachs churn, their bodies feeling faintly weak.
The foulness had fully merged with the very oxygen in the air. They had never witnessed such a scene before. Even during Kiana's self-imposed exile at her lowest point, her surroundings had been a thousand, ten thousand times better than this.
The deeper they went, the darker the light became, the worse the environment grew. Human bones, livestock remains, even goblin carcasses increased in number.
And the stench only intensified.
"Rita, you didn't actually need to follow us in," Durandal said.
As she spoke, she casually waved her hand. A compressed air projectile blasted forward, pulverizing a group of chattering goblins charging with bone knives. Their bodies were crushed outright, brain matter splattering across the wall.
One had to admit—it truly was the Goblin Lord's nest. Not only were the tunnels wide enough to allow the larger superior goblins to pass, but support beams had been erected at intervals along the excavated walls.
Boom!
With a look of disgust, Kiana incinerated the remaining Goblin Hero into a heap of ashes.
"Gala..." The death of the superior goblin sent the remaining lackeys into shrill panic, but soon, with another thunderous blast, they followed in its wake.
"Twenty-four goblin lackeys, two Goblin Shamans, three Hobgoblins, one Goblin Champion. Judging by the size of this nest, most of the goblins were taken out by the Goblin Lord. We should be near the bottom," Goblin Slayer said as he yanked his hatchet from the skull of a Goblin Shaman whose head had been split open, calmly tallying the corpses.
Nodding, he pushed aside a crude wooden fence. After advancing further down, their view suddenly opened up.
At the bottom of the nest lay a vast cavern. The first thing that caught their eyes was a throne raised on a three-foot earthen platform, adorned with human bone ornaments and constructed primarily from fused human skeletons.
Below the platform were looted valuables, human bones scattered across the ground, charred corpses, half-eaten scraps of flesh...
They could easily imagine what had once taken place here.
"Ugh... ugh—!"
Even though it was not her first time witnessing such horror—though she herself had nearly become one of the victims—the Priestess still retched loudly, stomach long emptied, expelling nothing but bile.
"..."
The three exchanged silent glances. In each other's eyes, Durandal, Kiana, and Rita saw the same hardened, resolute killing intent.
Without a word, Goblin Slayer stepped forward and kicked the grotesque throne over.
Clatter.
"As I suspected... you are fortunate," he said in a low voice as scraping and shifting sounds echoed from behind the platform.
At the deepest end of the cavern, behind a wall replaced with rotten wooden boards, was a slightly smaller circular pit.
A hidden storage room—
No... could it truly be that simple?
An uneasy premonition flashed through their minds.
"According to goblin habits, they hide pregnant hosts and goblin young in the deepest part..."
Before he finished speaking, the Priestess gripped her staff tightly.
Bang!
Goblin Slayer kicked the boards down.
Instantly, several sharp screams erupted from within.
Kiana stepped forward, her expression blank as she took in the scene.
A group of naked women lay collapsed on the ground, their bodies covered in wounds and filthy fluids.
In the corner cowered more than twenty goblin children, their faces filled with fear.
"As long as there are hosts, goblins reproduce quickly. Their infancy is extremely short. If we had come any later, this tribe might have grown to three or four hundred," Goblin Slayer explained, raising his torch.
"How should they be handled? Enslaved, or..." Durandal stepped forward.
At that moment, a thin, frail hand weakly grasped her armored boot.
Sensing no killing intent, Durandal looked down.
It was an elven woman—delicate features, slender figure.
She had likely been captured not long ago. The leather clothing on her body had not yet been completely torn away. One side of her face appeared to have been burned by flame, hidden beneath hair as dry as withered grass. One eye was amber-yellow; the other had lost all light, bloodshot and dull.
One pointed ear had its tip "clipped" off. Judging by the bite marks, it had likely been eaten by a goblin.
If not for her remaining pointed ear, Durandal would hardly have associated her with the swift, graceful elves she remembered.
"Kill them... kill them... please..."
Kneeling down, Durandal held her hand. "Yes."
Her voice was astonishingly cold. Rita knew—Lady Bianka had already resolved to kill.
A tragedy was the tearing apart of something beautiful for all to see.
And what lay before them was undeniably a tragedy.
"You don't need a reason to kill goblins," Goblin Slayer repeated.
"That Goblin Lord was likely the survivor of some destroyed tribe..." He paused. "Perhaps it was an adventurer's mercy that led to all of this."
"..."
Ignoring the stench, Kiana let out a long breath and said coldly, "Brother, may I borrow a weapon? Something blunt."
"Of course." Goblin Slayer pulled a solid wooden club from behind his waist and handed it over.
"Thank you."
Kiana raised the club casually. Without another word, she brought it down violently.
Bang—splatter!
"Gala! Gala-gala! Gala!" The screams and wails of the goblin young filled the cavern.
"I will exterminate you all!"
...
No one knew how long it lasted.
To Kiana, the moment felt unbearably long. For reasons she could not fully explain, she desperately wanted to vent.
Perhaps it was the violent influence of Sirin's DNA affecting her.
But this was still her choice.
This time, she did not suppress the urge. Instead, she deliberately guided and released it.
She wanted to return to the carefree, happy days of St. Freya Academy.
But the responsibilities she carried made that impossible.
Even after Raiden Mei returned from World Serpent and everyone at Saint Freya reunited, even if she tried to act as she once had—trying to reassure everyone and make them relax—growth was growth.
It could not be undone.
Only she herself knew what truly lay within her heart.
To turn this imperfect world into the one I wish for... Himeko-sensei, Selene-sister—even taking the first step is so difficult. Perfection is impossible. I can only do my best...
"Hah..."
Breathing heavily, Kiana lowered the wooden club. Goblin brain matter dripped from it in slow drops.
Before her lay a heap of shattered bones and mangled flesh, like torn rags.
"Sorry. I lost my composure."