Arielle Vane — The Blind Goblin Slayer
The training grounds of the royal capital were never meant for silence.
Steel usually rang there. Voices shouted. Boots scraped stone. Pride lived loudly in that place.
But that morning—
Silence ruled.
The wind pushed against banners. One of the chairs on the observation stand creaked softly, the sound loud enough to make several knights flinch. No one sat comfortably. No one laughed.
At the center of the grounds stood General Albrecht Vaelor.
His Armor was ceremonial but real. Silver-edged plates. Gold trim. A sword forged by master smiths, polished until it reflected the sky. His posture was rigid, confident—trained for display as much as battle.
Across from him stood a girl.
No Armor.
No shield.
A simple dark coat. Black silk blindfold wrapped cleanly over her eyes. Long silver hair tied back neatly. Her expression was calm to the point of being empty.
At her feet sat a wolf.
Grey fur. Still. Too still.
Some swore later that the wolf's eyes never blinked.
Arielle Vane tilted her head slightly, as if listening to something only she could hear.
Then she spoke.
"Before this begins," she said, voice level, soft, "tell me your name, knight."
The sound carried.
Several nobles leaned forward without realizing it.
Vaelor frowned.
"Do you not recognize me?" he asked. His tone sharpened. "I am—"
"Names matter," Arielle interrupted calmly. "Speak it."
A pause.
Vaelor straightened.
"General Albrecht Vaelor," he said loudly. "Commander of the Third Royal Host. Victor of the Eastern Suppression. Heir to the Vaelor—"
"That's enough."
Her interruption was gentle.
But final.
She rested her long Orachi blade against her shoulder. The steel was dark, old, and worn—nothing like Vaelor's polished weapon.
"You disrespected someone dear to me," Arielle continued." The Great War General."
Murmurs spread through the stands.
"The man keeping humanity alive," she added. "For that…"
Her fingers curled slightly.
"Your arm will be fed to my wolf."
The wolf—Nyx—stood.
A low growl rolled across the ground. Not loud. Not angry.
Hungry.
Vaelor laughed sharply.
"Ridiculous," he snapped. "A blind girl threatens me? You'll die for nothing."
He lifted his sword slightly.
"I have crushed rebels. I have hunted monsters. I have—"
"Stop."
Her voice cut through his speech like a blade.
"You're boring."
Vaelor froze.
Arielle tilted her head.
"How many beasts have you killed?" she asked. "How many battlefields have you stood on where the screaming never ended?"
Silence followed.
Her head tilted again.
"None," she answered for him.
A ripple of tension moved through the crowd.
"You brag about your family," Arielle continued." About wealth. About titles."
She lowered her blade slightly.
"Everyone knows you bought that rank."
Vaelor's face flushed red.
"So let's end this," Arielle said calmly. "I have no hatred for you."
She took a single step forward.
"I am simply punishing you for stepping on sacred ground."
Her voice hardened.
"The ground of true warriors."
She lifted her blade.
"Now… let's start."
The Fight No One Forgot
Vaelor attacked first.
Fast. Powerful. Trained.
His sword came down in a heavy killing arc.
Clang.
Arielle didn't move her feet.
She deflected it.
Another strike—angled for her neck.
Clang.
Blocked.
A third strike. Faster.
Deflected.
She stood perfectly still.
Not retreating.
Not advancing.
Vaelor's breathing grew heavier with every swing.
She was not fighting him.
She was measuring him.
Each strike she turned aside sent pain crawling up his arms. His wrists burned. His shoulders screamed. Shock travelled through bone and muscle.
"What—what are you?" he gasped between strikes.
She stepped in.
Her foot came down on his knee.
There was a dry, brutal crack.
The sound echoed.
Vaelor screamed.
His sword slipped from his hand and clattered against the stone. He collapsed, clutching his shattered leg, face twisted in agony.
Arielle looked down at him.
"Pathetic," she said.
She raised her blade.
One clean swing.
The arm separated at the shoulder.
Blood splashed across the stone.
Vaelor screamed until his voice broke.
Nyx moved.
The wolf seized the severed arm in its jaws and dragged it away, crushing bone with a casual bite.
Arielle tilted her head.
"Oh," she said softly. "Oops."
She gestured vaguely.
"I'm blind. I meant to take a small potion."
She paused.
"…But ups."
Nyx finished feeding.
The crowd stood frozen.
No one spoke.
No one breathed.
Arielle turned slightly, toward where Daniel stood watching.
"This is finished," she said.
She sheathed her blade.
The Rumours
By nightfall, the story had spread.
By morning, it had grown.
They said the blind girl never moved her feet. They said the general begged. They said she let him speak only to humiliate him. They said every word she spoke before the fight was repeated exactly as it happened—as if the world itself wanted it remembered.
Some whispered she saw better blind than others did with eyes. Others swore the wolf looked into their souls. Many said the general's scream could still be heard in the stone.
Only one thing was certain across the kingdom:
The Goblin Slayer was blind.
And that was exactly what made her terrifying.