Chapter Text

One bad roll of the dice, that's all it takes. Life comes and goes so easily, and in the end, it never really matters so much.

The man who was called Goblin Slayer knew this intimately. He knew it with every ounce of his being. Death is always clawing to take you. You must never give it an opening. Expect anything and prepare for everything. For more than six years, he'd been denying anyone a chance to roll the dice. Time and time again he faced death and emerged from the pile of blood and detritus, ready to fight another day.

And he'd done it alone. At least, for most of that time. He didn't really know how the young Priestess Girl had come to be his adventuring companion, but despite her representation of a chaotic element in his meticulous crusade, she remained. She had remained four hours ago, when the sun was dipping down behind the horizon and Goblin Slayer was crouched, stiff as a board and wordless, just watching the mouth of the cave. It had become routine to her, the planning before the execution.

She had followed as Goblin Slayer counted off every individual Goblin who exited and entered before they all made their way inside for the night, save of course for a paltry guard, leaning against a rock and muttering his guttural gibberish to himself in anger, almost falling asleep every few seconds before jolting himself awake when his crude spear pressed into his flesh. Time for the execution.

A few spins of a sling, one throw and a rock collided with a small green head. Viciously, bones cracking and skin splitting. The poor guard had only a few moments of sensation left before whatever rattled around that skull drained out in a red puddle.

One.

Goblin Slayer liked caves with only one entrance and exit. They were easy to deal with. Flood them, burn them out, hell, just toss in something that blows up and cover up the entrance, let the things starve. Unfortunately, that was no option today. These mines were simply far too deep and the rock too strong to collapse at man's will. Maybe if the old Dwarf Shaman were here, he'd be able to conjure up another collapse, but they were off attending to matters of a less Goblinoid nature. Goblin Slayer had no strong feelings about that one way or the other. The fact that he would have to go in and kill with his two hands was of no concern.

It would be wrong to call the way he fought effortless - He was far too deliberate for that. Twitchy, too, despite his stoicism. His head was on a swivel, always checking every angle, always expecting an ambush. A long slice severing the throat, a stab straight into an eye.

Two, three.

Priestess Girl tried to make herself of use, but she always knew to stay behind Slayer, and he was making short work of things. The fiends threw themselves at him and he greeted them with gusto. A throw to the ground followed by a firm stomp on a head. A flurry of dagger-stabs into a chest, a bludgeoning with an appropriately-shaped rock on the ground.

Four, five, six.

Priestess Girl wondered why he never got complacent. Seven, eight, nine. Adventuring was hard work, but it was work , and like any other work, you get used to it. After enough shifts, the farmer is no longer thinking when he shears the sheep or milks the cow. But Goblin Slayer treated every mission like his first. Just like his hatred for them, his mind never dulled even a little. Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen.

A campfire at the bottom of an incline. Logs of timber from long-since abandoned human labor efforts. One errant kick, and gravity cast it's die. Twenty, twenty one. The twenty-second was pinned beneath the log with his arm held to a pile of searing embers. It's ear-splitting screeches sent the rest scrambling.

It was a standard mission, nothing like the ones that stuck out in Priestess Girl's mind with great evils, new friends and long, winding adventures. And after a few, or maybe a lot of minutes of more frantic combat with only minor support on her side, it was time to go home. Priestess Girl beamed a smile at Goblin Slayer as he wrapped up, and as he turned his head to regard her she imagined that his helmet was smiling, too. Up and away. They could see the light, or lack thereof, where they'd entered. Priestess Girl's darkness adjustment was washed out by the torch Goblin Slayer held. She didn't notice the hint of a silhouette at the mouth of the mines, or the fact that he was holding a crossbow. In fact, the only thing she noticed was a sound like a -THWIP- in the air and the fact that there was a bolt lodged in her chest.

Goblin Slayer froze for one precious moment. He watched her slumping against the ground and caught her before she hit it. How could this have happened? What had he done wrong? The number of Goblins perfectly aligned with the initial mission briefing. He hadn't scouted enough. A paltry few hours. How could he have become so complacent? A fool. Just like his Master had told him. He was truly dumber than the Goblins he was trying to fight.

The Goblin. He turned his head and gathered their figure. They had pushed the crossbow against the ground and were struggling, furiously to re-arm it. No doubt stolen from some other failed adventurer without regard. Goblin Slayer threw a dagger with his usual precision. No time to waste on vengeance, he had medical duties to attend to. They'd been on the brink before, but Goblin Slayer had never been the one who needed to do the saving.

It was bad. In fact, it was exactly as bad as it possibly could have been. It pierced close to the centre, straight through her breast. If his assumptions were correct, she likely only had minutes left. Her best bet was on the whispers of prayer that were just barely escaping her lips. Had it pierced her lung? That would have been preferable to the heart, but her pulse was falling rapidly.

Their eyes locked. Neither said a thing, save for Priestess Girl continuing her prayer. Goblin Slayer pulled his helmet off. Vulnerable. He didn't care. He didn't know much about people, but he knew that he didn't want her to spend her last moments looking at a suit of armor.

Whatever she had prayed, it wasn't saving her. Seconds left. With shaking, shuddering effort, she reached up and pressed her hand against his breastplate, the cold steel that covered his heart.

"I would have followed you... Until the end..."

Goblin Slayer felt the last pumps of effort from her muscles and her breath cease. He watched her turn from a person into a dead body, right there in his arms, eyes still wide upon and locked on his.

For the second time in his short life, Goblins had taken everything from Goblin Slayer.

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He was silent as he walked his way into the city that acted as the hub of the frontier. Not that that was any different to normal. In fact, it wasn't even not normal that he was absolutely covered in blood and carrying a small girl in his arms, bridal-style. Another woman escaped from the clutches of the Goblins, never to become human again. But a few, somewhat familiar heads turned when they saw that the one he had left with wasn't there. Or, rather, she was there, except she was stone cold dead and being carried. Her skin was pale and pallid, face frozen in shock. At the road that led to the Guild, Goblin Slayer went left, towards the abbey.

Almost all of the students and staff there were females. It would be a prime target for Goblin raids if they ever breached the walls. They needed to defend themselves better. He would have told them that, if he wasn't taking a dead body to the first person who looked like an authority he saw. The dead girl was one of theirs. He didn't know the first thing about religion, but he knew that she would have wanted to follow the rituals of the Earth Mother.

After a few slow, confused conversations, the body that was once called Priestess Girl was in the 'system.' It seemed bureaucratic, just like the Guild. Goblin Slayer attended when he could. For the first time in a long time, he went multiple days without leaving town to go on quests. People held conversations with him, told him they were sorry. He always said that they weren't the ones who needed to be sorry.

At almost all hours of the day, he lingered at her body, watching, locking eyes with it. He didn't know why. He couldn't stop looking. He had failed her, he knew, but there was nothing that he could do now. His time would be better spent planning for the next steps, figuring out how to make up for the advantages he'd lost with her. Yet he remained.

He remained until the final burial and funeral. Sword Maiden had made her way from Water Town to deliver the prayers. A few of her friends had come, boring drills of nothing more than pure disdain into Goblin Slayer with their eyes. And the High Elf Ranger, Dwarf Shaman and even old Lizard Priest filed in, dipping their heads and trying to offer any consolation. If it had happened just a few days ago, he would have honestly, truly been able to say he didn't care. But he did. A revelation struck him as he watched the body lower itself into the ground. Cognizance of his feelings hit him and he began to shatter. He was a child again, hiding under the floorboards as his sister bled just above, torn apart by raving beasts. He felt a deep, unbearable sickness in his chest where something else was before. The body was in the ground and about to be covered up.

Goblin Slayer threw himself towards the hole and leapt in, taking care not to damage anything. The family began making a ruckus, but he couldn't hear anything past the sound of blood rushing in his ears. His body was flushing with heat and stinging, sour vomit fought to make it's way out of his throat. This was wrong. It was all wrong. There was no reason for her to be dead. The world was meant for her to still be in it. What had happened? He didn't understand. There was no way the story could go on without her.

But the Earth Mother never came. Her eyes which had been closed for a ritual Goblin Slayer didn't understand never snapped back open. Goblin Slayer's rush of mania left him and was replaced with cold. A void. Hollowness.

He put his hand to her chest. He was never a talker, but words escaped his mouth without his consent.

"You don't end here.

This body in the ground isn't you.

I will take you with me. Until the end."

Feeling a powerful tinge of humiliation and embarrassment as he pulled himself out of the grave, he turned and walked right out, abandoning her body for the first time since she'd died.