Goblin Slayer

“Don’t tell me you’re…here on your own authority? Because…you know.”

Simply observe the king’s younger sister’s reaction:

“Nope, uh-uh, I’m really not!” She waved her hands in a near panic, looking for all the world like a child whose friend has spotted her snitching from their plate.

That’s right… Like a friend.

“That’s good, then…if that’s true.” The other warrior had her hand on her bronze sword and sounded like she didn’t quite believe the young woman. “Wouldn’t want you to worry anyone.”

“I’m on official business this time.
Official business!
” The way the king’s younger sister reacted to this show of suspicion likewise seemed like someone playing around with an older friend.

I wonder if…
I
look like that
, Priestess thought, picturing herself with her friend the high elf. She smiled (although not happily) and promised herself she would have a bit more dignity.

“Besides, I’ve heard allll about that time you got lost when you were little!”

“If you’ve heard that story, then
learn
from it instead of acting all high-and-mighty about it. Have a little dignity.”

“Grrr…” When the king’s younger sister, cornered, growled angrily, Priestess finally couldn’t restrain herself any longer. A giggle escaped her, rippling out into the conversation. The other women looked startled for a second—then were caught up in it themselves, all laughing out loud.

Thus, it didn’t demand any courage for Priestess to say what she said next. “Um, maybe you’d like to join them for a while?”

“You sure?” the king’s younger sister asked, but Priestess nodded and replied, “Uh-huh! After all, all that’s really left is to open the event, start everyone exploring, and see how it goes.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” the younger girl said with a wave of her hand. “I’ve, you know, seen a lot of the plans.”

“But not
all
of them,” Priestess replied. Besides, having seen them was no guarantee that things would go well. Priestess could say that with certainty. She decided, therefore, that the frown the other girl gave her was just some anxiety showing, and went on: “It’s not against the rules or anything. You really don’t have to worry about it.”

“Er, uh… Right. Then that’s…fine, I guess. Yeah. Probably.”

“Oh, that’s if you three are all right with it, of course,” Priestess said, turning to the trio of adventurers. She didn’t think she needed to worry on that score, but it was the most important point. They might be taking part in a contest, but suddenly having a new party member dumped on you could upset a group’s balance. That was one reason why many experienced adventurers refused to mentor rookies without an adequate reward. Those with the courage to go on a dangerous quest with one or two deadweights holding them back were few and far between.

Thus, Priestess let out a breath of relief when the wizard spoke up with the decisive words: “I don’t mind… In fact, I think that would be good. We’ll be jumping into the whirlwind, but in some ways that would be safest.”

“Mm… My job is to simply stand up front and fight, so it doesn’t make much difference to me.” The warrior didn’t look thrilled, but she didn’t raise any objections, either.

The final vote was still to be cast, though…

“Well, sounds like that settles it!” The girl with the iron spear grinned wide enough to show nearly all her teeth. “You’ll be adventuring with us today!”

“Er, uh…” The king’s younger sister didn’t seem quite sure how to react. After spending a moment flummoxed, though, she settled on a smile more or less of pleasure. “In that case, thanks for having me along!”

“Sure thing!”

Priestess let out another sigh of relief when she saw the two of them were chatting amiably.
It’ll be fine.
Priestess could feel it somehow. She was sure it would go well—the event and everything.

As for her, she would be behind the scenes with Goblin Slayer and his party this time, and while that would be enjoyable in its own way…
It does look like an awful lot of fun to be in there exploring.

The king’s younger sister was simply present to observe; she wasn’t supposed to contribute directly to running the event. But even at the most interesting competition, merely observing wasn’t as much fun as being in the middle of the action. Priestess was sure this would be the best thing.

“All right, then, we’ve got her. We’ll have her back to you safe and sound.” The female warrior smiled as she watched the two girls chatter, but her tone and bearing were proper. She looked lovely and confident, making Priestess think of knights she’d seen in picture books.

Speaking of female knights, Priestess had had the good fortune to become close to one—but this woman possessed a different kind of beauty. Priestess was momentarily flustered but straightened up so as not to embarrass herself. “Thank you, ma’am!” Priestess bowed deeply, pressing her cap to her head. “I appreciate that!”

There followed a few more pleasantries, some additional chatter, and the double-checking of a handful of administrative details. When at last Priestess had told them where to check in, she thought she heard someone calling her. She looked over to see High Elf Archer waving eagerly and shouting.

Guess I’d better get going, too
, she thought.

“All right, then,” she said, to let the others know she was leaving.

“See you later!” the king’s younger sister responded enthusiastically.

Priestess set off toward her friend at a brisk trot, but suddenly she noticed how warm the air felt against her cheeks. The chill of winter had eased somewhat. No doubt because the sun had climbed into the sky and was pouring its light down upon the world. Somehow, that made her very happy.

That wasn’t (she would have sworn) the reason she completely failed to hear what the king’s younger sister said next, as she turned back to the other adventurers. “Uh…so,” she said, placing her hands on her hips and giving them an expression at once worried and exasperated. “What kind of danger is the world in this time, O Great Hero?”

§

“You look so spiffy today!”

“…Is that so?”

“It sure is!”

Guild Girl was in tremendous spirits. Even the brisk wind blowing past the check-in desk didn’t bother her in the least. After all, the adventurer standing with her wore a cheap-looking but squeaky-clean metal helmet, and his leather armor was polished to a sparkle. Strangely, even his sword with its strange length and his little round shield almost looked like practical battle equipment all tidied up like this.

Granted, there were a few unpleasant dark stains still left, but…
Well, that’s part of the charm, I guess!
Guild Girl thought. What made her happiest of all, though, were the looks of the adventurers who began to appear as the start time approached.

“Hey, check him out.”

“Wow, a Silver-ranked adventurer…”

“Isn’t his equipment a little…ordinary?”

“Nah, it’s practical!”

“Why doesn’t he take his helmet off?”

“I’ve heard of him—that has to be Goblin Slayer…”

There was an unmistakable respect in their eyes. No doubt there was some ridicule as well. Even in his cleaner state, Goblin Slayer was hardly anyone’s image of the ideal adventurer. But the respect was there—and the trust. Just clean him up a little and display the rank tag that was the proof of his accomplishments, and people’s attitudes toward him visibly changed.

Maybe that was good and maybe it was bad—but to Guild Girl at that moment, it was absolutely good. When she thought of the way people had regarded him only a few years ago!

Er, although to be fair, they do still treat him like he’s a little…strange.

But at least he certainly got passing marks as the adventurer-consultant to the dungeon exploration contest!

“How does it feel?” she asked, puffing out her chest with real satisfaction. “You see how much differently people treat you just because you look a little nicer?” She understood perfectly well, of course, that Goblin Slayer’s only answer would be a simple
I see
or the like. It didn’t matter. The point was that
she
was pleased by it. “I’m trying something a little different, too, not my usual uniform—it’s almost like I’m a different person, don’t you think? Heh-heh.”

She didn’t really look at him where he stood beside her as she spoke; she focused on checking the paperwork in her hands and making sure everything was in order. Thankfully, all the street stalls and participants created a buzz loud enough to prevent anyone from specifically overhearing them.

“Hrm…,” he grunted, then said only: “Your outfit appears easy to move in. So it shouldn’t cause any issues.”

“Hmm, well, yes, I suppose that’s one way of looking at it…”

No matter how detached his answer, it didn’t surprise her. Guild Girl put on her best smile and surveyed the crowd. She saw young men and women with every kind of equipment, their faces sparkling with anticipation, no thought of possible failure in their heads. Some might have derided them as stupid, but everyone had the right to at least take that first step.

Guild Girl loved seeing them filled with courage as they prepared to move forward. Particularly since they were about to embark upon her own brainchild, the dungeon exploration contest. She privately vowed that she absolutely would repay their interest.

“I have to say, we got quite a few people!”

“Indeed.”

“Hopefully this will help them learn a little something about goblin hunting, so they can do better in the—”

“They won’t learn.” His words were brusque, as always. Guild Girl gulped a little.

That was fine—perfectly fine. This didn’t surprise her. She expected this sort of response.

“Lots of them aren’t participating,” Goblin Slayer continued. “Of those who are, many will simply quit. I don’t think it will have that much effect in the long run.”

That’s how tutorials were. How many of the people here really and truly meant to take the experience seriously? And even those who did—being serious didn’t necessarily mean you would learn any more than someone who wasn’t.

Umm, which all works out to…

…that he was thinking about it quite seriously and responding in kind.

Guild Girl tapped a finger to her lips thoughtfully, then found an old story floating through her mind. “Once upon a time, there was supposedly a province that chose its fighters by pitting them all against one another in a three-day battle to the death.”

“I suppose that would be the minimum necessary to make it really sink in.” Certainly, it would at least be the quickest way to get the feeling into their bones.

Having learned, though, wouldn’t necessarily mean they would live very long.

Goblin Slayer’s words were cold; he was thinking back to his very first goblin hunt. He hadn’t understood how to optimize his weapons and gear; he’d caught his sword on the wall in the confined space, been ambushed, been poisoned, and broken all his bottles. True, what he had learned from that fight unquestionably influenced his actions later on, but that one experience was not the reason he had survived.

I’ve been lucky over and over again.
It was the only reason he could conceive of for why he had come this far. To imagine that all these novices would go on to long and successful careers because he’d put on a single contest for them…

Such a belief would be beyond childish.

Whether or not they held this event was unlikely to have much impact on these people’s futures. If anything, it was a risk to
him
; he didn’t want to become the kind of shameless person who might think that any success these children experienced later was all thanks to this little thing he’d done.

“U-um…” A small voice pulled the two of them out of their thoughts. They were confronted across the desk with a diminutive figure. A black-haired girl of compact build, wearing a brown leather cap. The sword at her hip was too long for her frame, and it visibly pulled her to one side—although one might find that charming.

The way her voice cracked from nerves was potentially amusing—but they certainly mustn’t laugh now. “Yes? How can I help you?” Guild Girl asked, as politely as she would of any full-fledged adventurer, but the girl fell silent in response.

After a long moment, she finally managed to come out with: “I’d…like to participate in the contest…” Her voice was almost a whisper.

Guild Girl smiled, taking out a blank check-in form and a stylus. “Are you able to write?”

“I… Yes, I can,” the girl said. “Just my name. But…”

Guild Girl held the stylus out to her, and the girl took it, gripping it as tightly as if it were a sword. Then she wrote something on the registration sheet—just a single character. A whirlwind could have written more neatly.

It was her name.

The girl handed the registration sheet back, stealing anxious glances in the direction of the armored adventurer who stood beside Guild Girl. The receptionist diligently continued to smile as she took the paper and launched into her explanation. “Obstacles have been set up in the dungeon as a series of tests. Some of them are enemies; some are traps.”

The girl nodded. Not distractedly; she was clearly thinking hard about what Guild Girl was saying.

“If you get through them, you’ll receive proof from one of the contest facilitators. You want to get all the pieces of proof available.”

“Um, all right.” Then the girl mumbled, “Proof, proof,” to herself. She was the picture of seriousness.

“This will act as evidence of your participation. It’s essentially like a rank tag, so please be careful not to lose it.” Guild Girl held out a vibrant violet-colored scarf. The girl took it, still looking nervous, then tied it awkwardly around her arm.

Suddenly, Goblin Slayer noticed something glinting in her backpack. “A lantern?”

“Oh…” The girl flinched, her body going stiff. Flustered, most likely. Maybe she thought he was upset.

“Goodness,” Guild Girl said quickly, pretending she had only just noticed it. She looked at the girl seriously: “That’s a beautiful piece of equipment. Where did you get it?”

“I, um, bought it…at the armory,” the girl replied slowly. “It’s…a brass lantern.”

“It’s good to keep your hands free while exploring,” Goblin Slayer said quietly. “Not a bad choice.”

“Oh…” The girl tugged her leather cap down over her eyes in an effort to hide the flush of simultaneous embarrassment and happiness in her cheeks. She shifted uneasily for a moment, then bowed her head and scampered off like a frightened rabbit.

Guild Girl watched her long black hair flutter in the wind as she went, then finally giggled. “There goes someone who’s not used to getting a compliment.”

“I’m not surprised.” Goblin Slayer’s helmet moved up and down. Behind his visor, he, too, was watching the girl. “Most children from poor villages—the ones who don’t stand to inherit a farm, at any rate—are like that.”

“And what were you like, Goblin Slayer?”

“Me?” He fell silent. The conversation died, replaced by the inchoate wave of sound made up of the simultaneous voices of all the assembled participants. After a long time, he said quietly: “I was…not a very good child.”

“That girl probably feels the same way about herself.”

His response was only a whisper: “You think so?”

That prompted Guild Girl to smile and nod. “Yes, I’m quite sure.”

All right, then—it was almost time for the dungeon exploration contest to begin.

§

The beating of drums seemed to rumble in the earth, eliciting a cheer from the participants. Breathless anticipation has its own pleasures, but it can also be enervating to get so worked up. That nervousness turns to excitement at the moment of catharsis; how could they do otherwise but shout?

Even when Guild Girl climbed the rostrum in front of the dungeon entrance, they didn’t settle down. She couldn’t blame them. They were about to embark on a dangerous quest (at least, they expected it to be). She studied the crowd silently, her smile never failing.

During her upbringing as a daughter of nobility, she’d been taught that silence could be the most powerful form of persuasion. It was much like how statues of the Earth Mother often depicted her with an enigmatic smile on her face; it was simply the most appropriate thing. That tactic worked for Guild Girl now: The silence gradually rippled out from her like a wave.

The adventurers gathered under the cold sky started feeling awkward, then finally looked at one another and shut their mouths. Satisfied, Guild Girl began to speak as dispassionately as the armored adventurer beside her. “Ten thousand gold coins and the permanent leadership of a frontier town to anyone who so much as survives this poison-fanged dungeon…”

The crowd
ooh
’d. The stares grew more intense.

“…is something we certainly can’t offer you, I’m afraid,” Guild Girl said, snickering. The rising anticipation abandoned the crowd like a puff of air.

She thought that was good. Nervous excitement was important. But having the wind taken out of your sails was likewise meaningful—at least in adventuring.

“However, we do have prizes for those who successfully complete the contest, so I hope you’ll all do your best out there!” she said. That would help motivate and interest them again. After that, there was some simple housekeeping to take care of. It didn’t do any good to insist that what you were about to say was important or critical; no one would listen to you. You had to get them interested, and then they would want to listen to you of their own accord. “What you’ll be doing is this: entering the dungeon, overcoming the obstacles, finding a series of gemstones, and then getting safely back out the exit.”

That was the whole story. The sort of spoils that would normally reward dungeon exploration would here be the proof that the trials had been completed.

Perhaps they would be wondering what those trials were.
But I can hardly tell them that!

Whispering had started among the crowd, and there were a few questions about what they would find in the ruins, but Guild Girl didn’t answer them. Instead, she kept smiling and said, “If you hit any real trouble, one of the facilitators will be along to help you out, so please don’t worry about that.”

The contest facilitators were all experienced adventurers. Like that man in the cheap-looking but well-used helmet standing beside Guild Girl. It bore no obvious grime, but yes, he certainly did look the part of a Silver-ranked adventurer. Judging by the lightness of his equipment, maybe he was a scout? No, he had too much gear for that. But he didn’t seem like a warrior, either. His weapon was too cheap.

The collective gaze looking up at them was one of confusion, but, well, that was okay.

“………………” Goblin Slayer said nothing. He was doing exactly as Guild Girl had asked of him:
“Just stand quietly beside me, okay?”

He’d never been the type to become garrulous in front of a crowd anyway. Not that such situations specifically bothered him, either.

“All right,” Guild Girl went on, “I’m going to read off your names. Please enter the dungeon in the order I call you!”

She read a name, and a young man came sprinting forward, exclaiming, “That’s me; I’m first!” He was probably feeling nervous, but his gait was carefree, and he looked courageous. Adventurers could have no truck with cowardice, after all. Care and caution they needed, but if one lacked the conviction to go diving into the unknown, then one had no future in this line of work.

From that perspective…

“Everyone who even participates here has already proved themselves on one level.” High Elf Archer’s ears were too good to miss the footsteps of that first challenger or indeed the drumbeat pounding beneath them.

Inside the dungeon, the adventurers at their various stations all looked at one another and nodded. Along with the wizards and their goblins, Dwarf Shaman and Lizard Priest were there, ready as they would ever be.

“You just be careful, eh?” High Elf Archer grinned and bopped Lizard Priest on the shoulder. “Don’t go accidentally getting yourself slain.”

“Ha-ha-ha-ha—a dragon in a cave, my goodness. Something the inexperienced would never expect, I can only think!” He opened his huge jaws and laughed uproariously. His little joke helped put the others at ease as well. Even the event facilitators could get nervous. Why shouldn’t they? They were supposed to already know what they were doing—they would have to look good doing it, and they couldn’t make any mistakes.

“And how about you? Think we’d get more takers if you’d stand out there
with your mouth shut
.” Despite the gravity of the occasion, Dwarf Shaman took a great gulp of wine, then gave a teasing chuckle. “Even Beard-cutter’s managing that much.”

“Don’t lump me in with that oddball.” High Elf Archer was, of course, used to this. She simply snorted and refused to have anything more to do with the dwarf. High elves attracted attention wherever they went, whether they wanted to or not.
Anyway, he’s the one who got all the responsibility this time, so it’s only fair to let him have the spotlight, I’d say.

“You’ve only just arrived in town recently, right? It’s gonna be a tough adjustment.”

“Er, yeah…”

Over in the corner with her arms crossed was another elf adventurer, who seemed surprised to find High Elf Archer talking to her. She nodded uncertainly—she’d only just registered with the Guild recently, and maybe she wasn’t used to this yet. Granted, an elf outside the forest was almost guaranteed to be, as it were, a fish out of water. Her party member beside her, a female spell caster, was grinning and talking to her, though, so she was probably fine.

Excellent. A Guild employee stationed inside the ruins clapped as if she’d been waiting for this moment and said: “All right, everyone, could you take your places, please?” The woman had the symbol of the Supreme God, the sword and scales, hanging from her neck—it was Inspector. Now she looked around at everyone and nodded. “Guild employees will be making the rounds periodically. If anything comes up, please be sure to let one of them know.”

“Not like we held back much.” The rough voice belonged to an adventurer wielding an ax. High Elf Archer didn’t much bother to remember other people’s jobs, but she seemed to recall he had been involved with setting up traps.

He sounded prickly, but Inspector simply smiled and replied, “Of course. Be careful, though—some of the kids might be relaxing in between tests.”

“Yeah, good point. I guess so. All right, I get you. I understand.” Having been charged with this particular responsibility, he didn’t seem like he was going to be a bad influence on the adventurer hopefuls.

In other words, everyone here is a full-fledged, outstanding adventurer.
The thought made High Elf Archer happy somehow, her long ears twitching.

Beside her, Priestess clutched her sounding staff, still looking nervous—maybe she’d noticed it, too. She had genuinely advanced along the path, but she was still a touch timid. She’d gotten good at handling the details but chose the oddest times to be self-deprecating.

I guess that’s humans for you
, High Elf Archer thought. Even the elders of the elves, who had been around since the Age of the Gods, couldn’t fathom them. Those old elves seemed to respect rheas in particular, but the humans were no slouches, either.

People of a great many different races were here to participate in the contest today, but the majority were human.
Us “experienced” types better give them a good example to follow.

That meant no special consideration but also enabling the rookies to enjoy adventuring—yet not making it easy on them.

“All right, everyone, let’s welcome them to the gauntlet!”

§

And indeed, a gauntlet it was.

“Yikes?! Owwwww!”

The first young man to come dashing into the dungeon took a board to the face; it had been balanced on the floor right where he stepped.

He dropped into a crouch; his nose hurt so bad that he feared it was broken. He probably didn’t realize that he was immensely fortunate. Had that board been rigged with a spike, as such traps often were, he would’ve been skewered by now, reduced to a corpse.

He looked pathetic, plodding forward rubbing his red nose, but pain is one way of learning. Take the young woman who entered the ruins sometime later; by sheer fortune, she avoided the first trap…

“Eek?!”

…only to stick her foot in a hole, get it stuck between some boards, and pitch forward onto her face. In a second, her brand-new equipment and clothes were covered in dirt. That’s what happened to anything you wore to go adventuring.

“Er, ah, my sword… Where’s my sword…?!”

On top of her dirtied equipment, the fall had made her lose her grip on her weapon; she began to grope around looking for it. She was just lucky that she was still at the mouth of the ruins, where there was some faint light, so she hadn’t yet lit the lantern in her backpack.

Even a torch will go out, if you drop it. A lantern can simply break. And darkness is a human’s enemy. Meanwhile, being on all fours with her rump sticking out made her completely vulnerable to any monsters that happened along. One more reason she was lucky her spill came right at the entrance.

Still, a trap like this should have been simple enough for any young hunter, or an elf, to avoid. Most elves had the abilities of rangers, plus they could see in the dark and were light of foot. That only applied, though, to elves born and raised in the forest. A half-elf raised in a human town might be a bit nimbler than the average human—but not by much.

On the other hand, there wasn’t much trouble overcoming the physical obstacles—at least among the humans. Many of them were the second or third sons of farmers or of some other similar background. Running among the fields and hills was familiar to them, even if they were doing it with a bit more armor now.

“I—I can’t reach…!”

The dwarves and the rheas, however, along with any other diminutive creatures, had their work cut out for them. They might have an affinity with animals, but that didn’t mean they were good at climbing trees.

One such clung close, kicked off with her back leg, then scrambled up the obstacle, finally cresting it…

“Eeyikes!”

…only to find her balance thrown off by the unfamiliar movement.

“Here, grab on!”

“Th-thanks. You saved me…!”

At the last moment, she was held up by another participant, who had worked his way back over the trap to help her.

It wasn’t as if there would be only a single winner of this contest. Some people did lend a hand to those who needed it. That wasn’t against the rules, either—in this event, it was a real advantage.

It was said that even amateurs could be like unto the God of Knowledge if three of them got together. Although, of course, sometimes you wound up with three idiots, and they didn’t get much of anywhere.

“Hmph…” That was probably the thinking of those who snorted and laughed to themselves and went on ahead alone, ignoring the small groups of other participants. Perhaps others regarded these sneerers as arrogant. But maybe they
were
able to get through the contest on their own. The only way to find out was to try.

It was always an adventurer’s prerogative to make their own choices. Whatever result they arrived at, it was theirs alone.

“Heh-heh. You’ve done good.”

The first of those results was likely to stop the participants in their tracks. After they had gotten past a number of traps, a figure emerged soundlessly from among the rocks. It was a high elf woman, a creature of otherworldly beauty. She would smile at the young men and young women, then take their hands in her own long, pale fingers. That set the young men—and even a few of the young women—back on their heels, but the elf woman didn’t seem to notice.

“Here you go. The first one!”

A bit of gemstone, no larger than the fingernail on their pinky, would be dropped into their palm. If they looked at it in the flickering light of their torches, they could probably discern that it was a sapphire.

A little something we picked up on
our
last adventure
, High Elf Archer thought. The Guild had bought it from them and was now using it as a reward for these participants. This was possible because, as Dwarf Shaman had guessed, the gems they’d found weren’t actually that valuable. But if they didn’t say that to the participants, they weren’t likely to know. All they would see would be a glittering gemstone dropped into their hand by a high elf—it would catch their attention immediately.

High Elf Archer’s heart warmed to see a young girl slip the gem carefully into a pouch at her hip, laughing shyly as she did. She understood very well that value was relative. Each person decided for themselves what was valuable, and no one else could make that decision for them.

Then the participants would proceed farther, ever farther, into the ruins.

Most of them screeched to a halt again when another figure melted out of the shadows: Dwarf Shaman, exclaiming, “All right, lads and lasses, time for a riddle!” With his long white beard and the wine jug ever present in his hand, he looked like a wizard out of a storybook. As such, should they anger him, he might turn them into a frog or transport them into a block of stone or blow them clear out of this dungeon…

Most of those whose only experience of magicians came from fairy tales and old poems froze with fear. They would tremble, they would swallow audibly, and Dwarf Shaman would simply laugh aloud and wave a hand. “Adventuring isn’t just swinging yer weapon around, see, kiddos. You’ve got to use your head sometimes, too.”

Hence the riddle.

Dwarf Shaman’s riddles didn’t demand any unusual intelligence to answer. They were mostly in the vein of
Guess how heavy that statue is
or
Guess how many boxes are in this nested box
—that sort of thing. If the would-be adventurers could calm down and think clearly, the answers would come to them fairly easily.

The groups would put their heads together, desperately trying to figure out the response:

“H-hey. How are we supposed to know how heavy that thing is?”

“Well, uh, hold on, hold on. He said you take half the weight of a typical human and add it to…”

“So, uh…”

One, two.
Some counted on their fingers—the only way they could hope to arrive at an answer. Most people managed to get past the physical traps all right, but more than a few were beached here. Some turned back dejectedly; others simply gave up and pressed forward, but…

“I got it!”

…one girl lit up as she came up with the answer, though it had taken her quite a bit of time.

“Ha, excellent!”

She almost panicked again as she tried to catch the sliver of emerald Dwarf Shaman tossed to her. She wiped at her forehead—thinking made her sweat almost as much as physical exertion—and tucked the emerald into her bag so she wouldn’t lose it before continuing on.

The ruins were deep; the contest continued.

More such traps and riddles awaited the participants. If you wonder whether tests of wits are any less demanding than duels with the sword, the answer is certainly not. But by the same token, an excess of intelligence won’t make up for a complete lack of martial skill. The world is full of tests of luck, too, like kissing a series of cultic statues in the right order. And indeed, if you adventure long enough, you’ll eventually encounter a situation where sheer, unmitigated violence is the only solution.

It’s challenges like these that reveal an adventurer’s true worth.

What it comes down to is: Getting past a few traps and answering some riddles isn’t everything. For every would-be adventurer knows that there are
other
things lurking in ruins, dungeons, and caves. Things like…

“GROOROGBB…!”

…goblins.

Several hideous little creatures approached, their movements stilted, like puppets. They might not have seemed terribly threatening to those with a few adventures under their belts, but for the uninitiated, it was very different. Though they might be known as the weakest of monsters, facing them down all by oneself was a frightening prospect.

The black-haired girl was certainly scared. Awkwardly, she pulled out her sword, which was much too long for her. She was even less able to support its weight in her hands than on her hip; it looked more like she was hanging from the sword than the other way around.

“GBBRG…!”

“GOROOGGB!!”

“Ergh…” The girl took a step back, but the next second, she exclaimed, “Yah!” and swung her blade. Maybe she’d done some training, but nonetheless it was a big, wild swing that made it look as if the sword might pull her clear off her feet.

Luckily for her, the halls of the ruins were wide, so the sword didn’t strike against them, but neither did it reach the goblins. There was a great
whoosh
as the sword swept through the air, and the girl pitched forward, stumbling a step or two. The goblins hadn’t specifically dodged her; she’d simply missed them—but this was no way to go about things.

Blushing with fear and excitement and embarrassment, the girl sucked in a breath, then took another big step forward. “Hi…yah!”

The stroke was too amateurish to be a proper combo strike; it was just one swing after another. But the sword was nothing if not robust, and this time it caught one of the diminutive goblins. The blade bit heavily into the monster’s shoulder, cleaving it down to the chest and sending dark blood flying.

“GORGGBB?!” the creature howled—but the wound was really too shallow to be fatal. This goblin, though, was a puppet created with magic; it had no autonomy, no soul, not even actual life. Any slight injury was considered the same as death for it, and it promptly crumpled. Gobs of froth and spittle covered the floor, and soon the creature didn’t look like a goblin at all anymore.

“I did it!” the girl cried, but the fact that she allowed herself to be distracted in this moment was testament to the fact that she was still new at this.

“GOROOGB!!”

“Eeek!”

It was more than one goblin she had encountered, and the fight wasn’t over yet.

Another goblin jumped over the corpse, slamming into her chest. She took a spectacular fall backward, grunting with the pain. It wasn’t that it hurt so much. It was more that the chill on her behind and the slimy feeling on her legs were unpleasant.

“You little…!” She got unsteadily to her feet and let loose another big swing.
Whoosh, whoosh
—at least it
sounded
mean.