Goblin Slayer: Bloody Debt
Author's note: I really enjoyed the first season of Goblin Slayer and I devoured the spin off Goblin Slayer: Year One about the beginnings of the Goblin Slayer as an adventurer. This story takes place during the events of Year One, that is to say between 4 and 5 years before the beginning of Goblin Slayer. If this one shot meets its public, I plan to write another fanfiction which would take place a few years later, at the time of Goblin Slayer. Just to be clear, this is a translation of the French version of my fanfiction "Dette Sanglante : un massacre ordinaire". French is my mother tongue but I wish to also share this story with english speakers.
Rating: T.
Summary: One Shot. A village on the border, goblins, a request with a small reward filed late at the adventurers' guild. A rather banal story in short, with a sad ending most of the time. Two children are watching this ordinary massacre when a scary but heroic man, nicknamed Goblin Slayer, appears.
Disclaimer: Goblin Slayer and its characters don't belong to me and are the property of Kumo Kagyu and Square Enix.
Except for the above copyrights, this story belongs to me in its entirety under the intellectual property and copyright laws. It is strictly forbidden to reproduce, use and/or distribute this story without the express permission of its author.
Vol. 0: An ordinary massacre
Screams of terror, howls of suffering, children crying on one side and on the other, cries of joy so high-pitched and guttural that they could not belong to humans. That was all the boy heard around him but he would not turn around, no, he could not turn around.
The image of his father being stabbed in the back was burned into his retinas. He had seen him fall to the ground, stunned, before being beaten to death by half a dozen of those evil, devious little creatures called goblins. They were said to be individually harmless, especially in comparison to such fearsome monsters as ogres, vampires, and demons. Yet, Alaric was afraid at this moment, no, he was completely terrified.
Despite his fear, the eleven-year-old boy was running at full speed, as his mother had ordered him to. He held his little sister firmly by the hand and pulled her along with him. He could hear her short breaths right behind him and her little voice telling him to slow down, but he couldn't. As long as he could hear Hilda's voice, she was alive. As long as they were running, they had a small chance of staying alive.
Unfortunately, the goddess of luck was not in their favor. Running without looking where he was going, Alaric had run into a stone wall that was too high for him to climb over, let alone with Hilda. He cursed his own stupidity as he turned around, instinctively placing his little sister behind him before picking up a branch that lay on the ground.
There was nothing he could do, they were everywhere. Oh, not near them of course, the goblins seemed to want to take their time, especially after having realized that the two children were surrounded. Maybe they wanted them to contemplate the desolate spectacle of the dead and dying men, or the one of the women who would have preferred death to the terrible abuse they were enduring at their hands.
Alaric hid Hilda as best he could, not wanting her to see this hellish scene but he himself was unable to look away from the horror. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he recalled the plea his father had made to the village chief three days earlier to go and ask for the adventurers' help. The chief had eventually complied, but only the day before and only because two girls had already been kidnapped by goblins. If only the village chief hadn't been so reluctant, maybe his parents would still be alive!
- Big brother, are we going to die? asked a small voice behind him.
- No, Hilda, it's okay, I'll protect you... he answered in a tone of voice that he would have liked to be more confident.
The boy's hands trembled around his stick but he would do his best. He was afraid, but he would die protecting his sister. His only consolation was that he would see his parents and Hilda again in the afterlife.
And then something happened. Something frightening and wonderful at the same time.
He heard new cries in the distance, but not from human voices. This time the goblins were the ones screaming in anger and pain. How could this be? Could men from the village have survived?
No, it was a lone figure, but in the darkness he could hardly make it out. The newcomer carried a torch in one hand and a short sword in the other. He had no face... or rather his face was hidden under a full face helmet. It was a man, it had to be, but was it even possible?
The individual wore a boiled leather armor with a small round shield on his left forearm. Alaric watched him as he killed goblins, first with his sword and then with weapons he picked up: spear, axe, club... all were put to good use and each blow struck true, striking down the little creatures with a confidence that must have come from experience.
Alaric fell to his knees, shaken by a nervous laughter that he had difficulty to hold back. He brought Hilda in front of him and held her tightly, taking care not to choke her but refusing to let her witness this other spectacle, as bloody as it was miraculous. Their savior was covered in blood from his feet to the top of his helmet, but he wasn't afraid of him. Even if he was another kind of monster, the goblin killer had avenged their parents, their neighbors, their friends too...
Lost in his thoughts, the boy had not realized that everything had become quiet. He only realized that everything was over when the man was finishing off what must have been the last monster still alive.
- Eighteen, he exclaimed in a clear, intelligible voice, slightly distorted by his helmet.
The man then walked towards them with his torch and stopped right in front of Alaric.
- Are you able to speak?
- Hm... yes, the boy answered in a gruff voice. Who are you?
- They call me Goblin Slayer.
- You... you're an adventurer? the boy asked as he struggled to his feet.
It should have been obvious, but at that moment, Alaric was thinking in slow motion. He hadn't even resisted when Hilda had finally turned her head to look at their savior.
- Yes, I accepted the goblin extermination quest submitted by this village. It was submitted too late, but the goblins were in danger of proliferating, explained the one called Goblin Slayer, obviously more for himself than for their benefit.
- Are there any other survivors? asked the boy, who didn't dare venture a glance at the figures lying on the ground.
- No, you are the only ones.
Their village was small, with no more than twenty to thirty souls, but Hilda and he were the only survivors. What were they going to do now? They did have an uncle who lived in the town where the adventurers' guide was, but would he accept two more mouths to feed?
One thing was certain, he would never forget what he had seen today. Nor did he want to. Alaric understood what the few veterans in his village were talking about when they said that monsters should be exterminated at all costs. Goblins might be underestimated by most people, but he would never take them lightly.
His first priority would be to take care of his little sister, but when she was old enough to take care of herself, he promised himself that he would repay the debt he owed this man. It might take years, until he was old enough to be useful to him, but he would help Goblin Slayer kill these creatures.
- Are there many goblins? Alaric asked as he cautiously followed the adventurer, who was shining his torch on them.
- Yes, they reproduce very quickly. That's why it's important to hunt them all and not let any escape. They are not very smart but they learn from their mistakes.
Alaric would also learn from the mistakes of his village. All the way to the border town, he asked the adventurer about the goblins, literally drinking in his words and noting in a corner of his mind every answer. One day they would come in handy, but perhaps the most important lesson was this: a good goblin is a dead goblin.