Disclaimer: I don't own anything from goblin slayer. This is fanfic.

It looked like a clash between two wooden swords. On each occasion, a youngster tried to assault a man of apparent maturity. He had red skin, was skinny, and wore black jeans and boots without a shirt. Both of the man's eyes appeared to be completely black. And above it all, two bright yellow eyes.

The young man with brown bangy hair and ruby eyes fought the older man atop a rocky mountain where the night sky was lit only by a ring of torches. Who is his leader? If you weren't paying attention, you would have stumbled over the uneven ground.

The young man and the elderly man's sword fight went on. Aiming to deliver a blow to the elderly man but being successfully evaded, blocked, and parried at every turn.

. The young man wobbles and falls at an indeterminate point. Nearly losing his balance, he almost fell. "To maintain equilibrium, you must not let go." The old man said as he swung his wooden sword at the young boy, who blocked the blows but nearly lost his balance again before performing some acrobatic maneuvers to steady himself.

Sweat runs down the boy's face, and he takes a deep breath. When the old man lunges at the boy with an attack, the youngster reacts by getting up and moving again. "Never give up on a foe; keep up the assault." The old man swung his wooden sword again, causing the boy to flinch.

"even if your energy is low, keep moving; stopping tells the enemy you're weak." The old man swung his sword at the boy, forcing him to avoid another blow. "Relax your muscles and prepare to fight." The elderly man continued.

"Immerse yourself in the battle and remember to take deep breaths. Embrace the challenge ahead; it's the only way to become a true warrior." As he continues to clash with the boy, but at a more rapid pace, the old man stops speaking. The youngster leaps into the air, wooden sword in hand, and aims for the old man's noggin with a grin. The old man tries to strike the boy in the legs, but the boy ducks under the blow and lands on his back, kicking himself into a fighting stance.

"You need to feel that you have accomplished something meaningful in your life and appreciate the excitement of combat." The old man made his observation as the severity of the collisions between the wooden swords increased. Because the methods and motions of the fighters were so fluid, it was easy to imagine that they were performing some kind of dance. They both prevent one another from striking with their wooden swords by blocking another's attempts.

"To achieve your goals, you need to reach this point." The old man made a wise observation. The young man gave way to his lust for combat, his thirst for blood, and his need for vengeance, fighting a ferocious battle with his master in the mountains at night while laughing hysterically. The battle occurred in the rugged alpine terrain. Once the youngster realized he could disarm the senile man, his excitement level skyrocketed. The seasoned instructor beamed with pride at his student's success.

"You've got the whole world in your hands." This is what the old man had to say. When he assumed the position of a humble kneeler, he was able to gaze up into the expectant faces of his student. "Well done." He said that with a beaming grin as he remembered the good times he'd had with his student. An elderly demon man spoke up.

--

He sat up slowly from what must have been a bed as he came out of his slumber. He was a young man with silvery bangs and red ruby eyes that had been painted over the black of his eyes. As he sits up, the bandages on his muscles become apparent. The man's twelve-pack gleamed in the sunlight, and his complexion was as white as cow milk

"Home," he mused to himself. For a second, he couldn't remember his journey. He had been fighting in a fortress, and then, after some time, he found himself in a bed. As he grabbed his head, his thoughts became hazy.

The young man shrugs his shoulders and throws off his covers. Putting on his black leather boots and black pants, and shirt, he searches the room for his armor. He recognized that it wasn't present. "It must be in my shed," he reasoned. It wasn't until he had made his bed and left the room that he felt comfortable leaving.

He left his bedroom and went through the dining room to the front door. A man with a whitish complexion exits the house via the porch and steps onto the grass. All around him were farmlands with the necessary cows, barns, chickens, horses, pigs, etc., for human survival.

The man in black clothes started looking around for intruders. He looked for traces of someone's footsteps in the dirt and grass, along the fences for splintered planks, at the rock walls, and beyond the boundaries. He was checking that the farm was secure.

At the farmhouse once again. There was a dozing woman in another room. There were garments strewn about the floor, and the woman stood up, stretching her arms and giving an athletic pose to display her naked but curvy body. Once her eyes opened, we saw that they were a rosy red and that her hair was short and red.

A woman rises from her bed and begins to get ready. She started with her pink underwear and bra, then moved on to her white shirt, blue overalls, and finally, her black boots. After a moment of rubbing her eyes, she stepped out of her room and noticed that the door to the room next to her was open. Upon investigating, she discovered that no one was present. She panicked and ran outside, desperately looking for him.

The man with the black eye sockets finally came into view. As she got closer to the man who caught his eye, she broke into a sprint. The man was a white guy with silvery bangs. She hugged the young man, pulling on his neck as she rubbed his silver-banged hair and nearly knocked him over. "Thank goodness." The woman exclaimed with relief as she gave the young man a tight hug.

The young man returned the woman's embrace with a loose embrace. You should be in bed relaxing. The rose-eyed woman remarked. "I'm not weary." The gentleman with silver hair replied. "It doesn't matter; go back to bed; I'll prepare breakfast." The red-haired lady said as she dragged the silver-haired man back to the farmhouse and into his room, where she stripped him and placed him back on his bed, shirtless and exposing his twelve-pack.

"You slept for five days straight." The woman with red hair stated. The young man with black socket eyes is tucked into bed. "Relax; I'll prepare food for you." She said, smiling. She dashes into the kitchen and immediately begins preparing a meal.

The young woman rummaged through her kitchenware and found a frying pan. Then they started cracking eggs and cooking sausages.

"You're awake before I am this morning." Said an older man behind her. "Good morning, uncle!" the young lady said. "How is your friend doing?" Querying the uncle. "He is awake; I had to return him to bed. Always hunting for goblins, you know?" The niece responded with a giggle.

"Indeed, it sounds like him," From the dining table, the uncle observed the silver-haired man's room as he spoke. "Will he come out and eat?" Uncle was queried. "No, I'll bring him the meal." The niece stated. "I have no problem with that; he needs his rest." Uncle stated. Who maintained a stern tone the entire time.

The young lady prepared scrambled eggs, perfectly cooked sausages, and white toast for breakfast. She served her uncle on one plate and took the other for herself. She brings the second plate into the room of the pale young man.

The farm girl announced, "It's time for breakfast!" She approaches him by foot. His fit figure, including his face, which the farm girl thought was lovely, is curled up behind the covers. The pallid young man glances towards the farm girl approaching him with food. She sits on the bed alongside him.

The farm girl didn't want him to move about too much since he had just woken up, but he seemed healed overall, so the bandages stayed on. The silver-haired young man, who had initially looked very pale, recovered swiftly. She did, however, appreciate how quickly he bounced back.

"open wide," said the farm girl as she attempted to place eggs in the mouth of the young man using a spoon. The silver-haired gentleman moaned; he would instead feed himself than be spoon-fed. "I can support myself," He spoke in a melancholy manner while observing the farm girl.

"Please relax for me and allow me." The farm girl stated. She smiles widely at the pallid person, who appears to be severe. The young man with silvery hair considers his options for a while before finally giving in and letting it go. When he opened his mouth, the farm girl saw her chance and began cheerfully inserting the eggs into his mouth.

"I was concerned about you." As she fed the young man breakfast, the farm girl spoke while moving closer to him. "I see." That is the only thing he said. Farm girl continues her story. "You know I'd cry if you passed away." The farm girl expanded her smile. "...yeah," he replied. Farm girl: "I feel better when you return home unhurt." The silver-haired man responded with a grim tone of voice, "That's inevitable." "I know it wouldn't harm to try, but you're so careless with your safety that I can't bear the concept." The Farm girl stated.

The young man sat palely as the farm girl fed him breakfast in silence. She was already inching forward with him, getting in close. When she saw his face, she wanted to shove the man to the ground, climb atop his body, and kiss his lips. They weren't dating yet, so she didn't want to make him feel awkward. They had been friends since they were kids, yet she never stopped having affection for him. She understood and accepted his limits. Despite this, she has become increasingly risk-taking around him as time has passed.

Up close and personal, the young man was witnessing his longtime friend. Blushing slightly, he contemplated how to respond to the farm girl's advances. It's not so much that he's shy as he isn't used to people being overtly friendly and outgoing with him. When he's not wearing his armor, he prefers that they not read his emotions.

Although he was generally calm even when unarmored, he felt more at ease in his armor around friendly people like the priestess and the guild girl. According to his upbringing, letting people into your life is counterproductive if you want to achieve your goals:

'keep your doors closed, don't form attachments, and expect chaos.'

After the young man with silver hair had finished eating, the farm girl rose from his bed before her departure. "Do not overexert yourself; remain in bed. You must recover, okay?" The farm girl said with a smile to the man. "...That is not required." The man with black socket eyes responded blankly, wondering why the farm girl thought that was a good idea. "I am concerned that you may injure yourself again; please stay in bed." The young redhead responded. She lifted her index finger and gave her childhood pal puppy eyes with a tiny grimace. Hopefully, that will work.

The young man with grey hair looked down for a moment before speaking. "Fine…" That is all he said. "Thank you!" The farm girl exclaimed with a broad grin as she giggled. "Tomorrow, I shall head into town to bring the food and milk, lest I forget. You may come with me if you like." The farm girl stated. "All right," said the pallid man.

The farm girl walks out of his room, leaving the door wide open. When the farm girl is out of sight, the young man moves in. The man gets out of bed and goes to close the door to his room. When he was ready, he changed into a black shirt and black leather boots. Following this, he carefully climbed out of his window and made his way across the farm field, ensuring that neither the farm girl nor her uncle would catch sight of him.

The young man with silver hair arrived at the shed he'd purchased from the farm girl's uncle. On entering, he discovered his prize. His equipment consists of black leather armor, a beautiful black helmet that encases his entire head, a small black targe shield, a small black dragon tooth sword, and an epic black bow and arrow. The armor that everyone recognizes him as. "The Goblin assassin."

The pale man in the dark clothes goes to his weapons cache and retrieves his daggers, bow, arrows, dragon tooth sword, targe shield, and final two weapons, twin sword machetes. They were longer than his dragon tooth swords, more dazzling than his black helmet, and sharper and deadlier than anything he could use to cut, pierce, or smash. The ink was a sickening shade of scarlet.

. The Goblin assassin gathers his belongings, except for his armor, and heads out of the shed into the woods. Even though it wasn't as wide open as the rest of the farm, he could locate a suitable training area. His training area included a dummy and targets for him to practice with.

The goblin assassin puts his tools aside and moves to the center of his practice area. He clenches his fists and gets on the balls of his feet in a fighting stance.

This goblin assassin owes all of his skill and experience to his former teacher, an individual by the name of Asha. The assassin initiates rapid movement in the martial art known as the "Demonic route." The killer's actions were unstable, malicious, and lightning-fast.

The assassin's irregular gestures were brought on by some intense emotion. 'rage.' As a child, the assassin harbored a deep resentment for his tormentors, and as an adult, he made it his mission to kill them all.

.After mastering empty-hand techniques, the assassin switched to practicing with his short black dragon tooth sword. He took a position, holding the sword in his right hand. His visage was stone cold, it seemed. In his mind, he created depictions of the things he disliked the most. This song, like the one before it, "Goblins," showcases his unpredictable, aggressive, and rapid movements. They felt similar to what drove them in the earlier case. The one and the only difference between this anger and the kind of wrath most people face is. His focus was undivided. Despite its reasonableness, it inspired deep feelings of loathing and disdain.

The assassin's irregular gestures were brought on by some intense emotion. 'rage.' As a child, the assassin harbored a deep resentment for his tormentors, and as an adult, he made it his mission to kill them all.

.

He brandishes his sword wildly and kicks with both feet. His actions resembled a hurricane's winds eerily. Not like a hurricane, though; he was powerless to destroy anything in his path. It wasn't necessary. Everything within a meter of him could be destroyed, and he didn't care. If it could be destroyed, it would be destroyed. It made no difference where or how far they went. The dance was meant to obliterate anything in its path. Because of this, the killer was driven to murder.

Ultimately, he was more vital in overcoming the many challenges fueled by his anger.

The goblin assassin then began a chant. His chanting had a cold tone, and the short black dragon tooth sword in his hand burst into dark shiny purple flames. As the assassin kept swinging his sword around in a frenzy, it was a sight to behold. It was as if he were a wild animal. The killer felt mighty and strong as the sword was consumed by purple fire. He believed he could do anything. His search was fruitless. For him, it was the act of destruction that brought him the most satisfaction. Because of this, the assassin kept killing goblins to vent his rage.

All of this, he learned from his master, these lessons he was taught were lost for thousands of years, and his master Asha was one of the greatest he's ever seen. That didn't stop the assassin, though. He set down his short dragon tooth sword after putting out the flame. He's got six spells left; they recover after two hours. He then switched to his epic black bow and arrow. This time, he had to be more patient, which the assassin could manage because everything he does is within his control.

He loses a salvo of arrows, all of which find their marks in the dead center of their respective targets. Now that he has access to this ability, he can set fire to the insides of up to ten of his opponents with a single arrow or dagger to the open. That would mean the end of his wooden dummies, and he has a lot of sentimental value for them.

His arms were his primary means of attack, so he put away his legendary black bow and arrow and grabbed his daggers. When he first throws the blades, they are fast, sharp, and chaotic, but they all find their marks. Targeting the tree trunk, he cast another spell and plunged his dagger deep.

"Light speed" The goblin assassin cast another spell. The dagger entered the first tree, bored a hole, emerged from the other side of the intended target tree, and entered the second tree. After that, he only had two spells left.

Once he is finished with the daggers, he moves on to his final arsenal—pair of machetes that resemble swords. The only reason he doesn't bring them goblin hunting is that they are too lengthy to carry in the caves, despite being the deadliest weapons in his armory.

He was within the goblin stronghold, but the dual sword machetes would have come in handy, especially against the ogre. These were necessary for the terrains he was battling on, as luck would have it, just at the very end. Even though he has barely recovered, some Silver-ranking adventurers have requested his assistance.

His twin black machetes formed an X. Then the goblin killer started making quick, violent movements. In the modern era, even a typical demon would find that extremely painful. Monsters from the past 10,000 years, however, would be blown away. No known text, literary work, or artifacts kept by kings anywhere in the world attest to the Goblin assassin's arts. The goblin killers don't think so, at least.

His footwork, arm movements, and swordplay were all technically sound, but that wasn't all there was to it. When he started chanting. The name of the spell he casts with his two blades is "frenzy." His favorite pastime involves setting goblins ablaze with his purple flames, as he can then witness their agony first-hand. Similar to the fire that once consumed his dragon's tooth sword.

In the hands of the Goblin assassin, flames took on an almost artistic quality. Still, there was the same degree of chaos, speed, violence, and anger. This is why he didn't have his gorgeous black helmet covering his face. It never masked his red eye whenever it shone through the visor of his helmet, but now that he doesn't have one, it does just that.

Soon after his brief workout, he headed home to avoid the midday heat. There was considerable discussion of his magical abilities, but not exclusively so. In addition, he can perform miracles.

Asha instilled in his pupil the importance of adapting to any situation with the skillset necessary to thrive. Be capable of doing anything. If your opponent is a better grappler, switch to a hitting session; if they're a better swordsman, pull out the bow; and if they're a better archer, get in closer.

"Always do the things you know you are better at."

His magical abilities he has four spells. Frenzy, light speed, fire breath, and magic. His fire breath allows him to spit flames, and his magic resistance lasts for five minutes at most. In just two hours, he'll be back to full strength.

As for the Goblin assassin's miracles, He doesn't follow the mythologies of his peers or anyone in twilight town. Truth and Illusion, Fortune and Chance, etc., make up the first tier. In most cases, these "players and DMs" are locally different dimensionsensions. Words like "Chaos," "Order," "Fear," "Time," "Death," "Sky," and "Abundance" are also used.

Mother Earth, the Supreme God (of Justice), the Demon Lord, the God of Knowledge, the God of Wisdom from Beyond (a Cthulhu-like entity), the Valkyrie, the God of Fortune (and Winds), etc., make up the second tier. To put it simply, these deities exist within the fictional universe and are worshiped by its inhabitants, whether they be humans or monsters. The material records also include a "Nameless God," as far as we can tell.

Even so, the delineation between the two tiers is somewhat fuzzy. To some extent, even non-religious mortal races appear to be aware of the existence of higher-ranking deities. Elves, in particular, see the gods more as "first among equals" than as divine beings worthy of worship because they once walked and fought with the gods (before they settled down from battling each other to throwing dice) (elven priest is a rare sight in-universe).

The Goblin killer adheres to a mythology that is distinct from these. Added occultism, if you will.

The rage demon Aeshma. The wrathful and furious demon. Goblin assassins lack a comprehensive understanding of this procedure. He is familiar with other monsters to whom he can pray but is unsure of the name of this faith—no one, not even his former master Asha.

But it didn't matter because he had faith in this demon, which had saved his life more than once. His three miracles aren't exactly miracles, but they're pretty impressive nonetheless. Despite this, these. The word "miracle" carries with it a lot of weight. Unfortunately, he could not employ either of these strategies against the Ogre. In addition to suffering minor injuries, he also lost a lot of strength during the fight. It's too bad he had to resort to the gate scroll.

--

Back in twilight town in the gmAdventures guild building, The receptionist is sitting behind the counter. Awaiting the arrival of her favorite adventure, she sat in her chair and stared at the two front doors. Her face was utterly creased in a frown.

She sighed deeply as she remembered him being gooped in blood. Not to mention injured, she hadn't heard a word from him in five days. "Please return." She muttered something.

But when she saw the two front doors open, she jerked her head in a panicked motion. But what came through the doors was a colossal letdown. Not only because it wasn't the black night and shining armor but also because it was someone who was constantly hitting on her.

An arrogant man and a woman with large breasts walk hand in hand. He has strawberry blond hair of medium length that is swept back and eyes of the same hue. The blue armor with the dark yellow outlines is a signature of his style. His name suggests that he is usually equipped with a long spear. With him is a woman looking more sluttier than a succubus.

A witch is a skanky woman who sleeps around with too many dudes. She has purple hair that reaches her thighs and hangs in strands down to her waist on both sides; yellow eyes; a voluptuous physique; and an overtly seductive attitude that makes everyone uncomfortable.

But she's never been fucked before; she's a virgin. Rookie anxiety tried but failed to... A dwarf squished him to death. His condition is improving rapidly.

The receptionist's frown turned into a pouty face, and her eyes turned away from the cocky dude. "This fuck head again?" She murmured to herself.

The man known only as "spearman" grinned arrogantly at the front desk clerk. He walks up to the counter and approaches the female worker there.

"Hello, woman; you've missed me?" Spearman inquired. Even though his game sounded worse than Ebola, he was pretty proud of himself. "How did the mission go, spearman?" Asked the front desk clerk. She plastered a big, phony grin across her face. You could have sworn she was a con artist based on how fake it was.

"I killed the trolls by stabbing them with my spear; the battle was difficult." The spearman leaned against the receptionist's desk while speaking. "Owe fascinating. That concludes the report, right?" With a false smile, she asked the dissatisfied woman. Expecting spearman to fuck off.

"No, there's more," As he closed his eyes and smirked, the spearman was observed with amusement by a witch who had a seductive appearance. The receptionist considered immediately slitting her wrist at that moment. "I've killed eight trolls, which is better than killing goblins, right?" Spearman said. Guild girl's left eye flickered slightly.

--

"I wouldn't know….hahaha.." The guild girl made every effort not to be rude to spearman. "Well, just so you know, not everyone can kill eight trolls; I suppose that's why I'm silver-ranked," said the spearman, leaning uncomfortably close to the receptionist.

"He slays them all"

"they all will fall"

"There's no escape"

"He will hang them like a drape"

"He walks alone on his path"

"All the Goblins will face his wrath"

In the city of shadows, a bard sang his name. A young priestess in the audience hears the bard sing about the man who kills goblins. She was usually dressed but with a slight modification to her staff. It was still golden and studded with gems, but this time it was fashioned like a guard spear.

Even the high priestess threw coins to the bard as he ended his set. She had no idea that the Goblin Assassin was so well-liked. She loved the music so much that she was beaming.

"Hey, holy woman!" Someone shouted from behind. Priestess turned to see an Elfin archer, a dwarf shaman, and a Lizard fighter. The voice belonged to the Elf. "Hey, how are you all doing?" The priestess greeted the new members of her party.

"We are well, young priestess. How have you been?" Inquired the Lizard warrior. "I see that you've altered your staff." He added. "Yes, during yesterday's last adventure against trolls, I was armed with a more potent weapon," said the priestess.

"hmm, I see." the Lizard warrior muttered as he scratched his chin and studied the new staff. Which isn't a staff in the traditional sense, but the priestess insists on calling it a staff because she can still perform miracles with it.

The four begin their journey to the adventuring guild by walking together. "I've been intending to ask, how did beard cutter obtain a gate scroll?" While rubbing his beard, the dwarf asked. "Gate Scroll?" The Lizard warrior just turned his head towards the Dwarf in response to the Dwarf's question from the High elf archer.

"Gate scrolls are exceedingly rare; they even can summon gods; recall the ogre battle?" While taking a sip of his wine, the dwarf said. "Really?" Inquired the Priestess. The dwarf replied, "Yes." Dwarf added, "I'm simply curious about how he obtained one."

The four adventurers continue towards the adventuring guild. "I want to know where he obtained such skill; he is a formidable warrior." The lizard warrior exclaimed while holding his chin and grinning. He seems to be enthusiastic. "I have my doubts that he is a warrior." The High Elf archer said while lost in thought regarding the Goblin assassin. "He appears more barbaric to me." The Elf told while rotating her finger through the air.

Priestess frowned upon hearing the Elf's remark, unaware that The High Elf Archer was not attempting to attack Goblin Assassin. "Anvil, for once, I agree with you; Beard cutter's demonstration in the Goblin fortress was brutal. Even the presence of a frightened animal indicates something." The Dwarf stroked his beard as the Elf archer clenched her fists and wanted to scream in response to the Anvil remark.

While the dwarf was discussing the lizard warrior, the lizard guy nodded. "Even warriors must be ruthless in the battle to defeat their opponents. The warrior." Lizard remarked.


I hope this is enjoyed, or maybe it sucked. Either way, I wish I could have gotten this out sooner. I need a proofreader by the way, my spelling sucks ass.