The Goblin Slayer looked probably like the most conventional Medieval warrior out of the bunch. That is, looked and the most, compared to the rest of the adventurers present in the guild. He was head-to-toe in armor, complete with a grill in front of his face, which managed to completely shade his features save for the occasional glint of the eye, depending on the angle of the light. He had a belt full of pouches around his waist made of dull brown leather. He had a short sword on his hip, with a matching small shield on his left arm. His armor though had seen better days. It was scratched and dented, with grime covering the surfaces and keeping the glare at bay. He had mail underneath where there wasn't plate, and that material was worn silver through months or longer of friction. Broken horns adorned the sides of his helmet, which were also worn and dull, showing old damage; meanwhile, some of the plates were brand new which told the trooper that the man kept up the functionality of his armor with repairs.

Luckily, he also knew the place of the quest. He was fortunately understanding of the urgency of the situation, and turned right around to go on another quest on the heels of the previous. He even declined his payment, explaining that he hadn't used supplies on his previous quest as it was rather uneventful. And so the two of them rode on the trooper's poor horse, forced to carry the two of them in addition to their overnight gear, as the Goblin Slayer did not have a horse himself.

Fortunately for the animal, the location of the goblin nest was nearby the previous village, which was rather close. After a full night's rest they were able to travel with only the occasional stops for rest and relief. "We're within walking distance now, right?" the trooper confirmed. The Goblin Slayer nodded. "I'm gonna tie my horse up here. I don't want to leave it alone out there."

"You're coming with me?"

"Of course," he replied. "If I was gonna leave you I wouldn't have gone through the trouble of bringing you here myself."

"I see."

"Besides," he continued. "Those things need put down, and two is better than one."

Goblin Slayer nodded in agreement, although as he was riding behind the trooper, the acknowledgment went unnoticed.

The trooper had elected to leave his carbine with his horse, seeing as it wouldn't be too useful in a cave; the Goblin Slayer had explained his tactics quite thoroughly. His revolver and saber, meanwhile, were on his belt. He left his hat, seeing as the wide brim would only serve to aggravate him in the close quarters of the cave. For the sake of blocking the sun until then, he elected to wear his smaller cap.

The cave itself was unremarkable, even as the sun withdrew and the twin moons revealed their presence. Just outside the mouth was a small collection of bones tied to a stick, with a wolf skull displayed at the top. "Shaman," the Goblin Slayer explained. "Nests have one of several types of leaders. Shamans tend to place these as messages to other wanderers."

"What's special about shamans?" the trooper asked.

"Magic."

The trooper shuddered internally. Just what he needed. Aside from being obscene savages, the bastards had magic as well.

The canopy was light and thin here unlike the forest in which he arrived in this strange land. The mouth of the cave was meager and jagged, about the size of a mine entrance, not quite a massive and imposing structure one may expect. Just a small crack in the rock. Goblin slayer lit a torch and entered the cave. The trooper readied his weapons-saber in his right hand, Colt in the other-and followed.

As meager and unassuming as the forest was, the cave was oppressive and repulsive. It was an almost physical wall of humidity, filled to saturation with rot, feces, urine, body odor, and mold. It was as if the cave itself was once a living creature, now a rotting carcass, home now only to maggots. The sounds of battle echoed from deeper in, the sounds of screams and dying, as horrible and pain filled as he'd seen on the worst of days in the war. The cries of the young as their lives were torn from them pierced his ears.

He turned his head towards the Goblin Slayer. Words were neither spoken nor needed; at the inclination of the Slayer's helmet, they both stepped into the cave.

He had never felt claustrophobic before, even when crawling in mines. But this cave was something else: the walls hugged him tight, even when he thought he was giving himself elbow room. The air was almost too thick to breathe and he had to consciously take deep breaths to get enough oxygen. The adventurer suddenly stopped, looking to the side. "Another one," he said, pointing towards another crude totem constructed of weathered animal bones. He gestured with the torch to the opposite side of the tunnel. "They'll use these to distract intruders from side passages. If you're not careful, you'll miss them in the torch light."

"How often does that work?" the trooper asked.

"Often enough," came the answer. The trooper waited, allowing room for elaboration, but none came. The Goblin Slayer continued moving.

What found him about broke his heart, worse than the boy in the village ever could have. A torch laying on the ground illuminated the scene. Two girls who both couldn't be older than his sister, were surrounded by a trio of goblins. One of the girls was motionless on the ground and was being assaulted, her clothes being torn right off her body. The other was scooting away, clutching a staff in terror, trying to sink into the rock itself while another goblin advanced on her.

He made to rush in but a gesture by the Goblin Slayer stayed him. The goblins hadn't noticed the duo yet and continued attacking the two women. It wasn't until the two got within the light of the torch that they were noticed. One of the goblins stopped his assault, drawing a small bow and quickly firing an arrow towards the two. Goblin Slayer deftly knocked it out of the air with practiced ease while the other goblin rushed towards him and leaped, making for his head. That one was caught by Goblin Slayer's shield and smashed into the wall of the cave, crushing its skull.

The third goblin rushed towards the trooper only to find itself skewered by a thrust from a saber. The first had turned to run with its two compatriots killed with ease; instead, the young girl blocked its path with her staff, and the Goblin Slayer punctured its skull with a thrown sword. With the three goblins dead, the trooper rushed forwards.

"Miss!" he said, careful not to yell and alert any remaining goblins any more than necessary. "Miss, it's alright, you're safe now."

The girl collapsed on the floor and sobbed. His heart caught in his throat. This scene wasn't particularly new. He'd recovered captured women and children before, shielding their eyes as he guided them past the bodies of their husbands, sons, and brothers. He'd arrived to defend towns and homesteads, but too late to save everyone. He should have been used to it to where it wouldn't bother him.

But at the very least he was used to it enough to continue his work.

"Miss, you're safe now. We've got you." With that, the girl calmed a sniffle, she rubbed her face with the sleeve of her tunic, smearing blots of dirt and dust, wet by her tears and snot, into blots across her small face. Listen, alright? Your friends. I need to know where they are. Where are the rest?"

She pointed further down the cave.

"They're down there. W-we were down there when we got surrounded and attacked, and she," she said, referring to the young mage laying on the ground, "was stabbed and I drug her back here and-"

"Calm down, please," he said, laying his hand on her shoulder. "Miss, we need to know where they are so we can rescue them."

"Our fighter is dead," she explained after a few short breaths. "I think the monk was captured."

"We don't have much time then," Goblin Slayer noted. "Can you walk? The entrance isn't to far back."

"What about her?" the young girl asked.

"She's fine," he said. "We made it just in time for an antidote to work. She was poisoned." He held up the knife that was used to stab here, blood and fecal matter still coating the steel. "Your healing miracle prolonged her life but didn't actually stop it."

"I'm coming with you," she said.

The trooper held up his hand in protest. "Miss, you really don't need to. You've done enough just pulling her back here."

"No, I'm coming. I still have two more miracles, I can still help," she insisted, standing up, although the trooper noticed that her knees were shaking and she used her staff to help herself up.

Goblin Slayer nodded. "I see. What miracles are you able to use?"

"Holy Light and Heal," she answered.

The trooper took a double take at the armored warrior. "You can't be serious. She's hurt-"

Goblin Slayer held up his hand. "We need all the help we can get. If she's willing to fight, we can use her."

The trooper sighed. He didn't like that idea. It wasn't even about her being hurt or not, she was just in no condition to keep going, even mentally. She was just a young girl who didn't even have a weapon. He doubted that she would even know how to use one anyway. Regardless, he relented. Arguing wouldn't help anything, and she'd volunteered anyway.

"One more thing," the Goblin Slayer mentioned, using a knife to cut into a goblin's corpse before sticking a rag into the wound to soak up the blood. He turned towards the girl. "Goblins are sensitive to smell."

The cave walls seemed to close in as they went further in, and the trooper kept measuring the walls with his eyes just to make sure that wasn't the case. He was all but drowning in the humidity and he could practically hold the stench in his hands. The light of the torch didn't seem to travel as far either, and he wasn't fully confident that was just the torch getting dimmer.

The Goblin Slayer, leading the trio, suddenly stopped and looked down. The cave ahead transitioned to a noticeable decline, steep enough to tumble down if you weren't careful. He knelt down and the trooper followed him with his eyes, noticing a crude tripwire. The tripwire was traced for booby traps but the practiced adventurer found none, and tested the strength of it with his hand. He turned back towards the two.

"It's a trap for adventurers," he explained. "If you made it down here and didn't notice this you'd trip and fall down this tunnel."

The trooper nodded. "Probably an ambush down there then. No point in causing a trip if you just land in more tunnel."

"Exactly," the Goblin Slayer replied. "They're not the smartest, but they're not stupid. An ambush will likely work even if the intruder doesn't trip on the way down. Judging by the amount of goblins we've faced so far, they probably don't have major additional rooms. At the bottom of this tunnel is likely the central room that houses the shaman."

"If it's an ambush."

"Yeah." Goblin Slayer stood in thought for a second, unmoving, head angled downwards into the dark. "We'll counter-ambush," he said, finally.

"Draw them up here? I suppose that could work. Will they take bait though?"

The adventurer shook his head. "They know their friends are dead. Priestess, you said you have two more uses of Holy Light?"

The girl, a priestess apparently—she looked rather young to be a full blown priestess, even if they did let women into the priesthood—nodded.

"Good. You need to use it exactly when I say." He turned towards the trooper. "How good are you with a throwing spear?"

"Probably worse than you," the trooper answered. Of course, he had a pistol, but besides the limited ammunition, a gunshot would be absolutely deafening to both him and the Goblin Slayer, which would prove a further disadvantage than it would help. It should only be a last resort, he'd decided days ago when he first realized his predicament. "What's your plan?"

"Then guard me. We'll go down there, use Holy Light, I throw the spear, we run back up here. That should draw them out and we'll have a better chance fighting them up here."

"Sounds good."

"By God, run!"

He had to admit, the tactical maneuver they pulled was probably a success. The Priestess had timed her 'miracle' perfectly, blinding the goblins right as the trio drew their attention, bringing their eyes right in view to go from the darkness of the pit to probably the brightest thing they'd ever seen, aside from the sun itself. The light was behind them as well, saving most of his and the Goblin Slayer's vision.

The spear had flown perfectly, striking a diminutive goblin wearing a leather headdress and bone-laden bib squarely in the chest. The trooper had put his saber to great effect, striking down three goblins in the time it took to say "Gotcha!"

What they hadn't expected was a gigantic monster to swing a damn tree trunk down right between the two. If it wasn't blinded by the light, it likely would've killed either of the two in one hit. He gave the thing one slash with his saber, which didn't quite cut into the leathery hide and thick, corded muscle of its arm as well as he'd hoped. He didn't need to be a psychic to know it was time to beat it.

The Priestess had made it to the top of the incline first, about tripping and falling flat on her face when she jumped over the tripwire. The Goblin Slayer and trooper were hot on her heels, but more deftly avoided the obstacle. "Now!" Goblin Slayer yelled.

The trooper barely heard her incantation, his ears focused on the thunderous footsteps of the creature chasing him. He turned around just in time, saber raised to block, just in time for the massive goblin to reach the top. Luckily it wasn't as smart as it was strong; the Holy Light once again blinded it and it stumbled right into the tripwire, falling flat on its face.

Goblin Slayer took immediate advantage of its mistake, plunging his short sword into the back of its neck, wrenching it back and forth for good measure. Satisfied in the monster's death, he began dragging it to the top edge of the incline by the arm.

"What is that thing?" the trooper asked.

"Hobgoblin. They're usually survivors of destroyed nests. They wander and grow stronger over time before finding another nest to join."

"No survivors then."

Goblin Slayer nodded. "Exactly." Repositioning done, he produced a small jar from his butt pack and cracked it open. The trooper immediately recognized the smell.

"Is that…" he began to ask as the contents were poured over the body of the hobgoblin.

With the jar empty, the adventurer lit it on fire with a torch and kicked it over the edge. The hobgoblin's carcass caught fire easily and rolled down the incline. The trooper watched as the body about flattened two other goblins that were sneaking up the tunnel, catching them on fire as well.

"Disappointing," the Goblin Slayer observed. "I paid a lot for that."

The trooper could only shrug. "I coulda told you that. Gasoline's a good fire starter but not much else. You can get it to explode if you know what you're doing, but this isn't the place for that."

"I see," the Goblin Slayer replied, disappointment coloring his voice. "You know about gasoline? I could only find this in an alchemist's shop. It's quite rare."

"It's a waste product. When you distill oil to make kerosene, you also get gasoline. But that's not important now."

Goblin Slayer nodded. "I agree." He readied his sword, wiping excess blood and fat onto a nearby piece of scrap cloth.

The trooper looked back down the tunnel. For some reason, it seemed more… regular. More ordinary. He could breathe easier. Torch light reached just a bit further. Even the shadows were less intense. He held his saber out, rolling his wrist and relieving some of the tension in his body. With a nod from Goblin Slayer, they began the descent towards the central chamber.

Oddly, on top of the somber, muffled moans of the remaining party member, the three heard the sound of crying infants.

Not a word was said on the way out of the cave. The Priestess seemed horrified. Not just what was done to her friends, but by the cruelty showed by her saviors. The trooper didn't partake in the final act of extermination of the nest. His tacit approval, however, was all it took for the priestess to change the way she looked at him.

It didn't bother him much. The Goblin Slayer was absolutely right: any survivor would only grow in hatred, and that hatred would fuel a lifelong lust for revenge. The hobgoblin and shaman were likely survivors of the nest as well.

That much wasn't explained to him. He understood quite well. Were his unit ever killed almost to the last man, would he ever forgive the savages that slaughtered his friends in front of him? Would he pack up his things, get a transfer to an administrative post at Fort Riley, and live out his days in peace and quiet? No, he would hunt the bastards down, then their families, and their whole village and everyone who ever knew them.

The three girls rode the horses back to the nearest village, a small outcrop of farms that surrounded Frontier Town, while the two men walked. The journey was seemingly fast, the dread of unknown fates past them, but their minds distracted by the horrors they faced underground. Goblin Slayer was of course the most used to it, but the trooper could tell through slight changes in body language that he was certainly not unphased. That was a good thing, he thought. If a man could see those sights and come out unbothered, there was something wrong with him.

With the two injured girls dropped off so they could rest a night and be given a wagon ride out of there, Goblin Slayer, the Priestess, and the trooper returned to the road. Priestess was paired with the trooper; they figured that the horse could better handle their weight than if she were paired with Goblin Slayer in his armor. The girl had finally fallen asleep, finally feeling a hint of safety. He could hear her gentle breaching as she slumped forwards onto his back. Although it hurt to keep his back still for so long, he didn't want to adjust himself and wake her up.

The ride back to Frontier Town was uneventful, thankfully. The receptionist had given the three of them rooms for free for the night, which the trooper accepted on the Priestess' behalf but the Goblin Slayer declined, opting to head back to his home in one of the surrounding villages.

The trooper was left sitting in his small bedroom—separate from the Priestess', of course—counting and re-counting the coins in his hand. The Goblin Slayer had cut him a clean half of the reward. Although the trooper had insisted he was only doing what was right, the adventurer refused to take full payment for only doing half the work himself.

There was one thing on his mind. Sleep. The steak, booze, and floozies could come later. Dropping his jacket and kicking off his boots, he got up to put out the candle illuminating the bedroom. On second thought, he removed his trousers as well. They certainly needed to be cleaned after that ordeal, and there was no point sleeping in the filth.

As he drifted off to sleep, all he could wonder was what in Hell he'd gotten himself into.

AN: I know it's been a bit of a long time since last chapter. Well, real life stuff happened. Also, I'm sure you noticed I skipped quite a few things. Honestly, I'm not here to rewrite the same story just with an extra character. You want a bunch of the same stuff, just read the source material. When I hit a point of a story I don't have the motivation to write (ie. a borderline recreation of the source material), I just can't bring myself to open up the word editor.

I admit, this is rather rushed when I got some time to sit down and write. I wanted to hurry and get something out.