The afternoon sun cast long shadows over the caged wagon— its rays slipping through the iron bars, casting thin lines of light across the battered interior. Goblin Slayer sat slumped on the wooden bench, his wrists and ankles locked in heavy-duty cuffs. The cool metal over his wrists and ankles felt impossibly heavy with runes etched into the chains gleaming faintly, holding him securely to the wagon floor. His cheek still throbbed with a dull ache from D'Arce's strike the day before— the sting serving more as a reminder than an actual painful sensation.

His gray hair fell in front of his face— hiding his crimson eyes that stared listlessly at the floor. He couldn't shake the weight of it all— the failure, the uncertainty, the overwhelming sense of being completely lost.

'How…? How could I have allowed this to happen? I knew something was off about her— I should have seen this coming,' the disgruntled teen thought bitterly to himself, as his fingers curled tightly into fists.

Across from him sat the only other prisoner in the wagon— a young dark elf girl, who as far as he could assume was the only one out of the ambush team who was allowed to live.

Her long white hair hung limply over her face, matted with sweat and blood. Her body was a mess of bruises and cuts, remnants of D'Arce's interrogation. The same runed cuffs bound her wrists and ankles, chains clinking faintly with every jolt of the wagon as they trudged along the dirt road. She sat with her shoulders hunched, head down, trembling faintly with every passing second.

Goblin Slayer lifted his head slightly— eyes flickering toward her. From what he could tell, she was barely older than him, yet her spirit seemed shattered beyond repair— even more than his spirit felt, at that moment. The teenager wasn't even sure what compelled him to speak— whether it was guilt, pity, or something else entirely— but the words came out before he could stop them.

"Are you... Alright?"

His voice was rough— hoarse from the lack of use— and the moment the words left his mouth, he saw her flinch. Her entire body stiffened, and she let out a small, pitiful whimper, curling in on herself even more. She didn't look at him, didn't meet his perplexed gaze— it was as if his very presence terrified her.

Goblin Slayer felt a pang in his chest, but he didn't push. He had seen the aftermath of D'Arce's methods while locked behind bars at the barracks overnight, and even if they were supposed to be enemies, the gray-haired teenager couldn't help but feel something for the broken figure in front of him.


The wagon creaked beneath them as they continued down the final stretch of the Fallen Pedal Trail. Beyond the path, the flatlands were vast, sparse with cacti and stretching sand dunes as far as the eye could see.

Air in the "Muhati Desert" was dry, hot, and unforgiving— and on top of that, within the confines of the cage everything felt heavy and stifling.

Two armed soldiers sat at the back of the wagon, their eyes ever watchful— their large steel maces resting across their laps. The maces shimmered in the sunlight, each swing of the wagon catching the glint of deadly metal. Goblin Slayer caught their intimidating gazes occasionally, but the soldiers said nothing.

They were there to guard, not to question.

With every passing mile, Goblin Slayer sank further into himself— the hopelessness settling in like a lead weight. He thought back to everything— D'Arce, the words she had thrown at him like daggers, Guild Girl's warnings, and the relentless pursuit of goblins that had led him here, to this moment.

'What am I even trying to prove at this point? That I'm stubborn?' The frustrated teen couldn't help but wonder to himself— his brows furrowing, as he dwelled more and more in his streak of shortcomings.


And time passed on the dirt road to Crossbell, the dry heat of the desert was beginning to take its toll on them. The sun hung high in the sky, relentless, with not a cloud in sight to offer even a shred of mercy.

Goblin Slayer could feel the sweat beading on his skin, trickling down his neck and soaking into his black turtleneck shirt that he had been given before being shipped off from Matterhorn. His throat was parched, and every breath felt like it was scraping against sandpaper. The intense heat pressed down on him— making him lightheaded. And though he tried to focus, all he could think about was water.

His gaze drifted to the two guards sitting across the wagon. They seemed unfazed by the heat, and were casually drinking from their canteens; the cool water glistening in the sunlight as they took long, indulgent gulps.

Goblin Slayer could hear the faint slosh of the water inside, and it felt like a cruel taunt, each sip only emphasizing the dryness in his own mouth. His tongue felt heavy, like it was swelling, and he forced himself to swallow despite the lack of moisture.

The dark elf girl across from him remained silent, her head still down, but he could see the faint rise and fall of her chest, the shallow breaths she was taking. 'If I'm this parched, then I could only imagine what she's feeling right now. She's in worse shape than I am— more reason for her to stay hydrated.'

Goblin Slayer then hesitated— glancing between her and the guards— before finally speaking up.

"Water... For both of us," he rasped, his voice cracking from the dryness in his throat.

The guards didn't respond immediately. One of them looked at him, then glanced at his companion, a smirk forming on his lips. Slowly, one of them unscrewed the cap of his canteen and held it out— the water tantalizingly close.

For a brief moment, Goblin Slayer felt a flicker of hope. But just as he reached out, the guard's hand slipped, and the canteen fell to the floor with a clatter, spilling its contents onto the dirty wooden boards of the wagon.

The two guards chuckled under their breath, their low laughter carrying a cruel edge. Goblin Slayer stared at the puddle of water being absorbed by the dirt— the droplets soaking into the worn floorboards, as if fate itself were mocking him.

He could feel the last remnants of hope drain away with that water, leaving behind only frustration and bitterness.

With a sigh, Goblin Slayer leaned back against the iron bars— turning his gaze away from the guards and their smug faces. He looked past the dark elf girl, out through the bars, his eyes tracing the endless stretch of desert that lay ahead.

The landscape was barren, with only sparse cacti breaking up the monotony of sand dunes that stretched as far as he could see. It was a desolate place, much like how he felt inside.

He tried to distract himself, to push away the frustration gnawing at him. 'Positives. I've got to focus on the positives— silver linings, and all,' the teenager silently repeated to himself— attempting to salvage hope from an otherwise miserable experience, as he softly closed his eyelids over his dried eyes.

'They're taking me to where I need to go anyway, and it's not like I have to comply with their demands for long— I just have to fake it, until I make it. I won't fail whatever evaluation's waiting for me,' he thought determinedly to himself, before suddenly letting out a humorless chuckle, as he thought back to Guild Girl. 'Who knows? I might be able to find that "help" that she was talking about while I'm there— maybe then I'll stop being such a "high-risk liability"!'

The thought made the disgruntled teenager smirk bitterly to himself. 'Help,' he thought again, the word leaving a sour taste in his mouth. 'As if there's any help that could fix what was wrong with me. I can't believe she said that, as though someone could just reach into his mind and pull out all the trauma I've accumulated, and replace them with shapely thoughts! What am I supposed to do—forget everything?! Just let it all go, like it never happened?!'


As more and more time passed, Goblin Slayer's infuriated thoughts began to dissipate. The sound of the wheels rolling beneath the caged wagon, the rhythmic clop of hooves, and the dry creak of old wood swaying with the motion of the horses began to lull him into a half-asleep trance.

The teen's head hung low— sweat still trickling down his face from the unrelenting desert heat. He forced himself to try to rest, but his instincts kept him from fully drifting off.

The world around him blurred— the line between wakefulness and sleep beginning to fade. But then, something stirred in his peripheral vision— something dark in the sky.

At first, he thought it was a raven, its wings catching the last of the daylight. But as it moved closer, growing larger with each passing second, Goblin Slayer's eyes snapped open, the heavy chains clinking as he instinctively tried to move.

He jolted upright, his heart hammering in his chest. 'That's…! That's no raven! That's not even a bird, it's…?! Something else! Something fast!'

"L-Look!" he barked, his voice hoarse, but urgent enough to snap the guards out of their idle banter. "Up there!"

The two guards proceeded to look up— their eyes narrowing as they squinted toward the sky. The gray-haired teen could see it in their faces, the moment they realized something was terribly wrong. One guard's jaw dropped in horror, the other's face contorted in disbelief.

Goblin Slayer's own gaze darted back up just in time to see a beam of brilliant pink light shooting toward them like a blazing star.

For a split second, he froze, his mind racing. There was no way to move— no way to escape. His hands were bound, his body locked in chains. He couldn't fight, couldn't even brace himself for what was coming.

The two guards, on the other hand, didn't hesitate. They bolted for the rear doors of the cage wagon, throwing them open and diving out onto the dirt road, rolling to safety just as the beam of energy slammed into the wagon.

The explosion was deafening. A violent blast of kinetic force shattered the wooden wagon in an instant, the impact sending splinters and debris flying in every direction. Goblin Slayer felt himself hurled backward— his body slamming into the cage bars before being flung like a rag doll. He barely registered the sharp pieces of wood embedding into his legs before the wave of heat and dirt engulfed him— his world spinning into chaos.

He hit the ground hard— a searing pain ripping through his abdomen as the force of the blast ripped the air from his lungs. Disoriented, he tried to breathe, but the dust choked him— filling his mouth and nostrils.

The teenanger's vision was blurry— the world around him a dizzying blur of shattered wood, blood, and dust. Through the ringing in his ears, he could make out the faint screams of the horses and of the wagon driver— their desperate cries cut short by the horror that had descended upon them.

Lying on his side, gasping for air, Goblin Slayer forced his eyes open, barely able to focus. His entire body screamed in pain, every inch of him aching, his limbs heavy as lead. Through the haze, he could just make out the massive figure that had landed in the wake of the explosion.

'W… What in the hell is that thing?!'

A dragon. Not just any dragon, though. The creature was sleek— its metal scales reflecting the harsh sunlight with an otherworldly gleam. Lines of cyan energy pulsed between its plates, glowing with an eerie, mechanical light. The beast's wingspan cast a monstrous shadow over the battlefield— its presence both awe-inspiring and terrifying.

Goblin Slayer could barely move— pinned down by the weight of his injuries, the sharp, white-hot pain through his abdomen clouding his thoughts. He winced, trying to shift, but agony shot through his legs where the shards of wood were embedded. All he could do was watch as the dragon's gaze shifted toward the two guards, who had managed to escape its initial assault.

The guards wasted no time. One raised his mace— the heavy steel head crackling with magic. He shouted something to his companion, and together, they charged at the dragon with fierce determination.

The first swung his mace with all his might— the weapon connecting with a sickening crunch against the dragon's metallic hide. Sparks flew as the impact reverberated through the air, but the dragon barely flinched.

The second guard raised his hand, summoning a bolt of destructive magic— a brilliant orb of energy swirling in his palm before he hurled it at the dragon's chest. The blast struck true— exploding in a flash of light that sent shockwaves rippling through the sand. For a brief moment, Goblin Slayer thought the attack had worked.

But the dragon, undeterred, let out a guttural roar— its razor-sharp maw opening wide, as it lunged forward. Before the first guard could react, the dragon's jaws clamped down around him— biting him clean in half with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed across the sand, and the soldier's legs crumpled as his upper body disappeared into the beast's throat.

The second guard, horrified, tried to back away— his hands shaking as he readied another spell. But the dragon moved too quickly— its chest glowing with the same cyan light that coursed through its body.

In the blink of an eye, it unleashed a blast of pink plasma, the energy scorching across the battlefield— engulfing the guard in a blinding explosion. Goblin Slayer felt the heat of the blast wash over him, even from his broken position on the ground. He winced as the force of the explosion rattled his battered body.

The guard's scream was cut short as his body was incinerated, turned to ash in a fraction of a second. The dragon stood over the destruction it had wrought— its blackened eyes scanning the area, as if searching for any other threats.

Goblin Slayer lay still, his mind racing despite the pain. 'Move,' he told himself. 'Get up.' But his body refused to obey. Every nerve was on fire, and the heavy shackles binding his wrists and ankles seemed to anchor him to the ground.

Through the blur of pain and dust, he stared up at the towering dragon— the creature's glowing red pupils locking onto him for a moment that felt like an eternity.

As Goblin Slayer lay battered and broken on the ground, his blurry vision locked onto the towering dragon. His heart pounded in his chest, as the beast's cyan glow seemed to intensify.

But then the unexpected happened.

The dragon's form began to dissolve, evaporating into countless particles of glowing cyan light. Slowly, its monstrous shape dissipated into the air, leaving behind a figure.

A slender, curvaceous figure, wrapped head to toe in white bandages, stood where the dragon once loomed. A maroon cloak draped over her form, the hood raised to shadow her bandage-wrapped face face. Two pitch-black voids peered out from where her eyes should have been, adding to her eerie, enigmatic presence.

Goblin Slayer, barely conscious and racked with pain, could do nothing but watch as the figure calmly approached him. The world around him seemed to fade, the clamor of the battle replaced by an oppressive silence. Each step she took was deliberate, soundless, as though she was gliding rather than walking. Her shadow fell over him, long and cold, her presence suffocating in its mysteriousness.

She stopped before him, staring down at him with that unreadable, masked face— the twin voids in her bandages seemingly piercing through him. Without a word, she crouched down, bringing herself closer, her maroon cloak brushing the dust of the battlefield. When she finally spoke, her voice was smooth, sadistic, but disturbingly educated— each word enunciated with a chilling elegance.

"Ah, misfortune— its web, tangled and wide, ensnares the fool and the brave alike. But despair... Despair is different," she said elegantly, with the same cadence as though she were reciting poetry. "It's a gift, you see— not born of failure, but realization. Realization that your struggle was never a contest, but a foregone conclusion. Despair is the clarity of knowing the universe has long since decided your fate, and yet we persist... Why do you think that is?"

Her voice lingered in the air, almost mocking in its sophistication. She tilted her head slightly as if expecting a response, but when none came, she rose back to her feet with effortless grace. Wordlessly, she turned her back to him— walking toward the crater where the initial blast had struck.

Goblin Slayer, unable to move from where he laid, watched as the figure knelt at the edge of the crater. With a slow, deliberate motion, she levitated— rising gracefully from the pit with the unconscious dark elf girl cradled in her arms. She carried the dark elf bridal style, as though she weighed nothing at all.

Before his eyes, the figure transformed once more. The cloak billowed out, limbs elongating and twisting into sleek, metallic scales. The white bandages melted into the shimmering armor of the dragon once more— the creature's massive wings unfurling as the transformation completed in an instant.

With a deafening roar, the dragon launched itself into the sky— the sheer force of its ascent creating a sonic boom that tore through the desert air. Goblin Slayer's body was flung backward from the shockwave its accession created in its wake— causing him to tumble and roll across the scorched ground, with pain ripping through him with every violent collision.

When he finally came to a skidding stop, his vision was spinning— the sky and earth blending together in a nauseating blur. Groaning, he struggled to gather his bearings— trying to process what had just happened. Every inch of his body ached, and his limbs felt as if they were made of lead.

He noticed a long, crimson trail behind him— his own blood. It marked the path his body had taken, streaks of red standing out against the sand.

A sudden sharp, excruciating pain shot through him, causing him to gasp in agony. Slowly, trembling, he looked down. That was when he saw it.

A piece of iron bar, jagged and rusted, had lodged itself deep in his abdomen. It had pierced him clean through, sticking out of both sides of his torso like a twisted skewer. The sight of it made his vision swim, the intense pain almost unbearable.

For a long moment, all he could do was stare at the wound in disbelief, his mind struggling to keep up with the reality of it all.

His hands, sticky with blood, pressed against the wound in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding, but it was no use. The pain was excruciating, and the world around him began to fade.

In his mind, despair whispered. Despite all his efforts— despite the blood, sweat, and determination that had brought him to this point— it seemed to have all been in vain. Everything he had fought for seemed pointless in that fleeting moment— like a fading dream.

His thoughts raced, spiraling deeper into the pit of hopelessness. 'Is this… Is this how my life comes to its end? Not dying in battle, living my last moments doing what I wrote to Vivi that I would do, but… Broken, and alone? In a godforsaken desert? Have I always been destined for this? To have such a meaningless demise?!'

But then, amidst the fog of doubt and pain, something stirred inside him— a memory, an unshakable truth that ignited a spark in the darkness. He remembered standing in the window of his fortress, gazing over the Evergreen Forest, lost in thought.

'No… No, it's not— I refuse to allow this to be the end,' Goblin Slayer swore to himself— feeling a growing sense of vigor coursing through his fractured bones, as his body began to tense up and shake violently. 'My life's meaningless— that much I know for certain… But that doesn't mean hers was!'

A surge of determination welled up within him. 'No. I can't die here. I won't die here.'

With a grunt, Goblin Slayer's fingers gripped the sand as he began to lift himself up. The pain was unbearable— his muscles screamed in protest, and every inch of his body felt like it was on fire. He gasped for air, rapid breaths escaping him, as if his lungs could hardly keep up with the pain. Sweat poured down his brow, mixing with blood as it dripped onto the dirt.

But he embraced it. 'I need to stay awake— I need to keep moving!'

Slowly, shakily, he shuffled in his shackles toward the scattered debris of the wagon. His vision swam, but he forced himself to stay focused, scanning the wreckage until something caught his eye.

A steam chest. Goblin Slayer stumbled toward it, the broken iron bar still protruding from his abdomen like a cruel reminder of his fragility. When he reached the chest, his hands fumbled with the lock.

'… It's sealed tight— no way that I'm capable of breaking it right now,' Goblin Slayer assessed silently— the chains with their glowing runes rattling, as he squeezed his trembling fingers on the chest's lock before his eyes drifted to his metal cuffs around his wrists.

'… I don't recall there being two keys on those guards… It should be able to open both locks,' the teenager thought to himself, before slowly turning himself toward the direction of the bisected guard's lowered remains in the near vicinity.

'… At least it didn't eat him whole,' he thought to himself, before letting out a trembling breath as he began dragging himself toward the first guard's lower-half— the sickly smell of copper fresh in the air growing stronger the closer he limped toward the bloodied remains.

Shaking uncontrollably, he knelt down beside what was left of the corpse/- nearly collapsing from the effort, as he picked the key from the guard's blood-soaked belt. His fingers, numb from the shock and blood loss, struggled to turn it, but he refused to give up.

Finally, with a satisfying click, the chains on his wrists and ankles fell away. His hands were free.

His movements were sluggish, his vision dimming, but he crawled back to the steamer chest— his mind racing against time as vultures began circling above. Unlocking it, he pried open the lid and found his gear— his weathered leather armor, the orichalcum tomahawk that Sofia had gifted him, his helmet, buckler shield, short sword, daggers, and his backpack. He reached first for his pack, and desperately searched for the one thing that could save him: a healing potion.

Shards of glass pricked his fingers as his hand touched the remnants of the bottle.

It had shattered.

Despair threatened to overwhelm him again, but he clenched his teeth— refusing to let it win. He then lifted the bag over his head— pressing his lips to the bottom where the potion had spilled, and sucked in the last remnants of the healing liquid.

Agony shot through him as the potion began to work. He felt his body convulse, the iron bar slowly being pushed out of his abdomen as the potion worked its magic, followed by large splinters of wood that began dropping out of his bloodied thighs and shins like raindrops.

Goblin Slayer let out a pained groan, his vision dimming from the sheer intensity of the healing process. The metal bar clanged to the ground beside him as his flesh knitted itself back together, leaving only a fresh, angry scar in its place.

He then immediately collapsed to his knees, panting heavily— the pain finally catching up to him. His heart raced, his head throbbed, and panic welled up inside him. His chest felt tight as if he were being crushed by the weight of everything.

He was still alive— but just barely.

The vultures were landing now— their black beady eyes watching him closely, waiting. He could feel their patience. They knew death when they saw it.

Goblin Slayer steadied his breathing— turning his dread-filled eyes away from the gathered flock of scavengers, in favor of what was inside the steamer chest.

With trembling hands, he reached for his armor, strapping the leather pieces back onto his body, each motion labored. His gauntlets followed, their weight oddly comforting in his weakened state. Lastly, he slid his helmet over his head, the familiar weight grounding him, reminding him of who he was— what he had promised to do.

"I… can do it," he whispered to himself, repeating the same mantra as before. "I can do it… I can do it."

He took a step forward, and then another, his body barely holding him upright as he began shambling down the road. Every step was agony, every breath a struggle, but his mind was focused on one thing.

He would survive.

If not for himself, then for her.