In the dim, rain-soaked frontier town, the air inside the Adventurers' Guild felt stifling. Seventeen-year-old Goblin Slayer stood before the counter, his breath measured but heavy. He stared ahead, his expression hidden beneath the crude helmet he never removed, his gloved fingers tightening on the hilt of his sword. Guild Girl sat behind the counter, her brows furrowed, papers in her hands trembling slightly as she spoke the words he had been dreading.
"I'm sorry," she began, her voice a soft murmur. "I regret to inform you that your application has been rejected."
His heart pounded in his chest, but on the outside, he remained motionless. 'Rejected?' The word echoed in his mind like a blow, and for a moment, all he could feel was the rising heat of anger, a bitter, gnawing frustration that threatened to spill over.
"… What do you mean it's been rejected?" Goblin Slayer asked in his low, gravely voice— doing his best to maintain a calm demeanor, though somewhat failing, as he could tell from the way the brown-haired woman's face became visibly uneasy.
Guild Girl's voice, quieter this time, broke through his internal haze. "You failed to pass the mental assessment. My boss, she's… Concerned, with your responses."
'Concerned?' He repeated back silently to himself— the absurdity of what she had said beginning to claw at him even more than it already was. 'Concerned about what? About me wanting to kill goblins? Isn't that the point of the guild— to kill monsters?!'
His eyes, though unseen beneath the helmet, bore into her. He had expected this. From the start, he knew they would reject him—not because he wasn't strong enough or skilled enough—but because they couldn't understand.
They hadn't seen what he had seen. They hadn't lost what he had lost. How could they know the depth of his hatred? How could they comprehend the all-consuming need to wipe out every last goblin?
Though visibly beginning to lose his patience, through the way his fingers were tightening on the edge of the wooden counter separating him from her, Goblin tried to keep control of himself as he argued with her. "This… This has to be a mistake— if I can maybe retake the evaluation-"
"-"High-risk liability"— that's the reason why the guild can't have someone like you be apart of us, Mr. Ashta," Guild Girl explained as though she were tearing a bandaid off— interrupting the armored teen, and pausing as she saw the way he froze into place. "I can't imagine what you've been through to harbor such hatred towards goblins, but… To wage war on an entire race— even the majority of goblins who aren't inherently evil— that's… "Madness," as my boss put it."
"I didn't come here for your boss' opinion of my life choices— I came here to put this sword to good use," Goblin Slayer argued once more— rebuking her reasoning, by gesturing toward the handle of his cheaply-crafted short sword, that was sheathed on his hip.
Although she was still visibly uncomfortable with the teenager's insistence on joining the Adventurers' Guild, it was through his defiance did Guild Girl catch a glimpse of who Goblin Slayer was— underneath the armor, he was a hurt person, who was trying his damndest to retake what had been taken from him.
"You… You need help, Mr. Ashta— more than you need to put that sword to good use," Guild Girl's words were gentle, almost pitying— striking him like daggers.
'Help?' He thought to himself— nearly laughing, though the sound died in his throat. "The only help I need right now is being shown where the nearest goblin nest is at," he retorted in his usual calm, yet now irritated voice, as he reached further than past the pumble of his blade to instinctively wrap his fingers around the handle of his weapon.
Already shooting cautious glances at the nearby adventurers who had been spectating the disagreement from nearby, Guild Girl remained steadfast in her boss' decision, as she shook her head firmly before saying, "I'm sorry, but you're not going to find that sort of help here— not now, at least."
He clenched his fist tighter around his sword, the leather of his gloves creaking. 'I should have expected this from the moment I stepped foot in here. They sit here in safety, making rules, drawing lines— playing at being heroes, while goblins are roaming the wild, unchecked, preying on villages. On families,' Ren thought resentfully to himself— his frustration finally beginning to get the better of him, as his thoughts strayed back to his sister.
'They'll never understand. None of them will.'
"I'm… I'm here to kill goblins," He growled— his voice low, filled with a quiet, simmering fury. "Why do my reasons for being here even matter?"
Guild Girl winced, but held his gaze. "It matters because being an adventurer isn't just about killing monsters— despite what preconceived notion you had of us. It's about... It's about knowing your limits, working with others. Following rules."
The words were spoken carefully, but they felt like hollow excuses to him. 'Rules. What good are those meaningless rules, if most of the people they approve to be adventurers end up dead early on?!'
He didn't care about limits or teamwork. He didn't care about anything other than wiping out every last goblin that dared draw breath.
The silence between them stretched, growing heavier, suffocating. Finally, something inside him snapped. Without another word, he turned sharply, his cape swirling around him as he headed for the door. The weight of their judgment pressed down on him, but his resolve was sharper than ever.
"Wait!" Guild Girl's voice was frantic now, her footsteps echoing as she took a step toward him. "Please, you don't have to leave like this! There are still other options! We can reassess in a few months, maybe-"
"-No." His voice was flat, the word cutting through her plea. He stopped briefly at the door, his hand on the worn wood. "I don't need your guild— I don't need any of you."
Guild Girl's eyes widened, but before she could respond, he continued, the words spilling out with cold, clear conviction. "I'll make my own guild; one that actually makes sense," Ren declared in a vindictive tone, as he looked over his shoulder to stare at the stunned brunette over the counter. "I'll slay every last goblin on Earth… And anything, or anyone else for that matter, that stands in my way."
He then turned forward and shoved the door open— the sudden slam reverberating through the lobby of the crowded building. The cool evening air, damp with mist and the threat of rain, greeted him as he stormed out into the streets.
'"High-risk liability…" What a load of utter bullshit,' Goblin Slayer scoffed to himself, as droplets of the hazy weather began to accumulate over his leather set of armor. 'It doesn't matter now— what's done is done.'
His breath came fast, his chest tight with rage and something darker, something deeper that he had buried long ago. 'I'll figure it out, just like how I've always done. I'll find others—people who understand what needs to be done— and have the means necessary to arm them for war. No bureaucracy. No tests. Just results.' The idea lodged itself firmly in his mind, like a seed planted in the dark.
Behind him, Guild Girl stood at the entrance, her heart racing as she watched him disappear into the fog. "Please… You're making a mistake," She whispered, though the words barely reached her own ears. She wanted to call him back, to find some way to make him understand—but she knew it was too late.
As the door shut far behind him, Goblin Slayer was too far away to hear it close. 'I'll build an army if I have to. I'll slay the last of their kind, by any means necessary,' he vowed silently, the thought wrapping around him like the weathered armor he wore. 'And I won't stop until the world is rid of their filth.'
His path seemed more clear now than it ever had been. The guild didn't want him, and the way he saw it, nor did they attempt to even try to understand him. So he would build something better, something efficient: a guild where no one would stand in his way.
A guild made for one purpose: obliterating goblins.
Upon the following morning, a pale light filtered through the dense canopy of trees— casting long, jagged shadows over the forest floor. Beneath the Earth. deep within the belly of a cave, all was still. The stench of rot and filth permeated the air— hanging heavy like a sickly fog.
Faint groans and the sound of labored breathing echoed from the back of the cavern, where women—of various races—laid bound and broken— their bodies bruised and battered, awaiting another nightmare at the hands of their savage captors.
The goblins slept, sprawled out across the cold stone floor in a tangle of grotesque limbs. Their snoring filled the cave, a symphony of rasping breaths and guttural snores.
At the entrance of the cave, crouched in the shadows, Goblin Slayer waited. His breathing was slow, measured, but his pulse pounded in his ears, a drumbeat that echoed the cold rage in his chest.
'Cretans. All of them.'
He adjusted his grip on the short sword in his right hand— the blade sharp and dull at the same time, a weapon forged for work, not glory. In his left hand, he held a crude torch, its flame flickering, casting dancing shadows across the walls.
Strapped to his forearm was the iron buckler, a small, worn shield that came with the equipment he purchased the other day. It had dents and scratches, evidence of its previous owner, but it would serve him well enough.
'Weapons. Supplies. I'm going to need what they've collected from their raids.'
He moved without hesitation, his footfalls soundless on the stone. His body, covered in a patchwork of dented armor and worn leather, moved with the fluidity of a predator.
The goblins were unprepared. They always were. Arrogant in their small victories, they believed themselves safe in their nests, protected by the darkness.
The first goblin never saw him coming. Goblin Slayer descended upon it with brutal efficiency, driving the tip of his short sword into the base of its skull. There was no sound, no cry of alarm—just a brief spasm of limbs as the creature's body went limp. He pulled the blade free, a quick, fluid motion, wiping it on the ragged fur that covered the goblin's corpse.
'One.'
He moved to the next— a hobgoblin, slumped against the wall, and a club resting by its side. Before it could even stir, he brought the edge of the iron buckler down on its throat, crushing its windpipe with a sickening crunch. The goblin's eyes bulged in terror as it choked on its own blood. Without hesitation, Goblin Slayer drove his sword into its chest— silencing it for good.
'Two.'
He could hear the shuffling of other goblins now, the sound of them stirring as they sensed something was wrong. He moved quickly, a blur in the shadows. He extinguished the torch by plunging it into the nearest pool of stagnant water. Darkness enveloped him, but he had learned to see through it long ago.
'They won't escape— I won't allow it.'
A goblin near the back of the cave groaned, blinking its beady eyes as it woke. Goblin Slayer was on it before it could rise, grabbing its head with one hand and slamming it into the rock wall. The goblin let out a shriek, but the sound was cut short as his short sword found its mark, piercing the goblin's temple. Blood splattered across his armor, warm and thick.
'Three.'
A hiss of movement behind him—another goblin had woken, and this one was faster, smarter. It lunged at him with a rusted dagger, snarling in fury. Goblin Slayer twisted, raising his shield to deflect the blow.
The dagger glanced off the iron with a loud clang, and before the goblin could react, Goblin Slayer slammed the edge of the shield into its face. Teeth shattered, blood sprayed, and the creature staggered backward with a howl of pain. Goblin Slayer followed up with a swift, precise stab to its gut, twisting the blade as he withdrew it. The goblin collapsed in a heap, its life leaking out onto the cold stone.
'Four.'
More goblins were awake now— their eyes wild with panic. They began scrambling, reaching for crude weapons, all while screeching in confusion and anger. They weren't used to being attacked in their own den. They weren't used to a hunter who was not afraid of their numbers.
'Good. Let them panic. Let them feel fear.'
One goblin—a larger one, perhaps the chief—grabbed a crude spear and charged at him. Goblin Slayer stood his ground, eyes narrowing as the goblin closed the distance. At the last moment, he sidestepped, slashing downward with his sword. The blade caught the goblin's arm, severing it cleanly at the elbow. The goblin howled in agony, dropping the spear as it clutched the bleeding stump.
"Monsters," Goblin Slayer hissed under his breath, his voice a low growl. He kicked the goblin to the ground and drove his sword through its throat— taking sadistic pleasure from the way he heard it gurgle pathetically while blood pooled from underneath it.
'Five.'
Another goblin, smaller but more nimble, darted toward him with a jagged knife, aiming for his legs. Goblin Slayer anticipated the move, blocking the knife with his shield and swinging his sword in a vicious arc, slicing the goblin's head clean off its shoulders. The head rolled across the cave floor, its expression frozen in shock.
'Six.'
One by one, they fell. Some tried to flee, but the narrow cave left them no escape. Goblin Slayer hunted them down with relentless precision, cutting through them as though they were nothing. Each strike was calculated, each kill efficient. There was no hesitation, no mercy.
When the last goblin fell, Goblin Slayer stood amidst the carnage— breathing heavily, his armor splattered with blood. The cave was silent now, save for the whimpers of the captives in the back. He glanced at them briefly, but his focus remained on the task at hand. He had what he needed.
Goblin Slayer knelt by the bodies, stripping them of their weapons—spears, daggers, crude clubs—and gathering anything of use. The goblins' tools were primitive, but they would serve a purpose.
Unable to carry his freshly looted haul with him just yet, he took a final glance at the pile of dead goblins, before herding the women up toward the cave entrance— disappearing into the morning light with them under his watchful eye.