The house was dark, lit only by the faint moonlight streaming in through cracks in the boarded windows. Hell breaking loose outside, and a fire raging on the inside. The boy, his ten-year-old self, crouched beneath the floorboards, peeking through the slats as the door was smashed apart. His heart pounded in his ears, his body trembling as the first goblin crawled through the shattered frame, its claws scraping against the wooden floor.
Vivine was there, standing in the center of the room, her back straight but her hands trembling. Her breath came in quick, shallow bursts, the knife in her hand quivering as she held it up, a poor defense against the swarm now flooding the room.
"I love you," she whispered, her voice soft, trembling. The boy saw her lips move, though he barely heard her over the rising sound of growls and cackles from the goblins as they closed in on her.
But then, everything shifted.
He was no longer watching from under the floorboards. He was standing in the center of the room, next to Vivine. Except he wasn't ten anymore. He was fifteen— older, stronger— and his breath came in short, ragged bursts. His chest rose and fell with a fury he could barely contain.
The goblins were everywhere, circling her, their eyes glinting with savage delight. One of them lunged forward, claws outstretched toward her.
'No.'
'Not again.'
'Not this time.'
'Not ever.'
Without thinking, he moved. His body surged forward with a speed that didn't feel human. His hand shot out, grabbing the goblin by the throat before it reached his sister. He squeezed, his fingers crushing bone and flesh like paper. The creature's eyes bulged as its throat collapsed under the pressure, and with a violent twist, he threw its lifeless body to the ground.
Vivine gasped, stepping back as the remaining goblins snarled in confusion— their eyes darting between her and him. Blood roared in his ears, his heart hammering against his ribs. His left eye burned, glowing bright red, and with each pulse of rage, crimson lightning crackled around his body.
The goblins charged. He moved faster.
He slammed his fist into the nearest goblin's skull— shattering bone with a single blow. Blood sprayed across the room as he grabbed another by the arm and ripped it from its socket— the creature howling in agony as it fell to the ground.
He didn't stop. His vision blurred with fury, his body moving with an unnatural speed as he tore through them, his hands tearing, crushing, and ripping the goblins apart. Their blood coated his skin, splattered against the walls, the floor, and his sister.
One goblin tried to retreat, scurrying back toward the broken door. He didn't give it the chance. He crossed the room in a blur, his hand plunging through the creature's chest, fingers closing around its heart. With a vicious twist, he ripped it free, watching as the goblin collapsed, lifeless.
The room fell silent.
The last of them were dead. The floor was soaked in their blood, bodies piled at his feet, limbs and entrails strewn across the room in a chaotic mess of gore. He stood there, breathing hard, his fists clenched, his body trembling with the last remnants of his bloodlust.
Slowly, he turned toward Vivine.
She stood frozen, her back pressed against the wall, her wide eyes fixed on him. Her body trembled, her face pale, covered in blood. She stared at him as though she didn't recognize him— as though she was seeing him for the first time. He took a step toward her, his chest tight, his heart breaking as he saw the fear in her eyes.
"It's me," he whispered, his voice hoarse, barely more than a breath. "Vivi..."
Tears welled up in his eyes as he reached out for her, his arms aching for the embrace that had once made him feel safe. He stepped closer, his fingers brushing the air between them.
But before he could touch her, something cold plunged into his abdomen.
His eyes went wide. He stumbled back, gasping as pain ripped through him, his blood running hot and thick from the wound. His hand instinctively reached down, clutching at the hilt of the knife now embedded in his stomach.
Vivine stood before him, her hand gripping the handle of the knife, her body trembling violently. Tears streamed down her face as she glared at him, her eyes filled with anguish, her lips quivering as she spoke.
"Y-You're not my brother," she sobbed. "N-Not anymore, you're not…!"
He couldn't breathe. He stared at her, his vision blurring, his heart shattering as her words tore through him.
"If…! I-if I had known…! If I had known you would turn into this…! T-This m-monster…!" Her voice broke, and she choked on her own tears. "I… I-I would s-should have let them kill you…! I-I would have saved myself instead…!"
He stumbled back, the knife pulling free from his body as he fell to the floor. His innards spilled out, wet and slimy, plopping onto the blood-soaked ground. He gasped, the air escaping him in shallow, ragged breaths as he looked down at his mutilated stomach.
Blood poured from the wound, mixing with the gore on the floor.
He looked up at Vivine, but she wouldn't meet his gaze. She just stood there, crying, her face twisted in pain and disgust. "You're not my brother anymore," she whispered. "Y-You're just like them: a murderer…!"
His heart pounded in his ears, and he looked around him. The blood, the bodies— the goblins— they weren't goblins anymore.
They were people.
Naked, mutilated bodies of men, women, and children littered the floor, their blood pooling at his feet. His breath caught in his throat as he recognized them— people from his village, people he had known. Their eyes stared up at him, lifeless, their limbs twisted and broken, their faces frozen in terror.
"No…" He whispered, his voice shaking. "I-I had to…! T-They were-"
"LIAR!" Vivine screamed at him, her voice full of hatred and betrayal, "YOU WENT OUT OF YOUR WAY TO KILL THEM— ALL OF THEM ARE DEAD, BECAUSE OF YOU!" Her banshee voice nearly drowned out the sound of his own heartbeat, as it grew louder, faster.
Overwhelmed with confliction and shame, the teenager reached up and grabbed fistfuls of his hair— pulling hard, trying to block it all out.
"MURDERER!"
"PSYCHOPATH!"
"EVIL!"
Then, suddenly, Burglar appeared from the shadows, cackling as he leaped onto Goblin Slayer's back. The Rhea drove a dagger into his flesh, again and again, each stab sending shockwaves of pain through his body.
"Worthless!" Burglar spat, his voice full of venom. "You're nothing but a failure! A disgrace! You couldn't save her, and now you're just like one of them— a godless monster!"
Goblin Slayer screamed— a guttural, primal sound of agony and despair, as Burglar's knife sank deeper and deeper into his back. Vivine's voice rose above it all, her hateful words piercing him like knives, her sobs cutting deeper than any blade.
"I HATE YOU!"
"I'VE ALWAYS HATED YOU!"
"YOU WERE WHY THEY CAME FOR US!"
"YOU'RE WHY I'M DEAD!"
The house around him erupted into flames, black smoke filling the air, choking him as he bled out on the floor. He could feel the heat of the fire searing his skin, the smoke burning his lungs, but all he could do was scream as the nightmare consumed him.
The darkness swallowed him whole.
Goblin Slayer awoke with a start, his heart pounding, his body drenched in cold sweat. His mind was still tangled in the remnants of a nightmare— heartbreaking and mortifying.
The nightmare clung to him, his chest heaving as he shook, tears streaming down his face without permission. He wiped at them furiously— not wanting to acknowledge their presence. His breath came in ragged gasps, and for a moment, he couldn't breathe— as though the weight of his older sister's nightmarish words still had him pinned beneath their clawed hand.
He pressed a hand to his forehead— trying to ease the pounding in his skull, and was still trembling from the experience. It took several long, painful moments for him to start calming down— his heart still racing as he forced himself to take deep, steady breaths. His body felt sluggish, drained from the intensity of it all.
When he finally peeled his eyes open, the room came into focus. He blinked, squinting against the dim light filtering through the hanging beads. Palm wood walls. Rugs and tapestries adorned the space in soft, Earth tones. The scent of incense hung faintly in the air, familiar and calming.
'Remi's bedroom… I'm in Remi's bedroom.'
The realization hit him, grounding him as his breath began to steady. Remi's presence lingered here, the familiarity of it providing a sense of comfort and safety he hadn't expected. He wasn't in the nightmare anymore— he was somewhere safe.
That brief relief was soon replaced by a sharp tension when the door creaked open. Goblin Slayer's senses snapped to attention— his body rigid as his hand instinctively reached for a weapon that wasn't there. He forced himself to relax when he saw who entered.
'… It's her again.'
The same goblin girl from before. She hesitated in the doorway, her large round eyes widening at the sight of him.. Her long brown hair framed her flat nose and round face, her expression one of clear concern.
She didn't speak right away. She seemed uncertain, but there was no malice in her gaze— just worry. She held a clay cup of water, cradling it close to her small chest as if to offer some peace. Her breath caught when she saw the tears on his face, the way he trembled, and she took a small step forward— careful not to startle him further.
"Are you... Alright?" Her voice was soft, hesitant, as though unsure if she should speak.
Goblin Slayer sat up slightly, wiping his face again, trying to regain control. "I… I'm… I-I'm fine," he rasped, his voice strained. "Just… A really, really bad dream."
She lingered near the door for a moment longer, still wary, but then stepped fully into the room— her eyes never leaving him. "You don't look fine," she murmured gently, though she approached cautiously. "Poor thing— you're shaking…"
Goblin Slayer tensed, his instinctive distrust battling with his need for decorum. The memory of how he had treated her before tugged at him. He forced himself to relax, his gaze softening despite his racing heart. "Sorry," he muttered. "I… I don't want to worry you— I'll be okay, really…"
She nodded slightly, her wariness still there, but she was trying to mask it. "I… I brought you some water." She extended the clay cup toward him, her hands trembling slightly as she offered it. "Just like yesterday, huh? Heh…"
Goblin Slayer hesitated, then gingerly reached out, his fingers brushing against hers as he took the cup. Her breath hitched, and she quickly looked away— her yellow eyes flickering with uncertainty. He brought the rim of the cup to his lips, taking a long, slow drink, letting the cool liquid soothe his dry throat.
It felt good, grounding, even as his body still shook faintly from the remnants of the nightmare.
After another sip, he set the cup down on the bedside table. His gaze remained downcast, his thoughts swirling. "What's… What's your name?"
The goblin girl blinked, surprised by the question. She hesitated before answering, her voice almost too quiet. "It's… Talli."
"Talli," he repeated softly, committing the name to memory. He stared at the floor for a long moment, wrestling with himself, with the deep-rooted hatred and the guilt gnawing at him. His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke again. "I'm… I'm sorry. For the way I treated you the other day."
Talli fidgeted, clearly unsure how to respond to the unexpected apology. She took a cautious step closer, her voice soft. "It's okay. I-"
"-No," Goblin Slayer interrupted, shaking his head. "No, it's not. I… I was wrong." He sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "I'm just… Working through some… S-Stuff," His voice dropped to a near whisper. "But even so… That doesn't excuse how I treated you or the others yesterday."
Talli looked at him for a long moment, her expression softening with understanding. She stepped a little closer, her small hand hovering over his arm before she placed it there gently. "It's not entirely your fault," she said quietly. "We know what people think of us. The imp goblins... They've given the rest of us all a bad name. It's hard to see us differently. But… Maybe one day Zemuria will see us all in a better light again. The only thing we can really do is hold our heads high, and carry on— striving to be the change we want to see."
Goblin Slayer flinched at the touch, but he didn't pull away. He met her gaze, struggling to reconcile the images in his mind— the nightmares, the hatred, the memories— with the reality in front of him.
Talli withdrew her hand after a moment, changing the subject. "The Storm Lord… They've been keeping us all busy while you've been recovering. They've ordered us to pack everything up. We're getting ready to stage a move."
"Move?" Goblin Slayer's brow furrowed. "Move where?"
"To your fortress," she said with a small smile. "In the Evergreen Forest! Storm Lord said we'll have a new home to call our own, and all new jobs under you soon."
The words hit him like a punch. He sat up straighter, ignoring the ache in his body. "W… W-What?"
She nodded, looking more excited now. "They gave the order last night. The entire village is preparing to join your guild."
Goblin Slayer's mind reeled. The thought of a village full of goblins joining his guild felt impossible, absurd even. But as the initial shock settled, he began to piece it together. Delrivkat couldn't survive without the Sahara Outpost, and the bandaged woman had destroyed that. Remi must've known that staying here wasn't an option.
Still, the idea of goblins in his guild was quite overwhelming to grasp.
He forced himself to stay composed, though the thought bothered him deeply. "I… I see," he said after a long pause. "Thank you… Thank you for everything you and your colleagues have done for me."
Talli gave him a soft smile, sensing his unease but saying nothing about it. "Would you… Would you like me to help you get an outfit for you? I can take you to see the Storm Lord when you're ready."
Goblin Slayer hesitated, but then nodded, gratitude lacing his tone. "That would be… Helpful. Thank you, again."
As Talli gathered some clothes for him, Goblin Slayer's mind lingered on the nightmare, the weight of it still clinging to his bones.
Remi stood at the edge of the courtyard, basking in the warmth of the morning sun as it rose over the palm wood rooftops of Delrivkat. They were dressed in their usual laid-back style— a white crop-top shirt that left their toned midriff exposed, paired with beige jungle shorts that cut off just above the knee, and a pair of worn, sturdy leather boots. Sunglasses gleamed on their face, catching the sunlight, and their v-shaped guitar was slung over their back.
They took a slow, deliberate sip from the iced bottle of pink soda in their hand— the condensation running down its sides as they savored the sweetness of the drink. Their lips curled into a relaxed smile as they surveyed the bustling courtyard below, where goblins hurried back and forth, preparing for the impending exodus.
It was a far cry from the chaos of the previous night's raids on Muhati's worst offenders.
Remi's moment of peace was interrupted by the soft padding of footsteps. A goblin woman with long, blond hair tied in a loose ponytail, wearing red-rimmed glasses that perched precariously on her small nose, approached. She held a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other, her expression professional and composed as she greeted Remi with a respectful nod.
"Storm Lord," she began, her tone formal. "I've come to give you an update on the captives you and Old Sport rescued last night."
Remi didn't turn immediately, taking another long sip of their soda before addressing her, "Go on, Dr. Alorine."
Dr. Alorine adjusted her glasses, flipping through the notes on her clipboard. "They've been treated for their injuries and dehydration. They should be fit for transport. We can have them moved onto an ambulance wagon if you give the order."
Remi finally glanced her way, flashing a laid-back smile. "Glad to hear it. But keep them in the medical bay for a little longer. Keep them monitored until we're ready to leave. Once Sportsy comes back from Crossbell, we'll drop them all off in Matterhorn— we'll let Pendragon's goons deal with them."
Dr. Alorine nodded curtly, scribbling down the instructions with swift efficiency. "Understood, Storm Lord. I'll see to it personally."
She turned to leave, only to be replaced by another goblin who stepped up just as she walked away. He was much older, with deep wrinkles around his large eyes, and a pair of safety goggles perched on his brow. His salvaged iron hard hat had seen better days, dented and scratched, but it gave him an air of authority. He flipped through the pages of his clipboard as he approached Remi.
"Morning, Storm Lord," he said with a gravelly voice. "I'm here with the latest on logistics."
Remi took another long sip from their soda, looking at the old goblin over the rim of the bottle. "Hit me with it, Gota."
The old goblin gave a grunt and flipped to the right page on his clipboard. "We've packed the crates full of gold bars, coins, artifacts, and jewelry, just like you asked. Also got food, water, medicine, and some of the more valuable supplies— iron scraps and lithium ores all ready to load onto the wagons."
Remi snapped their fingers with a bit of sass, stopping Gota mid-report. "Ditch the iron, Gota."
Gota blinked, his wrinkled brow furrowing. "But-"
"-Trust me," Remi said coolly, giving him a playful smile. "We'll be able to mine for all the iron we need, once we arrive at Evergreen. No need to waste valuable wagon space with all of that rusty shit weighing us down."
The older goblin scratched his head, then gave a curt nod. "You got it, Storm Lord. I'll have the team swap 'em out for something more useful."
Remi gave a satisfied nod, their smile never faltering. "Good call. And tell the crew that those horses were a gift from ol Suliven— they're gonna make the trip a whole lot easier."
Gota chuckled dryly, flipping his clipboard closed. "Will do. Thanks again for your help." He gave a respectful nod before walking off to relay the new instructions to his team.
Remi watched him go, taking another long sip of their pink soda and letting out a contented sigh. The day was unfolding smoothly, despite the chaos from the night before. The courtyard was alive with goblins preparing for their departure, and everything seemed to be falling into place.
That was, until they glanced over their shoulder and spotted Goblin Slayer approaching.
He was dressed in a sleeveless black turtleneck shirt that hugged his athletic frame, black cargo pants, and his usual sturdy leather boots. His face, as always, was stoic, but there was something uneasy about his expression— something that didn't sit right with Remi. The sunglasses didn't hide the way they narrowed their eyes, instantly picking up on his mood.
But that didn't stop Remi from greeting him with their usual playful energy.
"Why, hello there, Old Sport," Remi said with a flirtatious grin, raising their bottle of soda as though to toast him. "Looking good, but a little tense. Didn't sleep too well without me there, I take it?"
Goblin Slayer's expression remained stone-faced, but his eyes flicked to Remi with a mix of wariness and uncertainty. He approached slowly, his tone as steady as ever, but the tension in his voice was unmistakable. "R… Remi."
Remi's smile faded slightly, their playful demeanor slipping as they caught the subtle shift in his mood. "Something on your mind, Old Sport?"
Goblin Slayer shifted uncomfortably, his eyes briefly darting to the courtyard below. "I… I heard you're moving the entire village to our fortress."
Remi chuckled softly, though they kept it light, sensing his unease. "Yeah. Figured it was time for a change of scenery. Delrivkat can't exactly thrive without the outpost, and… Well, somebody's gotta do all the bitch-work, and it sure as shit ain't gonna be us."
Goblin Slayer frowned, clearly still conflicted, but he said nothing for a long moment. Remi, sensing the weight of his thoughts, sipped their soda again, this time more thoughtfully.
"I'll go over the details with you later— just know it's in all our best interests, Sportsy," they said finally, their voice more serious now, though still laced with their usual charm. "You look like you've got something to say, and I ain't exactly a patient person, so… Spit it out already, Old Sport."
Goblin Slayer didn't respond immediately. Instead, he remained silent as a creeping unease settled in his chest— gnawing at his insides. He could feel the nausea building up, his breaths shallow and uneven. He hesitated, staring at the ground before finally letting out a shaking breath, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Remi… Are we… Are we friends…?"
Remi's sunglasses gleamed as they titled their head at him— raising an eyebrow in surprise before breaking into a playful grin. "Well, if committing mass murder together doesn't make two people friends, I don't know what does, Old Sport."
The word "murder" hit Goblin Slayer like a punch to the gut. He flinched visibly, his entire body tensing up— the nauseating feeling returning in full force.
Remi, noticing the reaction, softened their grin into something gentler. Their usual laid-back attitude shifted— becoming more subtle, more sincere. They sighed, then extended the icy bottle of pink soda in their hand toward him. "Here, Sportsy. Drink up; you look like you need it more than I do."
Goblin Slayer blinked, his confusion momentarily cutting through his anxiety as he accepted the glass bottle. He stared at the pink liquid inside, carbonated bubbles rising slowly to the surface. Turning the bottle in his hand, he read the label aloud: "Sharky Pop: Manta Melon."
"What… What is this?" The teen asked— his voice still carrying an edge of nervousness.
Remi chuckled lightly. "It's an imported sugary drink from the Great Barrier Sea, Old Sport. Expensive, but worth every silver coin. Since this morning, I've been trying to finish off the ones I've accumulated from the Sahara Outpost before they go flat— I figured with all the elevation changes along the Fallen Pedal Trail, all the fizz wouldn't hold up. So go ahead. Have at it."
Goblin Slayer stared at the bottle for a moment longer before bringing it cautiously to his lips. The first sip hit him like a shock— overwhelmingly sweet, with a fizzy sharpness that made his nose twitch. He immediately recoiled, barely keeping from spitting it out.
Remi laughed at his reaction, grinning wide. "Yeah, it's an acquired taste. You gotta keep drinking it to really appreciate it. Come on, keep sipping, Sportsy— shit's expensive."
Still uncertain but determined to push through, the teen raised the bottle again and took another sip. This time, while the sweetness still jarred him, it wasn't as unbearable. Slowly, sip by sip, the drink started to grow on him, refreshing and oddly satisfying. Before he realized it, he had finished the bottle, staring down at it in surprise.
Remi, watching with an amused smile, tilted their head. "See? Not bad, right?"
Goblin Slayer nodded quietly. "It's… It's cool and crisp— I like it a lot."
"Good," Remi said, giving him a playful nudge. "I'll send you off with a couple more bottles for the road. You'll thank me later."
The mention of leaving made Goblin Slayer's heart drop again, the anxiety creeping back. His voice wavered as he asked, "Y… You're not coming with me… A-Are you…?"
Remi's playful tone took on a begrudging note as they shook their head. "Nope. Gotta stay here in Delrivkat. Someone has to keep the supplies and our future workforce safe, you know? It's my responsibility— to our guild, and to you."
Goblin Slayer felt a twinge of guilt and gratitude mix inside him. "I… I really appreciate everything you've done for me, Remi. When I first started out wanting to make a guild… I honestly didn't think I could do it."
Remi let out a small chuckle. "What, never had any self-confidence in ya, eh Sportsy?"
But their grin faded when Goblin Slayer's expression didn't match the joke. Instead, he offered a sad, small smile, shaking his head. "N… No; no one's ever truly ever had confidence in me. Except for a few orcs I met on my way to Matterhorn. There's one in particular— Grusha… She said I could do it. She believed in me. But… Part of me doubted her too— doubted myself, just like everyone else had."
He paused, looking down at the empty bottle in his hand before glancing back at Remi. "But you… You don't just tell me I can do it. You prove to me that it's possible. That it's not just some lie I've been telling myself." He then paused, and let out a soft sigh as swallowed the lump in his throat. "T… Thank you… Thank you for everything, Remi."
Remi didn't speak for a moment, processing the weight of Goblin Slayer's words. Their usual cool demeanor softened even more as they placed a hand gently on his shoulder. "Don't mention it, Old Sport. What else are best friends for, eh?"
Goblin Slayer's eyes widened, his cheeks tingling with the faintest shade of red. "Best… Friends?" He muttered, almost as if the concept was foreign to him. "I… I haven't been anyone's best friend in… In quite some time."
Remi grinned again, though this time it was less teasing and more genuine. "Well, I've never really considered anyone a friend before— let alone a best friend— so that's how you know it's a big deal. You're a big deal to me, Old Sport— never forget that while you're away from me."
For a moment, they stood in the quiet of the morning, sharing the moment between them. But as the teen's smile slowly faded— the weight of his worries returned.
"I… I'm nervous… To go back out on the road," he admitted, his voice quiet again. "Without you, I feel… I feel vulnerable."
Remi patted his shoulder again, their smile widening as they leaned in closer. "Oh, don't worry about that. I've already thought of something. I'm gonna teach you how to cast that buff spell I used on you last night! I call it: "Destroy Mode"— the fuckin' name is still a work in progress."
Goblin Slayer furrowed his brow, the name sounding foreign to him. "Destroy Mode?"
"Yeah," Remi said, nodding confidently. "When you were in that mode, you didn't feel any moral conundrums or hesitation when it came to killing, right? No fatigue either. I'll feel a whole lot fuckin' better knowing you've got that on your side— especially with how prone you are to getting your shit rocked, Sportsy."
Goblin Slayer nodded slowly, recalling the violent frenzy he had fallen into— the ruthless efficiency with which he had dispatched enemies. The memories somewhat unsettled him, and he couldn't help but wonder if the nightmare he'd had was connected to it.
But he shook the thought away, focusing on the slime monster's words.
"The spell feeds off your emotions," Remi continued, their voice taking on a more serious tone. "And trust me, you've got plenty of hatred in you to make it more effective than I ever thought was possible."
Goblin Slayer grew contemplative, thinking back to that night. The rage, the power— it was almost too much. But there was a twisted appeal to it, something that made him wonder how much further he could push himself under its influence.
He nodded, resolute. "We shouldn't wait then."
Remi's grin returned, full of mischief and excitement. "Oh, I fucking agree, Old Sport! And I know just the place to train ya…!"
