Goblin Slayer walked steadily along the rugged Fallen Pedal Trail as the sun dipped lower— the chill in the air subtly passing through the layers of warmth that light armor provided. The trees had become long since sparse— giving way to jagged rock formations and a terrain that grew steadily more hostile. His breath came out in visible puffs, the temperature dropping as the trail wound higher into the mountains. He kept one hand near the hilt of his short sword, alert to any potential threat, though his thoughts drifted to Forgehart Stronghold and his time spent there.

'I don't understand what negative connotations could exist about orcs— they were nothing but hospitable to me… Perhaps I'm just an exception though? After all, most of them were rather wary of me being there— it's not like they were exactly subtle about their own prejudices against huma-?'

Suddenly, the sound of clinking metal boots snapped him back to the present. A group of soldiers, thirty of them, marched in formation, their steel-plated armor gleaming in the dying light. The Pendragon family crest was emblazoned on their shields, unmistakable. Goblin Slayer instinctively tensed, his hand gripping his sword.

At the front of the formation, a tall woman with ginger hair and a stern expression stepped forward. Her short, bobbed hair framed her sharp features—angular jaw, strong cheekbones, and a no-nonsense demeanor. Despite her masculine features, her well-fitted armor accentuated her curves and muscular build, leaving little doubt about her strength, and the voluptuous body she had beneath her heavy suit of steel armor.

She stopped before him, her stance commanding. "Halt," she said, her voice authoritative but not hostile. "State your business. What brings you along this trail?"

Goblin Slayer met her gaze through the slits of his helmet, his voice flat as always. "Heading to Crossbell. Business."

The woman's sharp eyes swept over him, lingering on his armor, particularly his helmet. She narrowed her gaze slightly, her voice turning more curious than suspicious. "That helmet. It's orichalcum, isn't it?"

Goblin Slayer gave a curt nod. "It is."

The captain studied him a moment longer, clearly interested in the origin of his equipment. "Orichalcum is rare. I've dealt with the orcs in these mountains before. They don't usually hand over their craftsmanship to outsiders." She folded her arms, still watching him closely. "What's your association with them?"

Goblin Slayer didn't hesitate. "Forgehart Clan."

Her expression shifted, suspicion tightening her features. "Forgehart Clan?" She repeated— her voice now edged with wariness. "That explains the helmet, but it doesn't explain why you'd be traveling alone through these mountains with it. Especially if you're not one of them."

There was a brief pause before she spoke again, the formality of her words setting the tone. "I'm Captain D'Arce of the 51st Battalion, Emperor Pendragon's Royal Army. We patrol these mountains, and keep the peace. Your connection to the orcs doesn't sit right with me; not while there's an active dispute over territory."

Goblin Slayer didn't move, his voice remaining even. "I'm Goblin Slayer. I passed through Forgehart Stronghold. They helped with repairs. Nothing more."

D'Arce eyed him for a long moment, clearly weighing his words. The silence between them stretched, thick with unspoken questions, though Goblin Slayer didn't elaborate. He didn't offer more than was necessary.

"You've got guts, walking around in orichalcum armor with no real explanation," D'Arce finally said, her tone somewhere between impressed and cautious. "The orcs don't just hand that out to anyone, especially not a human."

Goblin Slayer met her gaze, unaffected by her probing. "I earned it through hard labor. That's all there is to it."

D'Arce didn't seem convinced, but she wasn't about to start a fight with a lone adventurer in the middle of the trail. "So you're just passing through, then? Nothing more?"

"Just heading to Crossbell," Goblin Slayer repeated— his voice steady.

The captain took a step back, her soldiers shifting uneasily behind her, watching the exchange. D'Arce's eyes flicked over him one last time before she gave a sharp nod. "Fine. You can go, but keep in mind—any trouble between the orcs and the emperor's forces, and you'll be watched closely. We don't take kindly to outsiders getting too involved with them."

Goblin Slayer considered her words, then nodded. "Understood."

She motioned for her soldiers to stand down, but there was still a lingering tension in the air. Before Goblin Slayer turned to leave, D'Arce added, "You should make for the town of Matterhorn before night falls. It's not safe to be out here after dark. Especially alone."

Goblin Slayer acknowledged her with a brief nod, saying nothing more as he continued on the path, his thoughts turning inward. 'I'm surprised to see so many of them out here in the frontier; I don't recall seeing any other military personnel while in the outpost. Maybe it has something to do with securing whatever border they're arguing over? It would explain why Grusha and the others were patrolling.'

And as Goblin Slayer trudged forward on the Fallen Pedal Trail, the air grew colder with every step he took. The rocky terrain of the Iron Flower Mountains had become treacherous, with trees becoming nonexistent, and patches of snow now blanketing the ground. His breath became mist in the chilly air, as the temperature continued to drop. He rubbed his hands up and down his arms, attempting to stave off the cold, but it was futile. The light snowfall turned heavier, dusting his armor as the surrounding clouds thickened.

He glanced up at the darkening sky, the sun long gone and twilight fading. D'Arce's warning echoed in his mind: "It's not safe to be out here after dark. Especially alone."

The deeper into the mountains he went, the harsher the conditions became. A biting wind blew across the barren slopes, and now, he could see his own breath through what little light of the moon could piece through the overcast skies. The snow crunched beneath his boots, and the chill began to seep into his bones.

As he trudged on, a low rumble in the distance made him stop in his tracks. The ground trembled slightly beneath his feet, and he quickly crouched, hand gripping the handle of his short sword. His gaze darted around, scanning the landscape for the source of the disturbance.

Then, he saw her.

A colossal figure emerged from behind a crag, towering at least seven meters tall. An ice giantess, her skin a pale blue like the glaciers that surrounded her, her flowing white hair billowing in the wind. Her facial features were brutish and sharp, her eyes cold and calculating. Her body was covered in thick furs, draped over her muscular form, and beside her lumbered a massive wooly mammoth, its tusks curling menacingly.

The giantess spotted him immediately. Her icy blue eyes narrowed as she let out a low growl, her massive hand gripping the rough wooden log she wielded as a club. The mammoth beside her stomped its foot, snorting loudly, the ground trembling beneath its weight.

Goblin Slayer stood still, assessing the situation. The giantess began to move toward him, her heavy footsteps making the ground quake. She swung her club in his direction, a clear warning to back away.

His hand instinctively went to the tomahawk Sofia had gifted him, but as he considered his options, the reality of the situation became clear. Fighting a seven-meter-tall giantess and a mammoth alone at his fighting level wasn't just reckless— it was suicidal.

He turned and bolted toward the nearest slope— his boots kicking up snow as he ran. Behind him, the giantess let out a deafening roar— her footsteps pounding the earth as she gave chase. Goblin Slayer's eyes scanned the jagged rock face for a way to escape, and his gaze landed on a steep slope that might give him enough height to avoid her swings.

Without hesitation, he pulled the orichalcum tomahawk from his belt and plunged it into the rock. Using it as an ice pick, he scaled the slope quickly, the cold biting at his fingers, as the snow almost immediately seeped through the thin material of his gloves.

But the giantess was faster than he anticipated, and without any hesitation she tossed her makeshift club to the side before beginning to climb after him. Soon, her enormous hand reached up and grabbed hold of his legs, her grip like iron.

Goblin Slayer felt the icy fingers tightening around him, pulling him downward. In a desperate move, he swung the tomahawk— severing two of her thick fingers. The giantess howled in pain, dropping him as she stumbled back. Her agonized scream echoed through the mountains, reverberating off the rocky cliffs.

The snow beneath him began to tremble, then shifted. A rumbling sound grew louder as the slope collapsed into an avalanche.

Goblin Slayer's eyes widened as the wall of snow surged toward him. He tried to scramble up the slope, but the avalanche was too fast. Within moments, the force of the snow swept him off his feet and dragged him down the mountain. He tumbled helplessly, his body battered by the rush of ice and snow, before slamming into the ground— right on top of the fallen giantess.

The impact knocked the wind out of him. As more snow piled on top of him, he was pinned, his body sinking into the cold, suffocating mass. Darkness overtook him.

The snow fell gently from the sky, blanketing the quiet countryside in a thick layer of white. The air was cold but crisp, with the kind of chill that made the world feel peaceful and still. Vivine stood in the yard, cradling a warm cup of coffee in her hands. Her breath came out in small clouds as she watched her younger brother eagerly rolling a snowball across the snow-covered ground. His face was lit up with joy, a rare smile stretching from ear to ear.

"Vivi! Look, it's getting huge!" he shouted, his voice full of excitement. His small hands were red from the cold, but he didn't seem to notice.

Vivine smiled warmly, taking a sip from her cup. "You're doing great! That's going to be the best snowman we've ever built."

The boy puffed out his chest, feeling proud of himself. "I think this one's going to be even bigger than the one we made last year! But you have to help with the head, okay? It's too heavy for me to lift."

"Of course," Vivine chuckled, watching him struggle with the oversized snowball. She walked over to him, her boots crunching softly in the snow. "But first, you should take a break. Your hands must be freezing by now."

He shook his head defiantly, brushing his damp hands on his coat. "I'm fine, Vivi! I want to finish it before the snow stops."

Vivine laughed softly. "The snow isn't going to stop anytime soon. But how about we compromise? You keep working on the snowman's body, and I'll start getting things ready for the face. Deal?"

He thought about it for a second, then nodded enthusiastically. "Deal!"

Vivine crouched down beside him, setting her coffee cup in the snow for a moment. Together, they shaped the snowman's body, the boy's smaller hands carefully smoothing out the surface while Vivine helped him with the trickier parts. The air was filled with the soft sounds of snow being packed together and the occasional giggle when cold snow slipped through his gloves.

"Remember last time how we used those pebbles for the eyes?" Vivine asked as she stood up, brushing the snow from her gloves.

"Yeah!" He said— his face lighting up again at the memory. "And the carrot for the nose. We should do that again!"

Vivine smiled, reaching for her cup. "I think we still have a carrot in the kitchen. Want me to grab it?"

"Yes! And we need something for the hat. Snowmen need hats, right?"

"Right," Vivine agreed, her eyes sparkling with affection. "I'll see what I can find. You keep working on that head, Ren. I'll be right back."

As Vivine headed toward the house, the boy stood in the snow, looking up at the half-finished snowman. He could hear the wind rustling softly through the trees and the faint clink of Vivine's coffee cup as she disappeared inside. For a moment, the world seemed perfect—just him, his sister, and the snowy afternoon.

When Goblin Slayer regained consciousness, he was completely numb, buried beneath layers of snow. He could barely move, his limbs stiff and frozen. His vision was blurred, and for a moment, he struggled to comprehend where he was. Then, he saw flickering lights in the distance—torches cutting through the stormy night.

Voices shouted, and soon, hands were digging through the snow, pulling him free. The icy grip of the avalanche released him, and as his face was cleared, he looked up to see a familiar figure.

D'Arce stood over him, her expression a mix of suspicion and irritation. She crossed her arms, her torch illuminating her stern face. "I warned you," she said, her voice cold as the mountain air. "Didn't I?"

Goblin Slayer, still shivering, didn't respond immediately. He could barely feel his body, let alone speak. Two of her soldiers hauled him to his feet, their faces grim beneath their steel helmets.

D'Arce stared at him, her gaze scanning his battered form, before shaking her head. "You're lucky we found you." She gestured to the mountain, where the remnants of the avalanche still loomed. "That giantess would've been the least of your worries, had my men and I not been nearby."

Goblin Slayer coughed, spitting out snow as he tried to regain his balance. His body was stiff and aching, but he managed a nod. "I'll… take that under advisement," he muttered.

D'Arce's lips quirked into a smirk, though her eyes remained sharp. "Next time, stay away from trouble." She waved her hand, and her soldiers began moving back down the trail. "Now, come on. We'll take you to the next post. The storm's only going to get worse from here."

Goblin Slayer glanced back at the mountain and the fallen giantess, now buried beneath the snow. Silently reflecting on the vague memories he had of the dream he had while buried beneath the snow, the gray-haired teen let out a melancholic sigh before turning away to begin following D'Arce and her men down the trail— his movements stiff, as he limped as fast as he could to keep up with them.

As they trudged along the snow-covered trail, the wind howling through the "Iron Flower Mountains," D'Arce walked beside Goblin Slayer— her gaze shifting between him and the path ahead. The warmth of the torches provided some comfort against the cold, but the air was still biting. The snowfall had lightened, but the chill in the air lingered.

After a few moments of silence, D'Arce glanced at him again, her breath visible in the frigid air. "So, why Crossbell?" She asked, her tone inquisitive but cautious. "What drove you to make such a treacherous journey alone?"

Goblin Slayer kept his eyes forward, his voice low and measured, while his teeth clattered from the cold. "I… I was r-rejected by t-the Adventurers' Guild," he admitted— his words sharp with the sting of memory. "I've b-b-been w-working t-t-toward establishing m-my own g-guild… I n-need h-help f-figuring out h-how t-t-to start it… I f-figured t-that C-Crossbell w-would… W-Would be a g-good place t-to s-start…"

D'Arce raised an eyebrow, her expression shifting to one of curiosity. "Your own guild? That's quite the ambition. Not something you hear every day."

Goblin Slayer nodded. "I-I already h-have the f-foundation… A f-fortress, deep in the "E-Evergreen F-F-Forest"… T-The structure is there, b-but I n-need t-recruits… A n-name… And d-direction… I-I want to l-locate goblin n-nests… A-All across the c-c-continent." He paused for a moment, his tone growing more intense as his whole body continued shivering violently.

D'Arce's eyes widened slightly, impressed by his determination. "That's no small feat," she said, her tone thoughtful. "But you might be biting off more than you can chew— at least at the start. You're talking about a continent-wide hunt. Have you cleared out the forest around your fortress?"

Goblin Slayer's silence answered her question.

D'Arce sighed, her voice tinged with amusement. "You need to focus on one area at a time. It's called divide and conquer. Clear out the Evergreen Forest first. Establish your base of operations. Then move onto the next region. If you spread yourself too thin, you won't make any progress—and worse, you'll get overwhelmed."

Her words hung in the air, and Goblin Slayer considered them. He'd been so focused on exterminating goblins on a massive scale that he had underestimated the importance of military strategy. Dividing and conquering… it made sense, but he cursed himself silently for not thinking of it sooner.

"D-Divide and c-c-conquer," he repeated, almost to himself. He glanced over at her, his voice quieter now, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his tone. "W-Would you… C-Consider j-j-joining m-my g-guild…?"

D'Arce chuckled, shaking her head as they continued walking. "I appreciate the offer," she said, her voice genuine, "but I have to decline. My duties lie with the Royal Army." Her smile faded slightly, replaced with a more thoughtful expression. "But I might know someone who could point you in the right direction."

Goblin Slayer's gaze sharpened. "W-Who…?"

D'Arce's eyes lit up with pride as she spoke. ""Zachariah Xavniik". He was my mentor—a half-elf veteran general. Decades before Arthur Pendragon's coronation, Zachariah led Uthur Pendragon's forces. He's a brilliant strategist, the kind of person who could help you find exactly what you need. If anyone knows how to organize a large-scale operation, it's him."

Goblin Slayer processed this information, his thoughts racing. "W-Where c-can I f-find h-him…?"

D'Arce grinned, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. "You're in luck. He's retired now and living in Crossbell. He runs a coffee shop called "Mythical Mornings" in the uptown area. Not exactly the battlefield, but I hear he's still sharp as ever."

Goblin Slayer nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over him that would have brought him peace, had he still had feeling in his fingers and toes. "T-Thank you… C-Can I h-have a p-piece of p-paper, a-and a… An i-ink p-p-pen…?"

D'Arce smirked, pulling her journal from a satchel at her waist. "In your condition, I doubt your fingers could hold a pen properly." She flipped through the pages before jotting down the information for him. "Here. Everything you need to know about where to find him."

"I-I a-appreciate t-this," he stuttered out simply.

D'Arce gave a curt nod, her expression softening slightly. "Just make sure you don't get yourself killed before you make it there. I didn't dig you out of that avalanche for nothing." She then wrote the information on Zachariah Xavniik and carefully tore the page from her journal. Without breaking stride, D'Arce folded it and reached over, sliding the paper into his small satchel.

"Here. Keep that safe," she said, her voice firm, but a touch of softness in her actions as her fingers brushed against his belt.

Goblin Slayer gave her a nod of appreciation, though his mind was elsewhere. His body ached from the cold, the frostbite creeping through him. Every step felt heavier— his fingers and toes unable to even move, much less feel blood flow. To distract himself from the pain, he asked, "W-What's your s-s-story…?"

D'Arce glanced at him, surprised by the question. She then smiled slightly and shrugged— as if it were no big deal— though the weight of her words said otherwise.

"I was born into this life," she began, her voice carrying over the howling wind. "My family has served the throne for generations. Ever since the Pendragon Royal Army was just a small militia, the D'Arce family has fought for Avaloria. My father was an officer, his father before him. I suppose you could say it's in my blood."

She looked ahead, her gaze distant as if she were seeing the past play out before her. "I didn't have much of a choice, not that I ever wanted a different path. I trained with the sword as soon as I was able to hold one. My entire childhood was spent learning strategy, tactics, and the code of knighthood. By the time I was twelve, I could outfight grown men. I was raised for one thing: to serve."

Goblin Slayer's eyes remained fixed on the trail, the snow growing thicker beneath his feet. His breath was shallow, every step feeling like a battle, but he forced himself to focus. "D-Do you… E-Enjoy i-it…?"

There was a subtle shift in his tone, almost as if he were talking more than usual, anything to stay anchored in the present. The pain from the frostbite gnawed at him, but talking kept his mind off it.

D'Arce's lips curled into a small, thoughtful smile, though there was a hint of something else in her expression— ambiguity, perhaps. "Enjoy? Maybe. It's hard to say. I don't know anything else, really." She paused for a moment— her eyes catching his invisible gaze, before looking ahead again. "Sometimes, I wonder what more there is to life than just… this."

She let out a long breath, the cold air swirling in front of her. "I've seen the world, but never really lived in it, if that makes sense."

Goblin Slayer considered her words. For a moment, it reminded him of his own life, how he had spent every waking moment thinking about one thing: killing goblins.

"W… W-Would you ever l-leave…?" Goblin Slayer asked in a quiet voice, while unable to realize that he was asking the question more so to himself than to the knight beside him.

D'Arce shook her head, her expression hardening, but not unkindly. "I have a duty to Avaloria. To its people. I was born into this, and I'll die in it." There was a quiet conviction in her voice, a certainty that she had accepted long ago. "The Royal Army is my life."

Her words struck a chord with him. Goblin Slayer didn't know much about duty beyond the desire to kill goblins, but he understood the weight of responsibility. Yet, her words stirred something deeper within him.

'Do I have a duty, beyond goblins? Am I even capable of being more than this? Is this all that I can be? All that I'll ever be?' As they walked in silence for a while, Goblin Slayer found himself reflecting on the possibilities.

D'Arce glanced over at him, her gaze softening for a moment. "You remind me of myself, you know," she said quietly, almost to herself. "Focused. Determined. You seem like the sort of man who knows his purpose in life, and is content with that— I can respect that."

Goblin Slayer didn't respond immediately, but her words stayed with him as they pressed on through the cold, the snow falling heavier now as the shadows of the mountains stretched longer across the trail.

As they reached the peak of the trail, the world below was obscured by the swirling snowstorm. What should have been a breathtaking view of "Stardust Valley" was now hidden beneath a thick curtain of wind and snow, the distant landscape barely visible.

Goblin Slayer squinted into the storm, trying to make sense of the shifting shadows, but the cold gnawed at his senses, making it difficult to focus.

D'Arce, sensing his struggle, glanced over at him. His condition had worsened; his breathing was shallow, and his movements sluggish. She stepped closer, her armor clinking as she sheathed her longsword at her hip. "We're less than thirty minutes away from Matterhorn," she reassured him, her voice loud enough to cut through the howling wind. "It's all downhill from here— easier going than the climb."

Without warning, she wrapped an arm behind his shoulders, pulling him in close to her armored body. The contrast between them was stark; she stood taller than him, her broad frame and heavy armor dwarfing his form. Goblin Slayer couldn't help but notice how her hips flared beneath her armor, the curves of her body pressed against him.

For a fleeting moment, a thought crossed his mind, but he quickly pushed it away, focusing instead on the icy wind biting at every inch of his covered body.

D'Arce supported him as they walked, her grip steady and firm. "We'll make it," she said, her voice calmer now that she had him secured beside her. But just as they began their descent, a sharp whistle cut through the air.

A volley of arrows rained down from above the slopes, striking the soldiers behind them. Ten men fell almost instantly, their cries of pain swallowed by the wind. D'Arce reacted swiftly by pulling Goblin Slayer closer to her— her shield raised high to deflect the arrows. "Defensive positions!" She commanded, her voice sharp and authoritative. Her men closed in, shields raised toward the direction of the hidden archers.

The arrows kept coming, relentlessly. D'Arce quickly assessed the situation and raised her shield-carrying hand— chanting words of power. In an instant, a protective bubble of yellow magic surrounded them, shimmering in the storm as the arrows bounced harmlessly off the magical barrier.

"Collect the wounded!" D'Arce ordered— her voice rising over the chaos. Her soldiers moved swiftly, carrying the injured men as the protective bubble shielded them from the onslaught. The bombardment continued— arrows, and now explosives, rattled the shield, testing its strength.

Goblin Slayer, still numb from the cold, watched in awe as D'Arce took full control of the situation. She was commanding, precise, and unshaken by the chaos. Her mind worked quickly, and with a sharp command, she ordered six of her men to switch to their crossbows.

"Enchant your bolts," she commanded. The soldiers quickly complied, their crossbow bolts glowing faintly as they were imbued with a spell. "Aim for the base of the slope. FIRE!"

The men unleashed their bolts, and D'Arce wasted no time. Before Goblin Slayer could process what was happening, she grabbed him with one arm, lifting him effortlessly onto her shoulder. "Double time!" She commanded, ordering her men to advance down the trail as quickly as possible.

Goblin Slayer, bewildered by the sudden movement, was carried like a sack over her shoulder. He wasn't sure what was happening, but as the ground beneath them began to tremble, he realized what D'Arce had done.

The explosions at the base of the slope triggered an avalanche, the deafening roar of snow and rock cascading down the mountain.

The avalanche thundered down, sweeping away any archers who had taken position on the slopes. D'Arce didn't stop, moving quickly down the trail with Goblin Slayer still slung over her shoulder, her men following in tight formation.

When the avalanche finally settled, leaving a path of destruction in its wake, D'Arce slowed her pace. "Circle back," she ordered— her voice commanding but calm. "Search for survivors. We need them alive for questioning."

Her men spread out, methodically searching the aftermath of the avalanche. D'Arce— still holding Goblin Slayer as if he weighed nothing— scanned the snowy slopes for any signs of movement. She showed no sign of fatigue, carrying him with ease, her sharp eyes focused on the task ahead.

Goblin Slayer, though exhausted and in pain, couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for D'Arce. 'She carries herself with authoritative confidence— professional, and her voice alone demands respect. She's a leader… I need to be like that.'

As they moved forward, his thoughts briefly shifted away from the cold and the pain. With D'Arce's protective hold around him remained firm, and the knowledge that they were so close to reaching the town of Matterhorn, Goblin Slayer finally allowed himself to relax— as much as he could, while being as close to a frozen death as he was.

And as fatigue finally began creeping in alongside the chilling cold coursing through his constricted veins, Goblin Slayer jolted awake just as his heavy eyelids were about the shut close— an earthy aroma entered through his nostrils, one that he recognized an instant.

'… Coffee?'