Let's Build a Guild!

by The Lemon Farmer

Failing a psyche evaluation, Goblin Slayer is rejected from joining the Adventurers' Guild. Undeterred from pursuing his mission of annihilating goblin-kind, he sets his sight on making his own guild. Starting off with a cleared-out fortress and supplies he looted from a goblin nest, he'll have to start from humble beginning— leading up to recruiting women of all races, and ages.

39. End Game (Part III)

The Forgehart Clan's stronghold, once a thriving and bustling orc settlement, now loomed under the shadow of uncertainty. Massive reinforced walls, made of sturdy steel and orichalcum, encircled the town-sized fortress. The thick scent of coal and evergreen trees hung in the air, and were carried by the cold breeze drifting through the now deserted streets. Dark-brick paved roads, which had once been filled with the heavy footfalls of orc warriors and the clanging of hammers on anvils, now lay empty. The once vibrant heart of the Forgehart stronghold felt like a ghost town; its tall, angular buildings— testaments to orcish ingenuity and craftsmanship— cleared out completely, leaving behind an eerie silence.

At the center of the stronghold stood the chieftain's longhouse— an imposing structure adorned with countless war trophies. The heads of ferocious beasts and formidable enemies hung mounted on the walls, each one telling a story of valor and victory. Tapestries woven with the clan's history lined the walls, and ceremonial weapon replicas were displayed prominently, each one meticulously forged to perfection. Every inch of the longhouse spoke of the might and glory of the Forgehart Clan.

Behind the chieftain's throne, hidden from plain sight, was a vault door. Once opened, it revealed a sloping ramp that led deeper into the earth, winding ten meters beneath the foundation of the stronghold. There, at the base, was the entrance to an underground bunker system— an impenetrable fortress within a fortress.

The spacious vault gate, already open, was flanked by heavily armored orcs— their crossbows drawn and at the ready. Warhammers and shields were held in anticipation, while mounted auto-loaded harpoon guns stood poised to rain destruction upon any intruders. Orc archers manned the guns, with orc shamans by their side, all draped in light armor and prepared to unleash their magic in defense of their people.

The dim corridors were lit by sconces made from intricately carved goat horns— casting a warm, flickering glow over the steel walls. Inside the bunker, hundreds of orcs worked tirelessly as a well-oiled machine preparing for the coming battle. Crates of bolts, arrows, weapons, armor, potions, scrolls, and valuables were hauled through the narrow passageways, carried by the massive, armored orcs with the assistance of swift-moving hill goblins.

Every action was precise, every movement driven by purpose. The clang of metal and the gruff commands of the orc overseers echoed through the halls— painting a picture of readiness and determination.

Through the narrow corridors and down another hallway, the scene shifted to the war room bunker. The air was tense with strategy and focus. A massive wooden table dominated the room— its surface illuminated by the orange glow of a sconce chandelier hanging above.

At the head of the table stood the Chieftain of the Forgehart Clan, Kog'rath Forgehart— a towering orc with scarred green skin, with his muscled arms crossed over his chest as he scrutinized the map before him. His tusked jaw was set in a determined frown— his narrowed eyes focused and unyielding.

The map before them depicted the Evergreen Forest and the Eastern mountain range of the Iron Flower Mountains. Several red flags were placed on strategic points— marking the area around Matterhorn, and the open fields around the vicinity of the stronghold where mortars would likely be deployed.

Beside Kog'rath stood his most trusted officers. Grusha, his second-in-command, watched intently, occasionally flicking her gaze up from the map to steal glances at Goblin Slayer. Her cheeks turned a darker shade of green each time; though she quickly suppressed a smile, focusing back on the task at hand.

At the chieftain's right side, D'Arce stood tall and composed, with her helmet tucked beneath her left arm. Her sharp gray eyes were calculating as they swept over the map— analyzing the positions of the red flags with cold precision. The battle-hardened knight exuded an air of authority, with her mind clearly already processing potential maneuvers and counters.

Beside her, Arc Mage was absorbed in her own thoughts, and her eyes scanning the notes she had hastily jotted down in her barista notepad— repurposed now into a ledger of possible strategies. The flickering light from the chandelier reflected off her glasses as she scribbled furiously, her mind working at a frenetic pace.

High Elf Archer stood nearby, with arms folded across her chest. One hand rested thoughtfully on her chin as she examined the positions of the red flags. Her expression was calm, almost detached, but there was a sharpness in her golden eyes as she mentally calculated the range and terrain.

Across the table from Kog'rath, Goblin Slayer stood— his iconic helmet tucked beneath his arm, much like D'Arce's. His gaze was fixed on the map, his brow furrowed in concentration. Beside him stood Remi; their yellow eyes glowing faintly, as they stared down at the map, with their sunglasses perched on their forehead. There was a quiet intensity about them, with their fingers tracing the edges of the map as though mentally placing themselves in the battlefield.

To their left, Dwarf Shaman stroked his long beard thoughtfully— his keen eyes squinting at the map, taking in every detail. He grunted softly, with his mind clearly working through the potential for magical defenses and offensive spells.

Lizard Priest stood behind Goblin Slayer, his reptilian eyes trying to follow the battle plans, though it was clear that some of the finer tactical details were escaping him. Still, he listened carefully, knowing that his role would be to support his comrades when the time came.

Kog'rath then lowered his hand to gesture toward the red flags scattered across the map. His face, carved with years of battle, held a mixture of focus and uncertainty. His voice, usually gruff and commanding, carried an unfamiliar hesitation as he spoke.

"What I understand..." he began, his deep voice grumbling with the effort to wrap around the unfamiliar term, "is that these… Mortars… They're mobile?"

He then paused, with his red eyes shifting to D'Arce, who stood tall beside him. Her expression remained stoic, her eyes unwavering as she met his gaze. Kog'rath waited, his question lingering in the air.

D'Arce, as composed as ever, answered in a calm, measured tone. "The M1 mortar can reach up to three-thousand yards." She then reached down toward the table to pick up an opisometer from among the scattered tools. With a steady hand, she traced a wide circle around the vicinity of the stronghold and the red flags placed on the map— marking where the mortars would be positioned.

"That's the range we're dealing with," she reiterated, setting the tool down with a metallic clink. Her sharp gray eyes glanced around the room before continuing. "Arclid's regiment has thirty mortars ready to be deployed. Each is allocated fifty 81mm incendiary-explosive rounds. They'll all be heavily guarded with riflemen and knights."

Grusha then stepped forward, with her green skin flushing as frustration bubbled up. Her aggressive tone cut through the tension like a blade. "Why don't we just spread ourselves out then, and clear out the groups of soldiers and knights defending the mortars?"

Before anyone else could answer, Arc Mage spoke up— her hands already moving with exaggerated gestures as she launched into her explanation. Her speech was quick, and her movements were precise— almost mechanical.

"Knights," she began, pausing as if the single word itself needed time to settle in. Her hand proceeded to hover briefly in the air, before she turned and patted D'Arce on the shoulder. "Knights, like Captain Joanna D'Arce here, are the elite officers of the Royal Army. They're heavily experienced, trained to lead soldiers, and expected to operate with deadly efficiency on their own."

She then adjusted her glasses with her eyes gleaming as she continued— her voice becoming more animated. "One junior-ranking knight is the equivalent of a silver-rank adventurer. First-lieutenant and above?" She paused, letting the words hang ominously before she grinned darkly, a grin that sent a shiver down Grusha's spine. "They're closer to gold-rank— some even have the credentials of platinum-rank. A squadron, or even a troop of orcs, wouldn't stand a chance against a knight backed by their soldiers."

Grusha faltered at Arc Mage's words— her brows furrowing as she tried to process the response. Her usual bravado faded for a moment, with her green cheeks growing pale, as uncertainty replaced her earlier aggression. "Then… What can we do?"

Arc Mage's face lit up with excitement— her tone almost too cheerful for the gravity of the situation. "In order to defeat Aldric, we don't have to destroy every single soldier and knight in his regiment."

She paused dramatically, with her eyes gleaming with a peculiar excitement. "We only need to slit their throats."

Remi, standing beside Goblin Slayer, gave Arc Mage a sharp look— their yellow eyes narrowing as they bluntly asked, "What the fuck are you on about, nerd?"

Arc Mage perked up, adjusting her glasses as she explained with enthusiasm. "Guerilla warfare! Not to be confused with gorilla warfare— you know, great ape, and what have you…!"

D'Arce nodded in understanding and picked up where Arc Mage left off. "Hit-and-run tactics," she suggested, her voice level. "We deploy squadrons of three rogues. They sabotage the mortars from a distance, using explosive bolts to either destroy the ammo caches or the mortars themselves."

She pointed to the map, with her finger tracing a line toward the stronghold gates. "Without either, they have nothing to protect, and their troops will be forced to regroup. They'll either fall back to Matterhorn, or link up here in front of our gates."

Dwarf Shaman stroked his beard thoughtfully, with his eyes flicking between the map and the others. "Aye," he rumbled. "And we could set up explosive traps 'round the kill zone. I know a few spells that'd do the trick."

D'Arce shook her head firmly, cutting off the suggestion. "Blatant traps won't work. Knights are trained to detect traps— setting them will only alert them and destroy what little element of surprise we have. If we even have an element of surprise left at this point."

Lizard Priest's voice broke the tension— his reptilian eyes narrowing as he spoke. "I thought we had the advantage of knowing General Aldric's battle strategy through you, Captain?"

Again, D'Arce shook her head, her tone somber. "Aldric is a genius strategist. He's unpredictable. He's won battles across three continents— using vastly different tactics every time." She gestured to the map, her voice steady as she listed off notable battles.

"At the Battle of Havelock, he used a decoy army to draw enemy forces into a ravine and crushed them with a landslide. In the Siege of Yushan, he blockaded a port city for months, then struck with a night raid when their defenses were at their weakest. In the jungles of Palaquor, he used his own guerrilla and scorched-Earth tactics to harass a force with an environmental advantage, until they collapsed from attrition."

Her gaze then darkened, her tone sharpening as she continued. "Aldric was taught extensively by Xavniik himself."

High Elf Archer shifted uncomfortably at the name, her expression betraying unease.

D'Arce caught the reaction but remained reassuring. "But so was I," she added quietly. "I already have more than an idea of how Aldric thinks."

The captain straightened— her gaze shifting across the gathered company. The tension in the war room was thick, but her voice remained calm, steady as a rock. "It goes without saying that this conflict will be a decisive one," she began, her hand still resting on the map. "Even if we somehow defeat Aldric's regiment through sheer battle and guerrilla tactics, that victory would only incite outrage back in Great Victoria. The Pendragon Empire would retaliate."

Goblin Slayer's voice, low and grim, cut through the silence. "What you're suggesting… Is that the Empire would declare war on us."

D'Arce nodded slowly. "Aldric knows that too. Defeating him here only plays into his hands. We win, and it gives the Empire every reason to come for us in full force."

Upon hearing this, Kog'rath's face contorted in frustration. His fingers clenched into tight fists, and a low growl escaped his throat. "This battle… This has nothing to do with territory disputes with my clan, does it?!" His voice was thick with bitter realization. "To Aldric, my people are just stepping stones…!"

He then slammed his fist on the table, causing some of the figures on the map to rattle. "I refuse to let my clan die to perpetuate that bastard's political agenda! I REFUSE!"

Arc Mage, seemingly unfazed by the tension, began speaking with her usual detached focus. Her hands moved rapidly— mimicking her thought process as she explained. "Ever since Blackwatch began their attacks on the Empire's settlements, merchants profiting from Zemuria's raw materials and crops have taken significant losses."

She adjusted her glasses with a precise flick of her hand— continuing with an almost clinical detachment. "These merchants have been pressuring the Pendragon Empire to act. Almost every trade company benefiting from the frontier's resources is a high-profile donor to the Empire. Many of their presidents or family members have seats in parliament."

D'Arce nodded and began listing off companies. "Lysander Trading, Hornswalt Lumber, Emeretian Mining, and many others, are all deeply tied to Zemuria's resource commodities. Their influence in Great Victoria is immense."

She placed a firm hand on Kog'rath's shoulder— squeezing it in a rare display of reassurance. "But Prince Arthur Pendragon the Third is coming here with his Royal Court of Diamonds to negotiate peace with your clan. This will be the first step, not just in halting the Empire's expansion, but in proving that the Royal Army needs more regulation— that the days of conquering lands are no longer necessary."

D'Arce's voice grew more firm. "Aldric comes from a noble line that has profited off the Empire's colonization of Zemuria since they first conquered the Avalon Sea. His interests are purely political— expansion means more power for him and his family."

She looked around the table, her gaze sharp. "Prince Arthur, on the other hand, wants to declare Zemuria independent, while allowing merchant companies to continue operating in Central County— with proposed regulations, of course. If he's successful in establishing peace, that'll prove to the parliament that his way of handling the frontier trumps the Royal Army's methods."

High Elf Archer, who had been quietly contemplating the map, nodded in agreement. "If Prince Arthur manages to negotiate with the Forgehart Clan, it'll show Great Victoria that peaceful diplomacy can succeed where the Royal Army has failed."

Arc Mage leaped up, her face lighting up with excitement. "Yes! If we can get Kog'rath, or one of his heirs to make contact with the Royal Court, Aldric will have no choice but to lay down arms! The Prince's authority will supersede his!"

Remi, standing beside Goblin Slayer, frowned and crossed their arms. "What's stopping Aldric from just killing the Prince and his Royal Court, then framing it as an accident?"

D'Arce's expression hardened. "Even if Aldric has his own political agenda, the death of the Emperor's heir while under the Royal Army's protection would fall squarely on his shoulders. He couldn't escape that."

Remi shrugged— their yellow eyes glinting mischievously. "Then why don't we just kill the Prince ourselves? Aldric gets executed for failing to protect him, problem solved."

Arc Mage quickly interjected, her voice rising in alarm. "No, no! Even if Aldric is executed, it would create a power vacuum. Someone else will step in to continue the Royal Army's push for martial law— that idea has been deeply seeded by Xavniik. The Empire's expansion wouldn't stop."

Remi then raised an eyebrow at her. "What do you mean?"

Arc Mage adjusted her glasses, with her tone becoming grim. "Prince Arthur is beloved by the Empire. Even with his radical ideas, many in parliament— and especially the Emperor— adore him. If Arthur dies during this conflict, the Empire will move heaven and Earth to avenge him."

She crossed her arms, her voice darkening. "And that means we'd have "Conquer Zemuria, Part II: Electric Boogaloo" on our hands."

Lizard Priest tilted his head, with his reptilian eyes blinking slowly. "I… Do not understand what that implies."

Remi chuckled, slipping their hands into their coat pockets. "Basically, if that little baby bitch-boy dies, then Daddy Pendragon won't bother trying to deal with the frontier. He'll just declare all-out war, and it'll be mass genocide all over again— this time with more toys for them to use on us."

High Elf Archer's face went pale— her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and determination. She slammed her fists down on the table, teeth bared in a fierce snarl. "We can't let Arthur die. I won't… I won't go through that again!"

Her hands trembled as the memories of past horrors flashed behind her eyes. Arc Mage, sensing her distress, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. High Elf Archer's voice broke as she murmured, "I can't live through that again. I just… I can't."

Kog'rath's gaze then fell on High Elf Archer— watching her shoulders trembling, fists clenched, as if she was holding herself together by sheer force of will. For a moment, his hardened expression softened. A look of empathy flickered in his dark eyes. He glanced away, with his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths as his mind worked through the weight of it all. His hand clenched into a fist— knuckles pale against his green skin.

After what felt like a long silence, Kog'rath sighed and turned his gaze back to D'Arce— locking eyes with her unyielding, steely gaze. His voice was low, the gravelly timbre thick with determination. "Tell me what you need me to do," he said, with his words carrying the finality of a death oath.

"Say it, and I'll make it happen— no matter what it costs me." His jaw clenched, and he scowled slightly as he added in a quieter tone, "All I ask is that the children… Survive what's coming." He inhaled sharply, and held the breath for a beat, then let it out slowly through his nose.

"The Forgehart Clan— at our core, we are warriors," he continued, his voice steady— as if reciting something from the ancient history of his people. "There is no greater honor for an orc than to fall in battle, defending our loved ones. As long as our sacrifices mean something, and aren't in vain, then I believe I speak for all my people when I say this: we will lay down our lives so the next generation can live." He spoke with a finality that echoed in the war room.

Grusha, standing beside him, stepped forward and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Chieftain," she said, her voice brimming with fierce loyalty. She nodded toward the other orc officers, who stood tall and resolute, tusked grins on their faces. "We'll follow you through the gates of Hell, if you ask us to. Even if we know there'll be no comin' back." The officers grunted in agreement, their smiles hardened with the grim reality of war but full of devotion to their leader.

A rare smile broke across D'Arce's face, but the cold gleam in her eyes remained unchanged. "Aldric has probably already predicted our strategies," she said, matter-of-fact, her words like a dagger cutting through the silence. "He'll have contingencies prepared to counter every move we make. Realistically…" She exhaled, almost apologetically, her eyes dark with the truth. "Most of us won't survive this."

Her gaze swept over the others in the room, lingering on each face. "Aldric is more than willing to sacrifice anyone to win. We can't afford to hesitate. If we don't match that resolve, we'll lose." She paused, her voice becoming colder as her gaze sharpened. "If any of you aren't ready to die today, then I suggest you leave. Your best chance is to head south, to Vallandria," she added, while gesturing to a map pinned to the wall, marking the region with a firm point of her finger. "Keep going until you reach the border, and don't look back."

All eyes then turned to Arc Mage. She arched an eyebrow as D'Arce's gaze bore into her, then scoffed loudly. "Turn tail and run? Me?" The blond woman asked with a flabbergasted tone, before spreading her arms wide— as if addressing the heavens themselves. "You must be out of your GODDAMN mind Captain, if you think I'm running away now!"

A grin tugged at the corners of her lips— her cheeks flushed with excitement. She fidgeted with her fingers, and was nearly bouncing on her heels. "It's always been my dream to witness something like this— a conflict so grand, so monumental that it will be recorded in history books for generations! Whatever happens, my name will be immortalized alongside it!"

From across the room, Remi let out a soft snicker— their arms crossed over their chest, while an amused smirk spread across their face. "Not unless you die first," they shot back, with their eyes gleaming with mirth. "Kinda hard to record history when you're dead, y'know."

Arc Mage giggled in response, before giving a carefree shrug. "Then I just won't die. Simple as that."

Remi laughed quietly at her response, shaking their head as if at an inside joke, while D'Arce let a brief smile flicker over her lips. "I assume you're in, then?" D'Arce mused, as she turned to face High Elf Archer— her voice taking on a softer, more understanding tone.

High Elf Archer sniffed, rubbing her eyes with her forearm before standing tall again— her green eyes burning with fierce determination. "I'd rather die before giving the Royal Army a chance to repeat what they did to my people." Her voice quivered with emotion, but the resolve behind it was unshakable.

D'Arce nodded. "Agreed." Her gaze shifted next to Remi, standing nonchalantly by the table— their expression casual, and detached. "What about you, Storm Lord?" She asked. "Are you ready to make the ultimate sacrifice?"

Remi's lips twisted into a wry grin, with their tone completely shameless. "To be perfectly honest? I don't give two shits what happens to any of you." Their words were like a slap across the room— the sharp edges cutting through the tension. "You could all die, and the Royal Army could win. It wouldn't matter to me one bit."

Disgust and disbelief rippled across the faces of everyone in the room, but Remi then raised a hand casually— pulling Goblin Slayer close to their side. "I'm only here for Old Sport," they continued, with their voice softening slightly as they looked down at the young man. "If this is important to him, then I'll stick around. But it's for him, not any of you."

The room remained silent for a moment longer— tension crackling in the air like lightning, before D'Arce nodded. "I can respect that." She said, before turning her focus to Goblin Slayer— her eyes softening as they met his. "I'm sorry," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "It goes against everything I believe in to ask someone so young if they're ready to die in battle, but… I must."

Goblin Slayer met her gaze— his eyes quiet, almost haunted. A small, sad smile pulled at his lips as he spoke softly, the weight of his years pressed into every word. "I've been ready to die for a long time."

Hearing this, Remi's arm then tightened around his waist— pulling him protectively closer, as if they wanted to shield him from the world. There was something in their touch, a care that went beyond what words could convey— as if part of them was trying to show just how much they cared for him.

D'Arce gave Goblin Slayer a slow nod, a deep understanding in her expression. She turned to Dwarf Shaman, only to see him lifting his flask to his lips— downing the last of his wine. He raised a finger as if to ask her to wait, with a cheeky grin spreading across his bearded face.

"Give me a moment, lass," he muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Let the firewater work its magic." He let out a loud, fiery belch that clouded the air in front of him with smoke, before chuckling. "Once it kicks in, I'll be drunk enough to say aye to the whole idea of gettin' me arse capped by the Royal Army." He grinned, with his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Remi snorted in amusement, and even Arc Mage broke into laughter, while D'Arce shook her head with a fond smile. "Noted."

Finally, her gaze fell on Lizard Priest, who stood with quiet dignity— his hands folded in front of him. "And you, Jaree? Are you prepared to lay down your life for your friends?"

Lizard Priest looked up, eyes shining as he recited an old verse— his voice calm but powerful.

"To battle, my friends, where the fates may entwine. Our hearts will stand firm, through shadow and time. Should we fall in the storm, let it be known. Our lives were the seeds for a future we've sown."

He smiled, a warmth radiating from him. "Where my friends go, I go. Even if that means we walk to the grave together."

The room fell silent for a moment, the gravity of his words settling over everyone like a heavy cloak. D'Arce looked around the room, her voice filled with a rare sense of admiration.

"From this point forth, no matter what happens to us… I want to make it known to each and everyone here that it's been an honor," she said, "to stand beside such brave souls." Her gaze drifted back to Kog'rath, a look of cathartic understanding in her eyes. "Aldric won't hesitate to push the envelope to achieve victory. If we want to win, we'll have to push it even further."

Kog'rath gave her a firm nod, his voice filled with unwavering determination. "Tell me what needs to happen," he repeated, with his resolve like a mountain. "And I'll make sure it gets done."

---

The soft clink of Goblin Slayer's silver-nub pen was the only sound on the rooftop— tapping against the pages of his journal as he scribbled away. He sat on the ledge, with his legs dangling over the edge of the eight-story apartment complex, and his helmet lying beside him on the flat roof.

The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the Evergreen Forest— its warmth painting the sky in hues of orange and violet.

Beside him, Remi sat with their hips pressed close against his, with their legs dangling as well, and their newly gifted Flying V guitar resting across their lap. They wore their signature sunglasses, the dark lenses reflecting the dying light of the sun.

Their fingers worked methodically, strumming the strings with a pick— occasionally pausing to adjust the tuning knobs. The gentle hum of the guitar blended with the scratching of Goblin Slayer's pen filling the silence between them.

Minutes had passed— maybe hours. Neither spoke. The quiet wasn't awkward— it was heavy, weighty with the things left unsaid.

Finally, Remi broke the silence, their voice carrying an undertone of barely concealed anger. "So… Did you mean what you said?"

The teen's pen halted mid-stroke. He blinked and slowly looked up from his journal, with his crimson eyes reflecting the golden light. He tilted his head, confusion creasing his brow beneath his unruly hair. "What do you mean?" He asked softly— his voice as calm and measured as ever.

Remi's lips twitched, with a spark of frustration flashing across their face. Their grip on the guitar tightened. "What you said in the bunker." They paused, their voice wavering with suppressed emotion. "About… You being ready to die."

Goblin Slayer didn't respond immediately. His gaze lowered, with his eyelids drooping halfway, a solemn expression crossing his face. His pen hovered above the page, frozen in place.

"It's not… That I particularly want to die," he admitted quietly, with his voice almost a whisper, "but I've been prepared for it… Been prepared for it for at least four years now."

Remi's jaw clenched upon hearing the teen's response— their guitar now resting silently in their lap. They set the instrument aside, their hands trembling with a mix of hurt and anger. "W… Why though?" They demanded, with their voice growing harsher. "Why?! Even after I told you how much you mean to me?!" Their tone sharpened— cracking with emotion. "Even after I told you that I-" They stopped, their voice dropping to a growl. "Th-That I love you…?!"

The tension in the air thickened. The teenager's pen lowered to the page, but he no longer wrote. He stared down at his journal, his expression confused, even pained. His lips parted, and he muttered almost to himself, "I thought… You couldn't feel love."

Remi's face twisted in a mixture of betrayal and fury. "I can't," they spat, their voice venomous. "But I sure as hell can feel betrayed!"

The words hung between them— thick as smoke. Goblin Slayer's mouth opened slightly, then closed again. After a long, drawn-out pause, he quietly apologized. "I never meant to hurt you," he said, his voice barely audible. "But this… This is something I have to do."

Remi was silent; their hands clenched into fists in their lap, while their anger simmered beneath the surface. They stared over the teenager's shoulder, and watched as he wrote his final words onto the page. The soft scratching of his pen was the only sound between them now, and it felt unbearable.

After what felt like an eternity, Remi's gaze drifted away from Goblin Slayer to the horizon— past the fortress where their guild was stationed, to where a dark column of smoke rose in the distance from the Maggiore Outpost. Their voice was low and flat when they finally spoke again.

"So..." Remi started, pausing as they turned to face Goblin Slayer's lowered face. "That's your plan then? You're going to leave me here to carry on some fucking plan I have no motivation— other than you— to see through…?!" Their voice grew more bitter, more cynical. "Leave me to do all the hard work, while you run off to investigate something none of us even know what's going on…?!"

Goblin Slayer's lips twitched into a joyless smirk. "You and I both know what's happening over there," he said, his voice calm yet tinged with sadness. His pen scratched out the last line on the page. "Blackwatch is here... This is just like what they did at the Sahara Outpost."

Remi narrowed their eyes, with their voice dripping with malice as they scoffed. "And why the hell do you even care about that place?!" They snapped. "That's where the Adventurers' Guild rejected you, remember?! No one there would lose sleep if you got yourself killed trying to save their ungrateful asses!"

The gray-haired teen let out a soft, humorless chuckle— the faintest smile tugging at his lips. "You're right," he said quietly, almost to himself. "They wouldn't care."

He took a deep breath before continuing— his tone more serious now. "But the way I see it is that Blackwatch must have known about the Royal Army's plan— Aldric's plan— to use this as a reason for the empire to resume their expansion campaign. Albion and her executives are using the outpost to draw them to them— there's not a doubt in my mind that they also know about Arthur and his Royal Court of Diamonds coming here too… No matter what happens, he and the Forgehart Clan must negotiation peace— we can't let anyone get in the way of-?"

Having heard enough, Remi then stood up abruptly— the clatter of their Flying V guitar echoing across the rooftop, as it was discarded behind them. Their body trembled with a storm of rage and sorrow, eyes gleaming with unshed tears beneath the dark lenses of their sunglasses.

Their fists clenched, trembling with a barely contained fury, and from their back, four gelatinous tendrils unfurled like serpents— each one writhing in the air, charged with cyan lightning. The air crackled with their power, and the tendrils pointed directly at Goblin Slayer— quivering like coiled springs, ready to strike.

"No." Remi's voice was a low, menacing growl— thick with a hurt that bled through every word. "No, I won't let them take you from me… I refuse to let you go."

Goblin Slayer cautiously then rose slowly to his feet, but yet was calm and unhurried. His crimson eyes remained steady, watching the slime monster a collected resolve. His helmet lay on the ground, forgotten, as if the fight itself didn't concern him.

As if he was already resigned to whatever would come next.

"Remi," he began softly, but the slime monster then cut him off— stepping forward, their fingers curling inward as cyan sparks danced along their tendrils.

"NO! W-What am I supposed to do when something happens to you…?!" Remi's voice trembled— breaking under the weight of their words, with their emotions raw and exposed. "What was the point of telling you that I loved you— confessing everything to you— if you're just going to throw it all away?! Throw me away like I'm nothing?! Like what we have means NOTHING to you!"

Goblin Slayer's shoulders sagged slightly, with a heavy sigh escaping his lips. His expression was one of quiet exhaustion— the kind that comes with the acceptance of an inevitable fate. He stepped back, slow and deliberate— as though preparing himself not for the fight, but for the consequences of it.

"I know the risks… We all do," he said, his voice calm, though a flicker of something— regret, perhaps— crossed his face. "This isn't just about us, Remi."

Remi's lips curled into a snarl— their entire body shaking with the effort it took to hold back the fury building inside them. Their voice cracked with every word, like something broken inside them was straining to hold together. "Then what the FUCK is it about then?!" They screamed at him, while taking another step forward, with their tendrils coiling tighter— ready to strike. "Why are you so ready to throw your life away, to leave behind the people who care about you, the people who love you?! Do you really not give a shit about yourself?! Do you think this'll make your fucking sister happy?!"

Goblin Slayer's gaze softened— his eyes filled with a sadness that felt bottomless. He smiled faintly with a smile that was both wistful and tinged with sorrow. "I'm doing this, because I love you… Because I love everyone who's helped me get to this point," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And that's why I have to go… This isn't just for you— this is for everyone."

Remi flinched at his words— the pain in their chest surging as they clenched their fists tighter. The cyan lightning around their tendrils intensified— flickering and sparking as their control began to slip.

"LOVE?!" They shouted, with their voice hoarse with disbelief and grief. "YOU CALL THIS LOVE?! RUNNING OFF TO DIE FOR SOME POINTLESS CAUSE?! THROWING YOURSELF AT DEATH, JUST BECAUSE YOU THINK IT'S NOBLE? WHAT KIND OF FUCKED UP LOVE IS THAT?!"

Goblin Slayer's expression remained calm— but there was a softness to his gaze now, a tenderness that he had rarely shown before. "Vivine gave everything to make sure I lived," he said softly, almost to himself. "She sacrificed so much for me. Now… Now it's my turn to do the same."

Those words broke something in Remi. They felt their control shatter like glass, the dam they had built to hold back their emotions crumbling beneath the weight of their grief. With a guttural scream of fury and sorrow, they lunged at him— their tendrils crackling with cyan electricity, snapping forward like vicious whips.

"IF YOU WANT TO DIE SO BADLY," they shrieked, with their voice echoing across the rooftop, "THEN I'LL JUST KILL YOU MYSELF!"

Their tendrils lashed out with blinding speed, aiming directly at Goblin Slayer's chest. But he was ready. His body then surged with power, with crimson lightning engulfing him as he sidestepped the strike— the tendrils slamming into the ground with a crack of electricity. The rooftop trembled beneath the force of the blow, cracks splintering out across the surface like spiderwebs.

"Remi, stop," The teen said calmly— dodging another strike as the slime monster's tendrils whipped toward him with vicious intent. His voice was steady, unshaken, but there was a sadness in his eyes as he evaded their attacks, moving with practiced ease. "This isn't what you want."

"FUCK YOU! YOU DON'T GET TO TELL ME WHAT I WANT!" Remi screamed back— their voice raw with emotion as they unleashed another flurry of attacks, each one faster and more desperate than the last. "HOW COULD YOU THINK THAT I WOULD JUST LET YOU WALK AWAY?! THAT I'D LET YOU DIE WITHOUT A FIGHTING FOR YOU?!"

Their tendrils struck again and again, but Goblin Slayer danced around them— his movements fluid and precise. The rooftop cracked and crumbled beneath the onslaught, debris flying as the tendrils whipped through the air— narrowly missing their target. Cyan lightning clashed with crimson, the air between them crackling with raw energy as their powers collided in violent bursts of light.

"Remi," Goblin Slayer said softly— his voice cutting through the chaos like a knife, "I'm fighting too— fighting for you, fighting for Juliet... For everyone of you."

"Then why…?!" The slime monster's voice cracked, as they lashed out again, their tendrils whipping through the air, wild and uncontrolled. "Why are you doing this…?! WHY ARE YOU LEAVING!?"

Goblin Slayer didn't answer immediately. He dodged another strike— his movements calm and measured as always, but there was a hint of fatigue in his eyes now. The fight wasn't taking a toll on him physically— he could keep dodging forever— but emotionally, it was wearing him down.

"I have to," he finally said, his voice soft, almost apologetic. "Because if I don't, then you'll all die… And I can't… I can't let that happen— I won't let that happen."

Remi let out a ragged scream— their tendrils slamming into the ground with such force that the entire rooftop trembled, pieces of debris flying into the air. "YOU'RE BLIND THEN!" They shouted, with their voice breaking with the weight of their grief. "YOU BROUGHT US ALL HERE! YOU MADE THIS HAPPEN, REN! YOU'RE THE REASON FOR YOUR OWN FUCKING MISERY!"

With a burst of cyan lightning, they charged at him— their body flickering with raw energy as they cast a bolt of lightning from their hand, aiming directly at Goblin Slayer's chest. But the teenager was fast enough to react. His hand shot out— projecting a crimson slash of mana that collided with Remi's attack— creating an explosion of light and energy that sent both of them staggering back.

The rooftop cracked beneath their feet,— chunks of debris falling away as the two of them stood on the edge of destruction. The outpost below was a blur of sound and light,— but up there, on that rooftop— it felt like the only thing that existed was the storm between them.

Remi lashed out again, their tendrils striking with desperate fury, their attacks growing more frantic, more erratic. "WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO, HUH?!" They shouted, their voice hoarse from the strain. "WHAT THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITHOUT YOU?!"

One of their tendrils finally managed to graze Goblin Slayer's cheek— drawing a thin line of blood. He winced slightly but didn't retaliate. Instead, he just stood there, his crimson eyes filled with a sadness that Remi had never seen before.

"Remi…" He began, but they cut him off with a shriek of frustration.

"If you just used your fucking head to think, just for one fucking second," Remi cried, their voice breaking with emotion, "you'd realize that there's no other way that this ends then everyone here dying— with or without your intervention…! I c-cant do what you ask of me— I just can't…! I-I can't lose you…!"

With a final scream, they raised their tendrils high, their entire body trembling as they unleashed a final, devastating strike. "REN ASHTAAAAAA!"

The tendrils then slammed into the roof with enough force to send shockwaves rippling through the building. The structure groaned and creaked under the strain, and then, with a deafening crack, the rooftop collapsed— sending chunks of debris crashing down into the floors below.

For a moment, there was nothing but dust and smoke— the air thick with the remnants of their battle. Cyan and crimson lightning crackled faintly, then faded, leaving only silence.

As the dust began to settle, the rooftop was a ruin. Chunks of concrete and steel lay scattered across the ground, and in the midst of the destruction, Remi lay on their side— their body trembling with exhaustion. Their sunglasses were gone, lost somewhere in the collapse, and their eyes were swollen with tears.

Goblin Slayer stood a few feet away, with his helmet cradled in one arm, his journal and Remi's guitar in the other. His expression was calm, but there was a deep sadness in his eyes as he walked toward the slime monster while kneeling down beside them.

Remi didn't move. They stared up at him with a heartbroken expression, their voice a mere whisper. "Please," they begged, their voice barely audible. "Please… Don't go…"

Goblin Slayer's eyes softened as he knelt beside them, while gently placing the guitar and his journal down next to their trembling form. His hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from their face, and for a moment, the two of them sat in silence— surrounded by the wreckage of the rooftop.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice filled with bittersweet gratitude. "Thank you for trying to stop me."

Remi closed their eyes, their tears flowing freely now— their body shaking with quiet sobs. "I can't… I can't lose you… N-Not like I did with Serena… I-I'm… I'm not strong enough…"

Goblin Slayer's eyes widened slightly at the name. "Serena?" he repeated softly. "The girl you told me about? The one who…"

Remi flinched at the mention of Serena, their face contorting with pain. They curled into themselves— unable to meet his gaze.

For a long moment, Goblin Slayer said nothing. Then, with a bittersweet smile, he whispered, "I see… So you are capable of love, Remi. You just… Don't know how to show it— that's all."

Remi didn't respond— their small, slender body continued trembling. The teenager leaned down, pressing a soft, tender kiss to their forehead, before rising to his feet.

"I'm… I'm so, so happy that… That we got to meet each other, Remi," he said quietly, his voice filled with warmth. "Thank you for loving me… Even when I'm not ready to love myself just quite yet."

He picked up his helmet, slipping it back over his head as he turned away. Remi's hand reached out, grasping weakly at his ankle, but their strength was gone— their voice barely a whisper. "D... D-Don't…"

Goblin Slayer walked away, his footsteps soft amidst the rubble— pausing only once, so to look over his shoulder to stare back at the slime monster. "Goodnight, Remi," the gray-haired teenager said in a hollow voice— a cathartic smile hidden behind the visor of their helmet.