The village of Harming lay cradled in the basin of Mt. Nemid, which was a towering peak within the Iron Flower Mountain range that spanned the central southern mainland of Zemuria.
The night sky was a canvas of dense, ashen clouds that were blocking the light of the moon and stars— casting the village in a soft yet oppressive half-darkness that hovered over the streets and industrial works alike. Despite the late hour, Harming was alive with the low, rumbling activity of a mining settlement that was caught between tradition and modernity.
Well-constructed asphalt roads crisscrossed the town, flanked by sturdy concrete sidewalks and lined with tall street lamps that bathed the streets in amber light. The lamps cast long shadows onto the village's modest buildings, which shared space with towering steel structures dedicated to Harming's chief purpose: the extraction and refinement of Zemuria's mineral wealth.
Situated between the village and Mt. Nemid's steep rock face were the grinding heartbeats of Harming's industry— metal mills, refineries, and factories, whose walls and smokestacks stretched into the night sky, silhouetted against the haze.
The air hummed with mechanical life. Enormous conveyor belts and suspended pipes connected the various buildings— snaking along the hillside as though part of the mountain's own anatomy. Rails traced a path through the industrial park at the heart of the village— lifted high by scaffolding and metallic beams that climbed up toward the basin and into the jagged mouth of the mountain itself.
As cargo trains clanked along the elevated rail lines, they carried gleaming payloads of processed ores and precious minerals in cargo crates, while storage tanks filled with harvested gasses hissed faintly as they passed— adding their own industrial symphony to the night.
Near the dig sites, the scale of the mining operation became monumental.
Floodlights pierced the shadowed walls of the mountain basin— bathing the quarry in a harsh, artificial daylight. The mining zone stretched across thousands of square acres that were carved into the mountain in a carefully plotted pattern— revealing the vast veins of rare metals and minerals that Mt. Nemid harbored within. Workers moved in and out of the tunnels like ants, illuminated by the powerful glow of the lights above, with their hard hats bobbing as they transported tools, checked readings, and cleared equipment for the night's next shift.
The miners, dressed in reflective vests, gloves, and sturdy steel-toed boots, bustled around robotic mine carts that traveled autonomously on tracks that bore their loads of glittering metal and rich ores out of the tunnels. High-tech machines sat on standby— hulking, angular drills and mechanical loaders designed to cut through rock like butter, with their metal claws gleaming in the light, as they awaited their turn to burrow deeper into Mt. Nemid.
Elevator shafts— some descending into the belly of the mountain, with others rising to yet higher dig sites— lined the rocky slopes. They ferried personnel and machinery, and sometimes entire cargo loads, up and down the mine— keeping the flow of resources uninterrupted.
Away from the never ending mining operation, up in the heart of Mt. Nemid, Goblin Slayer stood outside the closed doors of a large office building that had a dimly glowing sign above its entrance, reading "Geotek Company".
Beside him, sprawled on the ground in metal bindings, lay the unconscious Dark Mage. His forehead was haphazardly wrapped in a bandage, and his maroon cloak was stained with dried mud, with his ornate black robes covered in brittle blades of grass that clung to him from their struggle through the woods.
He muttered incoherently with his eyes shut— his words a delirious mess of half-spoken curses and spells.
Goblin Slayer shifted uncomfortably in his full suit of leather-plated armor. Taking his helmet off, he held it under his arm and leaned closer to the glass double doors to peer inside the lobby. He narrowed his eyes while searching for any sign of light, before straightening up with a faint grimace as he realized there were no lights on.
"No one's home," he muttered to himself, only to then notice the white letters marking the operating hours on the left door.
Mondas - Fredas: 0800 to 1700
Loredas - Sundas: Closed
The armored teen let out a long, slow sigh, before looking up at the dark sky with resignation, and then glancing back down at the battered, unconscious Dark Mage sprawled at his feet.
"I really need a watch that tells the date…" Goblin Slayer muttered under his breath, while shaking his head light inwardly. He then crouched down to grab the dark-elf by the collar, which earned him a faint groan as the Mage shifted in his bindings.
"Not that it would have made a difference," Goblin Slayer added to himself, a touch louder, as he began to drag the mage across the asphalt behind him. His boots echoed dully against the pavement, as he trudged through the empty Geotek parking lot and onto the quiet street beyond.
And so, the armored teen trudged through the shadowed streets of Harming, hauling the deadweight of the Dark Mage at his feet with the metal bindings clinking against the pavement, as he dragged the figure unceremoniously by the collar.
Late-night pedestrians stared openly as he passed— muttering to each other— with some making comments he pretended not to hear.
"Is that… A dark-elf?" someone whispered.
"Is he dragging a goddamn corpse around…?!" Murmured another.
"Arceluid, help us…! This place is going to freakin' DOGS!"
But Goblin Slayer ignored the gawking and questions, with his helmet hiding the unbothered expression he wore beneath it. He passed trucks rumbling by, with their headlights momentarily casting him and his bounty in stark relief against the backdrop of apartment buildings, a quiet tavern, and the local postal service. But he paid no attention to headlights; instead, he focused on dragging the dark-elf through the entrance of the nearest alleyway.
Soon enough, he turned down a narrow side street and found the large green dumpster he had in mind. And with one hand, Goblin Slayer hoisted the Dark Mage up easily— letting the unconscious dark-elf dangle in midair as he paused, almost as though he were considering something behind the visor of his helmet.
Then, without warning, the armored teeen bashed the Mage's head against the dumpster with a resounding crack.
CLANG.
The elf's head hit the metal— leaving a smudge of dirt and dried blood. He twitched and convulsed, with a few incoherent words slipping from his lips. Goblin Slayer only grunted in acknowledgment before bashing his head against the metal once more— seemingly indifferent to the Mage's limp, twitching form.
Satisfied that he might have induced some brain damage, Goblin Slayer used both hands to push the slender elf into the dumpster— shoving the body down casually, until it nestled among the trash bags and refuse. He then closed both of the dumpster lips firmly, while muttering, "I'll be back… Don't go anywhere," before striding out of the alley and crossing the street to a nearby hotel.
Goblin Slayer entered the lobby of the "Opulence of Harming", which was dimly lit and awash in the warm tones of polished wood and intricate decor.
Ornate chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a soft, golden glow across the rustic, Baroque-style furnishings. A white tile floor gleamed under his boots as he walked past a lounge area. And in one corner of the immaculate hotel lobby, a television was playing a claymation cartoon— one that caught Goblin Slayer's eye almost immediately.
The cartoon on the screen showed a small, chattering cat-like figure with an oversized head and round eyes bouncing beside a security guard with a large, duck-like beak and a blue uniform.
Goblin Slayer paused, watching as the duck squawked incomprehensibly about a "moving violation," with his feathers bristling while the little creature with blond hair pulled out a hammer seemingly from thin air. Without warning, it began pounding the guard with brutal enthusiasm. The duck's quacking rose to a series of desperate, muffled screams as it was bludgeoned, with each hammer strike accompanied by a cartoonishly violent thud.
The armored teen's lips quirked beneath his helmet, with a chuckle escaping as the absurdity of the scene distracted him from the night's grim events. When the credits rolled onto screen, he began making his way to the reception counter once more.
Behind the desk sat a raccoon girl, with her brown fur partially concealed by a smart black blazer worn over a crisp white dress shirt that fit snugly against her full frame. Her messy black hair was tipped with blue, and she was utterly engrossed in a video playing on her computer screen— completely oblivious to the armored teen's approach.
Goblin Slayer stood there for a moment, feeling a bit awkward before finally lifting his gloved hand to ring the small bell on the counter.
DING.
The raccoon girl then jolted upright, with her face immediately flushing as she scrambled to close the video. "Oh, s-sorry!" She blurted out, before brushing some imaginary dust off her blazer. She then looked over the counter, with her embarrassment easing into a more welcoming smile. "Welcome to the Opulence of Harming! How can I help you?" She asked.
Goblin Slayer the. shifted, before clearing his throat as he took in the raccoon girl's warm demeanor and the curves of her figure— catching himself staring at her chest, and then quickly forcing his gaze back up to her face.
"I… Uh, n-need a room," he muttered, while struggling to keep his tone steady.
"Alrighty, let's see what we've got for you," she replied with a bit of spunk, before beginning to tap away on her keyboard with sharp, painted nails. "Let's see… I've got a few rooms left for tonight. Best option's a single king-sized bed. Also, there's no smoking allowed in there." She said, while shooting him a quick, teasing glance— as if she half-expected him to be the type to ignore the rule.
"Oh, uh… Sounds… great… I-I don't smoke," Goblin Slayer replied, while managing a faint tone of excitement. "H-How much money… How much do I need to pay…?"
"That'll be two hundred and sixty dollars a night," she replied brightly, "with a three-hundred-dollar safety deposit, which you'll get back in the morning, once one of our maids confirms everything's in one piece."
Upon hearing the rate, the armored teen's eyes widened behind his visor. 'Two hundred and sixty,' he silently repeated back to himself, as a wave of awkward embarrassment hit him. He swallowed the lump in his throat, before leaning forward slightly. "Oh! Uh?! Is there, you know…?! Anywhere else in Harming that's…?! Ch-Cheaper…?!"
Connecting the dots, the raccoon girl's face then softened with a look of sympathy. "Hmm… I know "Mountain Mama Tavern" does lodging." She replied, and then paused thoughtfully before adding, "Emba, the owner, usually charges drifters about fifty bucks a night to crash in her guest room."
Hearing the alternative, Goblin Slayer began shifting uncomfortably while stifling his discomfort. "Fifty sounds… G-Good."
The raccoon girl nodded, while offering him a reassuring smile. "It's not as fancy as this place, but hey, the beds are warm. Let me just get you directions." She said, while tapping on her keyboard before glancing over her shoulder as the printer on the counter whirred to life. With a quick "One sec," she turned around and grabbed the printed map, before handing it to him with a cheerful grin.
Reluctantly, Goblin Slayer accepted it while finding himself having to feign enthusiasm. "Th-Thanks," he said, while trying to inject a bit of gratitude into his tone.
"Not a problem at all," she replied, with her smile turning playful again. "Stay safe out there!"
Goblin Slayer gave her a small nod. "Uh… Y-You too," he murmured, while feeling the lingering embarrassment as he left the hotel lobby with the map still in his hand.
After throwing away the printed map, Goblin Slayer crouched back beside the green dumpster, while gazing down at the cardboard box he'd just broken down and flattened out on the pavement. He pressed his hand against the cardboard, testing its flimsy give, before letting out a heavy, ashamed groan.
"Fifty bucks…" He muttered to himself— echoing the raccoon girl's words in a bitter undertone. He could practically feel his measly sixteen dollars mocking him from inside his wallet.
With a sigh, he slipped out of the straps of his backpack— setting it on the ground beside him and kneeling down to unzip it. "I'll be lucky if I can afford a decent meal in the morning," he grumbled, as he pulled out a dark-green tarp that was folded into a compact square. He gave it a sharp flick to unfold it while silently cursing at the financial state that left him camping beside a dumpster, instead of in a nice and toasty-warm hotel bed.
Holding the tarp in one hand, Goblin Slayer dug into his backpack for a handful of zip ties. He then got to fashioning a makeshift roof, by securing one side of the tarp to the dumpster's edges with precise twists of the zip ties. Each tug of plastic biting into plastic felt like a reminder of his impoverished state.
Once the tarp was stable on one side, he climbed up the dumpster, just enough to lift the lid with a gloved hand. He then took out the flashlight from his belt and shone it inside— its beam falling on the unconscious form of the dark-elf.
Dark Mage remained crumpled among crushed cardboard, bits of paper, and piles of damp, murky refuse— his maroon cloak spattered with dried mud, and streaked with stains from the garbage. Goblin Slayer reached down and found a piece of rebar, before using it to poke the elf aside— revealing a mound of trash beneath.
"Still alive?" He muttered— not that he really cared about the answer.
The dark-elf's head lolled, and Goblin Slayer gave a curt nod, more to himself than to his unresponsive prisoner, before using the rebar to haul two large chunks of concrete up from the pile. After pulling them free, he tossed the rebar down into the dumpster, smirking as it clanged against the dark-elf's head. Then he closed the lid and jumped down, taking the concrete pieces and setting them on the other side of the tarp to keep it anchored against the pavement.
"This… This is awful," he grumbled, while feeling the sting of humiliation as he spread his cardboard bed out underneath his makeshift tarp. With a sigh, he reached for the rolled-up blanket strapped to his pack to unlatch it, before spreading it out on top of the cardboard.
He then laid down and dragged the practically empty backpack over to set it beneath his head, as a makeshift pillow. He tugged the blanket over his leather-armored body while leaving his helmet on— feeling its weight press down, but relishing its warmth and the slight security it provided.
Goblin Slayer then closed his eyes in an attempt to will himself to sleep, but with the muffled rumble of tires on nearby streets, the shuffling footsteps of night-goers on the sidewalks, and the occasional flap of the tarp in the night breeze, the more the idea became apparent to him that it wouldn't work.
But yet, he persisted.
Goblin Slayer restlessly shifted under the blanket while the cardboard crinkled beneath him, as he turned one way, then another— failing to get comfortable.
Forcing himself to think of anything that might dull the ache of discomfort, he clung to a positive thought: the rewards.
More specifically: the payouts he'd get from the Royal Army and the Adventurers' Guild.
As he lay there, he mentally ran the numbers by starting with the guild's thousand dollars for clearing out Blackwatch Fortress, before taking into account the estimated bounty he would score from the Dark Mage.
'That could be upwards of twenty grand… After tax, I'll be looking to take home around EIGHTEEN thousand dollars!'
The thought of it quickened his pulse.
'Eighteen grand…! That's nearly what we pull in an entire year!'
He could practically see it— the manila envelope, thick with cash in his hands, with Vivienne's eyes wide with astonishment. He could picture her face as he handed it over, the way her eyes would fill with relief and gratitude— maybe even pride.
In his mind, she pressed herself against him, warm and close— the thought of her soft embrace alone was a comforting contrast to the chill of the night air he felt creeping in through his makeshift tent.
A gust of wind then rattled the tarp— snapping him out of his reverie. He shifted while adjusting the blanket around him— letting that vision of Vivienne's hug linger in his mind, as a small comfort against the cold discomfort of his makeshift bed.
Sans a watch, an undetermined number of minutes passed before Goblin Slayer's eyelids finally grew heavy as he lay beneath his tarp— the cardboard bed pressing into his back, while the wind continued to rattled the tarp. His grip was loosening on his blanket, as sleep was just beginning to take hold— when the sound of soft, unhurried footsteps reached his ears.
Instantly, his hand slid into his backpack— gripping the smooth, cool handle of the sawed-off shotgun he'd brought from the dungeon raid.
Eyes open behind his visitor, he kept his breathing steady in order to pretend to be asleep. And as the footsteps drew closer, he caught a glimpse of two legs entering his line of sight.
They were chubby, with light skin and the faintest bit of cellulite, and they ended in a pair of black fuzzy sandals. From where he was laying, he also noticed that the figure was carrying a black garbage bag. His grip then slowly relaxed on the shotgun, as he cursed himself under his breath.
"D… D-Don't be alarmed," he murmured, with his voice dry and low, "but, uh… Th-There's an evil, dark wizard, lord-thing-guy in that dumpster... But he shouldn't bother you…"
The woman in slippers then froze.
Instead of screaming or running off like he'd expected, she knelt down to look at him with her eyes wide. She then carefully lowered her garbage bag onto the asphalt to get a better look at him. And as she leaned forward, her plush form became visible in the faint light— a thick, fluffy bathrobe clinging to her chubby body, while being half undone over her full curves and ample cleavage.
A cascade of clean, curly blonde hair framed her rosy, round face, and her brown eyes widened in surprise as she took in his appearance.
"R-Ren...?!" She whispered in a confused tone, with her eyes sparkling with awe.
The armored teen instantly felt his cheeks heat up.
"Umm," he managed to murmur, while heat rose under his helmet. He struggled to pull his gaze away from her low neckline and the lush curves on display as her robe dipped open— revealing to him her plump breasts that sagged from her chest.
The woman lowered her head a bit more to meet his gaze through the vented slits of his helmet. "I don't know if you recall, but my name is Saria… Saria Winthrope?"
"Ah, y-yeah— I-I remember," Goblin Slayer stammered back in response, while chuckling a bit too loudly as he tried to shake off the embarrassment. His voice sounded strange and foreign to his own ears.
"Good heavens…" Saria muttered to herself, while her round cheeks flushed pink as her eyes swept over his tarp bed and the cardboard beneath him. "W… Wh-Why on Earth are you sleeping out on the streets like this?!"
Goblin Slayer hesitated, before bringing himself to address his less than glamorous situation. "I… Uhh… I-I wanted to see if I could talk to someone in Geotek in the morning… So maybe I can get someone to confirm my job from the fortress, so I can get my reward set up with the Guild before I head off to Brorerid."
Saria blinked, with her expression shifting to something thoughtful and careful— as if weighing his words. "Ah. So that's why you're still here... And as far as the "evil, dark wizard, lord-thing-guy" goes," she half-playfully trailed off, while gesturing faintly toward the dumpster, "I presume it's the same bastard who was planning on turning my daughters and I into sacrifices, yes?"
"Yeah," Goblin Slayer muttered plainly, while rubbing the back of his neck. "Thought I'd kill two birds with one stone by getting Geotek to verify that he's the same person who's in their security footage. Lessen the need to backtrack on my part, hopefully."
Saria's eyes then lit up with amusement. "Ah! Clever! Quite the practical sort, aren't you?" She asked with an impressed tone, while her eyes shifted to the dumpster with a wry smile. "Broreril, yes? I believe you mentioned taking him there, back when we were all in that awful dungeon…"
Goblin Slayer nodded, before dryly replying with, "Yep."
"I see…" Saria murmured thoughtfully with pursed lips, as her gaze darted back and forth from the dumpster to him. "Are you, ah…! Are you quite sure that he won't try to escape; in your absence of vigilance?"
Upon hearing that, Goblin Slayer let out a low, dark chuckle. "After all the hits to the head he's taken, he won't be moving much."
Saria smirked approvingly, and gave him a soft, ladylike laugh that made her whole body tremble. "Ah! Serves him right then, I suppose…!"
An awkward pause hung between them. Saria fidgeted, a flush rising to her chubby cheeks, and she looked down, pressing her lips together. Then she lifted her head and met his gaze with a shy smile. "Look, I… I would be rather… Remiss, if I left you out here to sleep in the cold— especially considering, well… All you've done for us."
Goblin Slayer blinked, caught off guard by the blush on her face. Her cheeks grew rosier as she continued, her words fumbling just a bit.
"So— might I perhaps… Repay you for your heroism and kindness by inviting you to spend the night indoors? To sleep with m-me?" She asked while glancing away shyly— her voice barely above a whisper. "I-I mean…! Sleep at my place, not… You know, with me," she added, with her cheeks darkening even further, and her voice trembling as her mouth widened into a sheepish smile. "Unless…! Well, that's something you wanted, of course…! I-I wouldn't deny you, in a manner of speaking, as a proper show of gratitude…!"
'Something that I wanted…? What is she talking abou- OH.'
Upon realizing what she was implying, the blood within Goblin Slayer 's slender body pumping up to his face, and down to his groin— causing the flustered man's flaccid member to begin hardening. His eyes widened behind his visor, with his mouth slightly open as he struggled to find his voice. The suggestion— her generous figure, and the blush on Saria's face—had him flustered in a way he wasn't used to.
'Is she…?! Is she still trying to flirt with me? Even next to this dumpster?'
Clearing his throat, Goblin Slayer finally rose from his makeshift bed before moving the blanket off his body, and brushing off legs. "I… I'd appreciate that," he managed to say, while keeping his voice as steady as he could.
Saria's face lit up with a soft, beaming smile, and she gave a little nod— her voice warm and tinged with that elegant cadence of hers. "Splendid! Well then, let's get you out of this dreadful cold. And do bring your… friend along," she added with a mischievous smirk— her brown eyes flicking subtly down at his groin.
With that, Goblin Slayer nervously got up from the cardboard bedding to begin gathering his belongings— glancing back over his shoulder at the dumpster, when he had finished stuffing his backpack, before following her along the side of her apartment building. The warmth of her invitation, and the soft sway of her form, had somehow managed to pierce the chill of the night.