Disclaimer: I do not own Goblin Slayer and 'Goblin Slayer x Op Male reader: A Knight of hope' by 'JustyTurner'. They belong to their respective owners.
Enjoy.
The sun bathed the Frontier Town in a golden, cheerful light as children chased pigeons in the cobblestone square, merchants bartered with jovial laughter, and the aroma of freshly baked bread wafted from open doorways. It was a picture of idyllic peace, a scene painted with bright colors and endless smiles. Then, the rumble of hooves and the clatter of wheels cut through the cheerful hum.
All eyes turned to the source – a carriage unlike any seen in the home they lived. It was black as night, with intricate carvings that seemed to writhe and shift in the light. The horse pulling it was equally unnerving, its coat a glossy, dark fur, its eyes glowing an unsettling crimson. A hush fell over the town as the carriage rumbled through the streets, the usual chatter replaced by nervous whispers and wary glances. People instinctively stepped aside, creating a wide berth for the unsettling vehicle. There was something undeniably ominous about it.
The carriage, devoid of a visible driver, finally pulled up at the town's stable. The Stable Owner, a burly man in appearance, watched with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension as the carriage came to a stop. After a moment that stretched into an eternity, the back door creaked open and a figure emerged.
He was young, barely more than a teenager, yet possessed an air of quiet menace. Swathed in a black leather coat with a high collar that obscured the lower half of his face, a wide-brimmed black hat pulled low over his brow, and what looked like dark shades covering his eyes, he appeared a stark contrast to the vibrant surroundings. He stepped out with a silent grace that was unnerving.
Stable Owner, mustering up his courage, approached him as he said, "Welcome to our humble abode, stranger," he said, trying to sound friendly. "What brings you to our little town?"
The young man's voice, when he spoke, was a low and monotone rumble. "I seek work," he stated without inflection. "I was told there is a place here, an... Adventurer's Guild."
Stable Owner, slightly taken aback by his cold tone, pointed toward the main square. "Aye, just down that street. Can't miss it."
"Thank you," the young man replied, a curt nod the only acknowledgement. He turned and walked away, leaving Stable Owner to gaze after him, a sense of unease settling in his stomach. Where did someone likethatcome from?
The young man, meanwhile, surveyed the town with a critical eye. It was… saccharine. The vibrant colors, the constant cheer, it felt artificial, a stark contrast to the grim reality he was accustomed to. He'd willingly admit, though, that this was a vastly preferable environment to the desolate, shadowed place he called home. Still, experience had taught him that nothing was truly as perfect as it seemed, and he remained guarded.
His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden impact. A light yelp of pain followed as someone collided with his back. He turned to see a young girl holding a long, wooden staff, the outfit of a priestess adorning her petite frame. She had long, flowing blonde hair and was rubbing her side where she had bumped against him. Her face screwed up in pain before she looked up at him. The sudden expression of pain was immediately replaced with a wide-eyed look of pure terror as she took in his intimidating figure, being visibly shivered at the sight before her.
Before she could apologize, the young man knelt down, offering her a hand. "Are you alright?" He asked, his monotone voice still devoid of emotion, but strangely gentle.
The girl stared at his outstretched hand, her earlier fear slowly being replaced by surprise. Hesitantly, she placed her hand in his. His grip was firm but gentle as he helped her to her feet.
"I-I'm so sorry!" she stammered, bowing low. "I wasn't looking where I was going."
"It's alright," he replied, his voice still calm. "No harm done."
She straightened, looking at him with a curious gaze. "Are you new here?" she asked.
"Yes," he confirmed.
"Are you... are you going to join the Adventurer's Guild too?" she inquired, her voice a little hopeful.
"Indeed."
A shy smile crept onto her face. "I'm also joining!" she chirped. "Um... since we're both new here, maybe... maybe we could go together?"
The young man paused for a moment, his hidden gaze thoughtful. Then, with a curt nod, he said, "Alright."
The priestess beamed, her earlier fear completely forgotten. "Oh, that's wonderful!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. "I'm called Priestess," she said with a cheerful curtsy. "It's a pleasure to meet you!"
With a hint of hesitancy, the young man spoke. "Gunslinger Hunter," he replied, his voice still monotone, as they began walking together towards the Adventurer's Guild. The contrast between the cheerful Priestess and the somber Gunslinger Hunter was striking, yet a strange sort of camaraderie seemed to form between them as they headed towards their new adventure.
The heavy oak doors of the Adventurer's Guild swung inward with a groan, revealing a scene that could only be described as a vibrant tapestry of the extraordinary. Gunslinger Hunter, a figure carved from shadows and stoicism, stepped through, his black wide-brimmed hat pulled low, obscuring his face. Beside him, Priestess, a vision of radiant innocence, gasped softly, her eyes wide with a mix of awe and delight.
The Guild hall was a kaleidoscope of humanity, or perhaps, inhumanity. A hulking warrior, clad from head to toe in gleaming plate armour, stood near the hearth, his presence radiating strength. Across the room, a woman in flowing, black witch's robes stirred a bubbling potion, her eyes narrowed in concentration. And further still, a figure adorned in tribal markings and feathers, their movements fluid and graceful, surveyed the room with an air of wild freedom.
Priestess, with her simple white robes and gentle demeanour, seemed to absorb it all, her lips curving into a soft smile. Gunslinger Hunter, however, remained an island of calm in the sea of chaos. He seemed to actively avoid engaging with the scene, his gaze fixed on the floor as if it were the most interesting thing in the room.
Finally, they approached the front desk, where a young woman with a neat blonde bob and a tailored suit greeted them with a polite smile. "Welcome to the Adventurer's Guild," she said, her voice clear and professional. "I'm Guild Girl. Are you both here to register?"
Priestess's eyes lit up. "Yes! We are!" she chirped, her enthusiasm infectious.
Gunslinger Hunter simply nodded, his gaze still guarded.
Guild Girl's smile didn't falter. "Excellent. Please just sign here," she indicated to a stack of papers, "and you'll both receive your guild pendants. These indicate your rank and are essential for accepting jobs." She went on to explain the ranking system, from Bronze, the starting point, all the way to the coveted Platinum. Bronze, Ruby, Silver, Porcelain, Gold, Ebony, and finally Platinum.
Priestess listened intently, a delighted hum escaping her lips as she accepted the bronze pendant. Gunslinger Hunter took it with a brief nod, his expression unreadable. The whole process was a simple formality to him, nothing more.
"Well," Priestess said, her eyes sparkling with eagerness, "what should we do first, Hunter?"
Gunslinger Hunter merely shrugged, his hand already moving towards the large quest board hung at the back of the hall. He was used to taking lead, and if there were quests, he'd find one that suited him.
But before he could reach it, a voice called out, "Hey, you two!"
They both turned to see a small group of young adventurers making their way towards them. A young boy with a bandaged face and a dented breastplate, his hand confidently gripping his greatsword over his shoulder, introduced himself first. "I'm Warrior!" he declared, puffing out his chest a little.
"And I'm Fighter!" a young girl with a black ponytail announced, her arms crossed over her chest, she had determination etched into her features.
Lastly, a bespectacled young girl with a pointed wide-brimmed hat, her face framed by dark purple cape and blouse, finished the introduction, "I am Wizard, it's a pleasure."
Warrior continued, "We're looking for new recruits. We saw you two come in and thought... well, would you like to join our team for a job?"
Priestess's eyes widened. A team! It sounded so exciting. She looked to Gunslinger Hunter, her eagerness plain on her face. Gunslinger Hunter, however, stared at the group, his expression unchanging as he assessed the situation, the slightest flicker beneath his wide brimmed hat.
Gunslinger Hunter surveyed the new team before him. He'd seen a lot in his time - dusty desert trails, stinking swamp bogs, and the glint of steel in a thousand desperate eyes. But these three… they were a fresh brew of naive optimism, and it made him want to both laugh and groan.
First, there was the Warrior. A boy, barely more than a man, puffed out his chest, his brand-new, too-shiny breastplate reflecting the firelight. He was all swagger and boisterous laughter, his hand constantly straying to the hilt of his equally new sword.'Naive, inexperienced, and utterly convinced of his own invincibility,'Gunslinger Hunter thought, a cynical smile playing on his lips.'A common affliction on a first journey.'
Next, the Fighter, a young woman with a determined gaze. She seemed more grounded than the Warrior, her brow furrowed in concentration as she adjusted the straps of her pack. Still, she lacked the calluses and weathered look of a seasoned adventurer. And, a glaring oversight, she was unarmed.'Mature, at least outwardly, but not ready,'Hunter assessed, his eyes lingering on her empty hip.'A dangerous combination.'
Finally, the Wizard. A girl with an air of barely concealed arrogance, her fingers tapping restlessly against her magic staff. Every now and then, she'd glance around, as if expecting an audience for some grand unveiling of arcane power. Gunslinger Hunter snorted quietly.'Magic, yes, powerful in the right hands, but just as likely to blow up in her face if she's not careful,'he mused, recalling past encounters with overconfident mages.
Then, the Priestess arrived, her hands trembling as she clutched her holy symbol. She looked like she'd rather be anywhere else, her gaze darting nervously between the four of them. "So," she stammered, "What… what exactly is the job?"
The Warrior, ever eager, bounced on the balls of his feet. "Goblins! We're going to slay some goblins! They raided a village nearby, took a few girls, and now they're holed up in a cave not too far from here." He waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry, thought. Goblins are weak and stupid! We'll make short work of them in no time!"
The Priestess remained unconvinced, her expression a mix of fear and trepidation. Still, she nodded, her voice barely a whisper. "If… if you think we can."
Gunslinger Hunter watched the exchange, a knot of frustration tightening in his gut. These kids… they had no idea. They were so focused on their own bravado and inexperience that they completely missed the danger they were heading into.
Yes, goblins were often considered low-level threats. Vermins, even, as Gunslinger Hunter often thought of them. But they were also cruel, cunning, and utterly depraved. He had seen firsthand the horror they inflicted. Their cruelty had left a permanent mark on his soul. They weren't harmless, stupid little green creatures; they were vile monsters that reveled in suffering. And these bright-eyed adventurers were utterly unprepared.
He sighed, a sound barely audible in the bustling tavern. He should walk away, find a more experienced group, but something nagged at him. Perhaps it was a flicker of empathy for their naivete or a twisted sense of responsibility.
"Alright," he said, his voice a low rumble that cut through the chatter, "I'm in."
The Warrior grinned, slapping him on the back a little harder than necessary. "Great! The more the merrier!"
Hunter offered a tight smile in return, his hand instinctively going to the worn handle of his revolver. They might not know it, but they were heading into a fight they couldn't possibly imagine. The odds were stacked against them, but Hunter wouldn't let them fall. He was an experienced traveler, a hardened adventurer, and he wouldn't let these reckless youngsters become goblin fodder.
He was going to teach them a lesson in the cruel realities of adventuring, and those goblins? They were going to learn that sometimes, the vermin bite back. And Hunter, he was going to be the one doing the biting. They would witness the true face of a fight, a battle not of bravado and arrogance, but of grit, skill, and a cold, unyielding resolve. He was ready. They would be, too, one way or another.
Well, if you have anymore ideas, let me know in the comments below.
As always...
Ciao...
By the way, just so you know, I don't have a discord so stop harassing me already...