Outside the cave, the sun was warm.
"Alright, last weapons check!"
The shield bearer apprentice Blake rapped his knuckles against the iron-rimmed wooden shield whose edges were a little worn. The dull thud gave him a sliver of comfort.
His family had scrimped and saved to buy this secondhand tower shield for him.
Every time he looked at it, Blake swore to himself that he'd make a name in the adventuring world, repay his parents, and give his family a better life.
He tore his gaze from the shield and looked at his teammates. On every face was that distinct novice mix of nerves, confusion, and forced composure.
"Longsword and gambeson check out!" the young swordsman apprentice Karl drew his blade and spun it in a flashy flourish. Sunlight slid along the steel, flashing dazzlingly.
He dreamed of becoming the kind of hero who could fell enemies in a single strike.
And swordsmen were without a doubt the brightest stars of every tale.
"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!"
The sword sang through the air, and Karl's mood surged with it, full of passion and anticipation.
He imagined that, years from now,
Bards would sing of him like this:
The legendary Sword Saint Karl began his adventures in an unremarkable little town—so remote that it would only be known when people spoke of Karl the Sword Saint—a border backwater called Grayrock…
Mm. Not a bad opening line.
"My mace is itching for action, too." The stocky, stubble-faced cleric apprentice Morris hefted his little mace with a grin.
He'd learned Inspire and a bit of basic healing magic, but for now he still relied mostly on brute strength in a fight.
"I'm good as well. Arrows… enough. I checked the crossbow too," the slight ranger apprentice Hanna answered softly from the rear of the party—the only woman on the team, serving as scout and archer.
Freckles dusted Hanna's cheeks, but her eyes were beautiful, almost as if they could speak.
This was as typical a bottom-tier adventuring party as you could find:
Shield bearer, swordsman, cleric, ranger. On paper, a sensible lineup.
The only problem was that they were all green, with almost no experience running jobs.
Just then, looking at the lightless cave mouth ahead, a ripple of unease stirred in the ranger apprentice Hanna's chest.
They had only just registered as adventurers, taken a slime-clearing job out in the wilds, and then come here to help villagers wipe out goblins in a cave.
"Relax—the threat level of goblins is about the same as slimes. If we can handle slimes, goblins shouldn't be any trouble," Blake said, seeing the worry on his teammate's face.
He made his tone light to steady her—even though his own confidence was shaky.
Still, clearing a small mine with only a dozen or so goblins shouldn't be too hard, right? The reward was fifteen silver coins—a tidy sum for rookie adventurers like them.
With his cut, he could finally add a few more pieces of kit—better cloth armor, a buckler, a dagger…
Then more jobs, more completions, more commission money, better gear…
For a brighter future, you took the first step—no matter how hard it was—head-on.
"They're just a bunch of little green runts," Blake drew a deep breath, rallying himself and the others.
"There's four of us, well-equipped. More than enough to deal with them. Remember—once we're inside, stay tight behind me and look for your openings from my flank. Take their left ears to cash in. Drinks are on me tonight!"
"Yeah!!!" Karl and Morris whooped.
Swept up in the mood, Hanna pushed down her fear and summoned a little courage.
The four stepped into the dark.
"Careful!"
Karl's boot skidded in something sticky—filth—and he nearly went down.
Luckily the captain, Blake, was quick enough to grab him.
"Watch your footing, everyone," Blake warned.
The deeper they went, the darker it grew. Fortunately, the cave was naturally formed and fairly roomy; otherwise even a party of four would've had trouble squeezing in.
Tap… tap—tap… tap—
A faint sound echoed in the silence.
"Captain, do you hear that?" Hanna cocked an ear, tightening her grip on her wooden bow.
"Dripping water, I think?" Blake glanced ahead. Drops fell from the ceiling into a little puddle, the torchlight in their hands rippling orange across it.
"Ffft!!"
The instant he looked up, a sharp hiss tore the silence.
Then came a teammate's scream.
With a wet, meaty thunk, Karl crashed to the ground.
"Aaah!! My leg!!"
A crude, bony short arrow had sunk almost completely into his right thigh; blood spread fast, soaking his roughspun trousers.
"Ambush!!"
Blake's heart leapt into his throat. He roared on instinct, as much to stiffen his own spine as to warn the others.
They'd been watching for enemies rushing them from deeper inside—and ignored the threat from behind.
He had no time to wonder whether those goblins had been scouts outside the cave or had slipped out of some hidden nook.
Two scrawny goblins stood at a distance with short bows in hand. Outnumbered though they were, there wasn't a hint of fear in them. They sniffed with their sunken noses, grinned, and bared a vicious set of teeth.
Only two goblins… Blake forced himself to stay calm.
"Morris, heal Karl! Hanna, with me—take them down!"
Blake triggered his skill and charged, shield first.
Behind him, Hanna, shocked by the gush of her friend's blood, pupils contracted, but muscle memory made her draw and loose an arrow at the goblins lurking in the shadows.
Under normal circumstances, the shot had a great chance to land—maybe even strike true.
But she was too rattled—her forearms trembled, even her fingers shook violently from the sudden shock, adrenaline flooding her body, slipping past control.
The arrow thudded into the ground two meters wide of its mark.
"W-what… how…?"
Hanna couldn't believe she'd missed by that much.
She tried to call up a skill—but nothing would come.
Luckily Blake was already on them, bull-rushing with his shield and sending one goblin flying.
Behind them, the cleric apprentice Morris stared at the brutal arrow wound in Karl's thigh and the blood pouring out. His face went paper white. He fumbled to cast the healing prayer he'd only recently learned.
The glow flickered a few times and sputtered out; sheer terror and panic shattered his focus.
"Greeee!!"
From deeper in the passage, seven or eight more goblins—maybe more—suddenly swarmed out.
They screeched in a shrill, piercing chorus, eyes glittering with cruel greed, waving rust-eaten knives and sharpened sticks as they charged.
Looming behind them was a goblin bigger than a normal adult, cords of muscle bulging under its skin, each step pounding the ground.
"We're done…" Morris went dead pale as he struggled to heal his friend.
Before he could even think to run, goblins bowled him over.
Some pinned his limbs; another straddled his neck and drove a dagger into his belly again and again. Blood sprayed.
"AAAAHHH!!!"
The rest went mad at the sight, raking at his entrails with their claws.
Hanna and Blake froze in horror.
A goblin lurking in the shadows lunged and slammed into Hanna, its claws tearing at her clothes. Her only weapon flew from her hand and clattered several paces away.
Blood-smeared goblins piled onto her, ripping and clawing in a frenzy.
"Blake, help me!!"
Hanna reached out through the heap of goblins, begging the only teammate still on his feet.
"I… I…"
Blake tried to move his legs, but strength left him. His face twisted with fear. Morris was dead; Karl was down; Hanna was pinned…
It's over. It's all over.
The thought crashed over him like ice water, smashing the last of his courage.
"S-sorry!!" the big man's voice cracked as he spun, abandoning his teammates and scrambling for the exit in a blind, stumbling panic.
"Aah!! Blake! Help me! Help me—"
Her screams chased him, turning his legs to jelly.
Survival was all he could think about now.
Then—
Thwick!
A hiss split the air. A cold shock stabbed Blake's gut.
He grabbed at it—his hand came away slick with blood.
The big goblin had already caught up.
It yanked the knife from Blake's belly and, with one brutal stroke, took his head.
…
Gauss swung down from his Chocobo and sniffed. The faint tang of human blood hung in the air. He exhaled.
Still late.
He strode toward the cave.
He couldn't help but think of Grayrock. He'd taken a few goblin slaying jobs there to kill time. Petra had mentioned offhand that a newbie party had picked up a cave job nearby.
They were rookies; trouble wouldn't be a surprise. It was on his way—he might as well check.
And trouble, it seemed, had found them.
Fresh drag marks of blood streaked the ground.
He quickened his pace and jogged into the dark.
…
Deep in the cave.
Hanna lay limp on the floor, covered in wounds, too battered by the goblins' assault to fight back.
Propped in a corner, she stared blankly as goblins tossed her teammate's cold corpse into a great cauldron.
Another teammate lay unconscious—alive or dead, she couldn't tell.
She shut her eyes, set her teeth to her tongue. Several times she tried to bite down and end it—but the nerve failed her.
Fear, regret, and terror stuffed her chest.
She stared at the roaring fire under the pot, at the goblins holding hands and dancing around it, and in a daze it felt like a festival back in her village.
I want to go home…
The flames licked high, yet she felt herself growing colder and colder.
"Hanna, what good is adventuring…"
"Come back! Come back now!"
Her parents' fury and the crash of thrown things rang in her ears, as if she were still at their door.
Boom!!
A ball of flame burst in her numb vision.
Several goblins around the ring were blown end over end.
She didn't react.
In this short span she'd imagined rescue a thousand times—but harsh reality had taught her those were only fantasies.
In her glassy stare, a black-cloaked man kicked through the fire into the cave like a cold machine of slaughter. In the firelight he darted and spun; goblins toppled before him without the slightest resistance, as if they were hurling themselves onto his blade.
He was butchering goblins with an almost artful brutality.
Heads, limbs, viscera, and blood arced through the air.
She had never thought goblin-slaying could look… beautiful.
This rescuer in her mind was pretty strong this time…
A bitter, self-mocking smile tugged at her lips.
If only it were real.
She watched in silence—
Until a goblin slid up beside her and pressed a knife to her throat.
The chill at her neck jolted something in her.
She looked up.
The black-cloaked man was already standing before her.
His face was near-perfect, and in eyes brighter and hotter than the flames, a natural majesty flickered—tempered by a trace of pity.
The moment burned into her forever. Even many years later, old and frail, on her deathbed with a grandchild's hand in hers, the memory would still be as clear as yesterday.
"Sorry I'm late."
Flash!
White light—a blade—cut, and the goblin's knife hand came off at the elbow.
An instant later its neck shattered; blood fountained; it collapsed.
The man tossed her a black cloak and draped it over her.
"P-please… who… who are you?" Her lips were bloodless and shaking.
"I'm Gauss." He sighed, as if with a hint of guilt, and made a promise. "Don't worry. I'll keep killing… until there isn't a single goblin left in this world."
"Th-thank you…"
Hanna trembled all over.
That promise—unreal as it sounded—saved her despairing soul in that moment.
At the very least, now she wanted to live—to see with her own eyes a world without goblins.