In an instant, the adventurers in the guild reception hall who had been about to jeer and shout froze stiff—like chicks whose throats had been seized just as they were about to squawk.
There really was a sucker willing to do it?! Everyone wore expressions of astonishment.
He had just declared that no one would accept such a near unpaid commission, and immediately someone jumped out to take it.
The slap to the face came without the slightest pause. The well-equipped and rather handsome spearman known as the "Strongest on the Western Frontier" flushed red with embarrassment. Shame burned in him. He could neither advance nor retreat. In the end, he could only scratch his cheek awkwardly.
"Are you serious?"
This was no joke.
Indeed, goblins were about the size of children, and their strength matched their small stature. If they had any special ability at all, it was merely being able to see in the dark. They could only win through numbers. In people's eyes, they were the weakest kind of monster.
But no matter how weak goblins were, they were still monsters ordinary people could not afford to provoke.
The reason the adventurers present were so unwilling at the mere mention of goblins was simple: the labor did not match the pay.
Adventurers were not fools. On the contrary, they understood perfectly well the danger posed by this stunted monster race.
After all, most adventurers' very first commission was either "goblin subjugation" or "hunting the giant rats in the town sewers."
Among them, many fresh-faced rookies, brimming with ambition and dreaming of grand achievements, had rushed in headfirst. Unfortunately, their hearts were higher than the heavens, but their lives were thinner than paper. Carelessness born of pride led them to fail and lose their lives to goblins—such insignificant little monsters.
Quite a few adventuring parties had been wiped out entirely because of it.
To die before achieving one's goal. Nothing more needed to be said.
Any adventurer who had risen from the lowest Porcelain rank without exception had either the luck or the strength to survive years of commissions. They were veterans who had lived through it.
Their understanding of just how troublesome goblins were ran deep into their bones.
Filthy, disgusting, revolting—yet also vicious. They were bound by no morality, no rules. Purely driven by bloodlust and depraved reproductive urges, these stunted humanoid monsters were the embodiment of savagery.
Unless the reward was suitable, very few adventurers present were willing to fight large groups of such individually weak yet collectively ferocious and utterly low-value monsters.
After all, killing them brought no fur, no fangs, no meat to sell as spoils. Worse, they were adept at shameless tactics and ambushes. Who would take on such thankless work?
And on top of that, Goblin Slayer's commission didn't even offer a deposit?!
What was this? Never mind the uncertain so-called bonus of handling the slain monsters. Now there wasn't even basic guaranteed pay. Talking about ideals—trying to freeload?
Please. They were adventurers, not soldiers burdened with duty. At best, they were bounty hunters who took money to do a job. At worst, they were desperadoes.
"Of course!" Senti nodded cheerfully, looking smug.
"This Immortal is nothing like you weaklings!"
With one hand on her hip, and under Fu Hua's twitching gaze, Senti planted a foot on the wooden table and declared it with absolute certainty. Energy gathered in her palm—then she clenched her fist and crushed it.
Boom!
The deafening blast erupted with a surge of wind. Bowls, chopsticks, curtains, and other objects rattled loudly. It was a blatant display of power to the surrounding adventurers—flamboyant and unrestrained.
Seeing this, the High Elf Archer seated at a table on the second floor immediately relaxed. The Dwarf Shaman beside her, who had been about to stop her, quietly withdrew his hand.
The blonde Priestess who had been rushing anxiously from behind the counter halted in her tracks.
Even the receptionist handling Rita's adventurer registration request at the counter let out a breath of relief. As long as someone stepped in to defuse things.
"Well, that's embarrassing," the voluptuous Silver-ranked mage known as the "Witch" murmured. Sitting on the bench beside the spearman, dressed alluringly in her robe and wearing an oversized pointed hat, she lightly kicked him. Her crimson lips curved into a teasing smile.
"You were thinking of going, weren't you? Were you testing him—or provoking him? Honestly, what an insincere man." Resting her chin in her hand, the Witch looked at him as if she had seen through everything.
"Hmph! Shut up!" The spearman spat bluntly, raking his fingers through his hair in irritation before dropping back into his seat.
"I only wanted to suppress him a bit. That guy's attitude is unbearable. But who would've thought..." He raised his mug and drained it in one gulp, clearly vexed.
Although Goblin Slayer was also a Silver-ranked adventurer, he had earned that promotion largely because he constantly exterminated goblins and saved many people. Among the lower classes, his reputation was high. The Adventurer's Guild had elevated him to Silver rank to enhance its own public image.
According to the Guild's ten-rank system, from lowest to highest they were: Porcelain, Obsidian, Steel, Sapphire, Emerald, Ruby, Bronze, Silver, Gold, and Platinum.
It was worth noting that these ranks were not like character levels in a game. They were not determined by leveling up in combat. Rather, the Guild evaluated the number of commissions completed and the adventurer's contribution to society to determine their current rank and appropriate level.
By raw combat ability alone, Goblin Slayer likely did not truly meet the standards of a third-tier Silver-ranked adventurer.
Many Silver-ranked adventurers even felt ashamed to share the same rank as him, harboring a sense of frustrated resentment.
Quite a few Silver-ranked adventurers in the hall had teamed up with Goblin Slayer before. They acknowledged his reliability—but his stubbornness repelled them.
To be fair, he bore some responsibility for that. When others extended goodwill, he responded like a sealed jar—rejecting everything unrelated to goblin subjugation with stiff, cold words.
Without even explaining his reasons.
No money, no influence, no backing. His strength was not particularly outstanding either. And with such poor social skills... well, it was no wonder many acquaintances had become little more than nodding strangers.
Take this spearman, for instance. Though he often spoke harshly to Goblin Slayer, they did have some camaraderie. When Goblin Slayer once needed help, he had carried a whole sack of flour like a porter from the border town all the way to the western frontier capital, the Water Town.
But considering what Goblin Slayer had experienced in childhood... psychological scars were hardly something to blame.
As the spearman backed down, Senti's arrogance only grew. She snorted lightly and waved grandly toward Rita, who was covering her mouth in amusement across the room.
"Hey, is that registration thing done yet? These goblins came right to our doorstep. Perfect way to start with a bang!"
"Didn't that Esdeath woman have files on these disgusting things? Two birds with one stone."
Rita merely responded with a smile. She showed no intention of acting according to Senti's words. Under Senti's dissatisfied glare, she turned to Durandal.
"Lady Durandal, what do you think?"
"Agreed." Durandal handed over the completed registration form. The receptionist nodded as she reviewed them one by one, then picked up a silver-tipped pen.
With elegant strokes, she engraved delicate lettering onto porcelain tags.
"Just as Senti suggested. Goblins will serve as our first commission target."
"Please keep these safe, my ladies." The receptionist's professionalism was beyond doubt.
Durandal accepted the stack of tags and glanced through them. She withdrew the ones bearing her name and Rita's, then casually flicked the remaining ten into the air. The porcelain tags flew with precision into Kiana and the others' hands.
As she handed Rita her tag, Durandal examined the fine script engraved on her own.
"Aside from serving as proof of adventurer rank, it can also verify identity under certain circumstances... though I hope that will not be necessary." It even felt faintly like a military dog tag.
The receptionist added with a polite smile, "Please safeguard them. If lost or stolen, report immediately to the nearest Adventurer's Guild for replacement."
"Thank you." Durandal put the tag away and stepped forward amid the growing whispers, stopping before Goblin Slayer.
"Goblin Slayer... on second thought, I'll call you brother. We accept this commission. What do you think?"
His face remained hidden beneath the iron helmet.
Ever since encountering Li Sushang earlier, although he had sensed these noble ladies were far from ordinary, Goblin Slayer had not intended to seek their help.
Especially after seeing their appearance—like sheltered young ladies on their first excursion—his resolve had only strengthened.
He had decided to first confirm whether the adventurers in the frontier town were willing to participate in exterminating the goblins.
Though he knew the chances were slim, as long as even a possibility remained, he would try.
But judging from the current situation... aside from them, no one else seemed willing.
After a moment of silence, he answered in his cold, steady voice, "I do not have suitable payment for you. If you are willing, my property, my equipment, my time, my abilities—anything within my power to give—I can offer as compensation..."
He made no effort to lower his voice. Standing in the center of the guild hall, he responded openly to the spearman's earlier challenge.
"No need! Are you insulting my character?!"
Before he could finish—before anyone else could react—Durandal cut him off sharply.
Whooom—Boom!
A violent gust erupted from the knightly maiden. The entire building trembled under the pressure, terror flashing across the faces of those present.
"Helping you is merely incidental. I require no compensation."
Her tone softened as she continued, "I have already received my reward—your will to protect."
"Even if it costs you everything, you intend to defend that ranch. There must be someone—or something—there you cannot abandon."
"...Yes." The red plume on his helmet stood rigid as Goblin Slayer gave a stiff nod. "...Sorry. Thank you."
The spearman, still stunned by Durandal's overwhelming strength, finally snapped back to himself. His eyes widened.
He would never have dreamed that this stubborn, foul-tempered man—hard and unyielding as a stone in a latrine—would one day say "thank you" to someone.
"Then the agreement is formed. Lead the way." Durandal strode out decisively. She gave a small nod toward Kiana and the others, who were still examining their tags at the table.
"Alright! Time to get to work!" Senti sprang up, grinning fiercely.
"Let's go! Goblins—I've only seen them in games before." Kiana tucked away her porcelain tag and called to the others.
"Wait! I'm coming too!" The petite Priestess, who had been watching anxiously, hurried after Goblin Slayer and Durandal.
"Come on! Let's help Orcbolg!" The High Elf Archer, who harbored feelings she herself barely understood toward Goblin Slayer, leapt to her feet. Her long ears bounced as she excitedly summoned her Dwarf Shaman and Lizard Priest companions before dashing out.
"Let's go as well. We can't miss a battle involving those absurdly powerful noble ladies," the spearman said, avoiding the Witch's gaze. Seizing what he thought was a perfect excuse, he grabbed his weapon and rushed out.
"Men and their friendships... how strange." The alluring mage shook her head with a playful smile and followed with languid steps.
"Shall we observe as well?" asked a beautiful female knight clad in shining silver armor to the heavily armored warrior beside her.
"Let's go!"
...
Night fell. The long hours of darkness began.
The moon rose dimly into the sky. The wind howled coldly across the fields, and the air carried an unusual solemnity. Darkness swallowed the surroundings.
"I thought it was supposed to be just us. Why are there so many people?!" Senti complained from the sharp peak of a rooftop, floating lightly in the air.
"Quite a few indeed." Fu Hua adjusted her glasses as she surveyed the adventurers hidden in various corners of the ranch. "It seems Goblin Slayer's relationships are not as bad as they appear."
Inside the ranch warehouse, Kiana leaned against the doorframe, watching Goblin Slayer sharpen his blade.
"You've put so much thought into killing goblins. Is there a reason?" she asked curiously.
As they waited for the sun to fully set, his understanding of goblin habits and the meticulous countermeasures he had arranged left Kiana astonished.
Even with their presence and the addition of many Silver-ranked adventurers, he remained methodical and cautious. Steady beyond belief. It was as though he had anticipated every possible contingency.
According to the others, he had earned the name Goblin Slayer precisely because he accepted only goblin subjugation commissions.
As the saying goes—the one who knows you best is often your enemy.
Scrape, scrape.
"Killing goblins requires no reason."
From sword edge to axe blade to throwing knives, he sharpened each weapon in silence. His tone carried no emotion.
"No reason... racial opposition, perhaps. But that alone is enough," Kiana murmured.
At that moment, Raiden Mei, who had been silently watching the darkness beyond the window, suddenly drew the Domain of Sanction. Her expression darkened, killing intent blazing in her eyes.
"They're here. Those filthy bastards."
The next instant, harsh, grating goblin screeches echoed from around the ranch, rising and falling in the night.
Grass rustled. From the shoulder-high weeds, goblins rose and lifted their prepared "shields."
"Those are... captured humans. They're using them as meat shields!" Kiana rushed to the window, her pupils contracting sharply.
"Damn it!"
The captives—women stripped bare, bodies covered in wounds, chained in iron—some elves, some human.
Their bodies were smeared with blood, foul yellow-white filth, and revolting fluids. The coarse ropes tore further into already shredded flesh, drawing more blood. Some whimpered in agony. Some convulsed in desperate survival instinct. Others had already fainted from unbearable pain and weakness.
"Killing them truly requires no reason!"
Shing!