Having witnessed the final days of the Far East dynasty many times, Fu Hua understood clearly that these medieval nobles were no different from the aristocratic clans, powerful families, and merchant guilds of that fallen era.
If no blood was shed, those rotten vermin would never lower their lofty heads.
Their deeply ingrained arrogance made them disdain any interaction with commoners—let alone relinquishing the power they regarded as their lifeblood.
Whether fertile fields, grain stores, or armaments... they would rather let them grow wild with weeds, rot away, or rust into useless scrap than sell them cheaply to farmers. Seizure by force was an everyday affair.
If there was no profit to be had, why would those noble lords care whether mere peasants lived or died?
It could only be said that the lower strata of this other world were far more brutal and harsh than imagined. They not only had to toil endlessly just to avoid starvation, but also guard against all manner of monsters, with their lives hanging by a thread at any moment.
And that was precisely why Goblin Slayer enjoyed such enormous fame among the common folk, why wandering bards endlessly sang of his deeds.
It could be said that Goblin Slayer's very existence was nothing short of a gospel to those at the bottom.
As for Kiana and the others...
"No matter how greedy and heartless the nobles may be, slaughtering all dissenters simply because of a disagreement... that decision is indeed difficult for them," Fu Hua said quietly.
They did not possess the same ruthless resolve as Her Majesty Selene.
Putting herself in another's position—ignoring ability and authority and speaking only of temperament—if it were the colder, prouder Selene handling this matter, Fu Hua deeply suspected that she would replace the entire ruling class of this world without the slightest psychological burden.
Fu Hua understood.
Esdeath's so-called trial was not meant to temper the body.
It was meant to temper the heart.
...
Thud. Thud. Thud.
On a steel-plated corridor, a squad of Auxilia Guard troopers under the Imperial Forge marched past the entrance to the temple where the Forge Governor resided, clad in heavy Storm-pattern light power armor.
The interior of the temple was exceptionally quiet. The synchronized tremors of the troopers' footsteps failed to disturb the stillness. Only the soft beep-beep of monitoring instruments and the occasional tapping of keys by staff members could be heard.
"Oh? They've already made contact. Seems they're quite angry," Esdeath remarked, holding a cup of coffee as she glanced at the Forge Governor seated at the command dais, whose expression remained unchanged.
Directly ahead, mounted on the command center wall, was an enormous screen displaying a vast azure planet. The magnified image showed a small ranch under the night sky, flames surging skyward around its perimeter. Filthy green dwarfish figures were scattered everywhere.
Some fled in panic.
Some were cut down by human adventurers.
That was correct—this was one of the two planets claimed by the Imperial Forge.
Unlike the barren appearance observed from Blue Star's surface, beyond the massive suppression field erected to block external interference...
What came into view was something entirely different.
Under the department's construction, the twin planets—one green, one red; one large, one small—had in a short time been transformed into sprawling steel jungles shrouded in smoke.
Countless massive refineries, forges, assembly plants, and colossal warehouses rose in dense clusters.
In low orbit around the twin planets, thousands of docks and shipyards formed an enormous iron ring encircling them.
"Why has there still been no reply to the Exterminatus request..." Esdeath muttered, shifting her gaze to another screen.
Displayed there was a large orbital weapons platform. Inside its spacious hangar, dozens of technicians surrounded a colossal torpedo secured on a loading platform by crane arms. Its radius exceeded thirty meters, its shape reminiscent of a submarine.
This was a Bipolar Cyclonic Torpedo.
Exterminatus could be carried out in several ways: the Imperial Navy could conduct sustained saturation orbital bombardment to shatter the planetary surface, or deploy specialized viral or radiation warheads to annihilate the biosphere.
The third method was the use of a Bipolar Cyclonic Torpedo to destroy the entire planet.
This specialized torpedo typically carried a two-stage warhead. The first stage generated superheated plasma, boring through the crust and mantle so the remaining body could descend directly to the core through the channel it created.
The second stage was an enhanced Honkai nuclear fission warhead. Upon detonation, it destabilized the planetary core. Under normal circumstances, it was sufficient to obliterate the entire world.
Of course, exterminating the goblin species did not require such an apocalyptic weapon. Esdeath was merely creating pressure—forcing Kiana and the others to draw out greater potential.
Once their initial battle with the goblins concluded, she would send them footage of the loaded warhead.
Her message would be simple.
If you cannot exterminate the goblins within the allotted time, then it will.
Setting down her coffee cup, Esdeath extended her hand. Amid a burst of dazzling light, a purple-red cube materialized in her palm.
"Your Majesty, Esdeath has a matter to report," she transmitted through consciousness.
Beep.
A response arrived quickly—but unexpectedly, it was not Selene's clear and graceful voice.
Instead, it was a deep, aged male voice.
"Old man?" Esdeath flipped up from her seat, brow furrowing. "Where is Her Majesty?"
Elsewhere — Honkai Dimension, Imperial Capital, Schönbrunn Palace.
Inside Selene's study, Sebas, dressed in traditional black butler attire, wore a dark expression as he placed his hand upon the purple-red cube atop the luxurious desk.
"Her Majesty and Arisa... have gone on vacation," he said gravely.
The final two words were practically forced out between clenched teeth.
Even across immeasurable distance, Esdeath could hear the lingering resentment in his tone.
"Uh... then what about my Exterminatus application?" she asked.
Sebas glanced toward the stack of documents piled in the corner of the desk. "Temporarily postponed."
"Postponed?" Esdeath paused, then nodded while suppressing a smile. "Understood... Oh, Old Man Sebas—keep an eye out for Her Majesty for me, will you? Let me know when she returns."
Without waiting for a reply, Esdeath terminated the communication directly.
"...That girl actually dared to hang up on me. Unacceptable..." Sebas scolded with a laugh, then picked up the note Selene had left in the center of the desk.
'Ahem... Sebas, I... ah, no—little Arisa has performed well, and I cannot go back on my word. Therefore, I have decided to extend her half-day leave to three to seven days (subtext: I want to go out and have fun).
Sigh... little Arisa cried and insisted that I accompany her, so there is nothing I can do. I will leave state affairs to you for the time being. If anything important arises, contact me directly.
—Left by Selene.'
"Milady... Arisa... enjoy your vacation," Sebas murmured softly, folding the note away with a wry smile and shaking his head.
...
In the forest near the ranch, atop a low hillside within a hazy clearing concealed by tangled shrubs—
A towering figure stood there.
Wearing a crude crown, its sallow toad-like eyes glowing with bloodthirsty red light, the Goblin Lord stared toward the scattered lights of the ranch below.
Beyond that, farther in the distance, another bright cluster shone—the lights of the town.
There were adventurers in that town.
Adventurers.
What a hateful word.
The Goblin Lord thought viciously. It opened its foul, rotting mouth wide. Thick, sticky saliva slid over its coarse tongue, studded with fleshy growths, as it licked the jagged fangs protruding from its gums.
"Gala! Gala-gala! Gala-gala!!"
I will twist their limbs one by one and keep them penned like livestock. I will burn their faces and impale them alive on wooden stakes!
I will make them taste the pain they have brought upon goblins before letting them die.
First, attack their ranch. Eat their cattle and sheep. Kidnap their women and violate them until they are pregnant—so they may breed more goblins.
Then use the ranch as a base to assault the town. Kill every last one of those detestable adventurers. Increase our numbers through breeding.
Finally, march on the capital of the human kingdom, destroy it, and establish a goblin kingdom!
The more it imagined, the more excited it became. Its body trembled uncontrollably with manic agitation.
"Gala! Gala-gala!" It began shrieking orders in a piercing tone to its goblin "army."
The harsh cries spread instantly through the ranks. In the rear of the horde, Goblin Heroes and Large Goblins began advancing slowly, preparing to emerge from the forest.
And then—
Rumble—!
Flames? No—an explosion!
Boom...
It burst apart.
The fireball truly exploded, as though heavenly flames had descended. Expanding rings of orange-red inferno swept toward them, the temperature surging more than tenfold in an instant, becoming a scorching tidal wave.
The forest ignited in a mountain blaze. The goblin wolf riders' thick fur caught fire. Goblin lackeys were roasted until their skin split and blistered. They rolled frantically on the ground as fat sizzled and crackled. Once struck by sparks, they became living fireballs in moments.
"Gala!" The Goblin Lord tore off its burning cloak in panic, retreating wildly, its arms covered in swelling blisters.
Damn it! We've kicked an iron plate!
Have we encountered the kingdom's elite army—or some legendary hero?
In the blink of an eye, half the goblins it had deployed were annihilated.
"Gala!" You—stay behind and block the pursuers!
Without another thought, after issuing its final order, the Goblin Lord dropped to all fours and fled deeper into the forest.
Puff—Slash!
"You will all be purged!"
A sharp tearing sound split the air, like countless blades slicing through flesh at once. Explosions spread outward.
As it ran beneath the twin moons—one red, one green—the Goblin Lord dared only a single glance backward.
Its heart stopped.
Under the flowing moonlight, amidst the writhing serpents of flame, something gleamed like ripples upon water.
It was a long-handled scythe, its blade reflecting the firelight in dazzling arcs.
When it saw the woman in a maid outfit, the Goblin Lord swore it had never witnessed such breathtaking beauty.
A lock of gray-gold hair fluttered gently. Slender brows framed enchanting eyes veiled by delicate eyelashes that shimmered with quiet allure. Lush, glistening lips curved above skin as white as fresh snow, smooth and luminous with natural beauty. Graceful curves and elegant bearing shaped her silhouette.
It had to admit—the reproductive instinct buried deep within it was stirred as never before.
Unfortunately, she was dangerous prey.
Slash! Slash!
She met its elite subordinates head-on midair. As though cutting butter, blood droplets scattered like crimson roses blooming around her.
Like a dancer, she drew her feet inward and arched her body, spinning twice in midair like a top. The massive scythe moved as lightly as a feather with the turn of her wrist, her figure reminiscent of a crane. Every motion flowed with effortless grace, revealing impeccable technique.
The short skirt flared with each spin, sheer tights tracing the perfect lines of her legs as her high heels tapped and pivoted with deadly precision.
Blades filled nearly a hundred square meters of space. Whether lackey or hero, not a single goblin could strike her—none even earned the qualification to brush the air around her before being dismembered instantly.
When those wine-red eyes flicked toward it, the Goblin Lord's soul nearly fled its body. It scrambled frantically, rolling and crawling away from the battlefield.
How did this happen?! The dawn reconnaissance reported fewer than five people!
This goblin tribe was finished. Completely finished!
The nest could not be returned to. Those damned adventurers would surely destroy it. Damn it! It had accumulated so many precious "treasures" over the years.
I must survive. As long as I survive, I can rise again.
Just like the beginning.
Back then, before evolving into the Goblin Lord, it had been the sole survivor of a goblin nest destroyed by adventurers.
It survived only because it had been young—small enough to be spared. The foolish female adventurer who showed mercy and turned her back paid the price.
Ah... how kind and adorable she had been. She had even intended to spare its life.
So kind. So adorable.
And yet it had smashed the back of her skull with a stone without hesitation.
This time would be no different, it reassured itself.
It was a Goblin Lord favored by heaven. One day, that woman—I will absolutely, absolutely make her—!
In its mind, it cursed the scythe-wielding woman with every venomous word it knew.
The next instant—slice.
The Goblin Lord suddenly realized it was tilting.
Its leg?
As it fell, it saw blood spraying from the clean cut at its knee, making a faint whistling sound in the breeze—almost pleasant.
"Aaaah—!"
A scream like a slaughtered pig split the air.
Pain surged through its body. Blood, excrement, urine, saliva, tears—all poured out together. The violent stench of its breath and the rancid odor of a body long unwashed filled the air. Even before its body hit the ground, the descending Durandal was already frowning at the overwhelming smell.
Combined with its grotesque appearance, it was like a fusion of visual pollution and chemical warfare.
"You deserve death."
What a revolting species. Their very existence made Durandal nauseous.
"Gala, gala!? Another woman?!"
Hearing the valiant female voice, the Goblin Lord endured the agonizing pain from its severed lower leg and schemed desperately.
Another woman?
Heaven helps me!
Just like that adventurer who had attacked its nest years ago—who spared it because it was too young and let it escape into the wilderness.
It lifted its head, tears streaming down its face, and pleaded pitifully.
"Please, I will never do such things again. We were wrong. I swear we will return to the deep forest and live peacefully. We will never come out again."
"I have children..."
It spoke in broken Common tongue, voice trembling with feigned sorrow. Had it not lost its lower legs, it likely would have knelt in supplication.
Unfortunately, it had chosen the wrong person.
If it were Kiana, she might have hesitated for a second.
Durandal would not.
"Repent in hell."
Before her words even finished, the goblin lying on the ground widened its eyes.
The golden-haired knight suspended in midair swung her hand lightly from afar.
Its neck split open as cleanly as a chicken's being slaughtered.
In that moment, the Goblin Lord's sallow pupils reflected a flash of bloodlight. Foul-smelling blood sprayed into the air—it was its own.
Slash!
"Hk—hk—hk..."
With its mouth gaping and throat torn open, air flowed uselessly through the wound. It realized it could no longer form complete syllables.