Goblin — Slayer 01-12

The girl cried. Priestess screamed at him. “You could have hurt her! You could have killed her!”

He looked at her through the shimmering light. Nodded once. Then he pulled a small vial from his belt—the one he had shown her once, saying “never use this indoors” —and threw it at the champion’s feet.

The Dwarf Shaman, gruff and bearded, added: “Aye. But even a weapon can break.” Goblin Slayer 01-12

There was work to do.

Once, she saw him stop. Just for a moment. A goblin had grabbed a captive village girl as a hostage. The creature pressed a rusty knife to her throat, chittering in its crude tongue. Priestess raised her hands to cast Protection . The girl cried

He nodded once. Then he knelt, pulled a small pouch from his belt, and began sprinkling powder on the dead goblins. When she asked what he was doing, he said, “Making sure.”

“You saved me,” he said. Not grateful. Not surprised. Just… stating a fact, as if he had forgotten that such a thing was possible. You could have killed her

Priestess, they called her now. The name felt like a borrowed cloak—fine, but not yet her own. At the Guild, her silver breastplate still gleamed without a single scratch. Her robe was white as fresh snow. She had passed the examination, received her porcelain rank, and chosen her first quest with the bright, terrible naivety of a candlefly meeting a lantern.

“Yes,” Priestess said, and she meant it now, not like a borrowed cloak but like armor she had earned. “I do.”

Then the ambush came.