The girl cried. Priestess screamed at him. “You could have hurt her! You could have killed her!”
The battle ended. The temple fell silent.
Goblin Slayer threw a rock at the girl’s knee. Goblin Slayer 01-12
“You don’t have to come.”
There was work to do.
Lizard Priest, a hulking saurian with a gentle voice, told her once: “He is not a man who fights goblins. He is a weapon pointed at goblins. Weapons do not ask why. They only aim.”
And she learned about him. Slowly. In fragments. The girl cried
Priestess saw it happen as if in oil-slow motion: the net, the snare, the goblins piling on. The champion raised a stolen greatsword for a killing stroke.
The goblins shrieked. The flames painted the cave in frantic, dancing shadows. And through the smoke walked a shape she could not name—not a knight, not a savage, but something in between. A scuffed helmet with a single angry slit. scratched leather and dented mail. A round shield marked with a crude sword. You could have killed her