((top)) — Goblin Slayer 01-12

And she learned about him. Slowly. In fragments.

He caught her staring. He did not look away. Goblin Slayer 01-12

Not for long. Just long enough to drink a bowl of soup that Dwarf Shaman had shoved into his hands. The firelight showed a young face—younger than she had expected. Scarred. Tired. With eyes that looked like they had stopped being surprised a long time ago. And she learned about him

That was his mercy. Measured in bruises and survival. The weeks turned to months. Priestess learned to check ceilings for drop holes. She learned to listen for the wet breathing of a sleeping goblin. She learned that Protection was best cast at the mouth of a tunnel, to split the horde. She learned to carry a second dagger—not for glory, but for the moment her first one got stuck in a rib. He caught her staring

The champion slipped. The greatsword skittered. Goblin Slayer rolled out from under the net, drove his blade up through the champion’s jaw, and twisted.

“Tomorrow,” he said, “there will be more goblins.”

She laughed. It came out watery and strange. “Yes,” she said. “They are.” That night, around a campfire, he took off his helmet.