The goblin horde charging out of Garam Forest wasn’t much different from last year’s.
Roughly two to three hundred of them.
A bit numerous, but unlike usual, we had elite knights from the inner court and soldiers, though many were green recruits, who’d undergone proper military training.
“Kieee!”
“Stab! Stab them!”
“Don’t stop! Once you’ve stabbed, pull back!”
“One at a time! It’s nothing!”
The battle, if you could call it that, was more like repetitive mechanical work.
Soldiers with spears and shields formed ranks, methodically dealing with the frothing goblins charging at them.
The knights handled the occasional “slightly stronger” mutant goblins.
Sir Garland, proving his knighthood wasn’t just earned through political maneuvering, wielded his sword with decent skill—not unbearable to watch.
“There! Hold your shield properly!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Thrust harder!”
“Yes, sir!”
While the main force fought so diligently, what was the Black Tail Mercenaries, the pride of Mosul and the beastmen, doing?
With such a hefty reward, we couldn’t just stand around with our hands behind our backs, watching the main force shine.
We had to earn our keep, so I took on the most dangerous and difficult task.
I also needed to show my skills to the crew, who still hadn’t fully grasped my strength from the hierarchy sorting.
I grabbed a stick tied with women’s undergarments and ran through the pits we’d dug all morning, sweating buckets.
Furdwal said they belonged to Royce. Figures.
“Hey, you bastards! Over here, come on!”
“Grurk! Gruk!”
“Geeeek! Geruk-geruk!”
“Kieeee!”
“Kiyooooot!”
What a ridiculous mess.
I waved the undergarments, reeking of Royce’s scent, like the Human Empire’s flag, luring the goblins.
It was humiliating, but there’s no better way to show off skill while taking risks.
…As I said, this is the toughest and most dangerous job.
The goblins, already half-mad to have come this far, were watching their kin die in real-time. Wouldn’t that snap them out of it?
Of course, their runaway sanity comes rushing back. They even gain a sense of reason they usually lack.
“Geruk. Me. Goblin only son. This trap. Nothing. Me. Think straight.”
If “Goblonia Pantibrazoa Sector III” suddenly woke up and got cool-headed in this chaotic battle, we’d be in deep trouble.
If that happened, these disgusting green pests, outnumbering us five or six to one, would clearly exploit their numerical advantage to harm us.
As the acting leader on my first monster-hunting mission in Surabar’s place, I had to prove not just my worth but that I was capable enough for the leader to trust me.
I couldn’t leave even a sliver of a chance for “Goblonia Pantibrazoa Sector III” to snap out of it. I’m not a pervert, I swear. I’m not making excuses!
“Wow… he’s running around with that? I’d rather bite my tongue and die of shame.”
“I can hear you, you damn Furdwal!”
“Geruk-geruk!”
“Gegegek!”
“Kieeeeek!”
A horde of goblins, reeking so bad you’d wonder if they ever bathed, chased me.
Yes, this is it. Moments like these make you feel alive.
If someone asked if monster hunting was tough or boring, I’d shake my head.
No way. It’s always fresh and thrilling.
But at the same time, I felt a pang of self-loathing… I need to stop hyping myself up.
I wonder if the leader’s resting well. It’s his sweet honeymoon, so I gotta pull my weight.
Grurk, grurk. Geeeek. Geruk-geruk. Kieeee!
Whether because they saw their kin falling or because of their perverse obsession with women’s undergarments, the goblins’ frenzied pursuit of me didn’t stop.
But that’s fine.
I’m a swordmaster.
Even without using aura, there’s no reason I’d lose to these lowlife goblins. I’m a walking strategic weapon—
“Watch out!”
“Ugh!”
“Gruk?”
“Lord Paramir?!”
What falls has no wings.
I slipped and fell into one of the deep pits we’d dug.
And, naturally, the goblins chasing me came tumbling in after me.
Help! Somebody save me!
“Lord Paramir fell into the pit!”
A shout came from above.
Geruk? The goblins, cushioned by their dead kin’s bodies and surviving the fall, stared at me with dumb faces, probably concussed.
“Ugh, the smell.”
Clang, clang. I drew the sword at my waist and swiftly beheaded the filthy creatures rolling around with me.
Geruk? Even as its head was severed, one goblin looked clueless but happy, clutching Royce’s undergarments.
At least you died holding them. You’re the real winner.
Seeing a goblin joyfully burying its face in women’s underwear until its final moment made me solemn.
Sometimes, a man needs to be solemn.
Ideally, you’d pick the place, but sometimes circumstances don’t allow it.
“Don’t worry about me! I’ll handle this!”
I shouted upward and slashed and stabbed at the goblins rushing in from above and all sides.
Gerurk. Geruk-geruk…!
I dealt with the hawk-nosed goblins making their ridiculous noises.
But that voice just now… was it my imagination?
“Be prepared.”
Damn it.
Anuata’s voice echoed even after I’d killed every goblin in the pit.
It wasn’t a hallucination.
After the battle, in a pool of blood with goblin heads and flesh floating, I saw Anuata’s face.
“Be careful, Paramir.”
Half-submerged in the blood pool, Anuata looked at me with her left eye.
***
Garland rushed toward the pit Paramir had fallen into, even before the battle ended.
There were about a dozen goblins left, but that didn’t matter. The soldiers could handle them.
Nearly three hundred goblins were already cold corpses, strewn across the pits and ground, motionless.
“Good gods, Paramir! Are you alive?!”
Garland peered into the pit, but couldn’t find Paramir.
No wonder—the pit was filled with a newly formed mountain of thoroughly butchered goblin corpses.
Good gods…!
Squelch, squelch… Paramir’s head poked out from the pile of bodies.
Garland thought his heart stopped.
It wasn’t a scene where a human could possibly be alive.
“Yes, I’m fine. Don’t worry, Sir Garland.”
Squelch, squelch… Seeing Paramir crawl out from the blood-soaked hill of goblin flesh and gore, Garland got chills.
He thought Paramir would surely die.
He’d dug the pit himself.
It was deep, and the number of goblins that swarmed Paramir after he fell was easily over a hundred, though he couldn’t be certain in the heat of battle.
Paramir, drenched in goblin blood and flesh, climbing out of the pit looked like a demon straight out of a nightmare.
Could this be what the Demon Army, threatening the empire, was like…? Garland froze in tension and fear, unable to extend a hand to Paramir.
“I’m going to wash up. There’s a stream nearby. I’ll leave the cleanup to you.”
“Y-Yes…”
Garland had heard of the Black Tail Mercenaries’ prowess in Mosul.
But that was due to their leader, the black tiger Surabar.
The other beastmen members could be subdued by soldiers alone, without the Border Count’s intervention, if anything went wrong.
But this man, Paramir… Garland realized neither he nor the soldiers could handle him in a “worst-case scenario.”
If he ever had to face Paramir… Garland couldn’t imagine defeating him. No, the image wouldn’t even form.
Not just Garland—soldiers and even Mosul’s seasoned knights watched Paramir head to the stream like he was a ghost, too afraid to do more than stare.
Sir Moric, snapping out of it, reminded Garland they needed to clean up.
The soldiers collected goblin corpses and severed ears for proof of kills.
Garland summoned the knights and key officials to the tent.
All that was left was to pack up and return to the city. The mission had succeeded beyond expectations.
“Phew! That was refreshing. Everyone okay?”
“We’re fine. Are you okay, Lord Paramir?”
“This? No big deal. I aimed for the ones falling into the pit—pop, pop!—cut their breaths short. The ones that died first cushioned my fall, so I wasn’t hurt. Any injuries? Anyone badly hurt? None? That’s great!”
Paramir, fresh from washing in the stream, was all cheer.
But neither Garland nor Moric could treat him the same as before the goblin extermination.
He’d discarded the leather armor he wore before the fight, now clad in the loose, scratchy wool clothes of commoners.
But… his shirt and pants, stained crimson with goblin blood, didn’t seem likely to regain their original color.
“Lord Paramir, you were a great help in this extermination. We can’t deny the immense contribution of you and your mercenaries. My thanks.”
This wasn’t flattery.
It was an astonishing feat. Though unintended, Paramir’s fall into the pit meant the main force suffered almost no losses.
Everyone in the command tent, including Moric, thought the same:
A talent. Too great to remain a mercenary.
This man had to be recruited. He was too strong, too capable to be left as a mercenary.
Garland and Moric shared the same thought.
“Sir Garland, I know everyone worked hard, and I’m grateful, but I’d like to discuss the reward, given the Black Tail Mercenaries’ achievements…”
“No need to worry. Everyone here saw your feats clearly. If my father doesn’t approve, I’ll pay you and the Black Tail Mercenaries a fitting sum from my own pocket. Everyone here is a witness. I swear it on… no, by Elon’s name.”
“Oh…”
The acting mercenary leader grinned broadly.
He bowed in thanks and returned to his crew.
As Paramir left, the tent fell into silence.
“Sir Garland—no, young master. I have a suggestion.”
“Is it what I’m thinking?”
“Yes, young master.”
“We’re returning to the city. I’ll report to my father about Paramir and the Black Tail Mercenaries myself. Sir Moric, I’d appreciate your help.”
“Gladly.”
The main force hurriedly prepared to return to the city. So did the Black Tail Mercenaries.