Prologue - A Meat Shield's Perfectly Ordinary Day
I was sure I was the protagonist.
Everyone thinks that, don't they? Drop into another world and you still steamroll the place on cheat abilities, the whole world ready to spin around you. Yeah. There was a time I believed that.
"AAAAAH—!!!! Why the hell are there five of these bastards!!!!!"
"I don't know, I don't know, I don't fucking know!!! Don't talk to me, I'm about to die out here!!!!"
"If I don't quit being an adventurer after today, I'm not even human. I swear."
It was supposed to be an ordinary quest—the kind where a party of four only had to deal with three goblins. Sure, somebody had been grumbling about getting stuck with some weirdo tanker. But not a single one of them had actually thought the quest would fail.
A sickening crack.
"GYAAAAAAAH—!!!! My arm, my arm!!!!!"
Merhen the archer howled, his arm smashed under a goblin's club. Eight weeks to heal, minimum. And since when did a ranged DPS end up brawling a goblin in melee? Which was to say we were completely fucked.
Skrrk—skrrk— Claws raked the shield, loud and unmistakable. I'd just bought the thing, and already it was well on its way to becoming a rag. Boom—boom— Impacts like a house coming down came thrown in free of charge.
The situation was bleak beyond saving. Four of us, against five goblins. Clubs slamming down hard enough to shatter the shield, five of them shrieking loud enough to numb your ears. Bastards that grabbed a perfectly sturdy bow and snapped it clean in half—and only four of us were supposed to take them down?
No. Calling those things goblins in the first place was an offense against basic decency. Say goblin and everyone pictures some trash mob from the bottom of the ecosystem, not a brute packed with muscle like an orc. I'd thought the same. It stung my pride—what kind of party needs four people dogpiling goblins?
Then I saw one for the first time, and that opinion flipped on the spot.
Claws sharp as blender blades, gummed black with filth. Skin slathered thick in some nameless ooze that looked ready to rot you at a touch. Teeth so viciously sharp a shark would have had to bow out.
Where the fuck was any of that a goblin? First glance, even I thought they were orcs.
"Ah, this is hopeless. Hey, hurry up and sing something!!!"
Babar, who'd been driving his axe into a goblin with everything he had, shouted it at me. What he wanted was for me to open the forbidden domain.
"Ugh, I accept no liability for the results!!"
Ahem. I cleared my throat. Vocal cords are a precious asset, after all.
"Hey, you fuck!!!! Sing already!!!!!!"
Even mid-song, the far side of the shield rang without pause—thud, thud, thud, thud. Having to sing while I blocked goblin clubs with a shield was enough to drive me out of my mind. Or maybe I'd already gone.
Either way, the moment the song left my mouth, the effect hit at once. The face of the die—
"AAAAAAAAAH—!!!! Fuck, they're going even crazier!!!!!"
"I said I can't take responsibility!!!!"
Tragically, it was a one. The goblins flew into an even worse frenzy, and tears spilled down my face. Can I really make it back to Korea? No—before that, can I even survive?