Dancing with the Goblins (12)

The adventurers packed in tight behind their tank, and once the shield-bearing soldiers joined the line they could just about cover the goblin front. The subjugation party's handful of archers loosed everything they had before the clash.

Fwit—fwit—fwing—

Cramped ground had kept them from amounting to much until now. Open field was another matter entirely.

"Kreeeek!!"

"Gyak…"

Call the air half goblin and you wouldn't be exaggerating by much. Whatever they shot, it hit.

As the goblins closed in, Alex roared.

"Everybody brace! Clench and hold!!!"

They were near enough now that the sticky fluid dripping off them stood out clear as day.

"Kyaaaaaaaa—!!!!"

The moment those hideous claws and well-worked wooden clubs filled his sight, he dropped his weight into his legs and set himself for the blow. Beside him, Patrasche was muttering.

"I can do this, I tell ya. Sons of bitches. I'm killing every last one of 'em."

The distance shrank, and then they met—

KRAAANG—

The fight was on. Weapons crashed together, and howls tore through the air from every side with no telling whose they were. Something snapped. Something else tore. Their sticky fluid spattered across his body. A sword sheared across hard muscle with a sensation that raised the hair on his arms, dozens of times over, and he endured it, forcing himself to ignore the sickening screams and shrieks.

The goblins were desperate to break through. They were desperate to hold. He caught blows on the buckler in his left hand as fast as they came and, with a leather gauntlet already at its limit, twisted aside everything he could.

"Uwaaaaa!!!"

For a little while he let himself hope, and the hope came from how much better they were fighting than anyone had expected. Stamina and numbers had them on a knife's edge, but experience was carrying every one of them. Keep thinning the horde like this, and sooner or later they would reach that platform—

That was the thought. The optimistic hope didn't last an hour.

"You! Fucking! Bastards!!"

He had no idea how many he had killed. His left wrist had taken so many impacts it felt ready to shatter, and his right arm had gone almost entirely numb.

"Gyaaaaaak—!!"

"Patrasche!!!!"

Before the goblin wave they were a sandcastle coming apart. One by one people took wounds and fell back, or simply died. The zweihänder must have grown too heavy for Raccoon; he had picked up a discarded longsword and was hacking with that.

"Hey, when the hell does this end!!!"

He had no answer. From where he stood at the very front, all he could see was goblins, still wall to wall.

"Hang on a little longer, you quitter!!! We've cut them way down!!!!"

A lie. They were hopelessly outmatched. Even if every member of the company had been a hero who could fight a hundred alone, he couldn't have sworn they would win. There were still far too many goblins.

Then Alex, who had appeared at his side before he noticed, bellowed.

"Hey!!!!!!!!!!!! Everybody get behind us, goddammit!!!!!!!!!!!"

The instant they heard it, every member of the party understood what he meant to do. With Alex and him at the point, they formed a wedge and started punching through the field. Silvia joined. So did Raccoon. So did Eline. The target was the platform where the Goblin Lord stood. To end this fight, they would take the head in a single stroke.

Armed with nothing but grit and sheer nerve, the company's breakthrough was monstrous. Anyone watching would have thought cavalry was in the charge. As the distance to the Lord closed at a sprint, Eline shouted to him.

"Goat! Your hand!!!!"

So this was what a perfect pair looked like. The words skipped half the steps, but he knew exactly what she wanted, and he cupped his hands into a step at once. Eline ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠planted a foot, kicked off hard, and landed in front of the Lord. She came down in a beautiful pose, struck something provocative, and said,

"Come at me, ugly."

Eline's fight with the Lord began, and the company stopped where it was and went back to fighting goblins. With their momentum dead, the situation wasn't merely awful. It was wretched. They were stranded in the middle of the horde, completely surrounded. Back to back they held somehow, but the limit was obviously coming.

Silvia had flung her bow aside and was fighting with a shortsword. The red hair that had hung to her back had been in the way, so she had sheared it off into a short cut. Blood was running from Alex's cheek as well—the one opposite his old wound—and the cut looked deep. That one would scar. No question.

"Everybody hold a little longer!! That fairy's gonna slaughter the lot of them!!!"

No one answered. There was no room for it. Breath enough to answer was breath enough to block one more blow, to cut one more time.

Somewhere along the way the groans of the wounded vanished. He couldn't tell whether the bodies catching at his feet belonged to goblins or to allies, and he didn't have the courage to look down.

Alex wrung the shout out of his throat.

"Goat!!!! Eline!!! Is she winning?!!!"

Taller than the people of this world, he could see her clearly.

"Damn…"

Eline wasn't doing well either. Even she was being driven back, one-sidedly. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠She hadn't taken a fatal hit, but it looked like a matter of time. He couldn't be sure from where he stood, yet the Lord didn't seem to be using any remarkable swordsmanship at all—only raw physical ability. And that strength was far too much for her, exhausted as she was.

"Kyak, kyararak, kyak-kyak!!!"

The Goblin Lord was shouting with delight as he swung his longsword, perfectly aware he had the upper hand.

"Aaaaaak—!!!"

"M-Mom, save me…"

"Kyak!! Kyarak! Kyararak!!!"

Defeat was settling over the field. Far from cutting down the enemy's chief, Eline was on the verge of being cut down herself, and a bleak future looked like the only ending left to them.

Raccoon, still beating goblins to death with everything he had, clawed at his throat and screamed.

"Goat!!!!!!! Fuck—the song!!! Sing the song!!!"

"If that makes them go even wilder, we're screwed!!!"

"You moron!!!!!!!! We're dead either way!!!!!"

Was using his ability even the right call? Sing, and if luck was with them the goblins might drop in a mass faint, or fall into confusion and start a bloodbath among themselves. That had to be what Raccoon was hoping for. The opposite was just as possible. The song could crank their savagery even higher. It was a complete piece-of-shit ability, with no pattern to it whatsoever.

If this world had been inside a game, the skill window would have read, without a doubt:

It was no different from throwing a die and letting the result decide what the ability did. That was why he had no choice but to hesitate with their lives on the line. With his own hands, he could snap what was left of the company's breath.

Did he truly have to sing?

Even so, the hesitation didn't last. It wasn't a question of whether he could. This was a moment when he had to. So he drew a deep breath and began.

Not the Korean number he usually belted out like a joke—something else, with everything he felt packed into it—

He had never sung this desperately since coming to the other world. If everything before had been half a joke, this time he sang praying, truly and desperately, that these piece-of-shit bastards would all just drop dead.

With every line his body grew hotter, until the surging heat could no longer contain its own vigor and burst outward. He fell into a trance where he couldn't tell whether he was raising his voice or spewing a breath of fire.

Has the wound finally festered? Have I lost my mind?

"Goat, is that…?"

She was a fair distance off, and still Eline's voice came through clear. Would you look at that. Was this the last flicker before the lights went out? He didn't let it stop him. He kept singing, willing every last flame out of himself to kill the goblins. If he could only kill them all, he didn't mind dying here today.

It was such a wreck he couldn't tell song from scream.

Thud—

A sound unlike the rest of the battlefield began to reach him.

Whump—

Tok—

"Geeeehk…?"

Like logs toppling. The voice of a goblin half asleep.

"Captain… what is this…?"

JK, one of the soldiers, sounding lost. Even with his eyes shut he could tell it wasn't simply timber falling.

He had never once sung a verse all the way through. But for some reason, this time he wanted to finish it. So he seized a body that felt ready to break and a throat one step from tearing, and he kept on. The impacts, one and two at a time, soon ran together until a dull sound was falling without end. He was afraid of what that sound was. What if it was his allies, cut down by the goblins? That was why he couldn't open his eyes.

Only after he had finished the first verse did he finally open them. His body and head hadn't cooled at all. They were still boiling, and the dizziness nearly took him, but the first thing he saw was her, and he told her—

Eline had been staring at him in a daze. Her blade flashed through the Goblin Lord. At the same moment the heat surged up again, and he couldn't bear it. He lost consciousness.

"…Fuck. Best thing I've heard in my life, you bastard."

He had no way of knowing whose words those were.

"Goat!!!"

Eline didn't even confirm the Goblin Lord's death. She came down like the wind and checked on him. The fainted goblins had to be finished before they woke, but that was work any other adventurer could do.

His body hung limp as a puppet with its strings cut, and she had to force down the thoughts that wanted to go somewhere bad. Their first meeting, when he had asked with a shameless little air whether they ought to form a fixed party. The time he had used his ability on goblins and rolled around on the ground making a huge fuss. The hours they had wandered the forest, trading idle talk. All of it flickered through her head in a rush.

If I'd known it would come to this, I should have treated ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠him better.

Eline swore that if he was only alive, if he only opened his eyes again, she would treat him better. She would protect him.

Goat's friend, Raccoon, spoke as if to reassure her.

"He's alive. Thank god."

Only then did she see the faint rise and fall of his chest. And still, inside her head, the miracle he had shown a moment ago kept playing. At the last possible instant he had overcome his distrust of himself, used his ability, and turned the battle on its head. And in the end, hadn't he awakened mana—a power only the chosen could wield?

If not for him, the head lying on the ground would have been hers.

It was astonishing. A fair amount of time had passed since she became an adventurer, and he was the first human she had ever felt had real potential. Ordinarily she would have been busy teasing him, but this time she couldn't deny it. What she truly wanted was to pull him into her arms and tell him he had done well, that he had fought more brilliantly than anyone. What came out was rather deflating.

"Goat, this time you were… kinda cool."

Eline thought her own voice sounded a little ridiculous. There was no way he could hear it. And yet, somehow, she was sure Goat was smiling.