Chapter 13
Chapter 13
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 13
Chapter Title: Iron Tier Adventurer Hassan
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Kishit, kishishit!
“The goblins are coming this way! Brother, what should we do!”
Goblins.
According to this world’s myths, the gods molded humans out of some bizarre clay-like stuff, then casually shook the mud off their hands onto the ground.
Those clumps of dirt mixed with the cold chill lingering in the earth and all sorts of lingering thoughts to birth beasts and monsters. And among them, the ugliest monster had to be the goblin.
Whether the myth is true or not, I couldn’t care less.
But I wholeheartedly agreed that goblins were ugly monsters.
Wrinkled green skin. Their bodies, draped in ragged sacks, were child-sized but packed with surprisingly springy muscle.
Kishishit!!
Kisik!
Above all, what made them tricky was their excessive, savage aggression toward humans and living things.
“Kyaa-!”
The group was ambushed by over a dozen goblins. Luna especially let out a scream that could shatter eardrums as she stomped her feet.
“Hiiik! Goblins! Gross!”
Kishit, kishishit.
Whether that scream drew their aggro or not, all the goblins’ eyes glinted under the moonlight, fixed on the woman in the massive mask.
Goblins were merciless monsters, yet they possessed just enough cunning wisdom to deploy the ultimate tactical encirclement annihilation formation.
They instinctively knew to target weak points to wipe out a group. And in several ways, Luna was a gaping hole.
“Why, why are they coming this way! Hyaak!”
Luna stumbled backward and fell flat on her ass in the most pathetic way. Seizing the opening, the goblins swarmed her, pinching her clothes, mask, and flesh, clawing wildly.
Kishit, kishikit!
Kisik! Kaesat!
“Aaak!!”
That scream ignited a bloody brawl under the moonlight at the ruined shrine of some fallen moon god.
Kaesaesae!!
“Y-You little shits!”
Child-sized bodies, but the clear killing intent radiating from them was unmistakable. This pint-sized fucker was definitely looking down on me.
“Die!”
I yanked the utility dagger from my belt and jammed it into the neck of the charging goblin.
Kwaduk-.
The well-honed blade pierced its throat, slicing through muscle—the sensation was vivid.
Dizzy from the blood spraying everywhere, but no time for that luxury. I ripped the dagger free and booted the bastard’s body—thwack—sending it tumbling.
Kuek!
“You little shits, I’ll kill you all!”
The blood stench and battle rush had my head burning with excitement. Nothing simpler than violence to vent a lifetime of pent-up rage and bullshit.
Goblins weren’t that strong anyway—I could handle two or three solo no problem.
By this world’s average adult male standards, you could kill one or two barehanded. Meaning they were goblin chow compared to me.
So the remaining ten-ish? Split with the party and...
“N-Nooo, not my aggro mask! S-Someone help!!”
“My instrument’s breaking! My livelihood! Mercury, what is this! Gu, guek!”
“Fuck no, this can’t be. This can’t happen, you bastards! Why are there goblins here! End times! Titan, I miss you!”
Fuck. Without me, they were flailing with two or three goblins clinging to each like drowning rats.
Clothes and hair torn off, covered in scratches, screaming their heads off.
And that just hyped the goblins more, leading to more wounds. Plus it pissed me off to no end—these hopeless fucks!
“Die, you!”
Fuming, I punted a goblin flying. The little demon soared and crashed down.
Kishaaat!
Kishaat!
Kaesatki!
Spotting their buddy hurt, the goblins flew into a rage and charged me.
Couldn’t understand goblin tongue, but it sounded like “Huge fucking bulk!” “Tons of food!”—mocking me.
Me, taking shit from these half-pint shits? No way. You’re nowhere near ready to make me dinner.
“You’re not ready yet.”
My short dagger.
That merciless blade relentlessly slashed their sackcloth and stinking flesh, spraying blood.
Kiit....
Kwang-. Wooduk-.
I stomped the writhing goblin’s neck on the ground, snapping it, then threw my head back and bellowed.
“You’re not ready yeeeet!!!”
Gieek...!
The goblins cowed by my fury. But too late for mercy now.
I swore on my dad back home cozy under his electric blanket—I wouldn’t let a single one of these ugly devil spawn escape!
Because goblin fangs fetch 1 copper each!
Roughly ten of ’em!
Four fangs per goblin—lower and upper!
Fuck, 40 copper. I’m rich!
Ki, kiiek!
Gieeek!
Sensing my threat, the goblin shits stopped attacking the others and piled on me, swarming my body.
“Guek, encirclement annihilation!? Fuck, you fucking bastards!”
Now it was pure mud-wrestling chaos. My hands flailed, smacking whatever goblin-or-whatever, feet stomping and kicking blindly.
But limits exist.
Juuuk, jjiiik.
“Ow, it hurts! Hurts, o-oh, my clothes are ripping!”
Kieeek!
Fuck, even kid-sized, piled up they hurt like hell. Yanking my hair, poking eyes, n-not thereee!
“I’ll help you, Hassan-! Guys, go on!”
As I writhed in agony, a shrill shout echoed from somewhere, followed by buuung—like helicopter blades.
No helos or even carriages here, let alone propellers.
Buuung-.
Soon my body learned it was the bees from Luna’s bag and leather flask going berserk.
Gik! Geeek!
“Ow, hurts! Hot! Fuck! Stings like hell, you shits!”
“H-Hassan-!”
*
“S-Sorry, Hassan. B-But I had no choice. Bees don’t know friend from foe. At least the goblins ran off thanks to it...”
“...”
“Ok, I’ll shut up. But you got stung and it’s not swelling much. No antidote needed at this rate. Samaritan trait?”
“Shut up.”
“Y-Yeah...”
Crackling campfire. I was busy plucking bee stingers from my body.
Not just stingers—scratches from goblin nails and branches everywhere.
Worst, my clothes were totally shredded.
Patching rags has limits. This leather outfit cost 3 silver I scrimped as a slave.
Survived Elfriede’s whips; I’d smirked thinking years left. Gone now.
“Brother, here’s twenty fangs from the five goblins our brother slew. Truly valiant! Butchering those little ones like a savage giant soldier Cyclops! Ahh—Cyclops. One-eyed titan—”
Ding-a-ling—the bard Malco started playing. No energy left to scold, so I zipped it.
If more bullshit, I’m bolting. Sticking with these fucks’ll get me killed solo.
“No idea why goblins were here. Dumb as they are, they never swarm near human settlements. First time in my seventy years.”
Singing bard to pondering scholar Platan—post-battle takes varied.
Checking wounds or lost gear, someone piped up.
“Worked up a sweat and sang—now I’m starving. Since we’re at it, share our rations? I brought some dry goods for long hauls.”
“Y-Yeah, good idea! Got mushrooms and stuff. Pot and water too.”
Suddenly pulling food from packs. I’d brought jack shit for this half-day weed-pulling gig.
“...H-Hassan, rest. We’ll handle it. D-Don’t look, you’re scary.”
“Our barbarian lad suffered plenty. Skip his night watch too? All agree?”
“Yeah.”
“No objections from this Malco.”
Skip night watch? Sweet deal. Full sleep.
Last stinger out, I flopped back by the fire, jacket as pillow.
Forest trees swaying in wind. Beyond, sky and stars—beautiful.
Ground dark made stars brighter; two moons aside, like my world’s night sky.
Boiling pot bubbles and throbbing pain hit me melancholic.
Why the hell am I here? Miss Mom. Even hated Dad and sis.
“Sister, ready to eat? Sang two songs—should be perfect. My song timing’s spot-on.”
“Yeah, smells good. Hassan, night snack. Grandpa, a bowl?”
“I’m good. Eat up, young folks. I’m on a no-night-food health regimen—writing a paper and running trials. Also pondering goblin movements.”
Platan pulled a tiny scroll, scribbling with quill. Party ladled shares without pushing.
Plop.
I sat up too. Dented pot bubbling with mushrooms, herbs, etc.
Kugit.
Eyes narrowing.
“Something weird amid the shrooms and herbs.”
“Oh! You noticed, Hassan! Oil toad. Rare medicinal—good for the body, special for your hard work....”
Fuck, toad hotpot? That’d drop my SAN eating it.
But slave starvation and Dad’s extreme food training killed pickiness. Whatever.
“Foreign sister, even so, a toad...”
“Tasty! Good for minor wounds! Popular in Ideophe! Oil toads are hard to get.”
“Th-Then I’ll try. Umm.... Evokes vile tunes.... Tastes like a toad swimming in my mouth.”
“Right? Tasty? Guess I’ll eat too.”
Sruk-.
Luna removed her ridiculous mask. It came off?
I’d thought that giant mask was her real head.
Underneath, inexplicably pink hair. Bangs sweaty, but twin tails neatly draped from the back.
“What?”
Emerald eyes met mine. Cuter than expected—I swallowed, forgetting pain and gripe.
Pretty cute girls hijack a man’s senses. Hence dumb guy shit for girls.
I’d mocked Elfriede’s followers for simping.
Now with dusar’s Curse unlocked, female beauty hit lethal—not their mindset.
“Sister, younger than I thought—surprised. Age?”
“Just hit adulthood this year. In Ideophe, adulthood required to venture out.”
“Girl till recently? Ideophe girls wear such revealing garb? Must visit someday!”
“R-Revealing!? Standard shaman robes! H-How old are you, beak-face?”
“Not beak-face, Malco. Gonna be famous—memorize it. Twenty-six this year.”
“What? Thought at least thirty!”
“Rude! Brother, does my face look over thirty?”
Malco’s huge face loomed shadowy. This shit nearly got goblin-punched.
“Uh, yeah, around. Thirty-five?”
“Shocking!”
Bushy beard, rough skin. Thought thirty-plus; same age? More shocking.
Do isekai folk age weirdly? Pinri, Elfriede—bad way, this guy too.
“And you, brother?”
“Twenty-six too.”
“Amazing! Thought you ancient. Same age—call me friend. You qualify.”
Friend my ass. You look older.
Me seeming older than Malco?
Well, my face: unkept rocker hair, greasy, beard overgrown, scarred rough skin—fierce.
Goblin blood too—horrific.
Back to city, hit bathhouse for cleanup. Spotted one wandering to west gate.
Goblin fangs and wheelbug? Decent side cash—bath, shave, haircut luxury ok?
Hygiene key to avoiding sickness too.
....
Night passed in chatter and song; morning came. Time to clean the shrine as planned.
Buried vines on statue, goblin corpses, campfire traces—we found something odd.
“Brother, look at this. Strange statue inside the broken one.”
“Y-You bastard! Don’t touch it!”