Slime Slayer

Volume 3 Chapter 2 - Festival Eve's

3rd Person Pov

Goblin Slayer’s day started early.
He woke before daybreak, donned his equipment, and patrolled the farm.
The predawn hours made for good night vision practice.

Particularly once summer was over and fall had begun, the mornings became
dark and cold. A time well suited to him—and to goblins.

In those chilly minutes before the horizon became visible in the distance, he devoted himself to training and vigilance.

Eyes on the ground ahead, weapon in hand, he took one careful step at a time.
If a goblin appeared at that very moment, he would have calmly and quietly dealt with it.

That was how thorough he was—how thorough he wanted to be.

Cow girl : Morning! It’s a little nippy today, huh?”

Once the sun came up, his old friend rose to the crowing of roosters.
She complained about the temperature, largely because she wore nothing but
her underwear and a bedsheet.
She leaned out the window, happily exposing her ample bosom. It was no
wonder she was freezing.

Slayer : You’ll catch a cold.”

Goblin Slayer hardly looked at her, dispassionately sheathing his naked sword.

Cow Girl : Aw, I’m used to it. I’ll be fine. Breakfast will be ready in a few, okay?”

Slayer : No...”

He cocked his head as if listening for something, seemingly thinking
to himself. Finally, he slowly shook his head.

Slayer : There’s something I have to do
first.”

Cow girl : Oh, really?”

Cow girl: Please, go ahead and eat. And...”

He considered for a moment, but when he spoke, it was in the same tone as always.

Slayer: I will probably be late tonight.”

Cow girl : ...Sure. Okay.”

Cow Girl pursed her lips with a touch of disappointment, but soon she was smiling again.

Cow Girl: Be sure to put away your utensils when you’re done eating.”

Slayer : I will.”

With a wave, she disappeared from the window. He turned away from her, his
gaze settling on the barn. Well, really just the unused storehouse he happened to be renting. He opened the door with a creak and went in.

The floor was cluttered with unidentifiable equipment and items. He shoved things to one side or the other to make space.

He sat down in the open area he had haphazardly created, removed the sword from his hip, and took out a whetstone.

In the thin light, Goblin Slayer could see that the blade was starting to warp,
chipped and rusting.

It was often said that a single sword could not cut down more than five
people before it dulled with blood and fat. It was true.

But how many times did a world-class chef, standing in the kitchen all day,
with his knife?

For an outstanding swordsman, to kill a hundred people was essentially the
same thing. For what was a sword, really, but a knife for cutting meat?

In the heat of battle, it was a different
story. Doubly so for crude swords
stolen from goblins.

To him, weapons and armor were consumables. They could be taken from the enemy if need be.