NOVEL NEXT Chapter 60: The Slaughter
As the plot of Goblin Slayer slowly continued, the audience’s initial hope for a light-hearted, comedic film had been completely shattered.
They sat there, almost numb, watching as the story unfolded.
The relief was palpable when the armored knight successfully saved the lone survivor, the priestess.
After all, they couldn’t bear the thought of such a sweet, innocent girl falling victim to the goblins.
“First one…”
“And now, the second…”
On screen, the Goblin Slayer swiftly took down two goblins with lightning-fast moves.
There was no humor, no lightheartedness—just blood and killing, unadorned with the glamour of so-called “honor.”
The rawness of it was laid bare for every viewer to see.
When the Goblin Slayer declared that the wounded mage couldn’t be saved and ended her life himself, many women in the audience gasped audibly.
In the theater, people had never witnessed such a graphic death on stage, nor had they expected it from a film.
Even KonoSuba, with its comedic tone, had never ventured into such grim territory.
This film was different—it didn’t shy away from death, instead choosing to display it with brutal honesty.
Sitting nearby, the young knight, Rhine, was visibly disturbed.
After all, seeing a young woman die in such a horrific manner, with the protagonist so coldly accepting it, was not something that aligned with his ideals as a knight.
Yet, beside him, Wycliffe calmly remarked, “That was the right choice. The most dangerous thing on the battlefield isn’t a strong enemy—it’s a comrade who becomes a burden. Reality is not like those heroic tales. When a companion is gravely wounded and beyond healing, the right thing to do is to end their suffering and ensure you can still fight your enemy.”
“But as knights, isn’t it our duty to protect the weak?” Rhine asked, his voice filled with conflict.
Before Wycliffe could respond, Wilhelm, the general watching the film from another seat, chimed in, “There’s always a trade-off. This Goblin Slayer made a sacrifice to save those still in the goblin cave. If he had wasted time on the dying mage, the female fighter that was just captured would’ve surely faced a far worse fate.”
Hearing the wisdom from both his superiors, Rhine fell silent.
Yet, deep down, he still struggled with the protagonist’s decision.
However, as the movie continued, and the protagonist used his vast experience to eliminate the remaining goblins in the cave, saying, “These bastards never considered that they could be ambushed themselves,” Rhine felt a tingle of excitement run through him.
It wasn’t fear but admiration—he found the protagonist incredibly cool.
Though this Goblin Slayer wasn’t a dragon-slaying hero or a famed adventurer, the audience gradually began to appreciate the character’s allure.
They were eager for what would happen next. How would the story unfold?
Would the protagonist face even deadlier monsters?
And what would become of the sweet priestess he saved?
As the goblin extermination continued, when the Goblin Slayer pushed the oil-soaked goblin corpse deeper into the cave, there was a collective sigh of relief from the audience.
Justice had been served, and the villagers had been rescued.
But then, as the Goblin Slayer opened a hidden wooden door and threw his axe at the trembling goblin children inside, the audience shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
“Wait… If all the adult goblins are dead, there’s no need to kill the young ones…,” Rhine muttered, reflecting his inner turmoil.
As a knight trained to protect the weak and punish the wicked, he couldn’t reconcile this act with his values.
And it seemed this sentiment spread throughout the theater.
But when the Goblin Slayer uttered the words, “The only good goblin is one that never appears before humans,” the entire theater fell into a heavy silence.
Everyone was left contemplating the harsh realities of race versus race.
They knew the protagonist had made the right choice, but the justice he executed didn’t feel satisfying—it left a heavy weight on their hearts.
As the scene shifted, and the kidnapped girls were rescued, with the traumatized female fighter retiring from adventuring, the audience sank further into this oppressive atmosphere.
They didn’t want to think that such stories could happen in their world.
Only when the priestess decided to join the seasoned Goblin Slayer in his quest to rid the world of goblins did they find some comfort.
After this first act, no one in the theater could calm down.
The room remained eerily silent, save for the flickering images on the screen.
The audience was divided in their opinions of the Goblin Slayer—some questioned whether he was a hero or a monster.
A few even speculated that underneath the knight’s armor was a giant goblin himself.
After all, his behavior was anything but normal, and seeing him as a monster felt more plausible.
As the story continued and flashbacks of Goblin Slayer’s life began to unfold, showing his everyday activities alongside his tragic past—especially when he methodically destroyed a goblin camp while recounting his history—the audience finally realized that this cold, merciless Goblin Slayer was just a regular man consumed by revenge.
General Wilhelm, sitting back in his chair, sighed deeply and remarked to Wycliffe, “You see it, don’t you? This Goblin Slayer—he’s just like you when you were younger. Tell me, what color do you think you saw this world in back then?”
“It must have been gray…,” Wycliffe answered softly, his voice filled with a sense of weariness, as if recalling memories long buried yet still impossible to forget.