I'm not a Goblin Slayer

The radiant blue glow of the magical blast faded.

The massive hobgoblin now had a gaping, fist-sized hole torn clean through its abdomen.

"THUD!"

It collapsed with a heavy crash, its massive cleaver and body slamming into the dirt, kicking up clouds of dust.

Gauss remained completely still, frozen in the stance from when he'd cast Magic Missile.

Only his eyes moved—staring toward the last three remaining goblins on the battlefield.

Those goblins, who had moments ago been harassing the villagers, had turned to witness the overwhelming magical force that had annihilated their leader.

Now, they were trembling like leaves in a storm.

Even goblins—with their low intelligence—understood one thing clearly:

That black-haired, green-eyed human had the power to kill them easily.

Without a second thought, the goblins dropped everything.

Weapons, armor, even their dignity—they turned tail and ran for their lives, leaving behind allies, corpses, and torn limbs.

Because that's what goblins were.

Cowards at heart. Predictably so.

"It's over."

Gauss exhaled, watching the now-quiet forest.

He didn't bother chasing the three fleeing goblins. There was no point.

A goblin without a tribe was unlikely to survive long. Unless it found another group and gained acceptance, it would likely be picked off by predators or die from the elements.

More importantly—

His mana was completely drained.

Before casting Magic Missile, he still had a decent reserve. After all, Mage Hand—a level 0 cantrip—barely used any mana.

Even though the previous physical fight had left him completely exhausted, his mana had remained relatively untouched.

But that single cast of Magic Missile, the spell that had obliterated the hobgoblin, had consumed everything.

Completely.

Now, Gauss's mana pool was empty. His body felt like it had been hollowed out.

His head throbbed with pain—his mental strength clearly overtaxed.

That's why he remained motionless—not to look cool, but because he physically couldn't move.

Luckily, that final, intimidating show of power was enough to send the rest of the goblins running.

Otherwise, in their current condition, the entire team would've still been in serious danger.

"Adventurer! Are you alright?"

Three villagers, bruised and bloodied, but still mobile, approached cautiously.

They didn't understand why Gauss wasn't speaking or giving orders. His eyes were fixed on the trees where the goblins had disappeared.

After a moment of hesitation, they moved closer—more respectfully now.

They had realized something.

This unremarkable man with tattered clothes, barely any gear, and no fancy armor—he had just single-handedly won the fight.

Especially that final spell—it had burned itself into their memories.

This man… was not ordinary.

"The fight's over," Gauss said hoarsely, still catching his breath.

"Search the cave. The victims should be inside."

"And hurry—go back to the village and get help. My teammates are badly injured… and so are your own people."

He glanced toward the others. The mission may have ended in victory—but it had been brutal.

Bell, the swordsman, had a shattered leg. Whether he would recover was uncertain. The moment he saw Gauss take down the hobgoblin, his body relaxed—and he immediately passed out cold.

Mia wasn't any better. Her injuries were internal, and she was lying unconscious in a pool of her own blood, coughing it up with every shallow breath.

As for Gauss and Hailier?

They were still conscious—but barely functional.

And that villager who'd been attacked first?

He hadn't moved in a long time. The others didn't say it aloud, but it was clear—he didn't make it.

Not long after, torches began to light up the forest again, pushing back the darkness.

Dawn.

The rooster's crow echoed over Birchwood Village—right on schedule.

But the village didn't wake up as it usually did.

After a night like that, the air was heavy with quiet sorrow.

There was good news: the two abducted women had been rescued.

When they were found, they were battered, filthy, and barely clothed—but alive. That alone was a miracle.

As for other... traumas?

Gauss had the emotional intelligence not to ask. Some questions didn't need to be voiced.

The bad news?

A villager had died.

Aisha's brother.

At first, when the villagers heard someone had been killed—especially one of their own—some grumbled.

They wondered why the adventurer party couldn't handle "just a few goblins."

But when they reached the battlefield and saw what had really happened—

The complaints died in their throats.

The forest clearing had turned into a butcher's yard.

Dark red blood soaked the ground. The air was choked with the stink of rot, bile, and death.

Severed goblin limbs were everywhere—arms, legs, hands.

And worse.

Chunks of intestines and shredded organs lay exposed, oozing filth and stench.

Some villagers with weaker stomachs dropped to their knees and vomited on the spot.

When they heard the full story—from the three surviving villagers, and from seeing Bell and Mia barely clinging to life—the tone shifted completely.

Gratitude replaced anger.

To them, Gauss's party were now heroes.

The adventurers were moved into the best stone house in the village to rest.

There were no doctors in Birchwood, but an apprentice herbalist stayed by Bell and Mia's side through the night.

They could do little beyond basic first aid, but at least the bleeding had stopped.

Hailier had also given each of them a rare red medicinal pill—one that temporarily stimulated the body's life force and stabilized internal injuries.

It was only a stopgap. The pills were harmful if used repeatedly and couldn't replace real medical care.

So while Bell and Mia had made it through the night, they weren't out of danger yet.

Proper treatment would be needed—soon.