Madman in a Fantasy World – Chapter 6

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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Vine
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“Eek! Aaaaaahhhh!!!”

Adela, the receptionist, shrieked louder than any goblin.

What’s the big deal? It’s not like she’s never seen a goblin before.

Admittedly, the three goblin heads I had placed on the counter were a gruesome sight.

One was cleanly decapitated.

One was decapitated with its eyes gouged out.

And the last one had a gaping hole in its right temple, blood still oozing out.

A normal person who’d never seen a monster might be terrified, but…

She’s an Adventurers’ Guild receptionist.

She must have seen countless goblins, not to mention other monster corpses, since the guild handled most of the acquisitions. I didn’t understand her reaction.

Not only Adela but also the other receptionists were recoiling in horror.

Undeterred, I began my dissection show.

“Alright, time for the goblin dissection show~”

I drew my sword, still stained with dark blue goblin blood, adding to the macabre atmosphere.

I started slicing off ears.

Slice. Slice.

I wasn’t a psychopath, but the slicing was oddly satisfying.

I carefully placed the severed ears on a corner of the counter, arranging them neatly.

I repeated the process until I had collected all six ears.

“W-what are you doing?!”

“You told me to bring goblin ears.”

They asked for the ears, and now they were questioning me?

Did they forget what they had asked for just a few hours ago?

Was she suffering from early-onset dementia?

“What’s all the commotion?”

Argo, the Guildmaster, appeared again, drawn by the noise.

He scratched the back of his head wearily as he descended the stairs.

Seeing the scene before him, he facepalmed.

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I was promptly kicked out of the guild.

“I brought the goblin ears, so I’m registered, right?”

“I’ll give you your guild tag later. Just… go outside for an hour or so…”

These people don’t appreciate the art of dissection.

It was so entertaining.

And I was just trying to brighten the day of these poor receptionists stuck behind the counter.

Sure, the counter was a bit messy with goblin blood and gore, but I was planning to clean it up afterward. That was part of the show.

They told me to go outside for an hour, so I needed to find something to do. I decided to just wander around.

I had nothing else to do, and I wasn’t interested in seeking out any fortuitous encounters.

If I steal the protagonist’s opportunities, I’ll get dragged into the main story. No thanks.

Taking what was meant for the protagonist would only lead to trouble.

I headed towards the market, browsing the stalls. It was more out of boredom than any real intention to buy anything, but it was surprisingly… underwhelming.

Apples, oranges… nothing I hadn’t seen before reincarnating.

Boring.

I hadn’t expected anything extraordinary from an ordinary market, but I had hoped to see something unique to this world.

No such luck.

Well, it made sense. People had to eat this stuff, so it couldn’t be too weird, like glowing purple fruit or something.

The author could have been more creative.

Magic and monsters were the only fantastical elements in this world.

I was about to head back to the guild when a sign caught my eye. A hammer and anvil.

A blacksmith!

The unmistakable sign piqued my interest.

I had seen videos of blacksmiths forging swords and cutting paper. It looked fun. I didn’t want to make a sword myself, but I wanted to see some real swords. Blacksmiths on Earth didn’t usually display and sell swords.

Besides, blacksmiths were the source of all hunting equipment. There was no reason not to go in.

Ding-a-ling.

The bell above the door announced my arrival.

“Welcome.”

A burly man, the very image of a blacksmith, emerged from the back room.

His arms were thick with muscle from years of heavy lifting and hammering.

He could probably bench press a small car.

He looked less like a craftsman and more like someone who forged weapons by beating monsters to a pulp with a hammer.

“Just browsing.”

“Go ahead.” He switched to informal speech after seeing my student uniform.

As someone born in the East, I respected my elders, so I didn’t mind his informal tone.

It’s not like I wanted to become a weapon myself or anything.

I looked around the smithy.

Standard iron weapons: longswords, axes, hammers, daggers, shields…

Heavy plate armor…

Lighter leather armor…

No bikini armor, though.

I wanted to buy something, but I was broke.

Still, browsing was fun. Then, in a corner, I saw a wooden box filled with various discarded weapons. Probably failed projects or items in need of repair. But it wasn’t the weapons that caught my eye. It was something else next to the box.

“Hey, mister, is this for sale?”

“Ah, that. Someone commissioned it and never picked it up. You can have it.”

“You’re giving it to me for free?”

“Yeah. It’s just taking up space, and it’s not worth much anyway.”

Score!

I put the item into my inventory.

So much for “there’s no such thing as a free lunch.”

This will make short work of those goblins.

I couldn’t wait to use it.

“Heh heh heh.”

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I killed time and returned to the guild exactly one hour later.

The scene of my dissection show had been cleaned up, and the horrified receptionists were back at work.

“Hello.”

“…Welcome back.”

Adela’s tone was frosty.

“What’s with the tone?”

“…Are you seriously asking me that?”

Her eyes were practically shooting daggers.

The dissection show must have been quite traumatic for her.

“Where’s my guild tag?”

“Sigh… here.”

It’s just a piece of paper…?

It was a business card-sized piece of paper with an “E” printed on it, along with the branch, date of issue, and my name.

Apparently, the tags became more elaborate with higher ranks.

Copper for D-rank, iron for C-rank, silver for B-rank, and gold for A-rank.

F-rank and S-rank had no tags.

F-rank adventurers mostly did odd jobs, so their rank was self-explanatory.

S-rank adventurers were so rare that their names and faces were widely known, like the president or something.

Now that I have my tag, time to earn some dinner money.

I went to the request board and checked the available E-rank quests.

Adventurers used to be able to take quests one rank above their own, but too many reckless idiots died, so the rules changed.

It was still possible if a party had at least one member of the required rank.

For example, an E-rank party could take a D-rank quest if they had a D-rank member.

But I was solo, so E-rank was my limit.

And naturally, the most common E-rank quest was…

“Goblins.”

I took the quest and went back to the reception desk, where Adela greeted me with a murderous glare.

“Aren’t there any other quests?”

There were other E-rank monsters, but…

I had already found the goblin lair.

It would be a waste not to use it.

“Nope.”

“…This time, only bring back the ears.”

“Okay.”

“Sigh…”

“Okay.”

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Returning to the forest without marking the location of the goblin lair was a grave mistake. I spent an hour wandering through the maze-like forest, feeling like I was in a hedge maze, blindly following the left wall, hoping to find the exit.

I eventually found my way back to the cave.

“Man, that was tiring.”

I retrieved the item I had acquired from the blacksmith: caltrops. Those spiky things ninjas threw on the ground in anime and games.

I scattered them liberally in front of the cave entrance.

“Hehehehehe.”

Instant tap-dancing floor.

My makeshift goblin club was complete.

Now, all I had to do was lure them out, which was easy.

“KYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

I screamed at the top of my lungs. I wanted to make chalkboard-scratching noises, but I didn’t have a chalkboard.

I should get one later.

My screams were answered by a chorus of goblin cries from within the cave.

Kyaaaaaaaaak!!!!!

It sounded like more than one.

More than I had anticipated.

Multiple sets of footsteps approached the entrance, and soon, goblins began pouring out.

About ten of them.

“Yes! Delicious prey! Come and get it!”

Who would walk into a clearly visible trap?

But to them, I was the enemy, invading their territory.

Who would expect a trap at the entrance of their own lair?

Especially not dumb goblins.

The first few goblins stepped right onto the caltrops.

Kieeeek!!!

“Ouch, that looks painful.”

Imagine stepping on LEGOs… LEGOs with spikes.

It looked excruciating.

The lead goblin, its feet pierced, tried to tap-dance its way out of the pain, but the goblins behind it, unable to stop their momentum, slammed into it. The front goblins tumbled forward, faces planting directly onto the caltrops.

The goblins behind them trampled over their fallen comrades, only to step on the caltrops themselves.

The trampled goblins, impaled by the spikes, died silently from blood loss.

The rest kept coming, only to repeat the process.

I had spread the caltrops wide, so it was a continuous cycle of tap-dancing, trampling, and dying.

The cave echoed with their cries of “Kieeeek!” and “Kyaaaak!”

I danced to their screams.

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