I Am Not Goblin Slayer
Chapter 50: A Narrow Escape

"Watch out! Monsters incoming!"  

Realizing the approaching figures weren't human, Gauss immediately warned his teammates still engrossed in their "work."  

Meva was the second to spot the creatures. Following Gauss's alert, her sharp eyes locked onto the monsters emerging from the distant riverbank.  

"Ghouls? Or something worse - fiends?"  

Her heartbeat accelerated violently the moment she identified their targets, shattering her previous calm.  

"What nonsense? Didn't we exterminate all the Water Ghosts?" Doyle, standing nearby, initially failed to comprehend the danger. But when he finally turned and saw the approaching horrors, he leapt up from the ground in terror, his face draining of color.  

Unlike Water Ghosts, both ghouls and fiends required professional combatants to handle. The entire team abandoned their looting immediately, hastily gathering their gear while forming a defensive cluster, their hearts pounding with dread.  

Though ghouls shared Water Ghosts' preference for carrion, their combat prowess dwarfed those feeble creatures. For low-level adventurers like themselves, encountering one often meant total party annihilation.  

Moreover, this creature's physique starkly contrasted with the flabby Water Ghosts - it moved with the disciplined grace of a veteran warrior, tall and lethally efficient.  

"Stay calm. The situation might not be as dire as it seems," Meva observed carefully before speaking slowly.  

Firstly, this appeared to be a lone ghoul. Secondly, it showed no immediate aggression, otherwise it wouldn't approach so openly along the riverbank.  

While ghouls indeed required professionals to eliminate, their six-member squad possessed decent equipment. An isolated ghoul might hesitate to attack such a group when easier prey existed.  

All living creatures instinctively avoided unnecessary risks.  

Most crucially, the twenty-odd rotting Water Ghost corpses scattered around would satisfy its hunger completely.  

"Right. It probably just wants to drive us away," Gauss concurred as realization dawned.  

Their earlier confusion about the missing Water Ghosts suddenly made sense - this ghoul had already claimed some victims.  

Though somewhat reassured, the team maintained their defensive formation.  

"Don't turn and run recklessly - that might provoke it. Retreat slowly. We can't outrun it anyway," Levin advised despite his dripping sweat. "But stay combat-ready."  

The ghoul's movements appeared sluggish but deceptive - it covered the distance in a dozen strides.  

"Leave! Get out!"  

The ghoul lifted its head, crimson eyes fixing on the group as its elongated tongue lashed about, spitting out broken Common Tongue.  

Its raspy, guttural voice resembled an old hound's growl.  

Whether due to its horrific appearance or predatory aura, even Gauss felt mental discomfort from its crude speech, as if suffering psychic contamination.  

Cold sweat beaded on every forehead.  

The creature's presence exerted overwhelming pressure, as if emanating from a higher plane of existence!  

"F-fight?" Doyle's sword hand trembled visibly, yet he still glanced at his teammates for consensus.  

"No. We retreat." Without hesitation, Gauss and the others reached unanimous agreement.  

Though boosted by enhanced agility and his new [Mage Armor] spell, Gauss harbored no illusions about battling this monstrosity.  

Not that he feared combat - but this didn't warrant risking their lives. Especially facing a ghoul radiating such formidable presence.  

Even potential victory would come at devastating cost.  

Withdrawal signaled wisdom, not cowardice.  

Doyle exhaled in relief.  

The team slowly retreated while maintaining eye contact, weapons at the ready, conceding the Water Ghost corpses to the ghoul.  

Meva monitored their rear for potential ambushes. But their caution proved unnecessary - after several dozen meters, the ghoul simply pounced on the corpses, beginning its grotesque feast.  

Only when safely distant did the group finally turn and sprint toward the village.  

"Whew—"  

Flickering candlelight spilled onto the streets through tavern windows.  

The sight of civilization - lights and fellow humans - finally allowed them to breathe freely again. Their chests heaved from exertion, hearts pounding against their ribs.  

"We actually survived!" Oliver wiped his sweaty brow, unashamed of his post-crisis euphoria.  

For non-professional low-tier adventurers, escaping a ghoul encounter unscathed deserved celebration. With enough liquor, this might even become an exaggerated tavern tale.  

"Pathetic," Doyle straightened up, feigning nonchalance. "I wasn't scared at all. Would've fought if you guys hadn't chickened out."  

"That might be believable... if your hands stopped shaking," Meva deadpanned, giving him a sidelong glance.  

Gauss noticed Doyle's violently trembling hands too - whether from exhaustion or terror remained unclear. But caught red-handed, Doyle could only mumble excuses about tired arms from running.  

"Enough. Let's report to Harvey at the tavern," Levin said, shaking off his near-death adrenaline.  

The ghoul incident wasn't over.  

They'd escaped by sheer luck - the available corpses had sated its hunger. Without those Water Ghosts...  

Moreover, while their mission was technically complete, they'd abandoned some loot. Their proof-of-completion items fell short, requiring explanation.  

The job wasn't fully settled yet.  

Entering the village's sole tavern - the Mermaid's Keg - they found it far livelier than daytime.  

Bearded merchants gulped ale from clay mugs; red-faced sailors shook dice cups while bellowing numbers; a drunken, shirtless man with a hairy chest danced clumsily in the cramped space—  

The chaotic revelry died instantly when the door crashed open.  

Before anyone entered, an overpowering stench of fish and rot flooded the room.  

A drunk leaning against the door, already annoyed by the disturbance, turned crimson when the reek assaulted him.  

"Filthy beggars! Get out!"  

*Thwack!*  

His swinging arm got caught in an iron grip.  

All eyes turned toward the entrance.  

Moonlight revealed a squad of towering adventurers caked in grime. Upon closer inspection, their armor crevices contained unidentifiable organ fragments - intestines, blood clots, and worse. To the horrified patrons, they resembled demons straight from hell.  

The once-rowdy tavern fell deathly silent, as if every throat had been squeezed shut.