The Beginning of the Journey
“Ugh.”
Dain sighed as he stared at the overstuffed travel bag. He’d only packed what he needed, yet it was filled to bursting. Atop it rested the old shield that had sat forgotten in the corner of the house for years. Choosing a shield instead of a longsword had been his own decision. To stand at the very front and protect the Hero and the Saintess—that was his role, and he finally understood it.
“All right. Let’s go.”
“You have to be careful!”
“Defeat the Demon King for us! Zarco! Ceres!”
“We’ll be waiting!”
Receiving the villagers’ farewells, the Hero Zarco, the Saintess Ceres, and the warrior Dain stepped out of the village. When Dain glanced back, he saw Elesia already in tears, waving frantically, and Velika watching him with red-rimmed eyes. His chest tightened, but he quickly steadied himself. Forcing a bright smile, he turned away.
After walking for some time, Ceres’s trembling body finally stilled. They had descended the mountain path and now faced the forest road he had only seen on maps.
“All cried out?”
“Y-yeah.”
“Good grief.”
Her eyes were still puffy, but the expression on her face as she looked ahead was resolute. According to Lilias, there were reports of suspicious demon activity near their destination, Siko Village. Several hunters had been attacked by a sudden outbreak of undead near the underground cemetery, and a demon was suspected to be behind it.
Demons—unlike magical beasts or monsters—were beings even the royal knights could not guarantee victory against. At their pinnacle, the Demon King could not be opposed without the Hero. The kingdom’s army was pinned down watching the Demon King’s forces at the eastern continent’s border and could not move. The kingdom’s strategy was to have the Hero eliminate the demons within the realm first, then join the royal army to subjugate the Demon King.
Hearing the goal of their journey, even Dain felt a surge of strength in his shoulders. Jealousy toward Zarco was nothing in the face of the world’s crisis.
“Mmm.”
Zarco adjusted the strap on his shoulder with a look of discomfort. The armor Lilias had given him was high quality, but it still hung loose on his slender frame. Ceres, too, wore a new saintess robe. The pure white fabric, trimmed in gold, clung tightly to her body rather than draping like traditional priestly vestments. On anyone else it would have looked merely elegant. But on Ceres, the garment revealed every beautiful curve, stirring Dain’s heart again and again without any overt exposure.
Before he could stop himself, words slipped out.
“Ceres.”
“Yeah?”
“That outfit… is it really okay? It’s so tight. Doesn’t it make you look a little… chubby?”
“Hey!”
Ceres’s cheeks puffed up. She stomped ahead angrily.
“You know I’m self-conscious about that, yet you still say it.”
She pouted cutely as she walked on, but the sight of her from behind was devastating. The tight fabric stretched over her hips, drawing perfect, elastic circles with every step. It was a sight no man could ignore. Dain’s heart began to race in time with the sway of her skirt.
“Th-this is the forest path now. Monsters might appear, so I’ll take the lead.”
Dain slipped past Ceres. It was almost violent. If he kept watching her hips, the resolve he had fought so hard to maintain would crumble. He deliberately stared into the forest and took deep breaths, yet his eyes still flicked back unconsciously.
‘Oh.’
The Hero was standing just behind the Saintess, eyes fixed on her rear. Unlike Dain, who had stepped forward out of embarrassment, Zarco remained directly behind her, devouring the sight of her swaying hips with his gaze.
Dain whipped his head forward again. The scene playing in his mind was vivid. Perhaps the back of her skirt had ridden up with her movement. Perhaps the soft skin of her inner thighs was faintly visible. Perhaps the shifting fabric failed to fully conceal the curves of her backside.
“Ah!”
Ceres stumbled. An unfamiliar boot had caught on a stone. What kind of posture had she been in when she stepped on it? Had she pitched forward, legs spreading wide to regain balance? What exactly had Zarco—standing right behind her—seen?
Dain’s heart stung. Was it anger? Jealousy? In the middle of it all, he desperately denied the thought that maybe he should have stayed behind her himself.
At that moment—
“Stop.”
Dain gestured behind him and gripped his shield. The goblins and orcs visible beyond the trees locked eyes with him and charged forward with wild shrieks.
“Monsters!”
At the shout, everyone drew their weapons. Dain’s battle experience sent strategies flashing through his mind. The worst outcome was being surrounded. He had to reduce the number of fast-approaching goblins as quickly as possible.
He sliced across the upper body of the goblin that leaped out first. Dark blood sprayed. The sensation was unfamiliar; a longsword would have cut it in two. Fortunately the goblin shuddered and stopped moving.
‘I can do this!’
Dain roared and charged toward them. Five goblins. Two closing in. Cut one down, then use the shield to stop the other and stab it. He beheaded the first as planned, but only then realized the shield was heavier than expected. The creature slipped past it viciously and ran by him.
“One left!”
Behind him, Ceres stood with a tense face, chanting a prayer, while Zarco blocked the path in front of her. A single goblin was not a difficult opponent. What Dain needed to do now was tie down as many enemies as possible.
Crack!
A bolt of lightning suddenly fell, charring the two goblins in front of Dain. Ceres stared at the victims of her thunder prayer, breathing hard.
‘Then the one from earlier—’
An orc right in front of him swung its club, and the goblins began to fan out, surrounding him.
“Graaah!”
A heavy scream came from behind. When Dain looked back, he saw Zarco and a goblin had stabbed each other. The goblin collapsed limply, but a crude axe was buried in the Hero’s arm, blood soaking the wound.
“Ceres! Heal him!”
Goblin weapons were more dangerous for their filth than their power. Moreover, Zarco was the Hero. If he fled from his first battle after being wounded, it could affect his Authority.
Dain shoved the orc back and finished off the two nearby goblins. Ceres rushed to the fallen Zarco and looked at the injury. The sight of the axe buried deep in his forearm, the horribly torn skin, and the gushing blood made her head spin.
“Wh-what do I do? Zarco, are you okay? I’ll start the healing prayer right—”
“You said you can’t use the healing prayer anymore. Focus on the enemies first… ugh.”
“R-right! Hold on!”
Ceres took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and began to pray. She could feel holy power rising within her. She aimed at the two orcs in her mind. The prayer had reached its midpoint when she felt a hand wrap around hers.
Contact was supposed to heal the Hero. Would it work even through gloves? The moment the touch left her, anxiety rose—but then a hand settled on her knee, stopping her prayer entirely.
“Kyaa…!”
The Hero’s hand had slid along the Saintess’s thigh. The outfit Lilias had prepared left only the inner thighs beneath the skirt exposed. The soft, appraising grip on her flesh made her body tremble with shame and confusion. Her face flushed, but Ceres tried to steady her heart.
‘Th-this is no time for that. I have to deal with the enemies first…’
As if mocking that resolve, Zarco’s hand moved to her side, gripping the forbidden area just below her ribs. She could feel him staggering. If he was holding her waist because the pain made it hard to stand, she could understand—but the shame was still unbearable. Her face had turned scarlet.
When she resumed the prayer, she felt a bright, powerful energy flow through her from his hand on her thigh. Holy power? The strength radiating from the Hero’s hand quickly filled her body. Zarco’s touch felt burning hot. Her body shook as his hand slowly moved from the outside of her thigh toward the inside. Every time he touched her, a tingling sensation spread, and the flow of power inside her grew fiercer.
Her prayer continued in a trembling voice, wavering with embarrassment, yet the surging strength pushed the words from her lips.
“I beseech you…”
⟨ Lightning that shall burn our enemies ⟩
With the prayer’s completion, she thrust her staff into the ground. A massive bolt of lightning crashed down on the enemies surrounding Dain. It was nothing like the lightning from before that had merely charred them in an instant. This one radiated light for several long seconds and was far larger in scale.
“…Huh?”
Neither Dain—who had traveled outside the village—nor Ceres—who had practiced endlessly—had expected a prayer of this power. Yet she had no time to be surprised. Between waves of embarrassment, all she could focus on was the Hero’s hand still touching her.