Holy Shield
Beyond the brilliance, Lawrence was greeted by a wasteland.
The landscape was desolate, with not a blade of grass in sight.
A cold wind beckoned to him.
A chill utterly unlike the one in Ulbazar Swamp.
By now, even this sudden change no longer felt unfamiliar.
The swamp’s rainy season had begun in June.
It had taken roughly a month to travel from the depths of the swamp to the sanctuary.
At the very least, he should have made it into the Spirit World by July.
Then there was the time spent at the temple.
And the period of study in the Witch’s Forest.
All told, nearly two months had passed.
By the calendar, it should have been December. Or perhaps January.
He supposed he should be grateful there was no snowfall.
After finishing the count in his head, Lawrence became certain he had returned to the material world.
Fortunately, it wasn’t wholly frigid.
The vestments he had received from Ignatius seemed to include some defense against the cold, because a faint warmth lingered beneath his armor.
Still, before figuring out where he was, there was something else he needed to do.
Lawrence extended both hands in front of him.
“Holy Shield.”
Dazzling radiance gathered at his fingertips.
The flower bloomed into the shape of a shield, petals made of light.
Compared to the shield he had handled at the Starry Lake, this one was much smaller.
Even so, the sanctified light at its core did not lose its center.
He formed a firmer image in his mind.
Not merely a shield to protect his hands and forearms, but a massive barrier that could defend his entire body.
Holy Shield answered the mage’s will at once.
A stabbing headache struck him in an instant.
The shield, devouring mana with gluttonous greed, swelled further.
As its radius expanded, its thickness actually grew thinner.
If he wanted, he could reinforce it even more.
But the mana required to maintain it was no joke.
As the pain in his head intensified, Lawrence dismissed Holy Shield.
He placed a hand over his chest.
There was no pain there. No hint of soreness rose up, which made this feel different from before.
This wasn’t a headache caused by lack of mana.
It was the weakness that came from spending an enormous amount of mana all at once.
To make sure, he spoke the activation word again.
The basic form was a round shield that covered both hand and forearm.
Even if he kept it up for a long time, that familiar headache did not return.
The rate at which it drained mana was also ordinary.
At this level, he felt like he could use it more than ten times without any problem.
The issue was reinforcement.
The moment he strengthened those two things that mattered most in a shield—its durability and its size—the headache came roaring back.
He also couldn’t use any other magic while maintaining Holy Shield.
It was different from Shadow Light.
This was a type that required him to look left and right at once, like ordinary magic.
In other words, he couldn’t attack and defend at the same time.
That was a fatal weakness.
His thoughts deepened.
Magic was not all-powerful.
It was a rare defensive spell, certainly, but if he handled it carelessly, it could easily put him in a worse position than before.
The shield that had protected the sentry came to mind.
It had shown powerful defense against void attributes, but it had been vulnerable to other elements and to blunt force. If Holy Shield was similar, it might not absorb every blow either.
That meant he couldn’t keep it permanently reinforced.
Judging by the headache, he’d be lucky to manage one or two uses at most.
That made the drawbacks of a strengthened Holy Shield perfectly clear.
Unless the situation was truly dangerous, it would be better not to rely on it.
More than anything, because it required concentration, it also took a fair amount of time.
In a real fight, where every second counted, it would be difficult to use in many ways.
If he did use it, the initial form was probably best.
He would have to predict his opponent’s attacks as best he could while accounting for the shield’s size.
Either way, it would take time to get used to.
Given the nature of magic, it might be better to practice with a sparring partner than alone.
As he stared at Holy Shield, a laugh escaped him before he knew it.
It couldn’t be helped; his heart was racing.
Holy Shield was clearly a radiant attribute.
He had never expected that he would be able to use radiant magic as well.
Acheron had said it himself.
Both void and radiant were rare talents.
Could it be that he was capable of handling every attribute of magic that existed in the world?
That was a thrilling possibility indeed.
* * *
How long had he been engrossed in Holy Shield?
Before he knew it, the sun was hanging high overhead.
If he intended to find a village, he would need to move before dusk.
Once night fell and monsters came alive, things would become troublesome in more ways than one.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t a road in sight.
Not only were there no traces left by passersby, there wasn’t even a single object touched by human hands. It was clear this was a lonely stretch of land.
Before moving on, he checked his belongings one last time.
The vestments and armor were both intact. Lemegeton, carefully kept inside his coat, was safe as well.
What surprised him most was the coin purse and the three potions.
Even his Bronze Plate was still completely undamaged.
That naturally raised the question.
Why had he had them this time, when they had vanished before?
Was this also something that changed depending on his experience and growth in the Spirit World?
He had no idea.
At least it wasn’t bad news.
He had spent money on the potions and had only a few silver left, but even so, having them gave him far more options in a village.
Lawrence slowly rose to his feet.
If he picked a direction and kept walking, something would eventually turn up.
He chose a suitable bearing and started across the lonely wasteland.
But it didn’t take long for him to realize how foolish that thought had been.
The cold would not let up.
His heavier footsteps seemed to resist moving forward.
He yanked his hood lower.
Blocking the cold wind that kept sneaking in made things a little more bearable.
At least it wasn’t snowing.
If snow had been drifting down from the sky, then walking would no longer be the problem; he’d have needed to find a warm campsite first.
If not for the warmth of his vestments, he would have been crouched down long ago, building a fire where he stood.
Then, suddenly, he recalled the pilgrim’s road he had learned from Ignatius.
The pilgrim’s road was not a special path meant only for pilgrims.
What mattered was visiting the holy sites one by one and offering prayers.
One followed the designated route, wandering onward and onward without a destination.
By default, pilgrimage was done on foot.
Even if one met another person on the road, one must not ask for their help.
The hardship of the pilgrimage was a trial bestowed by Goddess Belche.
Countless pilgrims lost their lives along the way.
For an ordinary believer, even meeting a single wild animal on a solitary pilgrimage route would put their life in danger.
But beasts were not the only thing that threatened a pilgrim’s life.
Monsters, the natural enemy of all travelers, also lurked there.
The people one encountered on the road could threaten a pilgrim as well.
Beyond the direct dangers, traveling alone also came with practical problems.
The cold he was suffering from right now, for instance.
If one carried too much, the burden on the body increased naturally, which meant there was a limit to how much one could bring.
Among those things, food and water were issues that could not be compromised.
In a situation like this, if he were to run into a monster or a bandit instead of a wild animal, it would be the worst possible outcome.
Even a regular mercenary would have trouble surviving it.
Was that why Lenard had said that?
If you can’t do it, you die.
He had meant it exactly as it sounded.
It was only natural that pilgrims were respected.
It was a path of hardship that ordinary people could not even imagine taking.
Simply making it to the sanctuary after so many trials along the pilgrim’s road was reason enough to be admired.
Perhaps he had been thinking about it too lightly.
Even between nearby villages, traveling by carriage generally took about a month.
With no food and no water, what were the chances of reaching a village safely?
He didn’t know.
More than anything, the problem was drinkable water.
As for food, bluntly speaking, he could boil tree bark or grass and eat that.
Back when there had been nothing else to eat, he had swallowed that sort of thing with gratitude.
He had no desire whatsoever to return to those days, if it could be helped.
But right now, he was in no position to be picky.
Lawrence’s worries were confirmed in full.
Day or night.
Goblins and Under Wolves appeared from the most unexpected places.
During the day, it was manageable.
But at night, when he had to sleep, it was nothing short of hell.
Since he was alone, there was no one to keep watch for him, and he had to sleep in shallow, fitful bursts while staying alert to his surroundings.
He couldn’t eat properly, couldn’t drink properly.
And at night, he couldn’t even get enough sleep.
There was no better way to wear a person down.
There was no way the road would be easy if he walked it alone.
He couldn’t find game no matter how hard he searched.
Most of all, the bitter winter cold was not something vestments alone could solve.
The hood that kept fluttering above the snow constantly gathered ice, and his hands were so cold he had to keep them tucked beneath his sleeves at all times.
And yet, even then, he still couldn’t block the chill that crept beneath his collar.
Could he have somehow ended up in the northern reaches of the kingdom this time?
Nothing else explained why it was so unbearably cold.
And there wasn’t even any snow falling.
Because of all this, he couldn’t even dream of practicing magic.
At least it was fortunate that he had Shadow Light.
At the very least, he could produce the light needed for camping without delay.
Please, let a village be nearby.
No—if that was too much to ask, then even a passerby would do.
Ideally, a peddler in a carriage would be even better.
If that happened, he could hitch a ride under the pretext of escorting them.
Had the goddess heard that desperate wish?
After four days of pressing onward diligently, Lawrence finally encountered a group of people.
“...This is bad.”
“We’ve got to do something.”
Two men were talking with grave expressions beside an unmoving carriage.
Nearby, other members of the group were gathered around a campfire.
A skinny middle-aged woman was tending the flames, and the woman bringing in dry firewood had freckles dotted across her face.
There were three children with them, apparently their sons and daughter.
Two boys who didn’t look older than ten.
And a sister who was busily running around, looking after them.
“You two are really someth— Ah….”
Seeing Lawrence, the girl quickly pushed the two children behind her.
For someone so young herself, it was rather admirable the way she stepped forward to protect her younger siblings.
Hearing the commotion, the adults gathered.
The first to move were the women tending the fire.
Suspicious eyes turned his way.
There was no need to move in a way that would heighten their wariness.
While Lawrence adjusted his collar, the two men approached.
“You should take the hint and get lost.”
The black-haired man raised his voice without preamble.
“The goddess’s blessing be with you. It seems you’ve run into trouble. May I ask what’s happened?”
“Didn’t you hear me? Mind your own—”
Just as he was about to spit out another rough remark, the other man stopped him.
The man carefully studied Lawrence’s appearance, then brought his hands together and bowed his head.
“Could you be a pilgrim from the Order?”
Lawrence silently nodded.
Come to think of it, they must have been believers in the church.
He hadn’t expected them to recognize him as a pilgrim at a glance.
“May the goddess’s blessing be with you.”
“M-may the goddess’s blessing be with you.”
Perhaps because he was so flustered, the man’s voice trembled.
“Tch. Even kids like this are with the church now?”
“You shut your mouth. That’s what makes it even more impressive! Do you think becoming a pilgrim at this age is easy?”
After pushing the grumbling man’s head down, he bowed again and again.
“I’m sorry. He doesn’t know anything. I hope you’ll forgive him, pilgrim.”
“There’s no need to ask me for forgiveness. The almighty goddess watches over us all with love and mercy.”
At Lawrence’s answer, the man shuddered.
“Thank you. Thank you, pilgrim.”
His reaction was even stronger than Lawrence had expected.
But only for a moment. He realized that the way the man was reacting wasn’t all that different from Hilton Village.
Come to think of it, it had been the same then too.
Greta had hidden in the inn kitchen and not once come out.
And Edrick, the innkeeper, had been busy minding his manners.
Clergy from the Order were not people one usually met in places like this.
If they were pilgrims, especially ones respected even by priests, it was understandable that an ordinary believer would react so strongly.
“That’s enough, brother. I told you, I don’t believe in that church or whatever it is. Instead of praying to some goddess, it would help us more if you took even one extra step forward.”
The black-haired man shouted in frustration.
“This brat, after all that—”
“I haven’t done anything wrong. And I don’t want to fight with you either, brother. Just deal with him properly and send him on his way. I’ll keep watch around here.”
The man grabbed some strange tool and headed into the woods.
“I’m truly sorry. He may talk that way, but he’s not a bad kid at heart. He’s just a little dim when it comes to common sense.”
“Please don’t mind it. Love and mercy are the Order’s basic principles.”
“That... even if my little brother doesn’t believe in the goddess?”
“How could we discriminate simply because someone is not a believer?”
“Oh... I see. May the goddess’s blessing be with you.”
The man clasped his hands together and bowed once more.
Feeling awkward, Lawrence turned his gaze slightly aside, only to find that the family standing behind him had also bowed in the same way.
Only the innocent children were staring at him blankly.
“I haven’t introduced myself yet. I’m Lawrence, a pilgrim.”
“Ah, I’m Morris.”
When Lawrence held out a hand, Morris wiped his own on his clothes several times before taking it.
His palm was rough.
He had calluses, and one of his fingers looked as though the tip had been cut off.
When Morris noticed Lawrence’s gaze, he hid his hand with an embarrassed look.
“By the way, is something wrong with the carriage?”
“Well... there’s a problem with the road.”
Lawrence went to inspect the carriage with Morris.
Just as he had said, the rear wheel had sunk into something like a hole.
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