The Paladin in the Abyss-Chapter 299 - 303 Pascaler

Chapter 299: Chapter 303 Pascaler

Last night, everyone had gotten plenty of rest. The next morning, bathed in the bright sunshine, the group left the doors of Warhammer Tavern and began riding northeast.

Of course, no one wore the armor that Dag had worked on the previous night, except maybe to risk injuring their mounts. Besides, wearing such armor on the entire southern bank of Hoffenstan River would have been too embarrassing.

The prince of Seren, the Elf General of Androlina, Acheron Mingyan, joined them. Had it not been for his voice, the group would have hardly recognized him. His hair was now as white as snow, and his skin as black as charcoal, making him the spitting image of a Zoel Elf.

“Your costume looks quite convincing,” Bruto commented to Acheron, who was sitting backward on the rump of Lancelot’s mighty Nightmare, “You almost look identical to the Dark Elves from Twin Bridges Town.”

“Are Zoel common around there?” Alamir asked curiously.

“Some, but not many; most visit as mercenaries or in trade caravans,” Acheron shook his head, “Thanks to their infamous Goddess, even the Demons have a certain respect for the Zoel. When there’s a Zoel or two in a team, they subconsciously assume that the Zoel is the leader or the mastermind behind everything.”

“An accurate assessment,” the skull atop Lancelot’s sword hilt spoke up dryly, “Even if the Zoel is an imposter, it still applies.”

The group was taken aback for a moment, then they all burst into laughter.

The rest of the journey went very smoothly, despite having a Succubus and a Dark Elf in the team, the people they encountered on the road merely cast curious glances at them, clearly word of what had happened in the castle the day before had spread like a bird with wings.

They traveled all day and finally reached Pascaler before sunset. It was a typical front-line fortress, with sturdy walls and tall watchtowers, deterring any force from crossing the Hoffenstan River less than a quarter of a mile away. Although the river was narrower here, making it an ideal crossing point for large forces, any Demon army that tried would be met with a fierce counterattack from the Fortress Garrison.

“Who are you? What are you here for?”

The group was stopped at the entrance to the fortress, surrounded by human warriors wielding pikes, who eyed them warily and curiously, while Lancelot also heard a faint creaking sound and knew that more than a dozen bows were half-drawn on the walls, ready to shoot deadly arrows at a moment’s notice if the situation went south.

“I am Acheron Mingyan, General of the Seeker’s Legion,” the Elf Prince who looked entirely like a Zoel spoke up, “Isn’t Hobinson on duty today? He knows me…”

“Gods, Elf, what in the world are you doing?” a voice called out from behind the guards, and a slender, black-haired human man stepped forward. He was wearing a simple grey robe that barely covered his muscle-bound figure. His hands were wrapped in red silk threads like bands, but he bore no weapon on his waist or back.

Yet Lancelot knew all too well that this human was capable of bursting any Demon that dared underestimate him with his bare hands. If his Spirit Perception hadn’t lied, the man in front of him was only second in strength to the Radiant Cloud Angel Iltash they had met before, and there was a similarity between his aura and Lancelot’s own before his Foundation Establishment.

“This is a disguise, and we plan to cross the Hofenstan River after dark.” Acheron jumped down from his horse, stepped forward, and gave the human a big hug, then turned around to introduce him, “I suppose you’ve already heard about Miss Elothysia, over here is Sir Lancelot, and sitting behind him is Bruto Frostforge…”

“Hello, my name is Hobinson, a martial monk fortunate enough to bear hardships for frail children.” The gray-robed human greeted everyone with a prayer-like bow and then waved his hand to dismiss the surrounding soldiers, “Come with me. Before you set foot on that wicked land, you’ll have time to rest a little more and have some warm food.”

Following the martial monk, the group stepped into the fortress gates. Beyond the entrance was a vast training ground where several pairs of soldiers practiced with blunt swords, and a bit farther away, a few archers were shooting at targets. The constant clang of iron being struck somewhere in the background was a lively sign of preparations for war.

Despite trying her best to conceal her wings, the Succubus’s appearance immediately attracted everyone’s attention. The looks were more out of curiosity about her demon nature than about her appearance; at least, from Lancelot’s casual observation, Aira, the fairy, and the Elves all looked quite pleasant, and he had already seen several individuals who were on par with the Succubus Paladin in terms of looks.

“Ah!”

A cry of agony suddenly erupted nearby. Among the two soldiers who were sparring closest to them, the one facing the Succubus had momentarily been distracted by her arrival, and his opponent, oblivious to the distraction, continued his attack. By the time he realized his training partner’s lapse, it was too late to pull back the sword.

Even though they were using blunt swords, a straight thrust was still severe enough to cause significant injury. The momentarily distracted warrior knelt on the ground, clutching his wrist and howling in pain, his thumb hanging by only a thread of flesh and skin.

“Priest! Call the priest!” the one who had accidentally injured his comrade shouted in panic, dropping his weapon and running towards him, “God, Bechsen, why didn’t you dodge just now…”

But a figure with bat-like wings was faster. Elothysia placed her hand on the injured soldier’s shoulder, and a flash of golden light passed by as holy healing energy surged into his body. Flesh sizzled as it grew back, and the wound healed at a visible rate. In no time at all, the human soldier who had just been crying out in pain was as good as new.

“Uh, thank you, kind…” The companion of the injured soldier began to express his gratitude but then choked on his words. He had just realized that the one who had extended help was a Succubus, utilizing the signature skill of the Holy Warriors, the Holy Healing Technique.

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Elothysia merely smiled and then turned to rejoin her companions.

“What did I tell you?” Lancelot glanced at Acheron beside him, “She’s a true Paladin.”

“A Succubus in the Abyss, a place belonging to creatures of the Heavens, channeling holy energy to heal a human injured in a moment of distraction.” The Elf Prince with Zoel features shrugged, “Now I’ve seen everything.”

“I’ve heard many rumors about you, both good and bad, most of them too strange to believe,” the martial monk leading the way said with interest as he looked at Elothysia, “The saying goes, seeing is believing, and it seems that the strangest rumors happen to be true. I hope everything goes well for you, Succubus, and I look forward to fighting alongside you.”

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