The sun was at its zenith, the grass of the plain seeming to wither under the relentless heat, the wind dry and not a trace of coolness to be found nearby.
The hero's domain was located in the south of the Celestial Kingdom, a small town reachable in five days by horse; before reaching the fields and the dwellings, one had to cross a small plain—on which the hero's convoy had just been attacked before arriving at the guard post.
The two coaches came to a stop; the coachmen got off and calmly returned to the coach. As members of the Church staff, they were aware that something might happen, and in this situation, they knew exactly what to do because they had received orders.
Heseh smiled; stepping out of the coach, he cast a glance that betrayed his great surprise—both at the situation they found themselves in and at the destruction of the third Saint-Paladin's coach.
What he did not know was that, thanks to his Clear Vision ability, the hero could clearly form a mental image of everything around him up to 100 meters. As soon as they had left the urban area, he had activated this ability, and his rogue class increased his stealth skills by 4% and his detection skills by 10%.
Coupled with his perception ability, he had a clear picture of what was going on.
He had, therefore, seen the attack coming; he could have been more proactive, but he let things happen.
"I will let them struggle a bit before intervening; it will help improve my image with the Church, and they will owe me one."
But something was amiss...
The hero also stepped out of the coach; upon seeing the crater where the coach had just been destroyed, he felt an inexplicable sensation. He did not know whether it was due to one of his abilities or his instinct, but he sensed that something was wrong.
The Soul Fisher directed his gaze toward Butler, who was emerging from his own coach; it was not the first time the two had worked together, and they shared such a rapport that words were no longer necessary.
Butler extended his palm forward, and a light burst forth before taking the shape of a book.
It was not an ordinary Bible; Butler, as a member of the prayer cell, could use bibliomancy, and this book was the manifestation of that power. He used it primarily for support, and the fact that a Bible had manifested proved not only his devotion to the Church but also that he took this matter seriously.
Butler had always been a man of few words. With his armor beginning to emit a faint glow, he put on a full helmet that concealed his eyes and his black hair. His usual smile could not be seen anywhere—only a glimmer in his eyes betrayed his intentions: he was ready.
Heseh, having taken a mace that was hanging above the coach, put on his helmet as well; however, his attitude did not change significantly, but like Butler, he exuded a certain aura.
The hero advanced and passed in front of them, stopping just a few paces away.
"I see that you can take care of it! We'll discuss it later, but first…"
"Hero, wait!" shouted Heseh.
But before he could say anything else, the hero had finished his remark: "I must catch the hiding fish!" Then, he vanished.
With his Class-A physical abilities and his mana, he could move quite swiftly with a bit of will.
Heseh began to laugh before striking the ground lightly with his mace.
"What an impatient guy! He really reminds me of a child!"
Heseh pointed his mace forward, in the direction of the presumed enemies. Although they were on a plain, they were at a distance where they could not be seen, and the area they occupied was a part of the plain where tall grass grew.
Finally, a group of people—mostly clad in armor without any insignia—could be seen approaching quickly, weapons in hand.
"Finally, here they are," Heseh thought. "I couldn't warn the hero; he was likely to run into them," he said while looking at Butler.
"No choice, let's finish this quickly."
Heseh swiftly moved toward the enemies with his enormous mace. The adversaries they were facing were not ordinary people, but an organized band. Even if the presence of two Saint-Paladins was exaggerated, it nevertheless ensured that the job would be well done, that was Heseh's thought.
Heseh charged toward the enemies, his mace raising clouds of dust with every step. Butler, meanwhile, remained behind, quickly leafing through his Bible of Bibliomancy, his lips barely moving as he murmured an incantation.
A golden light enveloped his body, reinforcing his armor and enhancing his reflexes.
The attackers, a dozen warriors clad in dull armor, advanced in tight formation. The absence of any insignia indicated that they did not belong to any official faction. They were mercenaries, or worse—fanatics acting in the shadow of an unknown cause.
They both knew that before them were nothing more than small fry.
"Butler, I will clear the way."
Without waiting for a response, he leapt into the midst of the enemies and brought his mace down upon the first adversary. The impact was so violent that the warrior was thrown several meters backward, his breastplate dented by the force of the blow. But the others did not retreat. On the contrary, they immediately surrounded the Saint-Paladin, attempting to encircle him.
Seeing this, Butler raised his hand and chanted a prayer. The Bible that floated before him lit up, and a series of golden symbols sprang from its pages to form a barrier around Heseh, then infused into his armor. When the attackers' swords struck this barrier, they met an invisible resistance, their edges nullifying all impact.
"Always so reliable, Butler!" exclaimed Heseh, a smile crossing his face as he swung his mace once again, smashing another adversary.
Of course, it was only a precautionary measure, and its effect could not be fully measured given that the armor of the Saint-Paladins was, in a way, special.
But a shadow swiftly slipped behind him. One of the mercenaries, more agile than the others, managed to avoid the mace's impact zone and delivered a swift blow to Heseh's flank. The armor hissed under the attack, absorbing most of the damage, but a slight crack appeared.
"Not bad… but not enough."
With a twist of his fist, Heseh grabbed the assailant by the throat, lifted him, and then slammed him into the ground. A sinister crack resounded.
It could not be said that the Saint-Paladins fought at 100%; taking the adversary seriously is one thing, but overdoing it is another.
Meanwhile, Butler extended his arm toward the sky. The pages of his Bible began to turn violently, and a shower of light descended upon the battlefield. The enemies were momentarily blinded, staggering under the effect of this sacred blessing that empowered Heseh while weakening their foes.
"We must eliminate them quickly," declared Butler in a calm tone.
Heseh nodded and, with a fluid movement, pivoted on himself, his mace tracing a deadly arc around him. Two more enemies fell under the force of the blow, leaving the survivors hesitant. One of them, visibly of higher rank, whistled an order and a small group retreated, preparing a coordinated counterattack.
But Butler had no intention of giving them that respite.
"May the light purify the impious."
He closed his Bible with a sharp motion. A sacred circle appeared beneath the feet of the mercenaries and, in an instant, lances of light sprang from the ground.