The Paladin in the Abyss

"You seem to be in good spirits," Lancelot observed with amazement as he looked at the Elf, who was positively radiant and whose aura seemed to have grown stronger.

"What could be more affirming of love's greatness than the redemption granted by Elothysia? I prayed to the Goddess to grant me the strength to save this poor Succubus," Alamir declared with a look of devoutness, "and I have received the Goddess's blessing."

"Just to wish you good luck?" Eckmond flew in a circle around the Elf, "Even I can feel that you have changed quite noticeably."

"The Goddess has also bestowed upon me new Divine Arts and power," Alamir could not contain the smile on his face, "Now I am capable of casting fourth-circle Divine Arts."

"Damn!" Kalalin couldn't help but swear, "Mages need to do a lot of research, experimentation, and practice to achieve a higher level of spellcasting, and us talentless hacks have to waste countless expensive scroll materials. But you, you Divine Art Casters, merely through ceremonies and prayers ..."

"And devotion," Alamir said with a grin looking at Kalalin, "What is most important is that you sincerely believe in the ideals your deity stands for and do your utmost to enact His will. The Lady of Flame is the Goddess of Love and Beauty, and her domain is life.

Our actions of slaying that mountain of corpses monster and saving the Succubus Paladin are what pleased the Goddess, which is why She was so generous to me."

"I see, I'll have to have a good talk with Uncle Vito, to see what specific demands the Father God has for us," Bruto sighed, "I hope it doesn't include having to take a bath every day."

Everyone laughed at the Dwarf's comment, and then Lancelot briefed the group on what he had discovered in his reconnaissance, especially about that mysterious Tiflin merchant.

"How irritating, using my name," Eckmond muttered discontentedly, "Judging by what he's done, he's definitely no good fellow."

"We absolutely cannot let Elothysia fall into the hands of that Guarado," stated Alamir with a tense expression, "We should set out right away!"

"According to what Lancelot has seen, that mercenary group is not small.

They can't move too fast, and considering our smaller size and faster speed, catching up to them shouldn't be a problem," Kalalin stroked his chin, "Lancelot's summoned Abyssal Warhorse can carry Bruto and Eckmond, and I am able to cast the Mount spell, but I fear it won't be as strong as Lancelot's, being able to take Koula at most.

That still leaves the issue of Alamir, with all that Plate Armor he's wearing, which isn't light."

"Why don't we buy a mount?" Bruto suggested, "I saw a stable right by the door of the tavern, and there might be many horses whose owners will no longer push open that heavy door ..."

"That's a possibility, but we better not let the tavern keeper know we're leaving," Kalalin frowned, "I don't trust him, who knows if he'll leak our whereabouts to someone."

"I agree," Lancelot nodded, "We'll pretend to go to the Armory District to buy weapons and then find an opportunity to leave directly. Although it will be discovered sooner or later, it should still buy us some time. As for the mounts ... I have some ideas about the one I summoned, or else we'll look elsewhere to see if we can buy one."

"What about the room fee?" Bruto lamented, "We paid for three nights in advance! Are we just going to waste those glittering gemstones?"

"Are we short a few coins?" Eckmond looked at the Dwarf with disdain, "And have you forgotten what the abdicated lady said? Once the deed is done, our reward will be gemstones worth 50,000 Gold Coins! You can even sleep on them, just like living the life of Dragons!"

"That makes sense," Bruto responded, his gaze distant as he evidently fell into some sort of daydream.

Having organized their equipment, the group set out from the tavern and headed toward the fortress's Armory District. Weapons and armor were the main sources of income for the Doomguard, and only the entrance hall of the so-called armory was open to the public, with various weapons hanging on the walls, many of which Lancelot could not even name.

Customers here included mortals and Demons alike, while the Doomguard's well-armed Guards maintained order. Even the Demons had learned better than to cause trouble in this place because the employers of the Doomguard were real power brokers of the Abyss, and they were very satisfied with this arms supplier—if supply to their rivals could be reduced, even better.

After weaving through the crowd a few times, Lancelot confirmed that no one was watching them, and then he slipped away with his companions into a secluded corner.

Arriving under a stretch of abandoned wall, Lancelot closed his eyes and sensed his surroundings, ensuring there was no one around. He then quickly formed several spell gestures and cast a Protective Barrier to isolate sound and block Divine Sense detection.

"Where did you learn these amazing spells?" Kalalin asked curiously as she watched Lancelot, "I'm quite certain they aren't cast through the Magic Net."

"The power of these spells indeed comes from within me," Lancelot nodded, offering no further explanation. The next spell he cast was much more familiar to Kalalin—the Mount Technique.

From a Scholar's perspective, it appeared that Lancelot relied wholly on precise gestures and incantations to mimic the casting process of this magic, but the wondrous part was, the Magic Net actually recognized his method of casting. Though the Mount Technique was merely a 1st-level spell, Lancelot had managed to complete it despite having no understanding of its principles.

It was like an illiterate person, who by using pictorial memory alone, managed to transcribe an article—if his imitation was accurate enough, anyone who understood the script could comprehend what he wrote. Here, the so-called reader was the Magic Net, which was why Lancelot could cast spells.

As the Human Knight completed his spell, the warhorse with a mane, tail, and hooves aflame with fire appeared once more. Everyone knew that this creature was a Nightmare, whose noble Pegasus ancestors had been transformed into their current form by a vile and cruel Fiendish ritual.

Upon its arrival, the Nightmare, in habit, snapped at the one who summoned it, only to be met with a prepared punch from Lancelot and knocked down to the ground.

The Demonic warhorse whimpered as it got up, head lowered subserviently, hooves nervously tapping the ground. Somehow, Lancelot could vaguely understand its intent—essentially, it was submitting to him, suggesting that he hadn't been called upon in so long it failed to recognize him immediately.

"Haha, you rascal," Lancelot chuckled as he rubbed its neck, "I'm going to… give you a bit of a power-up."

The Abyssal creature looked on, puzzled, but Lancelot simply placed his hand on its forehead and slowly began to channel his True Qi, apologetically whispering to the Nightmare,

"This might hurt a bit, bear with it."