For Randall, who had grown up listening to epic tales, when divine miracles from the God of Justice rang out in this paladin's imagination—
Radiance should have surged up from the horizon in ten thousand dazzling beams.
Sacred drums and hymns should have stirred the hearts of men.
Holy warriors wreathed in brilliant light should have descended from the Upper Planes, shouting soul-shaking battle cries as they led them to a victory the world would remember.
Yet when this 'Silver Dragon divine envoy,' whose body did not have a single patch of unspoiled flesh, gave the order to fight, not only were there few responders, but every knight Randall saw was in just as wretched a state as that Silver Dragon.
Some looked as though they had just been fished out of a vat of ketchup, fresh blood constantly seeping from the gaps in their armor. Others had more than half their plate armor shattered and were wrapped in white bandages. He even saw a Dwarf warrior struggle out of the cabin, clear bite marks still visible across his shoulder and abdomen.
Those enormous teeth marks made Randall wonder whether the knight had only just escaped death from the jaws of a dire shark.
And yet, this group of 'severely wounded' soldiers, who already had one foot practically inside their coffins, could still keep fighting.
Compared to their ghastly injuries, Randall, who had supposedly been 'critically wounded and near death,' suddenly felt ashamed, unworthy of calling himself a true holy warrior.
If Li Wei had known what this fledgling paladin was thinking right then, he would probably have cursed his mother out.
If Li Wei had not suddenly remembered, at the crucial moment, that he still had Sylvie's mother's Astral blessing and temporarily given everyone a *Never Die from a