Holy Light

In the quiet room, the boy knelt with his knees on the floor and his hands clasped, eyes tightly shut as he prayed devoutly. In his perception, tiny specks of pure white light flickered around him, slowly gathering into the purest Holy Light.

What was divine magic?

What was the Holy Light?

Even now, Alvin still remembered the question he had once asked the archbishop. The old man's answer still echoed in his ears.

Divine magic was the supernatural power that each race gained through years of prayer and devotion to its beliefs. As the races multiplied, their contact with the world around them led them to worship or revere things in much the same way as self-hypnosis, and to gain supernatural powers in different ways. This was the origin of divine magic and the various fields it encompassed.

As their understanding of this mysterious power gradually grew, more and more races learned to use it to commune with nature—or with mighty beings beyond mortal reach, far away in the Astral Plane. Unable to comprehend these powerful beings, mortals called them gods.

These so-called gods could serve as conduits, granting mortal races who believed in them mysterious powers that would otherwise be difficult to perceive. Over time, this power came to be known as divine magic, and those who wielded it were called priests or shamans.

However, according to the records of humanity, only races that had existed since ancient times—the Trolls, Night Elves, and Tauren—had achieved this. As a young race, humanity instead followed in the footsteps of the oldest priests, relying on their own talents to sense the mysterious forces in the world rather than depending on gods to wield divine magic.

As for the Holy Light, it was an unknown gift that human priests received during their training. They infused their perceptions with their longing to do good and sought acceptance from the power that flowed freely through the world.

As long as a priest had steadfast convictions and leaned toward goodness, the power of the Holy Light could appear in their divine magic, no matter which domain they had chosen. In other words, in humanity's understanding, the Holy Light was the sum of all goodness. It took the place of the gods, becoming the conduit through which humans wielded divine magic.

As humanity multiplied and prospered, the concept of the Holy Light continued to develop, becoming the dominant belief among human priests. Through mutual exchange, the Dwarves and High Elves accepted this belief as well, and priests who worshipped the Holy Light arose among their races.

This was how the prince understood the origins of the Holy Light. It had no beginning and no end. Like a chance encounter, humanity had embraced the Holy Light and become its devout followers.

Countless specks of light gathered into streams, and their sacred radiance bathed the entire room in white. After an unknown stretch of time, the boy opened his eyes. Golden glimmers danced in his deep blue irises.

Alvin held out his palm. The streams of light slowly gathered again from every corner of the room, finally pooling in his hand. A holy white radiance flowed gently across his palm, bright but not dazzling, its sanctity touched with a hint of peace. This was his Holy Light.

Gazing intently at the light swirling around his fingertips and feeling the joy of holy power filling his body, Alvin let out a long breath.

It still wasn't enough. With power like this, he might not even be able to protect himself amid the coming tide of war. As a prince—and still a child—he could rightfully remain in the rear. But he still hoped to do something.

At the very least, I have to reduce the human casualties in this war and help more civilians escape the cruel fate of falling into the hands of the Orcs! The prince silently made up his mind. Lost in his thoughts, he failed to notice that the light in his hand had grown more concentrated with each passing thought.

Alvin slowly rose to his feet and dispersed the concentrated Holy Light in his hand before turning and opening the door. Though praying had felt like the briefest instant to him, the sun had already shifted westward and was nearing the horizon.

The loyal guard stood ramrod straight in the sunlight slanting into the corridor, as motionless as a statue. The ornate patterns etched into his silver light armor gleamed brilliantly.

"Your Highness!"

Abberton, who had been waiting outside the door, bowed to the prince and said, "Archbishop Faol sent someone earlier to ask you to see him after you finished praying. From what I heard, the archbishop seems to have something he wants to discuss with you."

"Let's go together," Alvin said with a nod. He patted the silver greave on Abberton's leg, showing his appreciation for the long hours the knight had spent on guard.

As far back as he could remember, this devoted knight had been by his side ever since he had awakened in this body. After years together, Alvin trusted the young knight almost as much as he trusted his own family.

"By the way, Abberton, you're now the head of the guards. You can have the other guards take watch while I pray. You should also think about your own future. Learning more will help you along the path ahead."

Because he had spent so much time guarding Alvin, the young knight had rarely had the chance to study the books and knowledge available to the royal guards. Alvin didn't want his loyal protector to end up as an ordinary warrior. At the very least, he hoped that by deliberately guiding him, he could help Abberton become a Paladin.

This was the boy's way of repaying Abberton. Someone loyal and upright shouldn't be overlooked or forgotten. Of course, Alvin also had a small selfish motive: he wanted to know for certain whether he could change history. If so, perhaps he could become a Paladin too.

Although he had lived in this world for years and understood that it was different from the game, Alvin's thinking was still influenced by the game. In his mind, given equal circumstances, a Paladin was bound to be stronger than a "frail" priest. And besides, there was that legendary artifact, the Ashbringer!

"I understand, Your Highness."

The young man leading the prince said little, but his firm, resolute tone told Alvin he would obey.

The young knight's heavy footsteps rang across the stone floor of the corridor. Though he felt some confusion, he had grown used to being around the boy and knew how wise and kind he was. He trusted the young prince as he trusted himself. Whatever order Alvin gave, he would obey and carry out.

The City Hall wasn't very large, and the two of them reached their destination in just half a minute. Abberton stepped aside and knocked on the wooden door. "Archbishop, Prince Alvin has arrived!"