Chapter 210 - Unpleasant necessities
Witnessing the Dawnbringers in action always presented a humbling spectacle. This was something Raimond was certain wouldn’t change, regardless of how long his tenure as a deacon of the Quorum continued.
Before him, holy knights, serving as the radiant sword of Ittar, moved in seamless harmony, collaborating to repel the monsters threatening their home. Their auras and invocations bathed the artificial space that connected realms in the golden brilliance of a pristine dawn, pushing back the ominous reds from the fires and lava erupting from various breaches in the ground.
Raimond’s focus shifted to a wounded Dawnbringer, retreating after a grievous blow from a demon three times their size, their left arm and shield hanging limp. Another Dawnbringer swiftly covered their ally, and Raimond redirected the invocation he was maintaining.
Radiant Resurgence.
Light surged from beneath Raimond, reaching across the distance between them and enveloping the injured Dawnbringer. Within moments, their arm regained function, and the knight wasted no time in leaping back into the fray.
As for Raimond, he wished his mask didn’t obstruct him from wiping away the sweat that covered his brow. The mask was a powerful relic, to be sure, and it certainly looked regal enough, but he had never been one for concealing his face. In this case, however, borrowing the power from Deacon Emberwood’s mask was preferable to the alternative, considering he was the sole healer present.
Typically, the Dawnbringers had dedicated members for this task, but while the order had hastily assembled as many Dawnbringers as possible for this, almost half had been preoccupied with other crises or events across the empire that involved the Hallowed Cabal and Tribe of Sin. Only nine Dawnbringers stood before him, six having recently arrived along with Fynn. If not for Raimond, they would’ve had to rely solely on the healing properties of their masterwork armors and artifacts.
This thankless task he’d assumed reminded him of the days when he had been a prospective member of the Dawnbringers himself, and Cadence had been the one overseeing him. She had worked him to the bone for his invocations and his—if he were to be frank—rather impressive mana reserves.
The memory sent a small shiver down his back.
He much preferred his current station. Even his time in the Ecclesiastical Congregation of Sacraments had been preferable to those arduous months.
As Raimond cast another invocation to aid his comrades, his attention paused briefly on a white-haired figure leaping into the air, snarling and swiping a pair of ethereal green claws at a behemoth of a demon. Fynn’s claws tore into the demon’s shoulder, while a Dawnbringer swung a glowing greatsword at its knees, forcing it down.
Fynn seemed to integrate well with the Dawnbringers. The youth exhibited an almost impeccable sense of combat and cooperation, making Raimond wonder if it was self-taught or learned during his time with Baroness Hartford. Perhaps a blend of both.