Chapter 7 : Under the Shelter of the Holy Light, We Finally Have a Home!
Chapter 7: Under the Shelter of the Holy Light, We Finally Have a Home!
It was the third day of Liz’s coma.
Ulf stood at the church’s doorway.
Facing the clean clearing outside that had been painstakingly cleared, he exhaled deeply in relief.
As it turned out—
His decision had been right.
The remains of the ghouls possessed strong contaminating properties.
If left unattended, they would definitely pollute the land.
It would be impossible to have a stretch of ground suitable for long-term habitation!
Yes.
Ulf planned to center everything around the church, within a radius of about a hundred meters.
He intended to build houses for them to live in and settle there permanently.
The fact that they had survived that night despite the attacks from so many ghouls, including a ghoul leader had already proven that this area around the church was the safest place!
Nowhere else could compare.
It was also far better than those towns under the rule of decayed nobles.
No oppression. No fear.
And with the protection of the Angel herself— it was simply too wonderful!
“Right here!”
Ulf’s expression turned resolute.
He took a sharpened wooden stick.
Then, on the soft earth to the left of the church’s front, he drew a firm line.
“Centering around the Sanctuary.”
“Within the range of the Angel’s Holy Light.”
“We’ll build homes! Open fields! And live on!”
This was, without a doubt, the best decision.
Naturally, the refugees all agreed unanimously.
The yearning for a home was an instinct carved deep in the genes of humankind— a communal species.
Moreover—
By doing this, they would no longer be mere refugees cowering inside the church.
They would become the builders and protectors of this holy land!
The meaning was entirely different!
Soon, a logging team made up of able-bodied men set out once more.
This time, they had a clear goal.
They would only fell the straight pine and oak trees within the Holy Light’s range.
The women began processing the timber.
Using crude tools, they stripped off the bark, and with difficulty, sawed the thick logs into planks of the desired length.
The children did what they could—helping to carry small pieces of wood, or gathering dry moss and pine needles to use as materials for filling gaps.
At first— everyone’s movements were clumsy and uncoordinated.
But as time went on, they grew more skillful, and construction speed began to increase.
Under Lynn’s silent gaze— on the open space near the edge of the forest to the right of the church, another group was laboriously tilling the land.
The soil there was frozen hard, and with metal tools scarce, they could only use sharpened wooden sticks and sharpened stones to pry open the frozen ground bit by bit.
Painstakingly, they broke up the soil and leveled it.
Sweat soaked through their thin clothes.
Mixed with mud— and frozen into shards of ice under the cold wind. It was harsh work.
But as they looked upon each small patch of black earth that had been turned over earth that smelled of freshness and new life— each person’s face showed a long-lost smile.
“Thanks to the Angel’s blessing, this land is truly fertile.”
“Yes, when the weather warms up, we’ll be able to plant potatoes and rye.”
Marianne, carrying her baby on her back, wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.
The neatly leveled field before her eyes was the hope in her heart.
……
On the evening of the seventh day—
The afterglow of the setting sun— filtered through the cracks of the wooden boards nailed over the church’s high windows, casting several narrow streaks of golden light.
The air was filled with the scent of fresh-cut timber and the earthy tang of soil.
And also… the fragrance of food?
Not porridge.
But some kind of roasted root—carrying a faint sweetness.
In this atmosphere—
Liz’s eyelashes trembled ever so slightly.
She struggled to open her heavy eyelids, her vision dry and blurred.
She barely made out the familiar yet distant outlines of the vaulted ribs above the church dome.
“Ugh…”
Her throat felt scorched and parched, producing only a weak groan.
“Ah! Lady Liz? Y-you’re awake!?”
The Old Woman who had been keeping watch by her side looked up in delight, her voice trembling with excitement.
She hurriedly ran outside the church, calling out to the people at work!
“Wonderful! Lady Liz is awake!”
The news spread like the wind.
Ulf, who had been nailing down the last wooden plank, immediately threw down his hammer.
Marianne, holding her child, stumbled as she ran into the church.
Many of those who had been turning the soil outside put down their tools, crowding at the doorway, peering inside with excitement.
Liz’s vision gradually cleared.
She saw the faces surrounding her—bright with joy.
They were completely different from the expressions of despair and fear she remembered!
“Water…”
Liz struggled to utter the word.
“Ah, water? Quick, fetch some water!”
Marianne hastily handed her child to the person beside her, then clumsily rushed to grab a water pouch.
Soon—the cool, faintly sweet snow water moistened Liz’s cracked lips and throat.
She felt much better.
Then Liz tried to sit up.
But a wave of sharp pain coursed through her whole body, forcing her to gasp in pain.
“Lady Liz, please don’t move.”
“Your injuries are severe. You still need to rest for a while.”
Ulf quickly pressed her down gently, explaining softly.
“That night, the Angel granted you the Holy Light, allowing you to slay that terrifying monster—but you were also badly injured…”
Liz finally recalled the events of that night.
Instinctively, she reached for the badge on her chest.
The fragment of Holy Bone that had once represented her past was gone.
Yet Liz felt no sorrow— instead, a warm current welled up within her heart.
Because this time— she had protected what she truly wished to protect!
“How strange… what’s that sound outside?”
What Liz heard was not the roar of battle, but the rhythmic thudding of axes chopping wood?
And the lively calls of people?
It all sounded so full of life.
“Lady Liz, come take a look and you’ll see!”
A proud smile spread across Ulf’s face.
He carefully supported Liz, helping her turn slightly to face the church’s entrance.
The reinforced oak doors of the church stood wide open.
Golden sunlight streamed in, illuminating a small section near the doorway.
Liz’s pupils— widened slightly at the sight before her.
Outside— the scorched earth once covered with countless corpses that night—was gone.
In its place stood seven or eight sturdy wooden houses, built with fresh timber, standing proudly on the open ground before the church.
In the distance, some people were on rooftops, laying thick moss and pine leaves.
Further away— near the edge of the forest— a large stretch of land had been plowed.
The dark brown soil glistened in the setting sun, shining as brightly as gold.
Several figures were still busy smoothing the last clumps of earth.
And from a makeshift clay stove nearby, a wisp of cooking smoke rose slowly, filling the air around with the fragrance of food.
“We’re building houses, opening fields, digging wells…”
Ulf’s voice caught with emotion, as he pointed toward the freshly turned earth.
“Marianne said that when spring comes, we can sow seeds—and then we’ll have food.”
“Within the Angel’s protection… we—we finally have a home!”
“Home… home… a home…”
Liz repeated the word over and over.
A rush of hot tears surged into her eyes, blurring her vision completely.
Years of wandering.
The collapse of the Knight Order.
The blood and fire of Florence’s hell.
She had long grown accustomed to ruins, flight, and parting.
Home?
What a distant and extravagant word.
Yet now— beneath this church almost forgotten by the world, under the merciful protection of the Angel— this group of pitiful people, who like her had lost everything, had actually built with their own hands the beginnings of a home, right beside the shadow of death!
“Praise be to You… the Angel who guards this land…”
“This body and heart… shall forever be the shield of the Sanctuary…”
As the people prayed joyfully— the sound of horse hooves suddenly broke the calm.