Path of Light.

Chapter 972, Section 967: The First Holy Grail
Roy sat at the entrance of a dilapidated tent...

Near this swamp, it's actually quite difficult to find a clean rock to sit on and rest on.

Here in Vidaluo, not only are there several stones to weigh down the edges of the tent to prevent the tarpaulin from being blown away by the northeast wind, but there are also stones in front of the tent for people to sit and rest...

He placed his hands on Vidarlo's injured calf.

A faint, sacred light emanated from his palm.
It made the eyes of the gray dwarves who were watching shine a little brighter...

Looking at the young imperial man before them, the grey dwarves were certain he was a priest…

The dwarven priests disappeared long ago at Durag's Knee.

Otherwise, these grey dwarf warriors wouldn't have suffered such a crushing defeat when facing the Nakma Dark Knights.

The gray dwarf warrior before me possessed a robust physique. The skin below his right knee had turned blackish-purple, and a wound stretched from his shinbone to the inside of his ankle. The wound was black, but no blood was flowing out, indicating a severe infection, with the edges even beginning to rot.

Such a severe leg injury left the gray dwarf warrior somewhat dispirited.

A faint holy light emanated from Roy's hands. He used his divine power to draw a divine rune above the gray dwarf warrior's wounded leg. Only Roy could clearly see the runes within the holy radiance...

As Roy uttered a prayer, the light from the divine runes began to extend downwards, like a handful of golden sand falling onto the gray dwarf warrior's wounded leg.

The moment that sacred light touched the black wound...

A wisp of black smoke rose from the wound. The smoke seemed to possess some mysterious power. As it rose, a struggling soul appeared in the smoke, and its face was faintly visible in the black smoke.

But as Roy's hands continued to shower holy light upon them, the black smoke quickly dissipated in the damp, cold north wind.

A group of grey dwarves watched as the dark purple wound on Vidarlo's right leg began to change color, and they all let out a soft gasp in unison.

Lying in front of the tent, Vidal felt the intense burning and stinging pain in his right leg disappear instantly.

He sat up abruptly, staring wide-eyed at the young man in front of him...

The grey dwarves are different from the elves.

The elves worship the moon goddess Elune, while rejecting other gods...

The dwarves worship the ancient giant and hero, Dragg, and they named the land beneath their feet Dragg's Knee, hoping to live on the knee of the god.

The grey dwarfs did not reject the holy light. Seeing this scene, Vidalor was somewhat excited. He could feel a tingling sensation in his legs as his wounds healed, a very strange feeling.

He knew that the young priest before him had saved him...

It was the power of the holy light that allowed my leg injury to heal rapidly...

Speaking of his leg injury, it was sustained on the battlefield...

His condition did not improve after he was withdrawn from the battlefield. He had been recuperating in the city of Presidius. Although the wound on his leg was less than half a foot long, it seemed to be cursed by some kind of dark magic.

During this time, he tried many methods, but none of them could make the wound heal smoothly.

Once the notice to move south was issued, the wounded soldiers in Presides were to assemble in Boles as soon as possible, as they would be traveling to Garo Island on the third ocean convoy...

They never expected the journey to be so arduous. They thought the military would provide supplies, but they didn't carry much food and ended up stranded in the swampy area east of Boles.

He had to find food in the swamp, and after several days of being immersed in the cold mud, the wounds on his legs became infected.

Wei Dalu thought he would die, or have his limbs amputated or something.

He is barely alive now in order to get his family onto a ship heading south.

He was a veteran who had been wounded on the battlefield, so he was entitled to priority boarding.

All you need to do is wait quietly outside the city, and you'll be able to board the ship soon.

He never dreamed that someone would suddenly appear in front of him and say: I can heal your leg injury, but the price is that you have to answer a few questions.

He'd be willing to answer hundreds of questions, let alone just a few!
Roy untied the water pouch from his waist, held the spout with one hand, and a stream of clear water flowed out of the pouch. The water even carried a hint of divine energy. The water fell on the gray dwarf's wound, washing away the dark purple bloodstains. Soon, the wound on his calf turned bright red.

The wound, which had been split open and even exposed the bone, began to slowly undulate, as if the flesh and blood were about to come together.

Only a thin crack remained...

The leg injury of the grey dwarf warrior Vidaror was healing at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Roy pulled a roll of bandages from his magic pouch and began bandaging the wounds of the grey dwarf, Vidarlo.

"Alright, now it's my turn to ask you, where did you evacuate from?"

Vidalo readily replied:
"Prestis City!"

Before Roy could ask any more questions, he interrupted and said:
"I was originally the captain of the 23rd squad of the 127th company of the 7th Division of the 56th Army Group. Our army group was responsible for garrisoning the Yushan Canyon east of Presity, and our company was responsible for guarding the No. 3 exit of the underground river there."

"I was wounded during a surprise attack by the Dark Legion while on duty. After retreating from the battlefield to the city of Presites, my leg injury never healed. Later, we were notified to continue our retreat towards the city of Boles. We wounded soldiers from the participating troops will travel to the Seven Realms Sea on the third batch of ocean-going ships."

Towards the end, Vidar's expression turned somewhat grim, clearly indicating his reluctance to recount those past battles, as the fight was hardly a glorious one for the defeated.

However, Roy was not so easy to deal with; what he wanted to hear most was the situation on the battlefield.

So Roy then asked:
"So you've fought against the Black Riders of the Nakma?"

He originally intended to use this sentence as a starting point to delve deeper into the discussion...

Unexpectedly, the grey dwarf Vidalor shook his head, somewhat dejected, and said:

"No."

Roy was taken aback, thinking to himself, "His leg is injured like this, and he hasn't even fought the Black Riders yet?"
The grey dwarf, Vidarlo, told Roy, "The force engaging our army is a horde of demon servants, including a large number of hellhounds and crypt daemons. These demon servants are the vanguard of the Nakma demon army. They are numerous, and when they stormed into the Isle of Isles Valley, the entire mountainside was filled with hellhounds and crypt daemons; no matter how hard we tried, we couldn't wipe them out..."

When the grey dwarf Vidarlo spoke these words, his eyes were still filled with fear, and it was clear that he had been terrified by those demon servants.

Roy had seen many vicious, cunning, and greedy gray dwarves, but he had never seen them so terrified.

Vidalo's pupils contracted, his expression turned grave, his hands clenched into fists, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead. It was clear that the memory of the battlefield was causing him great distress...

Roy then realized that in the land of Durrag, the Black Riders of the Nakmar also commanded an army of tens of thousands of demonic servants. These were likely demons living in the Dark Lands, who had now entered Durrag through the connecting passage… “Demonic servants?”

Vidalo's voice trembled slightly:
"Can you imagine those hellhounds charging at us, biting indiscriminately? They won't even try to dodge the axes we're wielding. Even if we cut them in two, those monsters crawling out of hell will just bite our bodies, one, two, three... We'll be covered in hellhounds until we can't move, then a cave demon servant will rush up from behind and pierce us with a spear. Before we die, they'll pull our intestines out of our abdominal cavities, hang our corpses on pillars, and let them dry completely, becoming food for the hellhounds..."

Roy never expected that this gray dwarf warrior would be so terrified by the hellhounds...

"That's not a battlefield, that's a hell stained with blood."

The grey dwarf warrior Vidarlos's voice was somewhat hoarse.

Roy sensed that his emotions were somewhat unstable, his breathing was becoming rapid, and his face was flushed.

Several orc leaders followed behind Roy, and their expressions turned serious as they heard the gray dwarf warrior's description.

Roy patted the gray dwarf warrior Vidarlo on the shoulder, then stood up and asked him:
"are you OK?"

Vida took two deep breaths to calm himself down, then nodded deeply.

Roy said:

"Try to keep the wound dry for the next few days. If all goes well, the wound should heal in three days. Since it wasn't stitched, avoid any strenuous exercise for the next few days to prevent the newly healed wound from reopening. You should be able to walk normally in just one week."

A hint of joy finally appeared in Vidaloo's eyes, and his family members around him happily embraced each other...

After saying that, he prepared to pass through the tent and head east.

The tattered tents were scattered across the drier, muddy ground. When the other grey dwarves saw Roy heal Vidalor's leg injury, they all gathered around, but dared not get too close...

They were dressed in tattered clothes, covered in mud, and their hair and beards were a mess.

More and more grey dwarves gathered in this direction, all worried about offending the young priest, and all looking at Roy with pleading eyes.

Among the gray dwarves who gathered around were many wounded, their injuries mirroring those of the gray dwarf Vidaror—both were afflicted by a dark curse, making their wounds difficult to heal…

Roy was a little dumbfounded. He couldn't stay here forever and couldn't help all the injured gray dwarves.

The group of gray dwarves looked pitiful, but none of the gray dwarf warriors took a hard line and forced him.

Roy took a few steps forward before speaking to them:
"I'm sorry, I can't help everyone this time..."

When the translator beside Roy said these words, many of the gray dwarves lowered their heads with gloomy expressions.

"Okay then, do you have any clean wells around here?"

Roy asked the grey dwarf translator beside him.

The short, stocky gray dwarf woman pointed to a puddle and spoke a string of words in dwarf language.

The gray dwarf translator quickly said:
"Yes, yes, I'll take you there, it's over at the camp..."

Roy walked less than two hundred meters in that direction, crossing countless tattered tents, until he finally saw a pile of stones next to one of the tents.

To be precise, it should be a well made of piled rocks. Roy only realized it was a spring when he got closer. Clear spring water was gushing out from the holes inside. The water volume was not large, but it was very clear.

The trickling water flowed along the edge of the well into the moss-covered marshland.

This is indeed a very clean water source...

Roy stood beside the well and took out a silver goblet from his magic pouch. The goblet looked shiny and had vine patterns engraved on its surface, which were made of mithril.

The most distinctive feature of the metalware crafted by elven artisans is its exquisite detail; they strive to make every single detail on the vessel as beautiful as possible…

Roy held the Holy Grail, continuously pouring his holy light into the silver goblet.

To the onlookers, the tall wine glass in Roy's hand seemed to glow faintly.

At this moment, the silver wine cup suddenly exuded a sacred aura.

A group of gray dwarves held their breath, staring at the incredible scene before them...

After a quarter of an hour, Roy stopped pouring divine power into the water cup. He held the cup in one hand and bent down to scoop out a cup of clear water from the well.

A moment later, the water in the mithril cup began to emit a faint, sacred aura.

He pointed to a gray dwarf in the crowd and asked him to come to him.

The gray dwarf had a wound on his cheek, clearly a result of a dark magic curse, and it looked like the wound hadn't healed for a long time.

He held the cup of water, imbued with a sacred aura, to the gray dwarf's face.

"do not move!"

Roy used the holy water to clean the gray dwarf's wounds, and the blackness that had appeared on the wounds was slowly fading away...

Then Roy placed the water cup on the rock beside the well and said to the gray dwarf translator:

"Could you translate this for me? I've only temporarily imbued this cup with divine power. The divine effect on the cup will probably last for a day. Well water scooped up with this cup, whether for drinking or washing wounds, can dispel the dark curse in the body and also has some healing effects."

"The help I can offer is...this is all."

After saying this, he walked out of the crowd, through the many dilapidated tents, and came to the roadside.
He looked back down the road he had come from, and there the giant carriage was still stuck...

……

Roy smiled and turned to ask Chief Grop:
"Chief Grop, you heard her description of the situation on this battlefield. What do you think?"

Grand Chief Grop approached Roy, draped his hairy arm over Roy's shoulder, and said to him:
"The orc tribes have already opened a front in eastern Durrag and have some understanding of the Nakmar demon army."

I know this army of demon servants; only by completely defeating the demon servant army will the Black Riders appear.

The greatest advantage of this demon servant legion is its large number and fearlessness of death, but it also has a fatal flaw: each demon servant legion has a leader, who is their king.

These demon servants still retain the habits of a herd of beasts. If I were fighting against an army of demon servants, I would try to take down their king first, and then wipe them all out while they were in disarray… But you, leaving such a magical cup to those gray dwarves, don't you feel even a little bit of heartache?”

(End of this chapter)