Chapter 21: Practical Divine Arts

The next morning, Eric woke up late; when he opened his eyes, it was already quite bright outside the tent.

He had slept well through the night, without a single dream, waking up clear-headed, yet he instinctively reached beside his head.

No alarm clock demanding his attention, no phone charged overnight.

Right, he had been reborn into another world as a noble lord to enjoy a life of luxury...

What a joke.

His arms ached more than the night before; just lifting them made him grimace in pain. The ground beneath him was unyieldingly hard, and sitting up took considerable effort, leaving him feeling as if his entire body might fall apart.

In his previous life, nearing thirty, he often felt this way after physical labor, but now his body was only sixteen years old.

Ultimately, it was because yesterday’s battle had been too intense.

“Ugh… this is deadly…”

But after all, he still had a youthful body. Sitting for a while, Eric noticed the soreness gradually fading, much like the drowsiness that dissipates upon waking.

He wondered if this real world had any practical divine arts closer to everyday life—perhaps something that could eliminate physical fatigue...

Lost in such thoughts, Eric listened to the sounds outside the tent.

Through the canvas, he could hear people moving about in the camp. It wasn’t quiet, but the noise was much less than yesterday, otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to sleep in naturally.

“They’re all still asleep. Where should we put the repaired armor?”

“Somewhere clean… Hey, don’t put it with the food! I told you men only have brute strength…”

The conversations he could hear were deliberately hushed. Eric guessed Leslie and the others were still asleep or lounging in their tents, with no one up yet.

He didn’t mind; after all, he had specifically instructed them to rest more today.

Yet, after sleeping for over ten hours, the food he had eaten last night was mostly digested, and his stomach was empty—he was hungry.

Eric crawled out of the tent and quickly drew the attention of some villagers, who came over to greet him or ask about things he had overheard.

He had just answered a couple of questions when he saw Leslie poke his head out of a tent, looking his way.

Eric waved him off, signaling to go back and rest, but the captain of the guards got up anyway, dressing as he pulled the villagers bothering the young master aside.

Once finished, he came over to the campfire to find Eric.

“You’re up so early, Young Master.”

“Look where the sun is,” Eric said, waving the bread in his hand and gesturing for him to sit, “I’ve had enough sleep, it’s mainly because I’m hungry.”

Leslie glanced around the other tents, took a deep breath, and was about to say something but was stopped by Eric.

“It’s still early. Eat first.”

“Yes, Young Master.”

The two ate their bread while chatting and glancing around. Occasionally, villagers came over with questions, but Leslie blocked most of them.

After a while, Eric noticed the abbess emerge from her tent.

“Good morning, Sister Alena.”

“...Good morning, Mr. Eric.” The abbess nodded at Eric and Leslie from a distance without approaching, then went off to wash up.

Faint images drifted through Eric’s mind; he took a big bite of bread, swallowing both his distracting thoughts and appetite.

With his hunger satisfied, he stood and looked around, his gaze quickly settling on the black smoke rising from the mining site.

“I’m going over there to take a look—no need to follow, I’m just going to have a look around.”

“Yes.” Leslie sat back down.

Eric didn’t bring any weapons or wear armor—he could only look casually.

As he entered the mining site, the pile of burning corpses in the corner was less conspicuous in daylight, though still impossible to ignore.

Eric approached.

The people from the lord’s manor handled the fighting, while the villagers took care of the burning. To dispose of the rotting bodies quickly, they worked in shifts around the clock. A new team was probably busy now.

The heat from the flames and the vile stench hit him in the face. Holding his breath, Eric stared at the fire, but soon had to inhale. The putrid odor nearly made him vomit the breakfast he had just eaten.

Looking at the villagers, their faces wrapped thickly in towels, he realized it must help somewhat.

As he prepared to step back, he suddenly spotted Sophie inside.

After he got up, he had only seen the abbess leave the tent and hadn’t noticed Sophie, assuming she was still asleep. Unexpectedly, she was here.

She was watching several villagers pour holy water over the newly brought corpses, her expression calm, seemingly accustomed to the temperature and smell—he didn’t know how long she had been here.

Covering his mouth and nose with his arm, Eric took a deep breath before walking toward her.

“Miss Sophie.”

The young nun turned her head, her face lighting up with unexpected joy, unable to hide it.

“Mr. Eric…”

“You’re up early,” Eric said, holding his breath and trying to keep it brief.

“Ah, I woke early and couldn’t fall asleep, so I came over to take a look,” Sophie said, fidgeting with her hands.

Casually looking around such a place...

Eric felt she had become more proactive, perhaps influenced by the days spent in the camp. He wanted to say more but was running out of breath.

He raised his arm again, using his sleeve to cover his mouth and nose, inhaling sharply.

Sophie stared blankly, then quickly understood what he was doing. After a moment’s thought, she mustered courage and said, “I can help you, Mr. Eric.”

“What?”

“A way to block the smell.”

Eric looked at her. The young nun couldn’t hold his gaze for long and lowered her eyes. “Excuse me…”

She grasped the pendant hanging on her chest and whispered a prayer. Then she lifted her other hand, hesitated briefly, and gently pinched Eric’s nostrils.

Her fingertips were soft and warm, the careful pressure trembling slightly. Eric barely had time to think before he saw the pendant in her hand briefly glow.

The next moment, he realized he couldn’t smell anything.

“How is it?” Sophie withdrew her hand, eyes fixed on him.

“No smell.”

Eric took a deep breath, still detecting nothing. “Is this also a divine art?”

“Yes! Sister Alena taught me.”

“Truly amazing.” Eric remarked casually and suddenly thought: Isn’t this the kind of practical divine art he had been hoping for?

“How long does this divine art last?” he asked.

“About an hour. You can cancel it anytime; otherwise, you wouldn’t smell anything else… I can only learn this beginner-level divine art for now.”

Not too beginner-level; at least it required a medium to perform.

Eric glanced at the pendant on her chest, guessing it was her divine art medium. He recalled Sister Alena wore a similar but more exquisite pendant.

“Miss Sophie, what is your current class level? Have you reached the third rank?”

His question surprised Sophie for a moment, then she shook her head. “No, I just reached the second rank this year.”

Only second rank…

Eric thought that if she could learn this divine art, he probably could too.

After all, after killing all day in the mine yesterday, the massive experience had pushed him to level 27. Three more levels and he could advance to the second job class; his attributes should be sufficient.

“Miss Sophie, could you teach me the divine art you just used?” Eric asked.

Sophie was clearly stunned. “Me?”

“Yes.”

“Sure! …Uh… I’m not sure if I can…”

She immediately agreed but suddenly remembered something and quickly shook her head.

“I have to ask Sister Alena first.”

“This beginner divine art shouldn’t be a problem,” Eric said, picking up a stick. “After all, Sister Alena taught me even this—”

He waved the stick, and a golden light quickly enveloped it—the Holy Judgement Blade Sister Alena had taught him.

Sophie stared at the faintly glowing golden stick.

That seemed about right…

“Okay.” She didn’t hesitate too long. If it had been yesterday, even with Eric’s words, she would have had to confirm with the abbess. But now, she felt she could make such a decision.

Recalling how she learned that divine art, Sophie almost gave everything she knew. Eric listened, and suddenly a prompt appeared before his eyes.

“I’ve learned it,” he said.

“So fast?” Sophie blurted out.

“Yes.” Eric planned to demonstrate it to her but realized he lacked a divine art medium.

“May I borrow your necklace, Miss Sophie?”

“Ah, sure…” She was about to take off the necklace, but Eric held her hand.

“Cancel the divine art.”

Sophie obeyed and canceled the divine art on her nose but forgot to take a breath first. The noxious odor flooding her nostrils immediately twisted her face in disgust.

Eric couldn’t help but laugh. Then he grasped the pendant, whispered the incantation, and raised his other hand to pinch her delicate nose. The sensation was smooth and refined.

A flash of light passed, and Sophie found she truly couldn’t smell the stench.

“You really learned it… Mr. Eric, you’re amazing!”

Eric smiled and released the pendant. “Mostly because Miss Sophie taught me well.”

After chatting briefly about divine arts with the young nun, Eric didn’t linger but went to investigate elsewhere.

Watching him walk away, Sophie looked down at her pendant, held it in her hand, and felt the residual warmth.

“Mr. Eric… must be a devout good man.”

She murmured and later repeated the same words to Sister Alena upon returning to the camp.

The older sister looked at her for a moment but said nothing.

Sophie was lost in thought for a while, then suddenly began urging her to write another letter to the Saint.

“We didn’t understand Mr. Eric before… we wrote that letter… if the Saint misunderstood…”

“If the Saint truly chooses Mr. Eric as the heir, he will serve the divine his whole life, never abandoning his duties, let alone marrying anyone,” the abbess said, almost plainly revealing the truth.

Sophie opened her mouth, stunned in place.