"This way! Quick!"
At that very moment, Holland's voice rang out beside him.
The former Priest's usual playful smile and mercenary air had vanished completely. His brown eyes were now filled with nothing but sharp resolve.
He whipped the iron-rimmed Oak Shield—the one he'd just gotten from the black market—off his back.
He made no attempt to persuade or push aside the congested crowd.
Instead, with a low growl, he turned sideways and dipped his shoulder, ramming the Shield's heavy edge forward like a siege hammer. He crashed right into a few unlucky souls who were shoving each other in fear, blocking the way.
"THUD! Oof!"
Amid the dull thuds and cries of pain, the unceremonious brute force tore a gap through the crowd.
Holland didn't stop for a second. He blocked left and right with his Shield, using his body and its flat face to force a path open. He glanced back and yelled urgently to Roland.
"This way! Rudolph! Quick!"
