Paladin of the Dead God

“The Outer Boundary will shake?”

Isaac narrowed his eyes, looking intently at Sadraza.

“You said you’d use the lantern to shroud the Cursed Sun, didn’t you?”

“I will,” Sadraza replied. “But even just obscuring the sun with the lantern could lead those creatures beyond the Boundary to misunderstand. They might think the sun has gone out entirely. And breaking the Salt Desert could also provoke them.”

Isaac nodded, understanding. To creatures of the Outer Boundary, the dimming of the Cursed Sun and the fracturing of the Salt Desert would seem like signs that the order of the world was unraveling. These beings, having long since lost all knowledge of civilization but still driven by a ravenous hunger for abundance, were constantly waiting for an opportunity to invade Miarma.

Truthfully, Isaac had anticipated this. In fact, if things proceeded too smoothly, he would have suspected Sadraza of deception.

“Don’t worry about a few monsters showing up. Just proceed with the ritual.”

“I’ve waited a thousand years for this moment. I won’t make any mistakes.”

Sadraza slithered back into the dark pyramid, his drooping tentacles trailing behind him like an elaborate priestly robe.@@novelbin@@

“Is it about to begin?” Aidan awaited him outside, dressed in a formal, albeit somewhat clumsy, manner.

“Yes. Everyone should start their tasks.”

Aidan nodded nervously and immediately dashed off. Soldiers who had been waiting for the signal quickly sprang into action.

There wasn’t much they could do, nor Isaac for that matter.

Isaac glanced back at the pyramid.

“Don’t betray us, Sadraza.”

He briefly considered warning Sadraza to prevent any unforeseen disaster, but since Sadraza held the reins of the ritual, Isaac couldn’t predict whether he would betray them or not. Warning him might only plant unnecessary thoughts in Sadraza’s mind, so he decided against it.

‘In truth, even if I hadn’t helped… this might have all happened anyway.’

Isaac had been handed the task of shattering the Salt Desert suddenly, yet somehow it didn’t feel abrupt. He was merely tipping an already overfilled glass, letting what was already inevitable spill forth.

When he had visited Miarma in the game, the “throat for the Thirsty Feast” had been empty. Looking back, it seemed like evidence of Sadraza’s failure.

Nonetheless, Sadraza had tried, and Isaac genuinely hoped he would succeed this time.

A thousand years of suffering deserved some reward.

The ritual would soon begin. Isaac surveyed the landscape of Miarma, which would soon become a battlefield, and moved on.

***

For a thousand years, a scorching sun had loomed over the desert.

That sun, hanging low over the land, had dried up the sea, scorched the earth, and turned it into a wasteland. It neither rose nor set, remaining a grim symbol of a broken faith, like a head hanging from a gallows. And now, for the first time in those thousand years, that sun began to tarnish.

The darkening started at the sun’s lower edge. The blood-red Cursed Sun seemed infected, slowly turning black, like mold spreading over it. Gradually but unmistakably, the Cursed Sun was cooling. Those watching the eerie sight couldn’t look away.

“This sight is hard to shake off,” murmured Lianne with her arms crossed. Tuhalin and Edelred remained silent, agreeing in their unease. Since history began, no miracle had claimed as many lives as that cursed sun, and for those who followed the Codex of Light, the notion of a dimming sun carried unsettling implications. ɽá𝐍ȏʙЕș

“It’s necessary, I know… but I wonder if the Lighthouse Keeper will stand idly by,” Lianne added.

“Who knows?” Tuhalin muttered with a dry chuckle. “Maybe even the Lighthouse Keeper forgot about it, abandoned out here in the middle of nowhere. He might not care about some miracle drawing on the Salt Council’s divinity.”

In any case, if the Archangel appeared, everything would become more complicated, so everyone prepared or prayed in their own ways.

By now, nearly half of the Cursed Sun was covered in shadow, evoking the image of a setting sun. Despite only being partially obscured, the air had noticeably cooled around them.

It was Tuhalin who first sensed the change, turning his head sharply.

“They’re coming.”

To the south of Miarma, beyond the desert and rock-strewn valley, dark clouds were gathering. As if laying claim to the areas no longer touched by the sun’s light, a mass of gray storm clouds rapidly spread over the desert, transforming it into a bleak, gray landscape.

The scene looked like an ocean turning upside down and rushing toward them like a tidal wave, leaving everyone who saw it with pale faces.

“That… isn’t that the Outer Boundary? It looks like something from the Northern Sea,” murmured Lianne anxiously.

The Outer Boundary, moving northward. Such a thing was unthinkable. Though the Cursed Sun was only dimmed, not extinguished, and while the creatures might be mistaken, it was impossible for the Boundary itself to break.

Then Tuhalin’s head whipped back toward the sun.

The Cursed Sun hanging over Miarma had nearly disappeared, with only a third remaining visible.

It looked like it was sinking beneath the surface, as if a metal sphere was cooling slowly in the depths of the sea.

The Cursed Sun had been extinguished.

“Sadraza has betrayed us.”

***

Sadraza stared into the darkened pyramid.

When the Cursed Sun was extinguished, the inside of the pyramid fell into an almost unbelievable darkness.

It was an unfamiliar sight, yet one Sadraza had yearned for and begged to witness for a thousand years.

Confirming that the sun was entirely gone, Sadraza pushed hard against a small brick in the corner of the chamber. As it shifted, a cascade of stones and rocks toppled down, sealing all entrances to the pyramid.

A simple but resilient mechanism, designed to withstand the wear of millennia, had now blocked every pathway into and out of the pyramid.

‘Once, this place was illuminated by torches blazing brightly even when the sun had set.’

As he descended the ‘throat’ of the pyramid lined with salt, Sadraza reminisced.

It had once been a beautiful sight.

During the day, the pyramid temple gleamed under the sun, and by night it glowed from within, revealing intricate contours and patterns through every crevice.

Back then, the entire sea was their domain and their path.

Until that man who burned like fire arrived.

And now, after a thousand years, their descendants had come.

With their help, he had finally prepared for the ritual, but Sadraza still felt an emptiness gnawing at him.

‘I am still thirsty.’

Sadraza had gathered sacrifices over a thousand years to awaken the Caller’s power. And with Isaac’s assistance, he’d accumulated an ample amount of offerings. Yet, this was barely enough to ‘awaken’ the Caller.

Even if the Salt Desert cracked, it would take centuries for the salt to dissolve completely, and in that time, the Lighthouse Keeper might return.

A thousand years ago, he had been a monster. Now, who knew what kind of madness that being had become?

A richer feast was needed.

With a splash, Sadraza reached a stagnant pool at the base of the throat.

Surrounding him were rotting Armyes of monsters, the remains of ancient gods, human bones, and animal carcasses. The pool, a vile mixture of decomposing fluids and blood from countless beings, met the tips of Sadraza’s tentacles.

“Call my name, as in the days of old.”

He knelt over the fetid pool and pressed his mouth to its surface, drinking deeply from the foul liquid. A surge of power flooded his body, filling him with strength. This energy was the essence of the offerings, transformed into divine power through the Thirsty Feast ritual.

Creatures from the Outer Boundary, savage ancient gods, traitorous worshippers who had fled from their gods, filthy heretics... and even that silent, contemptible god who had ceased to answer him.

The power seeping from the Caller through the sea temple was no more than sustenance to quench his thirst.

“Call my name, as in the days of old.”

Silence answered him. That silence only made his thirst more intense.

He was still thirsty.

Thirsty.

But soon, Miarma would be awash in blood—enough to drown even this insatiable thirst.

***

‘You fool.’

Isaac gazed up at the extinguished sun.

Now fully darkened, it had vanished without a trace. Since it had been a miracle rather than a physical object, its disappearance was inevitable.

The sky where the Cursed Sun had once hung was now filled with dark clouds, casting an eerie shadow over the landscape.

If the Lighthouse Keeper appeared now, he could handle everything. Fortunately or unfortunately, there was no sign of the Keeper. But an equally disastrous threat was advancing from the south.

Rumble… As the Outer Boundary broke down, monsters surged forth in waves, like a dam bursting.

Winged creatures, one-legged jumpers, slithering beings, beasts walking on lip-like appendages with no clear front or back… grotesque entities beyond description, beyond any semblance of order. Only the term “monsters” sufficed to describe them.

Usually, they fought and devoured each other, but now they were stampeding toward Miarma as if drawn by a tempting feast.

‘Well, they aren’t wrong.’

The Salt Desert was about to shatter, exposing the Caller, unprotected, through the cracks. A veritable feast. Even without Sadraza’s Thirsty Feast ritual, the creatures would be drawn to it; they were always ravenous for power.

Clicking his tongue, Isaac leaped down from the top of the pyramid.

‘You’ve made the worst possible choice, Sadraza.’

***

Sadraza felt more power surging through him than ever before.

He looked up at the ceiling with a dazed expression.

A vast power and wisdom flared within him, flooding every cell in his body, making his thoughts precise and his perception of time and space sharpen with clarity.

Everything was under his control.

Merely by drinking the power invoked by the Thirsty Feast, he had embodied a force akin to an angelic being within himself.

‘With this power, perhaps I could shatter the Salt Desert.’

There was another option.

If he could break the Salt Desert and consume the power of the god left defenseless within, if he could devour that powerless, silent old man, he might truly ascend to a transcendental being.

The thought triggered an insatiable hunger within him.

He was thirsty.

His eyes, now stained a murky, blood-black, glistened with a strange gleam. But Sadraza suppressed his thirst.

The last remnants of his priestly self rebelled against it.

And it wasn’t the right time. Outside, a battle was already underway.

The followers of the Lighthouse Keeper had likely brought an army to wage a hopeless battle against the monsters spilling in from the Outer Boundary. Some of them, apparently blessed by an angel, might hold out for a while.

Yet, no matter whose blood was shed, it would flow into the depths of Miarma.

The city’s network of canals, wells, and underground reservoirs—all of it fed Sadraza’s throat. He would drink that blood too and claim a place worthy of his thousand years of solitude.

‘...?’

But then, Sadraza sensed something strange.

The blood wasn’t flowing. No, he couldn’t even feel the energy of battle. Expanding his heightened senses outward, he probed the surroundings.

His face contorted with shock.

The monsters from the Outer Boundary had already breached the city walls and were at the doorstep of the Fisherman’s House. If they broke through and entered, they would be right in front of the throat.

And there was no trace of the Issacrea Dawn Army anywhere.