Paladin of the Dead God

When the Lighthouse finally obliterated a section of the fortress wall, a massive White Colossus roared as it charged through the breach. Standing over thirty meters tall and shaped like a stag, the Colossus crashed into the wall, scattering molten lava like meteor showers. Seizing the opportunity, Dawn Army soldiers surged forward as one.

“Death to the dead!”

Even without charging in themselves, the Undead of the Immortal Order were already retreating. Since capturing the fortress wasn’t their goal, miracles and relics were more than enough to turn Belslav into a smoldering ruin. Yet, the Dawn Army did not hesitate to plunge into the boiling fortress.

Thud, thud, thud.

The White Colossi stomped across the bubbling Belslav, pressing it flat. Flames roared beneath their hooves, but the Colossi remained steadfast in their relentless pounding.

Their actions crushed any Undead trapped within the inner fortress who hadn’t yet managed to escape. The Colossi also sealed off the retreat path by destroying the inner fortress’s well, the only remaining exit. With the well blocked by lava, the Undead panicked.

Desperately, they attempted to retreat through the rear gate—a more conventional escape route—but found it already surrounded by the Dawn Army. The only option left was to fight to the death.

But the Immortal Order wasn’t about to go down quietly.

Many of the Undead soldiers, having long transcended fear of death, were still waiting behind the fortress walls, evading the Lighthouse’s relentless bombardment. They felt no emotions beyond frustration and rage.

At the short command of a Death Knight, the Undead soldiers hurled their spears.

Whoosh! A hundred spears arced through the air simultaneously. Though their number was small compared to the incoming wave of Dawn Army soldiers, their precision was unmatched.

“Urk, gah!”

Thwack! Crunch! Every single one of the hundred spears hit its target, piercing the neck of a soldier. Not a single throw missed.

Considering that most arrows in battle miss their targets, this was an almost impossible feat. But it was made possible because the spear throwers were all elite Immortal Spearmen of the Order.

The gruesome scene of a hundred soldiers impaled and standing lifeless on their spears was enough to make anyone recoil. Yet, the Dawn Army soldiers were unfazed. @@novelbin@@

“The faithless shall die first!”

A fanatic, his glassy eyes gleaming with madness, charged forward, weaving through the fallen bodies.

In response, the Undead spearmen readied another volley. Among their targets was the leading fanatic.

There was no need for excessive effort—just one spear would suffice to bring him down.

The fanatic flailed in an attempt to deflect the incoming spear but failed. The spear pierced through his eye in an instant, adding him to the heap of fallen bodies. 𝙍ᴀΝ𝐎βËs

Yet the fanatic didn’t fall.

Instead, he staggered, broke the spear embedded in his skull with his bare hands, and, covered in blood, began screaming incomprehensible chants as he charged forward once more.

Even the Undead soldiers were stunned by this unbelievable sight.

“Ahhhh! The faithless die first!”

Other soldiers followed in his wake, inspired by his mad charge.

The fanatic climbed the smoldering ruins of the fortress wall. His clothes ignited the moment he stepped onto the molten debris, and the Undead believed this time he would surely burn to death.

“Light, the Light, the Codex of Light protects me!”

With a blazing cry, the fanatic strode across the molten lava. Flames engulfed him, and yet he kept moving forward.

He wasn’t the only one reminded of the most famous Archangel, the Lighthouse Keeper.

[Fall back!]

The Death Knight gave the command urgently.

It wasn’t concern for the fanatic that prompted this order. Behind him, the rest of the Dawn Army soldiers were pouring in, ignoring their burning bodies as they threw themselves into the boiling stone.

Those who succumbed to the heat became stepping stones for the soldiers behind them.

Within moments, hundreds of flaming Dawn Army soldiers flooded into Belslav.

The Undead soldiers cursed as they struck with their spears, only for them to glance harmlessly off the charred, blackened bodies of the attackers. Beneath the tattered, flaming clothes, their skin gleamed like polished obsidian.

That was the last thing one Undead soldier saw before a fanatic’s axe split his head open and ignited him.

The Death Knights ground their teeth at the one-sided slaughter.

Yet, they did not resent the Immortal Emperor Beshek. From the moment they took up their positions at the front-line fortress, they had been prepared for such a scenario.

Their ire was instead directed at their supposed allies.

[Where is the Wallachia Kingdom’s army?! What are they doing?!]

***

“Looks like it’s over,” someone remarked.

“Seems that way, doesn’t it?”

On a hill overlooking Belslav, the Skewer Legion, an elite unit dispatched by the Wallachia Kingdom, observed the battlefield from afar. Their role was to maintain pressure on the Dawn Army and prevent the fortress from being completely surrounded.

Positioned on fortified high ground and equipped with miracles and advanced defenses, they believed their presence alone would make it harder for the Dawn Army to assault Belslav.

But the Codex of Light had countered in ways far beyond their expectations.

The Dawn Army ignored the Wallachia forces entirely, focusing solely on Belslav.

Although they had left some reserves, it was nowhere near enough to contend with the Skewer Legion. In fact, the Dawn Army’s rear lines were so exposed that a direct assault would cause devastating damage.

The Skewer Legion commander’s lieutenant seemed to think the same, leaning in to ask cautiously:

“Should we issue the attack order now? Their rear looks even more vulnerable than before.”

It would have been a reasonable decision for any ally, but Maller Roanoke, the commander of the Skewer Legion, thought otherwise.

“Look at that. Belslav is like a fox that ran into a bear. Sure, we could stab the bear in the side while the fox bites it, but then what?”

Maller shook his head firmly.

“Even if a small part of the Dawn Army veers north, Wallachia will be reduced to ash.”

“But we have agents embedded in their ranks. Surely—”

“And those agents warned us, didn’t they? Unless the battle clearly shifts in our favor, we’re not to intervene. Sure, we could hold out if we fought, but why should we bear the brunt of a war we don’t need?”

The lieutenant fell silent, and Maller sighed.

“Gerthonia… no, even its name is meaningless now. The Codex of Light has gone completely mad. What’s the point of all this senseless bloodshed?”

Like most Wallachian nobles, Maller viewed war as the byproduct of failed schemes and conspiracies.

In his mind, the rational course of action would have been to bribe a gatekeeper or lord, or to incite chaos through sustained assassinations—methods that would save manpower and resources.

But the Dawn Army hadn’t done any of that. Instead, they had simply charged in head-on, using relics, divine beasts, and soldiers to obliterate everything. To Maller, it was pure madness.

“But won’t Belslav falling into their hands leave us vulnerable?”

“Does it look like they even intend to capture it? One thing is clear—Her Majesty was right. The Dawn Army has no interest in us. They’ll keep marching south.”

The true purpose of Maller and the Skewer Legion’s presence was to confirm whether the Dawn Army was truly heading for the Holy Land Lua. After observing the sheer brutality of their campaign, there was no doubt in Maller’s mind that the Codex of Light was fully committed to this crusade. Small eastern kingdoms like Wallachia were beneath their notice.

Maller smirked.

“Whether it’s the Codex of Light or the Immortal Order, they’ll both be weakened by the end of this war. The side that quietly conserved its strength will be the one that wins.”

Turning his horse, Maller signaled his men. The Skewer Legion began withdrawing without so much as drawing their weapons. The elite forces, dispatched by the Red Chalice to support the Immortal Order, retreated north without engaging the enemy.

From afar, a Death Knight commander bellowed in fury at the sight, but his rage fell on deaf ears.

***

“The Skewer Legion has retreated.”

Hearing the report from Commander Feltrein of the Empire’s knights, Pope’s Proxy Horhel smirked.

“Of course they did. Those mosquito scum never go after anyone stronger than themselves.”

The Skewer Legion’s brutality and discipline were infamous—even the Gerthonia Empire hesitated to provoke them. But their fearsome reputation only applied to fighting weaker or outnumbered opponents.

Wallachian nobles never fought stronger enemies unless they had no other choice. When they did, it was either because an ambush had failed or escape was impossible. This incident only reinforced that fact.

“Shall we send a pursuit force after them?”

“No. They’re not worth our attention. Deploy everyone to the siege.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

With the Skewer Legion gone, the Dawn Army was free to concentrate entirely on Belslav. Under the leadership of their paladins, the army widened their encirclement, systematically crushing the remaining Undead defenders.

By evening, the fortress of Belslav—once fortified with walls layered like rose petals—had been reduced to a massive block of molten rock. The fortress itself had melted, its glowing remains towering like a colossal crimson tombstone.

This was the Dawn Army’s first glorious victory.

But the battlefield was far from glorious. Horhel traversed the smoldering wreckage, surrounded by pyres already burning countless Armyes, yet still overwhelmed by the sheer number of unburned dead.

The Immortal Order’s strategy was simple: to increase the number of Armyes. Every attack they made was precise and deliberate, ensuring their enemies died completely. After all, every Armye could be converted into an ally.

Despite their victory, the Dawn Army had suffered over ten times the casualties of the Immortal Order.

“A great victory,” Horhel mused.

In his eyes, it was an overwhelming triumph.

The Codex of Light and the Immortal Order placed drastically different values on human life.

The Codex of Light, with its ability to replenish its ranks through childbirth and devotion, could afford to sacrifice lives liberally. The Immortal Order, on the other hand, only accepted converts as true followers—anyone else became mindless Undead.

Even among the converted, it took decades or centuries for Undead to gain experience and knowledge. In contrast, the Dawn Army used untrained fanatics as disposable shields.

A 1:10 casualty ratio was a small price to pay.

Behind this victory, Horhel recognized a powerful symbol he had long awaited.

Before him rose a towering Skull Monument. Many of the Immortal Order’s forces had been buried beneath the molten remains of Belslav, but a significant number had been collected with their heads severed and sealed to prevent any psychic interference.

Unable to die, these Undead now served as silent ornaments of defeat.

“Is this all the heads we’ve recovered?”

“Yes,” replied a blackened fanatic with one eye missing, his charred body glistening like obsidian. Surrounding him were hundreds of similarly scorched fanatics, their glassy eyes reflecting an eerie light.

“Thanks to the Codex’s blessing, we’ve achieved a glorious victory. Praise the Light, Your Grace!”

Horhel grinned.

“The Scorched Ones, the Human Soot…”

Horhel recalled the prophecy delivered to the Watcher’s Council—a revelation from the angels about the phenomena preceding the Millennium Kingdom.

"First, eyes like glass shall gaze upon the world from Heaven. Through these eyes, Heaven’s Light shall scorch the chosen, who will rise and lead the charge. And at last, as it is in Heaven, so it shall be on Earth…"

“With this, the Codex of Light is one step closer to the Millennium Kingdom.”

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