Paladin of the Dead God

The signs and symbols heralding the arrival of the Millennium Kingdom were not limited to the "Scorched One." The Codex of Light had persistently gathered such information while advancing the Dawn Army, observing an increasing emergence of these signs as the Holy War intensified.

The Millennium Kingdom would not appear abruptly; instead, it would approach gradually, like the breaking of dawn.

The closer they moved toward the Holy Land Lua, the more Horhel was convinced that the gates of heaven would open wide to welcome them.

“Priest Horhel, the Sacred Fire is ready.”

A bishop approached with a respectful bow, presenting a brazier containing the sacred fire.

Officially, Horhel was nothing more than a wandering monk. However, the key priests and paladins saw him not merely as a monk but as the Pope’s Proxy, effectively leading the Dawn Army.

While the face of the Dawn Army was Dera Heman’s Golden Lion Paladin Order, it was Horhel who guided the priests.

Horhel lifted the brazier. Hanging at the end of a chain, the brazier burned with a blinding white flame, containing the light of heaven and the wrath of the Lighthouse Keeper.

His gaze turned to the Skull Tower.

[Why don’t you just burn it already, you bald priest?]

The expected response came instantly, accompanied by a personal insult no less.

“To hear your screams,” Horhel replied.

[Oh, sacred fire, is it? I haven’t screamed in ages. But sure, I’ll give you an earful. It’s been a while, so I might as well make it worth your while. Listen closely, because you’ll be screaming soon enough too, won’t you?]

A sharp laugh rippled outward as a mental wave. Horhel responded with a faint smile.

The one he was conversing with was the lich that guarded Belslav. This lich had once been a bishop of the Codex of Light and a participant in the 11th Dawn Army Campaign forty years ago.

“What kept you here, Al Sinera?”

Horhel addressed the lich by name, as though they were already acquainted. The lich, Al Sinera, clattered its teeth in laughter.

[So, you know who I am. I must not have changed much, huh?]

“I remember when you were a novice priest at the monastery, always carrying a rod to enforce discipline on the trainees. Back then, I wanted to kill you. But I also know how devout you were when you joined the Dawn Army.”

Horhel brought the brazier, its sacred fire burning brightly, closer to Al Sinera’s skull.

“Why did you betray your faith? That’s the one thing I can’t understand. The most devout priests and paladins are now the lapdogs of the Immortal Order, fighting against us on the frontlines. Why?”

Al Sinera’s skull seemed to grin. Although all skulls appeared to smile, Horhel believed the lich was genuinely amused.

[Are you seriously asking why I abandoned my faith to become a lich? Why I chose eternal life and wealth over being a mindless skeletal slave digging rocks for eternity?] ℞åɴօ𐌱Êᶊ

“The mentor I knew wouldn’t be seduced by mere wealth or immortality. There are plenty of such people in the Order, but you weren’t one of them. Nor were the countless paladins and priests I knew.”

[You’re shining a dangerous light into a dark hole, bald apprentice. Why are you so curious? Thinking about betraying your faith too, now that you know what sweet rewards lie in store?]

“…To stop others from following the same path, I need to understand what’s in your mind.”

[The more you march toward the Holy Land, the bigger your questions will become.]

Al Sinera’s voice turned sweet and enticing.

[The Lighthouse Keeper began the Dawn Army to usher in the Millennium Kingdom. But… as you already know, the Immortal Order’s Heaven has already come to this world.]

The Holy Land Lua, the place where the boundary between the living and the dead had been shattered.

The Immortal Emperor Beshek had pulled the Netherworld into the Holy Land, turning Lua into a realm where Urbansus and the material world intermingled. Thanks to this, the souls of the dead no longer needed to leave their bodies—a miracle, by any measure.

This was the heaven the Immortal Order sought to protect.

[The Immortal Order claims that the land we live on is already heaven. Whatever is lacking, they say, must be fixed right here. If all our struggles are truly to reach heaven, why should I deny that truth?]

It wasn’t the answer Horhel wanted. In fact, he wasn’t convinced Al Sinera was being truthful. Just as he opened his mouth to argue, Al Sinera’s skull suddenly jerked, jaws opening wide, biting down hard on the brazier.

The sacred fire burned Al Sinera’s skull from within in an instant, turning it white-hot. Light burst from within as the skull clattered and shook, as though still laughing. The sacred fire quickly engulfed the entire Skull Tower in flames.

As the anguished screams of the dead erupted, the surrounding Scorched Ones began chanting hymns. Their glassy eyes reflected the light of the sacred fire, which burned even brighter.

To Horhel, it seemed as though the heavenly flames were bursting forth through the eyes of fanatics. He swallowed the response he hadn’t been able to deliver to Al Sinera.

“This land, already heaven?”

To him, it was nothing but nauseating nonsense.

“How could this wretched, defiled land ever be heaven? Heaven should be a place only for the truly righteous, carefully chosen and worthy.”

***

“Master, are you sure the Cursed Sun hasn’t reappeared?”

"No."

At Isaac’s firm response, Edelred looked as though he might collapse, staring out at the shimmering heat waves of the desert. Even the famed knights of Elil had silently stashed away their heavy armor in their packs, unable to withstand the suffocating heat.

This scorching desert, which they encountered immediately after leaving Miarma, was fierce enough to quench even the fiery faith of the knights.

Isaac found their reaction peculiar.

“Aren’t you the same knights who crossed the Salt Desert in just one day? It’s hot, yes, but this is nothing compared to the heat of the Cursed Sun.”

Even so, Isaac had planned the march to avoid the hottest part of the day, moving only in the early mornings, evenings, or during the cool of night. While many soldiers grumbled about the disruption to their sleep cycles, Isaac reasoned it was preferable to succumbing to heatstroke.

Currently, the Issacrea Army was resting in the shade of a massive cliff on one side of the desert. They planned to resume their march at dusk, once the sun began to sink.

“In the Salt Desert, we were at least mentally prepared,” Edelred explained. “We’d heard plenty of terrifying tales about that cursed land, and I think there was a bit of bravado in wanting to see just how dreadful it was. But here… it’s just hot weather.”

“So, what you’re saying is this heat isn’t seen as an adversary, and thus it doesn’t inspire any resolve.”

The Salt Desert was wrapped in the legend of a thousand-year-old wasteland scorched by the Cursed Sun, a place woven with the kind of tales that stirred the hearts of knights. Even the occasional Outer Boundary monsters served as additional challenges for their valor.

But this? This was just a desert. Even the battle-hardened knights of Elil couldn’t find a reason to pick a fight with the sun.

“I’ve heard this area was once the cradle of civilization,” Edelred said. “Before the Age of Light, this land was home to warrior kings, gods, and the vast empires that contended for world dominance. Even the Codex of Light was just a small fringe religion back then, dwarfed by the grandeur of those ancient empires.”

Edelred gazed out over the sand dunes, looking as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was saying.

“How could humans possibly survive, let alone build civilizations in such a desolate wasteland? Did they have fireproof skin back then?”

Isaac laughed at Edelred’s imagination, though his companion seemed quite serious. While Isaac wasn’t an expert in every detail, he did know enough to offer a reasonable explanation. This desert had long been a battleground of faith, making it a place about which Isaac was well-informed.

“A thousand years ago, this wasn’t a desert at all. It was a fertile, green plain.”

“...This?” Edelred exclaimed in disbelief.

“Yes. Dozens of rivers flowed through it, and the soil was so rich that farmers could harvest three crops a year under the blazing sun. The Holy Land Lua was the capital of an ancient empire that ruled over most of this territory.”

“If that’s true, then what happened to all the people? How did this land become such a wasteland?”

A devout believer might claim it was divine retribution—a punishment for daring to attempt the immolation of the Lighthouse Keeper Luadin.@@novelbin@@

That was certainly the most straightforward explanation in this era.

However, Isaac preferred to rely on the knowledge he’d gained in Miarma, seeking an answer closer to the world’s intrinsic logic.

“Well, it might have something to do with the Outer Boundary shifting toward Lichtheim.”

“…The Outer Boundary?” Edelred asked.

Isaac pointed to the south.

Although they had left Miarma, the Outer Boundary was still not far away. The Holy Land Lua itself was perilously close to it—practically neighboring it, in fact.

“Once, Lua was the ‘center of civilization.’ It had a large population, ample food supplies, and a flourishing culture. People gathered there to praise the gods and express their faith. They likely believed that their order would last forever.”

Isaac turned his gaze northwest, in the direction where Lichtheim was thought to be located.

“But now, the heart of world civilization, the land where the most people worship the gods, is the Gerthonia Holy Empire. The center of the world has shifted.”

The Outer Boundary was a place of desolation and terror. Its mere proximity to a region could drain the life from the land, bringing it closer to death.

Isaac surmised that the ancient empire had collapsed after Luadin’s exile, not through war or disaster, but simply by being subsumed by the advancing Outer Boundary. All the Lighthouse Keeper had to do was reclaim the city where he’d once been condemned to the stake.

“I never imagined the Outer Boundary could move,” Edelred said, astonished. “I mean, I saw it in Miarma, but… can it shift based on faith?”

“You know what the Outer Boundary is, don’t you, Your Majesty?”

“Yes. A realm cast out by the Codex of Light for its heresy and corruption… Ah.” Edelred’s expression shifted as realization dawned.

The Codex of Light represented order—the steadfast belief that tomorrow’s sun would rise just as it did today. This unshakable faith had been passed down through the ages.

When that hegemony shifted from the ancient empire to Gerthonia, the Outer Boundary had followed.

Edelred’s expression turned complicated.

“It’s… a strange feeling. It’s like admitting that all gods are somehow subordinate to the Codex of Light…”

“Elil also serves the Codex, doesn’t He?”

“Well, yes, but still…” Edelred trailed off, looking somewhat embarrassed.

He was a king, after all. It was only natural for him to want his nation to thrive above all others.

Yet the idea that without the Codex of Light his kingdom might meet the same fate as this desert was disheartening.

Isaac turned his attention back to the desert.

“Well, at least it’s better when it’s this hot.”

“Better? How so?”

“If it weren’t hot during the day… it would mean an undead army is nearby.”

Isaac delivered the statement with a tone of foreboding, but quickly realized he’d chosen the wrong audience.

As a devout follower of Elil, Edelred did not shy away from battle. Even Edelred, who typically hated knights, lit up at the idea of both avoiding the heat and engaging in combat.

However, Isaac couldn’t shake the feeling that the deeper they ventured into the territory of the Immortal Order, the less romanticized these battles would become.

Two days later, Isaac stood in the middle of the desert, watching snowflakes fall for the first time.

“This is the Urdantu Empire.”