Paladin of the Dead God

Chapter 370: The Shattered Ground of Life and Death (7)

The lion’s heart beat, and the knights of Elil roared in unison.

With two Archangels now present, Isaac felt an unusual heat welling inside him. As his irises began to glimmer with a faint golden hue, a familiar whisper echoed in his mind.

[Accept me.]

It was the voice of the Sword of May.

Isaac had initially thought the situation might resolve itself even without her intervention. Beshek showed no signs of hostility or intent to escalate the confrontation; he seemed to simply observe.

But there was no reason to refuse.

More importantly, having an angel from the Codex of Light descend would bolster morale among the soldiers and reinforce the sense of alliance.

Finally, Isaac’s eyes ignited, burning like the sun.

Around him, broken and rusted swords appeared, floating like a halo. As the Sword of May descended upon him, Isaac felt the burden of using the Lighthouse of the Watchers lift significantly.

With three Archangels now descended, the soldiers felt for the first time that they were part of a divine army. Radiance, heat, and wind surrounded them, transforming their spirits into something sacred.

“Oooohhh!”

The soldiers, knights, paladins, and even priests let out triumphant shouts. The overwhelming vitality stirred their spirits, making them forget death itself.

But Beshek, the embodiment of eternal death, simply watched in silence.

In that moment, Isaac couldn’t help but believe the Issacrea Dawn Army was the strongest force in the world.

Archangels, by their very existence, could shift the tides of any battle. And now, three of them stood united against a single foe.

Beshek might have been a god, but even gods had their limitations—just as Elil couldn’t descend freely to wreak havoc on the land.

Yet, amidst the raucous cries, only the Archangels remained silent.

Archangels descend to convey the will of their gods. They never stand idle; they speak, act, destroy, or inspire others to act in their stead.

But here, even the Archangels held their tongues before the Immortal Emperor.

Isaac felt the tension between the two forces, palpable and taut. Then, Beshek finally spoke.

[So, this is what binds you to this land.]

His voice carried no tension or concern, only a detached curiosity, as though he were cataloging observations rather than addressing a confrontation. He looked over the dazzling Archangels and the resolute soldiers, muttering as if recording his findings.

[I see now why you stand against me so vehemently.]

Isaac scoffed.

“Finally gained some insight into humanity and its love of life?”

Unsurprisingly, Beshek dismissed the notion.

[No. You and all of them… you’re being deceived.]

“…What?”

Isaac was stunned by the audacity of the claim and found himself at a loss for words.

Beshek’s gaze swept over the gathered Archangels and soldiers. His voice, tinged with sorrow, cut through the heavy air.

[They are not worthy of the love and worship you give them.]

Isaac immediately understood that “they” referred to the gods. Beshek’s claim of deception wasn’t just aimed at humanity—it was directed at the Archangels themselves.

But instead of elaborating, Beshek seemed to lose interest in the conversation. Judging the situation as unproductive, he folded his mantle.

Dark clouds began to gather, gradually obscuring his presence.

The soldiers hurled mocking words at Beshek, their courage buoyed by the Archangels’ presence. But Beshek paid them no mind.

As Beshek retreated, Isaac felt the Sword of May within him relax in relief. He suspected the other Archangels felt the same.

[I will not give up on you, Isaac.]

Beshek’s voice floated on the night breeze, smooth and sweet.

[Your talent cannot be wasted. If it takes an eternity, I will have you by my side. When you finally accept my offer, you will become Emperor of this land, and I shall be the god who cares for all. It is the only way to preserve the balance.]

It was the same offer Beshek had made to Kalsen. The Immortal Emperor’s title had been intended for Kalsen as part of the Immortal Order’s vision.

While this world’s timeline hadn’t unfolded as Beshek planned, Isaac knew that in certain routes, players could either take Kalsen’s place or hand over the throne.

This was how Beshek sought to transcend his current form, becoming not just a god-emperor but a true deity.

That was the Immortal Order’s victory. A predetermined, unchanging future where death had no dominion.

[Think carefully, Isaac. I cannot guarantee you heaven. But I can offer you and those you love eternal life, and a world that will finally be worthy of your love.]

“Why is the guy who’s leaving still talking so much…”

[If anyone is interested in such an arrangement, simply keep one of these blue rose petals. An agent will come to discuss your options.]

A gust of wind tore through the camp, scattering countless blue rose petals. It was as if Beshek’s body had dissolved into the petals themselves.

The soldiers froze, their armor and clothes dusted with the soft blue blooms.

“Nobody touch the petals!” roared Rottenhammer. “Gather them all and burn them immediately!”

His swift reaction was commendable, though his command carried an inherent contradiction. Worse still, it was impossible.

The petals blanketed the entire village. Even if they gathered most of them, it was inevitable some would be missed.

“We’ve been outplayed,” Isaac thought bitterly as Beshek vanished like the night mist.

***

The seductive whispers of the Immortal Emperor lingered in the air, the kind that had surely lured countless paladins and priests to his side before.

Isaac approached Rottenhammer, who was furiously pacing and barking orders.

“It’s no use. No matter how thorough we are, some petals will remain hidden. We’ll just have to trust the soldiers’ faith.”

Rottenhammer clenched his fists, his voice filled with frustration.

“Damn that manipulative…!”

“Even soldiers armed with faith have fallen for his tricks before. Yelling at them won’t solve anything.”

Rottenhammer groaned, then sighed heavily, acknowledging the truth in Isaac’s words.

Even if Beshek hadn’t appeared here, the undead of the Immortal Order would have likely tried similar temptations eventually. Rottenhammer himself had faced similar offers in moments of desperation—times when hunger, cold, and the constant threat of death made such proposals enticing. He had even seen comrades succumb to those whispers.

“We need to move quickly. Staying in a place touched by a god’s miracle might weaken our resolve.”

Isaac agreed with a nod. The oppressive heat and tension left behind by Beshek’s presence were dissipating. As Isaac watched Tuhalin slump to the ground, his exhaustion evident, he realized the Thunder Artisan had departed. Likewise, Edelred had dismissed the Lion Knight.

[Isaac.]

The voice of the Sword of May lingered in his mind.

[The Dawn Army will fracture. Prepare for the coming division.]

“I don’t even know what I saw.”

The Issacrea Dawn Army scrambled to prepare for an unexpected night march. By the time the soldiers were ready, dawn had already begun to break. Yet no one expressed any desire to linger in the village longer than necessary.

Walking alongside Isaac was Gebel, his expression marked by fatigue and unease.

Although a former paladin, Gebel had long since shed the armor and miracles of his order, now resembling nothing more than a skilled swordsman. This lack of pretense made him popular among the rank-and-file soldiers, who appreciated him as a down-to-earth combat instructor.

Isaac had chosen to speak with Gebel precisely because he held the closest connection to the common soldiers.

“What did you see?”

Isaac’s question referred to the visions of death Beshek had inflicted upon them. Whether they were premonitions, hallucinations, or mere glimpses of possibility remained uncertain.

Gebel hesitated before answering.

“Spears and swords piercing my chest.”

A typical battlefield death, not surprising for someone like Gebel who had long embraced the risks of war. Yet, Gebel’s voice carried an unusual weight as he added:

“They were the weapons of the Avalanche Knight Order. The ones wielding them were knights in their armor.”

Isaac remained silent.

Gebel had come on this campaign intending to grant the Avalanche Knights the peace of eternal rest. If they had already been converted into undead, redemption was impossible. And yet, the vision showed his former comrades not only as traitors but as the very ones who would kill him.

“Do you think the other soldiers saw something similar?”

The mood in the Dawn Army was subdued, the exhilaration brought by the Archangels’ descent replaced by a heavy gloom. Even Edelred and Tuhalin were on edge, their earlier fervor drained.

Isaac couldn’t fault them. Without the Archangels’ intervention, the army might have fractured entirely under the strain.

Isaac himself felt the weight of despair creeping in.

If blame lay anywhere, it was with Beshek—a god who moved too freely among mortals. Rather than reigning from a grand throne and commanding from afar, he wandered the world, stirring chaos wherever he pleased.

“Isaac, did you see it too? Was it the worst death you could imagine?”

Gebel’s tired gaze met Isaac’s, searching for an answer.

“...It was,” Isaac replied with a bitter smile, though he left out the specifics. Gebel didn’t press further.

It was impossible to say if the vision was a warning, a potential future, or something else entirely. What Isaac knew was that it would be foolish to dismiss it outright.

“If that’s one of the futures the Nameless Chaos seeks…”

Isaac’s thoughts turned to the Holy Land Lua. Would his body, the key to unleashing Chaos, open the floodgates to that apocalyptic future?

Compared to what he had seen, even the Immortal Order’s dream of a world of undead seemed almost idyllic.

Isaac touched the armor over his chest, feeling the safeguards he had painstakingly set in place to prevent such a calamity. While they had proven effective against the Drowned King, there was no guarantee they would hold if Chaos truly tried to break free.

“I wish I could see Isolde.”

The thought struck Isaac suddenly. No matter how battered or broken he became, he felt that if Isolde were there to hold his hand, he could find his way back. Yet, they were separated by the vast gulf of this fractured world.

“Grail Knight, someone is approaching from the rear.”

“What?”

“It doesn’t seem to be undead. The scouts report there’s a woman among them.”

Isaac ordered the Dawn Army to adopt a defensive formation and rushed toward the rear.

No signs of an undead horde were visible, but the possibility still loomed in Isaac’s mind. If it were true, he didn’t know whether to feel relief or dread.

And then, he saw her.

Leonora.

Her expression soured as she caught sight of Isaac’s face.

“I wasn’t expecting a grand welcome, but a scowl like that for a business partner? That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”