Paladin of the Dead God

Tuhalin narrowed his eyes, staring at the wall blocking his path.

Like weapons, fortresses are constantly being improved and evolved. Modern front-line strongholds like Belslav are packed with all sorts of lethal features—moats, gunports, bastions, loopholes, and defensive towers.

But the Gehenna Fortress was more like a breakwater than a proper castle, living up to its nickname.

The fortress walls were low, old, and crumbling in several places. Even the bastions were poorly constructed. It was unsurprising, given that it had stood as a border fortress for a thousand years without any meaningful upgrades or renovations.

To Tuhalin, who was a warrior, a master artisan, and even a dwarf architect, this flimsy structure was an insult to the very concept of a fortress. The fact that such a pitiful "Gehenna Stone Wall" dared to block his path filled him with fury.

“I can’t stand it,” he muttered.

“You’ll have to,” teased Raulok, the leader of the Lycanthrope Warrior Army, grinning as he stood nearby.

Tuhalin felt the urge to smash Raulok’s head with his hammer, but he decided to save that privilege for the Gehenna Stone Wall instead.

Besides, Raulok wasn’t wrong.

The reason Gehenna Fortress had been able to hold back the monsters of the Outer Boundary for so long, despite its lack of upkeep, lay in its location.

The fortress was built on a massive hill with a slope of about 45 degrees. This hill stretched from the north to the southeast, forming an unbroken line toward the horizon. A monumental tectonic shift had raised the eastern landmass, creating a massive height difference.

Gehenna Fortress had been built at one of the "gentler" slopes within this natural wall of earth, focusing its defensive strength on that area. But to the east and west, the terrain became a near-vertical cliff, with a slope of 60 to 70 degrees that rose for over a hundred meters.

For ordinary humans, even standing on a 45-degree slope was nearly impossible.

“Fortresses are all about picking the right spot and flaunting it. But if we wear our wolf skins, it’s not like we can’t climb it. Want to try something under the cover of night?” Raulok suggested.

“The undead have sharp night vision. Moving at night is pointless. They don’t sleep, and you’d just end up stranded. We’ll stick to the plan we discussed with the Holy Grail Knight.”

There had been some debate about trying to bypass the fortress, but according to the map Isaac had drawn, this vast geological rift stretched for over a hundred kilometers. If they had planned to go around it from the start, it might have been possible. But they had agreed to meet with other Dawn Army forces at this spot, so they couldn’t veer off on their own.

“We are the Order of the World’s Forge. No way are we getting stuck on some pathetic stone wall. If it’s come to this, let’s show them what a real siege looks like.”

Tuhalin began unpacking the supplies they had brought, preparing for the siege.

The secretive knowledge of the Order of the World’s Forge—wisdom they had not revealed for centuries—was about to be unveiled. Dark chunks of metal were assembled, bit by bit, until a sleek, massive figure took form.

It was a colossal cannon.

Even after joining the Dawn Army, the members of the Order had fought solely with their bodies and tools. But this was the first time they were showing their “true” power.

“Let’s turn it into a wreck before the others get here.”

Unfortunately, Tuhalin’s goal was only a partial success.

He did manage to turn Gehenna Fortress’s walls into a wreck. Some parts of the wall had collapsed so thoroughly that the ground beneath them gave way, sending debris tumbling down to the floor where Tuhalin now stood.

But the heart of Gehenna Fortress wasn’t the walls—it was the hill itself.

If they couldn’t overcome this natural obstacle, then it was meaningless.

“Well, that’s how it turned out,” Tuhalin muttered as he gave his report to Isaac, who had just arrived.

Tuhalin feigned calm, though deep down, he felt embarrassed. He had poured everything into this effort, even using the secret might of the World’s Forge. But in the end, Isaac had arrived before the fortress fell.

Of course, Isaac neither mocked nor scolded him.

“No, this is more than enough. We never expected Gehenna Fortress to fall easily. Elil’s forces haven’t even arrived yet. More importantly, it’s not as if the failure was due to a lack of strength on your part, is it?” Isaac said, offering reassurance.

“Hmm. Honestly, we might have been able to break through with just our own forces…”

For ordinary people, the steep incline of the hill was a brutal challenge, but for the Lycanthrope Warrior Army, it was a simple climb. The moment Tuhalin’s cannon shattered the fortress wall, Raulok and his warriors charged, howling as they leaped up the slope.

But their numbers were too few compared to the number of undead waiting for them inside the walls.

“Raulok said if we could smash more of the wall and open up multiple entry points, we’d be able to take it…”

Tuhalin grit his teeth as he glared at the fortress.

The massive incline, once a sandy yellow hue, now had a stark, pale gray-white tint.

Isaac knew exactly what that meant.

“Pallor has arrived.”

“Yeah. Out of nowhere, a flock of those damned birds gathered in the sky. Then they froze the cliff solid. I watched those Lycanthrope warriors slip helplessly down the slope and had no choice but to order a retreat.”

Pallor had not unleashed a death-freezing aura as she had before. This time, she focused her power on reinforcing the fortress. She rapidly repaired the shattered wall with a mixture of ice, stone, and sand.

Just like reinforced concrete, ice that contains various minerals and substances becomes far harder than regular ice.

The steep incline, combined with Pallor’s mastery of frost, had turned Gehenna Fortress into an even more impenetrable stronghold.

‘Well, that’s her specialty,’ Tuhalin thought.

Pallor’s mastery of ice wasn’t limited to combat. Her true brilliance lay in creation.

Her ability to shape objects like the Winterjaw was what set her apart as a prodigy and had earned her the title of Archangel. Now, she had chosen Gehenna Fortress as her canvas.

“Did you try using the relic I gave you?”

“Well, I was thinking about it,” Tuhalin muttered, his face scrunched in a way that suggested even admitting this was a blow to his pride.

“I figured I’d try everything the Order of the World’s Forge had to offer before resorting to it. No matter how cold that horde of Armyes may be, the heat of the Forge can’t possibly lose to them, right?”

In short, his pride had kept him from using it. But since he had managed to bring out the hidden might of the Order of the World’s Forge, Isaac didn’t see it as a bad outcome.

As fate would have it, this siege had become a battle between the craftsmanship of a Forge artisan, blessed by an Archangel, and the creation of an Archangel who wielded the absolute power of frost.

Isaac decided to judge Tuhalin’s work first.

“Mind if I take a look at the relic you used from the Order of the World’s Forge?”

“Hmm, sure. Come this way.”

***

Tuhalin led Isaac toward the cannon crafted by the Order of the World’s Forge. He pulled away the cloth that had been draped over it, revealing a massive metal object in the shape of a wolf’s head with its maw wide open. Its size was roughly equivalent to a grown man.

Isaac’s thoughts came to a brief halt. Then, realizing it was the Order’s cannon, he couldn’t help but have a somewhat disrespectful thought.

‘It’s smaller than the ones used by the Olkan Code.’

Of course, he had no intention of saying this aloud. If he did, Tuhalin would undoubtedly shower him with a barrage of racially charged insults. But in truth, size wasn’t the most important factor. The cannons used by the Olkan Code were large, crude weapons that had to be carried on one’s back and hammered into the ground to be fired.

This cannon, however, was small and light enough for Tuhalin to carry with him throughout the campaign. Even so, it was still about as big as an average adult human. The cannons used by the orcs of the Olkan Code were little more than knockoff versions of designs stolen from the Order of the World’s Forge. Meanwhile, the Order had refined, redesigned, and advanced their cannon technology far beyond that of the Olkan Code.

Isaac carefully inspected the cannon and asked, as if probing for a reaction, “This wasn’t cast or forged, was it? It’s drilled, isn’t it?”

Tuhalin’s eyes widened in shock.

“Have you been to our forge before or something?”

Most cannons of this era were made using one of two methods. Either they were forged, with metal plates bent into shape, or they were cast, with molten metal poured into a mold. The former method made it difficult to produce a uniform barrel, while the latter was the method favored by the Olkan Code’s orcs.

The Olkan Code’s cannons were cast, typically using bronze to increase durability and safety. But since the orcs were reckless thanks to their ability to resurrect, they opted for iron, which was cheaper and easier to work with. Besides, the schematics they’d stolen from the Order of the World’s Forge were originally designed for iron.

The Order of the World’s Forge, however, had moved beyond that technology. They had adopted the drilling method—taking a single, high-purity block of steel and drilling a hole through it. This produced a cannon that was lighter, stronger, and more stable than anything the orcs could hope to create.

“I just happen to know a little bit,” Isaac replied casually.

In truth, it was nothing more than trivia he’d learned from games and other bits of useless knowledge. But if he wanted to offer advice to Tuhalin, he couldn’t present himself as an ignorant fool.

Feigning expertise, Isaac commented on the cannon’s balance, its support frame, and the spiral rifling carved into the interior of the barrel.

Of course, Tuhalin probably saw right through his shallow knowledge. But even so, the fact that Isaac knew anything at all about this secret knowledge clearly shocked him.

“I thought I had a good grasp of you, Isaac, but the more I know, the less I understand. Where did you hear of such things? This cannon is a state-of-the-art relic not even Ulsten has seen.”

This highlighted a fundamental difference between the Olkan Code and the Order of the World’s Forge.

To the Olkan Code, knowledge was merely a practical tool of war. But to the Order of the World’s Forge, knowledge was a sacred blessing and a secret to be protected. In this way, their cannon wasn’t just a weapon—it was a masterpiece, closer to a work of art.

“It’s just something I picked up along the way. More importantly, Tuhalin, this cannon is already a flawless work of art… but may I offer a few suggestions?”

“Suggestions?”

“I’ve been thinking about all the crude, inferior garbage that the Olkan Code churns out. While I was mulling it over, I came up with a few ‘improvements’ that might interest you.”

One of the Order of the World’s Forge’s flaws was that they despised mixing their faith with others and were reluctant to share knowledge. But progress only comes from mixing and clashing with new ideas. Isaac had already experienced a world where countless ideas collided and merged without end.

He had several ideas on how to push Tuhalin’s cannon several steps forward.

Tuhalin hesitated.

Taking advice from someone of another faith? From a knight, no less, not even an artisan? Under normal circumstances, he would have laughed it off and smashed that person’s skull with a hammer. But Isaac had at least demonstrated that he wasn’t completely ignorant.

And something else tugged at Tuhalin’s heart.

The guiding principle of the Order of the World’s Forge was change and progress.

The more something is hammered, the stronger it becomes. The more something is melted, the better it blends. The urge to improve, to move forward, and to create something greater gnawed at Tuhalin.

“…Alright. Let’s hear what you have to say.”

***

On one side of Gehenna Fortress, deep within a shabby interior chamber that could barely be called an inner citadel, a white heap lay piled up in a corner. The cold air chilled the room, and frost lined the walls and floor, making it seem like snow had fallen inside.

But the "snow" was actually bird bones.

In the midst of this bone pile, Archangel Pallor was struggling to gather herself in the stillness and silence.

Undead did not require sleep. But Pallor, who had suffered spiritual wounds, had entered a state similar to hibernation, desperately trying to repair the parts of her soul that had been torn away.

‘Isaac…’

But her rest was far from peaceful. Whenever she was about to slip into slumber, pain and fury would creep back in, disrupting her calm. Each time her anger surged, the walls would crack and groan as frost spread across the surface.

‘That monster… what did he do to me?’