Paladin of the Dead God-Chapter 382: The Breakwater Against Chaos (1)

[Well then.]

Linde deliberately spoke in a lively tone.

[Could you all give me some time alone to have a personal conversation with our senior knight? It’s been a while, and I believe we have much to discuss.]

“...Understood.”

Rottenhammer still looked unsettled, but Isaac dismissed the paladins alongside him. The paladins, too, wore complex expressions, their minds preoccupied with Linde’s shocking words.

Isaac had no way of knowing how this "revelation" would influence the course of the expedition.

These knights were loyal servants of the Codex of Light. They had come to this land with the mission of upholding the glory of their god and vanquishing evil. And yet, their predecessor, Linde, had just told them, “You were sent here to die.”

Isaac watched them walk away, lost in thought.

’If I were to turn back now...’

There was no reason for them to be sacrificed for the games of the gods.

No one understood better than Isaac that the Codex of Light alone would not be enough to reclaim the Holy Land. The Lighthouse Keeper’s thousand-year plan was on the verge of crumbling into nothingness. But if Isaac were to turn his back on them, there would be no future Dawn Army — even Linde had said as much. In the end, the Immortal Order would win.

There would come a point where no further resistance would be possible.

Isaac could feel it. The coming battle would be the "critical moment" of this world.

‘The Lighthouse Keeper never explicitly declared it to be a Millennium Kingdom.’

Then perhaps, the Lighthouse Keeper’s satisfaction lay not in victory but in feeding human lives into the grinder of the Dawn Army. Or worse — was it possible that the victory of the Immortal Order itself was part of the Lighthouse Keeper’s plan?

Isaac had no way of knowing the Lighthouse Keeper’s true intentions.

Even so, was it right to support the Codex of Light on the grounds that it was "better than the Immortal Order"? Even Isaac himself was beginning to doubt.

He pondered for a moment, then let out a deep sigh.

It’s too late to turn back now. I’ve come too far.

Whether it was to thwart the Lighthouse Keeper or to dig a grave for the Immortal Emperor, the Holy Land of Lua had to be claimed. Whether he flipped their table or shattered it into pieces, the confrontation was inevitable.

If it’s in that place, there might be a hand strong enough to gamble against the gods themselves.

‘Midas’ Hand... I need to figure out what that is.’

It was time to return to his allies.

Before packing up, Isaac glanced toward Linde and Gebel.

Gebel was sitting in a small crouch, quietly conversing with Linde. Isaac couldn’t tell what they were discussing, but he decided not to interfere.

Later that afternoon, as the Issacrea Paladin Order was nearly ready to depart, Isaac went to see Gebel again.

Thin wisps of smoke rose in front of Gebel. The ashes of a fire, already long cold, lay in a neat pile. Isaac was prepared to wait for Gebel to rise on his own, but it didn’t take long.

“Let’s go.”

Gebel looked far older than he had at the beginning of the expedition, but his face seemed much more at peace. No longer a fugitive Paladin deserter, he now seemed like a retired paladin — a man who had set down his burden.

But Linde, whose soul had been bound to the Immortal Order, had lost only her body, not her rest. Retirement was no longer an option for her. Even so, Isaac hoped that, knowing Linde had not been helplessly murdered but had instead walked this path of her own will, Gebel could find some measure of peace.

***

A bright trumpet blast echoed through the air.

It was a signal that the last remnants of the enemy had been subdued and the area was now fully secured.

It was a resounding victory for Elil’s forces.

At last, a real battle — not a skirmish, but a genuine war. A vast plain stretched wide before them. The rhythmic beat of war drums and the blaring of trumpets filled the air. Hooves thundered against the ground like a quaking earth. Warriors clad in steel collided with one another, breaking bones and shattering armor as they unleashed their rage.

Sometimes, in the midst of such violent chaos, warriors would come to respect the skill of their foes, and a kind of unspoken camaraderie would form — admiration for an enemy they’d never exchanged words with.

It had been a picturesque battle. And for that reason, Cedric’s expression was far from pleased.

In fact, many of the knights of Elil’s army felt similarly. They couldn’t quite articulate why they felt uneasy, but their unease lingered.

Cedric, however, knew exactly why.

‘Because there was no twist.’

The battle had started when the forces of Edelred, who had branded the undead Elil forces as “Lua Impersonators,” pursued them to this open plain. From the moment they spotted their prey, something had felt off.

The "Lua Impersonators" had charged straight at them on an open field, free from cover or the possibility of reinforcements. It was as if they had been waiting, ready to make their last stand.

Until this moment, the Impersonators had been engaging in hit-and-run tactics, avoiding open conflict. But here, they suddenly chose to fight to the death like warriors driven into a corner.

The Elil forces counterattacked immediately, and a fierce battle ensued.

The undead soldiers fought hard. Many Elil warriors fell, and at times, the front line nearly broke. Among their foes was a Swordmaster named Tolvard, who came close to threatening Edelred himself.

But in a bizarre twist of fate, an arrow grazed the edge of Tolvard’s helmet, causing it to spin and block his vision. Blinded, Tolvard stumbled and fell — an almost comedic end for a Swordmaster of his caliber.

Ultimately, the undead warriors couldn’t overcome the overwhelming difference in numbers. And that’s why the Elil knights felt so unsettled.

‘Why would brave and skilled knights choose to throw themselves into such a reckless battle?’

Because they were from Elil? But Elil’s teachings were to be brave, not foolish. Ambushes and sneak attacks were “wise” tactics, not disgraceful ones. With their skills and mobility, the "Impersonators" could have continued harassing the Elil forces and worn them down bit by bit.

At the very least, if they had used even one of the Immortal Order’s infamous miracles, there would have been no room for doubt. But they had fought a clean, picturesque battle — and that left everyone with an uncomfortable, hollow feeling.

“What are you standing there for, looking so dazed?”

A beautiful voice called out.

Recognizing the voice immediately, Cedric turned and respectfully greeted its owner.

“Hesabel, what brings you to a grim place like this? There’s blood everywhere.”

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“Oh my… What should I do? The blood-soaked ground is so, so terrifying,” she replied with playful mockery.

Hesabel, with her radiant presence, stepped gracefully into the scene of carnage, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Hesabel responded with a look of disbelief as she dipped her finger into the blood pooling on the ground. With an air of nonchalance, she brought the blood to her tongue, smearing it lightly as she spoke.

“The blood of Elil’s mighty warriors is being so meaninglessly spilled onto the ground. What a shame.”

Since the undead had no blood, every drop on the ground belonged to Elil’s forces. Though efforts were underway to collect and burn the Armyes to prevent them from reanimating as undead, it was impossible to recover every last drop of blood.

“But as you can see, my own blood is well preserved. I haven’t spilled a single drop.”

Cedric boasted as he proudly tilted his head, exposing the unscathed nape of his neck.

Hesabel briefly considered whether he was inviting her to take a taste but decided against it. She ignored him completely.

Cedric was a little disappointed by her lack of response, but he figured that if she had actually approached him, he might have run away — not out of fear, but because he wouldn’t have been able to handle the sheer intensity of it.

“So, why were you standing there with that look on your face like you’d just bitten into dung?”

“Hey, mind your language, lady. Speak more gracefully.”

“Oh, sweet child, you do know that the vampires of Wallachia live forever unless someone devours them, right? Have you ever stopped to wonder how old I might be?”

“Speak however you please, ma’am.”

With that, they reached a consensus and returned to their original manner of speaking.

“It was like a picture-perfect battle. A small force standing bravely against a much larger army. It was inspiringly courageous, sure, but there were plenty of smarter ways to fight. And yet, they went out of their way to face us head-on and chose defeat instead. I admire them, but I just don’t understand it.”

“Oh, that reminds me of the thoughts I had every single day when I visited the Kingdom of Elil. Congratulations on finally achieving the level of intelligence required to think that far ahead,” Hesabel quipped with a sly grin.

“Hmph. I’ve had similar thoughts whenever I see valiant warriors standing against me. But these soldiers had all the means to harass us, to slow us down, and drag this battle out. So why did they suddenly decide to fight us to the death like this?”

Hesabel turned her gaze to the east, her eyes focused on a distant point far beyond the visible horizon.

“Maybe they had no other choice.”

“No other choice?”

“Toward the end of the battle, I rode Nel to scout the area. The way they were fighting felt strange, so I checked for ambushes or hidden support. That’s when I spotted something unusual far to the east.”

“Something unusual…?”

Hesabel leaned in with a mischievous expression, her lips drawing close to Cedric’s ear as she whispered softly.

“Creatures from the Outer Boundary.”

Cedric’s expression stiffened. It wasn’t just the words that startled him — it was the jarring stimulation of her breath against his ear.

Hesabel, misinterpreting his reaction, decided to tread more carefully.

“I think they might have ’accidentally’ run into some of those Outer Boundary creatures drifting up from the south. Their forces must have been worn down, making it impossible to execute their original plan. So, they decided to dress up their final stand in the most honorable way they could. They’re undead, after all — it’s not like they have to fear death.”

Cedric almost said, “Then why didn’t they retreat and regroup?” But before he could, he imagined himself in the same position.

The options didn’t seem that different.

Logic and the heart don’t always move in tandem.

“...That sounds plausible.”

Hesabel had one more thing to add, but she chose to stay silent.

She had heard from Isaac about the appearance of the Archangel Pallor and Isaac’s unlikely victory. Perhaps this group of undead warriors from Elil had been counting on Pallor’s assistance to turn the tide at a critical moment.

But with Pallor’s defeat, their last hope had vanished, and they were left with no choice but to fight to the bitter end.

‘As expected of my magnificent Deceiver. I can’t even guess where you’ll end up next.’

While Hesabel’s evaluation of Isaac was rising to new heights, Cedric suddenly spoke.

“By the way, do you think the Holy Grail Knight has any ties to Chaos?”

Hesabel’s reaction was so delayed that it felt unnatural.

“...What?”

“His swordsmanship.”

Cedric rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he spoke.

“Most high-level swordsmanship styles are modeled after certain shapes or natural phenomena. Aldeon swordsmanship imitates the authority of kings. Georg swordsmanship mimics the northern blizzards.”

“...”

“But the swordsmanship of the Holy Grail Knight has a kind of wildness to it. No… calling it ’wild’ feels inaccurate. Grotesque might be the better word.”

Hesabel was stunned. For a man who often seemed clueless, Cedric’s observation was incredibly sharp.

Now that she thought about it, he’d been like this when they first met too. She’d thought she’d fooled him, but he’d carefully withheld key information while also taking immediate action as soon as he realized a leak had occurred.

He looked loose on the outside, but he was not someone to be underestimated.

Which meant that even now, this question might not be based on any concrete evidence. He might just be testing her.

“They also cleverly used the Outer Boundary creatures back in the Salt Desert Miarma. Maybe the Holy Grail Knight is…”

“Who knows? Maybe he learned it by cutting down Outer Boundary creatures himself,” Hesabel replied nonchalantly.

“Hmm… but if you consider the Holy Grail Knight’s age, that’s—”

“Or maybe,” Hesabel cut him off, her tone playful and mocking, “the Holy Grail Knight is secretly a cultist blessed by Chaos. Maybe tentacles shoot out of his hands, he devours people whole, commands Outer Boundary monsters, and performs blasphemous rites that no one has ever seen before.”

“...That’s not what I was getting at…”

“Even Sir Isaac worries about the ‘killing intent’ hidden in his sword aura. I think it’s best not to make unpleasant guesses like that, don’t you?”

Cedric, having no desire to slander or insult Isaac, fell silent. Hesabel dismissed it as a coincidence, but she made a mental note to keep a closer eye on this sharp-witted Swordmaster.

With a softer expression, Hesabel nudged Cedric in the side with her elbow.

“By the way, Sir Cedric, what inspired your swordsmanship? I noticed it’s quite elegant and flashy.”

“Ah, of course! My swordsmanship, you see—”

“Tell me later.”

Hesabel leaned in close to his ear once more, her voice a quiet murmur.

“Not here on a battlefield drenched in blood and littered with Armyes. Somewhere quieter.”

With that, she stepped back, her smile teasing him as she walked away.

Cedric rubbed his burning face as he watched her retreating figure.

Then a sudden, burning question popped into his mind.

“Excuse me, ma’am. If you don’t mind me asking… how old are you?”

Hesabel glanced back at him with a playful grin and answered with a wink.

“Twenty-five.”

Given her appearance, it was a perfectly reasonable answer. Whether it was the truth or not was a different matter. But since a lady had offered her age freely, Cedric decided to take her at her word.

‘Wait, she’s younger than me...?’

His heart, for some reason, ached just a little.

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