Paladin of the Dead God-Chapter 402: The Lord of the Graveyard (2)

“Hold out? That’s your entire plan? Are we expecting reinforcements to suddenly fall from the sky?”

Tuhalin sounded incredulous as he questioned Isaac.

This was the heart of enemy territory, far removed from any friendly forces. The Issacrea Dawn Army was practically at the world’s edge. From the Svanbar Archipelago, home to the World’s Forge, to here, the distance was as vast as the difference between extremes.

“There’s no way to explain it right now,” Isaac replied evenly. “In time, the enemy will grow weary and attempt to retreat. That’s when we strike.”

“Explain properly, damn it…”

“Tuhalin.”

Isaac interrupted, his tone tinged with fatigue.

“I understand it’s difficult to trust my baseless words. If you prefer, I’ll go out alone and resolve the issue myself.”

Tuhalin stared at him.

The Holy Grail Knight stood before him, drenched in blood, sweat, and dirt.

Though Tuhalin had harbored doubts about the “fake” Isaac, there wasn’t a single aspect of this man’s attitude, confidence, or resolve that fell short of the original Holy Grail Knight he knew.

And if this Isaac was here, it meant the “real” Isaac was already out there, struggling to overcome this crisis alone.

Tuhalin bowed his head slightly.

“My apologies. It seems I doubted our supreme commander.”

“There’s no need to apologize. A secretive commander is hard to trust,” Isaac replied with a faint smile.

Keeping secrets, even from his second-in-command, was a flaw Isaac had to bear. Trust, in this case, could only be earned through action and results.

***

The clash resumed with renewed intensity.

The Eclipse Army had sent its second wave into the fray.

Isaac pulled out the Luadin Key and ignited its flames, the symbol of his resolve.

“Three days, Tuhalin. The outcome of this war depends on whether our army can hold for three days.”

The battle continued ceaselessly, day and night.

The undead required neither food nor sleep, but humans were not so fortunate. While the frontlines held, some soldiers had to take brief moments to eat and rest. This gave the Lord of the Graveyard’s undead forces the efficiency of tens of thousands, even with only a few thousand troops.

It wasn’t his preferred style, but it was brutally effective.

For Isaac, who was counting on time, this was a small relief. Yet, he couldn’t ignore the mounting toll on his troops. Without the aid of miracles to forcefully heal their bodies, many soldiers would have succumbed to heart failure or nervous breakdowns.

“You’ve worked hard, Holy Grail Knight.”

Edelred, his face gaunt and his eyes sunken, approached Isaac.

The Knights of Elil had fought tirelessly against the undead forces. While Elil’s followers thrived on the battlefield like war fanatics, their mounts were not as unyielding. Many horses had collapsed from exhaustion or died, significantly diminishing the cavalry’s power.

Despite this, Edelred, along with Lianne and Cedric, had fought without rest. It wasn’t just them; nearly every commanding officer had done the same. Isaac included.

“You look better than most, Holy Grail Knight. Sir Cedric looked ready to drop, so Dame Lianne knocked him out cold.”

“Well done,” Isaac replied with a faint smirk.

Though exhausted himself, Isaac had the advantage of Predation to recover his strength. While he couldn’t openly consume enemies on the battlefield, he discreetly restored his stamina by pretending to eat, using dead horses or other resources.

Fortunately, the battlefield had shifted since the first day.

The Issacrea Dawn Army’s formation had moved to a slightly higher position, consolidating into a smaller, more defensible shape.

Large fires were lit to ward off the cold and prevent Phantom Steeds from swooping down. Whenever a Phantom Steed attempted to attack, the fires were stoked higher. The heat caused these spectral mounts to lose strength and crash, a well-known countermeasure.

Meanwhile, Tuhalin and the fire-priests had redesigned the defensive perimeter, crafting makeshift trenches akin to moats.

Despite efforts to conserve them, a few mortars had to be used. Instead of firing them directly, Tuhalin buried them as makeshift landmines, detonating them at opportune moments.

These measures reflected Tuhalin’s tireless ingenuity, spurred by Isaac’s directive to hold the line at all costs. While Tuhalin lamented the crude defenses, the soldiers appreciated the improved fortifications.

Edelred, ensuring no one was within earshot, spoke cautiously.

“I understand you’ve set a deadline of three days, but our soldiers are exhausted. Miracles have their limits, and many priests have coughed up blood while singing their hymns.”

“I know,” Isaac replied calmly.

Edelred hesitated before continuing.

“I’ve thought about it, Sir Isaac. Would it not be better to take the fight to the Lord of the Graveyard? Perhaps we could summon aid from the Archangels.”

Isaac was unsurprised. Similar suggestions had come up several times, and he had rejected them each time. The odds of success were slim.

“As I’ve explained before, Your Majesty, the Lord of the Graveyard hasn’t deployed his full force. If we summon Archangels, the enemy will respond in kind, and more powerful reinforcements will appear.”

“But isn’t the Lord of the Graveyard himself already intervening?” Edelred countered.

“And Your Majesty has the strength of the Lion Knight, just as Tuhalin wields the power of the Thunder Artisan.”

Edelred flinched at the retort.

Isaac spoke evenly.

“The Lord of the Graveyard remains cautious because we defeated Pallor. If we escalate by summoning an Archangel, the enemy will unleash their full might. While we, as commanders, may endure… the soldiers will suffer catastrophic losses.”

Isaac met Edelred’s gaze.

“We cannot reclaim the Holy Land Lua with only our strength. The least costly victory is our best path forward.”

“I understand…” Edelred nodded, though his face remained clouded with doubt.

“But, Sir Isaac, what if the Lord of the Graveyard decides to use his full strength against us first? Wouldn’t that lead to massive losses?”

Isaac, despite his weariness, offered a wry smile.

“If the Lord of the Graveyard loses his patience… that will be our chance to strike him down.”

***

Clack, clack, clack.

On the morning of the second day, an eerie stillness settled over the battlefield.

Despite the pause, the Issacrea Dawn Army remained tense. For the undead, who never required rest, a cessation of attacks could only mean something ominous was brewing.

Soon enough, the morning mist parted, and countless blue eyes emerged from the haze, their cold light a harbinger of death.

Just as on the first day, standard-bearers took the lead. But this time, there were more banners—newer ones, vibrant with fresh crimson that hadn’t yet faded.

At the center of the enemy formation, Isaac noticed a group of Death Knights clad in pristine armor, their every move radiating an aura of menace.

The common soldiers couldn’t recognize the significance of these banners, but the paladins could.

Rottenhammer, upon recognizing the emblems, let out a groan.

“The Milishar Paladins...”

The legendary knightly order of Kalsen Miller.

The same knights who had built their legend alongside Kalsen now stood before them as Death Knights. Among them were names spoken of in awe and fear:

Rosche, the "Bone Armor."

Anton, the "Bloodied."

Trael, the "Man with Sewn Lips."

These were the finest of the Codex of Light, a force that had once been hailed as its mightiest.

Isaac felt a faint stirring in his chest as he looked upon them. His hand involuntarily touched his heart.

“Kalsen? Could something of him remain?”

He couldn’t be certain if it was Kalsen’s lingering emotions or remnants of his soul reacting. Having consumed a part of Kalsen, Isaac carried pieces of him within.

Whatever the cause, one thing was clear:

“The Lord of the Graveyard is finally unleashing his full strength. Stay vigilant.”

As Isaac spoke, the mist parted further, revealing the towering figure of the Lord of the Graveyard. His form was draped in a flowing mantle of bones, and he carried a massive sword, dripping with blood and ichor, slung over his shoulder.

His voice rumbled through the battlefield like the toll of a bell.

[I’ve seen enough. Your level… it bores me to death.]

He swung his blade in a wide arc, cleaving the air, before slamming it into the ground.

[If I must act personally to draw out your full strength, so be it. Let’s end this.]

From the mist behind him emerged a new contingent: Harvesters, scythe-wielding angelic reapers sent by the Immortal Emperor himself. Silent and foreboding, these creatures gazed at the Issacrea Dawn Army with hollow, soulless eyes.

Their mere presence struck fear into the soldiers—these were the same beings who had once nearly ended Isaac’s life. Crafted for this moment by the Immortal Emperor, they were immune to banishment or forced recall.

[I will face the Holy Grail Knight myself. You take care of the nuisances.]

The soldiers and commanders quickly recognized the danger posed by the Harvesters. Their human strength alone would not suffice.

Lightning crackled around Tuhalin, the roar of a storm filling the air as the Thunder Artisan summoned his power. Simultaneously, a green suit of armor encased Edelred, resonating with the rhythmic beating of distant war drums.

Isaac, too, began to radiate a warm, golden light. He immediately recognized its source: the May Sword was channeling blessings through him.

Though she wasn’t intervening directly, her blessings spread to the soldiers, rejuvenating their exhausted bodies and renewing their strength.

Even soldiers at the brink of collapse found themselves revitalized. The aura of divine favor that had previously graced the Dawn Army’s main force now extended to them.

Isaac appreciated the blessing but couldn’t ignore its implications.

“Is the Lighthouse Keeper orchestrating this? Or is this just another step in his grand design?”

Whatever the intent, it didn’t matter now.

“As long as they don’t interfere, I’ll take it.”

The confrontation with the Eclipse Army, dreaded yet anticipated, had finally come.

This was the moment to inflict as much damage as possible on the Eclipse Army before the tides turned.

The Lord of the Graveyard was unfazed by the sudden appearance of the divine blessings.

“These are no more than blessings, not full manifestations. And I see no surprises like Dera Heman here.”

The Eclipse Army still held every advantage—numbers, quality, and the strength of miracles. As the Immortal Order’s elite, this was to be expected.

The Lord of the Graveyard raised his sword high and proclaimed the will of the Immortal Emperor.

[Go. Claim them all.]

With a deafening roar, the Death Knights of the Eclipse Army surged forward, their footsteps shaking the ground.

Isaac could feel the fear rippling through the soldiers as they clenched their teeth in determination.

Tuhalin glanced at Isaac, his eyes filled with hope. He prayed that the Holy Grail Knight would deliver another miracle.

***

At that same moment, Isaac’s split self, having received news from the main camp, smirked mischievously.

By coincidence—or perhaps design—he, too, was preparing for an all-out assault.

For the past two days, this version of Isaac had tirelessly consumed, converted, and prepared. He had been running on the edge, but his timing was impeccable.

“I would have liked a bit more time, but this will have to do.”

Isaac raised his hand and gave a simple command.

“Attack. Devour everything.”

With a deafening roar, the monstrous horde Isaac had cultivated in the Outer Boundary surged forward, driven by hunger and fury.

Ahead of them lay Holy Land Lua, a city of faith untouched by such a massive onslaught for centuries.

Isaac couldn’t help but wonder what expression the Lord of the Graveyard would wear when he learned of the attack.