Paladin of the Dead God

Yet it was this very Agent of Nameless Chaos who spoke.

With a tone more resolute than any paladin or priest Horace had ever known.

“I will reclaim the Holy Land.”

***

Isaac delved into Horace’s consciousness through the Eye of Chaos.

Isaac didn’t need to probe deeply into Horace’s consciousness; he was only searching for the link between Dead December and Horace. At last, he spotted a tangled thread-like trace connecting them.

Just as Dead December controlled Arachel Brant’s corpse like a marionette with chains, his influence extended over Horace as well. However, because Horace was already under powerful motivation, Dead December hadn’t needed to exert full control over him.

‘The Immortal Order grants a measure of control from higher undead to lower ones, regardless of influence.’

Many aspiring undead failed to realize that being granted the status of a “follower” did not mean complete autonomy. All souls in the Immortal Order were bound under the sway of the Immortal Emperor Beshek. Angels held authority below him, followed by bishops and priests in a hierarchical pyramid of control.

Yet, in most cases, the Immortal Emperor forbade the exercise of “strong” influence on souls. Therefore, the undead generally lived independently, pursuing their own lives in individualistic ways.

However, some level of influence remained in effect as needed.

A life devoid of desire and purpose would inevitably degrade.

In Horace’s case, it seemed Dead December had suggested he roam the stormy sea, “recruiting” any trespassers as a sort of pastime.

Focusing his obsession on the past oaths and grudges he’d let slip away.

Isaac believed it was this very obsession that had driven Horace mad.

“I swear.”

Isaac took another step forward.

To break that unseen chain wrapped around Horace’s neck.

“I will reclaim the Holy Land.”

At Isaac’s simple yet resolute declaration, Horace felt a tremor run through him. He had already heard these words upon first seeing Isaac. But now, they resonated with a weight and conviction beyond compare. 𝘳�

Isaac’s face, half-covered by writhing tentacles, moved steadily forward, sword in hand. Even Horace, for a moment, felt fear. He wanted to release the helm and retreat, yet the ship of Aidan lay directly before him.

To withdraw in front of this junior would be an affront to his pride. Besides, the corpse of Delrod Ciel hung just above him.

Thud! Dead December’s force surged again toward Isaac. His eyes rolled back briefly, revealing the whites, yet he didn’t falter.

Horace ground his teeth and shouted.

[You devotees of the Codex of Light scoff at oaths!]

A thunderous roar ran through the waves, shaking the ship.

[When you arrive, you’ll find excuses to back out just like the rest!]

Isaac bit his tongue, enduring the pain to hold his ground.

Blood flowed from his eyes as he glared at Horace, who locked gazes with him.

In that instant, as Isaac delved into Horace’s psyche, Horace simultaneously penetrated Isaac’s.

“If neither angels nor gods are to be trusted, then I swear by my own name—Isaac Issacrea.”

Horace felt an eerie silence settle over him.

In a strange fusion of visions, neither able to distinguish whose memories were whose, Horace sensed Isaac’s unmistakable resolve. Isaac’s words in this unified consciousness felt as though they were Horace’s own.

And that declaration was as sincere as any oath Horace had ever taken.

Isaac would reclaim the Holy Land. Cutting down whatever stood in his way—be it angel, demon, or god.

[What do you think you are?]

Without hesitation, Isaac answered, giving the only answer that would ever be true.

“I am human.”

Isaac continued, “Just a human.”

Finally, he stood before Arachel Brant. He adjusted his grip on Kaldwin, taking a stance like a fierce lion preparing to strike.

The deadliest swordsmanship in the Codex of Light, a style that devoured all divinity.

Dead December’s fury erupted, and he poured all his will against Isaac.

For a moment, Isaac’s consciousness went white, his mind nearly obliterated.

Yet, his hand did not falter.

[Unyielding (temporary effect)]

Regardless of conditions such as fear, unconsciousness, shock, or death, the user’s body will continue a predetermined action for a short time if consciousness lapses. The duration is proportional to the user’s willpower. If consciousness returns, the unyielding state ends.

[Impossible…]

The effect Isaac had gained from devouring Delrod Ciel activated, and he swung his sword. Arachel Brant clumsily raised his weapon to parry.

But the golden lion’s blade cleaved through his sword, armor, bones, and Dead December’s influence in one sweep.

***

With a burst, Arachel’s remains crumbled, and Isaac’s vision cleared as if a fog had lifted from his mind.

Dead December’s influence over Horace had been anchored through Arachel Brant’s remains.

Isaac barely regained his balance, managing to stay upright.

‘It’s fortunate Dead December didn’t know about Unyielding.’

If he had, Isaac would’ve needed a more complex, difficult approach. Thanks to that ignorance, he had rid himself of Dead December’s influence with surprising ease.

But it wasn’t just Isaac’s mind that cleared. Horace, too, felt a sudden clarity, disoriented by the unexpected freedom. The obsessive fixation on past oaths and grudges faded, becoming distant memories.

[Is this… a miracle, one that erases hatred?]

Isaac looked as though he might collapse, yet he held back a smile as he responded.

“It’s just the way things are.”

[Just the way things are?]

“People naturally forget past grudges and memories over time. You already avenged yourself; clinging to it for 180 years was what was odd. Maybe find a healthier hobby from now on.”

*Krrrroo-boom!* Right then, Tuhalin’s thunder hammer resounded in the distance with twice its usual force. In the background, a blackened serpent crumbled to dust.

Tuhalin, too, had defeated Dead December’s pet snake.

Isaac realized that by destroying two of Dead December’s prized toys, he’d likely earned a deep enmity. But this was the Immortal Order’s territory. Here, accumulating grudges with the Immortal Order’s angels was inevitable.

[Indeed.]

Horace watched as Aidan’s ship, the vanquished serpent, the dying whirlpool, and finally, Arachel Brant’s remains—all the things binding him—vanished from sight.

His time had passed, and new things had come.