Paladin of the Dead God

The expedition began the very next day.

Since preparations for departure were already underway, no one was surprised by the sudden mobilization. Each faction took off in different directions, as if they had been waiting for this moment.

The Elil Army moved east, opting for a direct assault on the remaining forces of the Olkan Code. Though still a formidable threat, the open plains suited their mobility, offering a perfect battleground to earn glory.

The World’s Forge chose a path that crossed the mountain range.

The treacherous terrain posed no challenge for the Lycanthrope warriors and Dwarves. In fact, their route straight through the mountains meant they might even arrive faster than the knights. For the foreseeable future, Orcs would have nightmares about the Dwarves descending from the mountains.

Lastly, the Issacrea Army, although not as elite as the other two, was filled with high morale under the banner of the “Issacrea Paladins” and “Saint Isaac.”

Rottenhammer took a unique route, choosing to travel through the southwestern regions still under Imperial control.

Isaac quickly grasped his intent.

“You plan to bring the Dawn Army into the fold?”

“Winning glory is important, but this is war. If our forces grow by the time we arrive, that’s a victory in itself,” Rottenhammer replied with a grin.

His plan wasn’t to recruit ragtag forces like the Ciero Dawn Army or conscripts. Instead, he aimed to draw in hesitant Paladin Orders and Imperial knights who were still weighing their options. Saving them before they were swept up in the fanaticism of the Church was a crucial mission.

Isaac accepted Rottenhammer’s strategy with a smile, acknowledging that his path might be the most difficult.

“I’ll be visiting you often,” Isaac assured.

Angela was ordered to travel with the Issacrea Army, with Gebel looking after her. Although Isaac considered taking her directly via Nel, the risk of being targeted by enemies was too great.

After seeing Rottenhammer off, Isaac inspected the territory with Hesabel. With the bulk of their forces deployed, Issacrea’s defenses were considerably weakened.

Therefore, they needed to prepare for any eventualities.

***

Underground, beneath the Issacrea Monastery, in the Sanctuary of the Nameless Chaos.

Isaac’s heart pounded as he prepared for the ritual. Beside him stood two new figures: a young priest named Claire, who had come from the capital, and Neria, who had transitioned from a rogue cultist to a true follower.

Both were now deeply connected to the Nameless Chaos.

Isaac had considered integrating these members of the “Issacrea Dawn Prayer Group” into the Dawn Army but ultimately decided against it. In the volatile mix of faiths within the Dawn Army, anything could happen.

While Isaac had repeatedly dodged danger thanks to his utility to the gods, there was no guarantee other followers would be so fortunate. Managing his own survival was challenging enough, so he determined they were best suited to guard the sanctuary.

Both Claire and Neria looked nervous as they took in the blood vessels and flesh that decorated the underground chamber.

“What is this, Sir Isaac?” Claire asked in a frightened voice, staring at the grotesque scenery of the sanctuary. Neria, on the other hand, seemed to have some inkling of what was going on. After years of studying the Nameless Chaos and being excommunicated, this setting was familiar to her.

“A sanctuary of the Nameless Chaos… I’ve never seen one in person before.”

“A sanctuary of chaos? This has been beneath the monastery all this time?!”

Isaac quietly regarded Claire.

Neria seemed to understand the situation. The person Isaac needed to persuade was Claire, who, having grown up as a candidate priest of the Watcher’s Council under his corrupt grandmother, was now standing at a crossroads as a priestess of the Nameless Chaos.

Having been broken down and rebuilt on his journey to this place, Isaac needed to ensure that Claire was ready to accept this new truth.

“Yes. This is the sanctuary I dedicated to the Nameless Chaos.”

Isaac placed his hand over the beating heart that dominated the room and pulled out the “Crawling Fear” mask from his pocket. The moment Neria saw it, she instinctively knelt and bowed her head in worship.

“I greet the cult leader.”

“You’ve known for a while, haven’t you?”

“I wasn’t certain, but I could feel the teachings were the same. I suspected it was the same teachings or perhaps the same person.”

Meanwhile, Claire was visibly shocked by Neria’s use of the title “cult leader.” In the Codex of Light, the cult leader was akin to the Pope, so to call Isaac by such a title was akin to calling someone else king—it was an act of rebellion.

Isaac gave Claire time to process and accept. Eventually, he found his voice.

“Sir Isaac, are you a follower of the Nameless Chaos?”

“It wasn’t my choice, but yes.”

Isaac answered calmly.

“But nothing has changed. My teachings haven’t wavered, and my actions remain true. I will continue as I have, and so should you. The reason I’ve shown you this sanctuary is that you are the only ones who can defend this land when I am away.”

“Who would dare threaten the land of the Holy Grail Knight, the one who even repelled the Khan’s forces?”

Neria asked, bewildered. Isaac smirked bitterly.

“Not right now. But it could happen.”

Isaac was thinking far ahead.

The outcome of the Dawn Army’s campaign was uncertain. If things went according to plan, they might seize the Holy Land of Lua before the Codex of Light. But unforeseen mistakes or interference could lead to failure.

If that happened, someone else would claim victory.

Who that might be was unknown, but the Issacrea territory could very well be at risk.

“I’ll leave you with some holy relics, my followers, and a few miracles. It may not be enough, but it should suffice for now. But if that time comes, we may no longer be able to keep my true nature hidden.”

Isaac was prepared to reveal some of the miracles of the Nameless Chaos to protect the territory and its people. If the worst came to pass, not just the citizens but those who followed him—like Edelred, Tuhalin, or Isolde—might also seek refuge here.

In that case, there would be no need to hold back or conceal his powers.

“When that time comes, people may fear you, mock you, and spit on you. But you must endure it. Even if that’s what it takes to protect ‘us.’”

“Ah…”

“Even in those moments, your role remains the same as it is now: show miracles. No matter what lives you’ve led before or what forms you’ve taken, demonstrate how you can be miracles to each other. That’s all I ask of you.”

Claire realized that Isaac’s notion of “us” extended beyond just the Nameless Chaos; it encompassed a much broader range. It even included those who didn’t necessarily support Isaac—anyone who could be a neighbor to lean on in times of need.

Claire and Neria understood that Isaac had kept this secret hidden his entire life.

The calm revelations Isaac shared now had been the rules he had lived by all along. He had always feared that those closest to him would discover his true nature and respond with fear, scorn, or contempt.

But Isaac had revealed this secret to them—not to anyone else—to create a place of refuge when his people were under attack.

“Master.”

The horrifying scenery of this sacred sanctuary was both Isaac’s weakness and his divine aspect.

Claire knelt in reverence, seeking a way to repay the trust he had shown them.

“I will follow your words.”

***

Leaving the defense of the territory to Neria and Claire, Isaac finally felt secure enough to depart.

The Issacrea territory still had Commander Jacquette, who had received special training from Gebel, along with the soldiers and Ulsten.

Though not outwardly visible, Isaac’s bound servants would remain in the territory as well. However, they were always on call, and Isaac intended to summon them whenever necessary, making it unpredictable who would be present at any given time.

In this sense, the “last resort” Isaac had taught Neria and Claire provided him with a small measure of reassurance.

“Those two down there looked ready to tear their hearts out for you, Isaac.”

Hesabel recalled Claire and Neria in the underground sanctuary, whistling in admiration.

Isaac grimaced, remembering the unholy rituals of the Nameless Chaos.

“Don’t say things like that.”

“Huh? Offering one’s heart is one of the most sacred rites of the Red Chalice.”

Isaac was about to retort but was reminded of the moment when the Dancer had extracted Elil’s heart. Imitating divine actions, especially emulating the birth of a god, was the highest form of praise and worship.

Hesabel was complimenting Neria and Claire for their deep devotion in her own way.

“They must have recognized the goodness in you, Isaac.”

“It’s probably just the Nephilim charm working its magic.”

Isaac scoffed, but he was grateful that Neria and Claire had agreed to stay in the territory.

Hesabel smiled faintly.

In her days as a follower of the Red Chalice, she had seduced and ruined countless devotees and knights, turning them away from their faith. So, she could quickly assess how resistant someone might be to temptation.

Neria and Claire were beyond temptation or betrayal.

Quite literally, they would rip their hearts out first.

Isaac, sensing something off about Hesabel’s words, continued the conversation.

“And I’m not a good person. If I were, I wouldn’t have practically kidnapped Angela for my own satisfaction. Thanks to that, the Golden Idol Guild has become an enemy, and now we have to deal with their interference. Not to mention the Black Empire is already a problem.”

“Is there any more righteous act than saving a young girl?”

“I was just following a command.”

Isaac muttered bitterly.

Unable to make a decision himself, he had effectively ceded judgment to the Nameless Chaos.

“Angela is just a tool to find Midas’s Hand, nothing more. Once the job is done, I’ll return her to her Selmon kin.”

“I see.”

Hesabel answered with a broad smile.

Isaac didn’t understand why she was smiling, which made his irritation slowly rise. But he couldn’t quite grasp why he was annoyed, so he couldn’t express his frustration.

Isaac didn’t realize that Hesabel had been watching him from a step back.

‘In essence, he’s rescuing Angela from what amounts to human trafficking and intends to lift the curse bound to her. There’s no need to find Midas’s Hand, but he’s preemptively looking for it to keep the Golden Idol Guild from tormenting her.’

In Hesabel’s view, Isaac’s actions could be considered virtuous.

While the Red Chalice’s standards for good deeds were exceedingly low, even by average standards, Isaac was truly a saint among saints.

‘So, he believes anyone drawn to him is only swayed by his Nephilim charm, and that any good he does is merely the result of divine commands or calculated self-interest? No wonder he can’t stand being unexpectedly praised or admired.’

Was there ever a hero with such low self-esteem? How could someone lack such self-awareness? Did he think the world was incapable of discerning between genuine affection and manipulative miracles?

Thinking of people that way was an insult in itself.

Thus, Hesabel found endless enjoyment in observing Isaac.

‘As expected, the greatest deceiver of all.’

She held back a laugh, contemplating her thoughts.

‘To deceive not just the world and the gods but even oneself… Indeed, my master stands apart from all the mediocre hypocrites and liars.’

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