Paladin of the Dead God-Chapter 388: The Breakwater Against Chaos (7)

The scattered flock of Pallor’s bone birds suddenly froze in midair. Isaac and Tuhalin tensed, scanning their surroundings with heightened vigilance.

The sight of pure white birds hanging motionless against the pitch-black sky resembled a constellation frozen in place.

They didn’t know why the flock had stopped or what was happening, but they had seen something like this before.

“Did the Immortal Emperor descend again? That so-called god sure likes to meddle,” Tuhalin muttered, trying to maintain a lighthearted tone, though his breath came in short, strained bursts.

The last time the Immortal Emperor appeared, he neither attacked them nor cast any curses. His presence alone, however, had been enough to shake the entire Dawn Army of Issacrea.

Isaac focused his gaze on Pallor, now motionless in midair. Somewhere within that spectacle, Beshek was present. There was no doubt. But why was he holding Pallor in place?

The stillness was abruptly broken as the darkness peeled away.

The flock of birds scattered again, but unlike before, they no longer moved with purpose. They fluttered in disarray as if they had lost their direction.

‘Isaac.’

A signal came from Hesabel, who was perched on Nel’s back in the sky.

Hesabel had been keeping watch from above, her eyes sharp as she searched for Pallor’s true form among the countless birds darting about like a game of shell-and-pea. And she had found it.

A crossbow bolt, adorned with crimson feathers, streaked through the air.

Bang!

The bolt shattered a spinal bone, embedding itself deep. The blood of Hesabel coating the tip spread like wildfire, instantly seizing control of Pallor’s skeletal frame.

Her true form, hidden among the flock, began to plummet.

Isaac spotted it too—a bird different from the rest, marked with a bright red sigil. Without hesitation, he sprinted toward the spot where Pallor was crashing. The moment she hit the ground, he was upon her.

With one swift, decisive swing, he severed her wing.

[“Wait…”]

Pallor tried to say something, her voice trembling with urgency.

But Isaac had no intention of listening.

He reached out with his left hand, grasping her spinal column. From his palm, a mass of writhing tendrils emerged, entwining Pallor’s entire body. The tendrils constricted her, and in a moment of crushing force, her body was sucked into Isaac’s left hand as if it were a black hole.

Crunch. Crack. Snap.

The sounds of bones being ground echoed grotesquely. There was no room for screams or even a last breath.

“Twice is too many.”

[You have consumed ‘Pallor (EX)’ through Predation.]

[Due to the ‘Intestines of the Dead God’ perk, the consumption efficiency has increased.]

[You have acquired the perk: ‘Form of Division.’]

[Your faith has increased significantly.]

[Frost resistance has increased significantly.]

Isaac felt a fierce rush of ecstasy from the effects of Predation.

He’d been feeling that his growth had slowed recently, but now he realized it wasn’t a matter of time—it was a matter of what he consumed. Devouring a being as monumental as an Archangel produced far greater effects.

This wasn’t just any opponent—it was an archangel, a creature embodying divine power. And now, her soul had been devoured whole.

For a brief moment, an idea flickered in his mind—a wild, terrible possibility.

‘Wait a second… Does that mean the other Archangels can’t revive if I eat them too?’

He mulled it over. It made sense.

Even Kalsen’s soul was still trapped inside his stomach, unable to return to Urbansus.

If he could trap their souls, that meant the parts of them he devoured were forever lost to them. No matter how many times the angels could regenerate their bodies, their souls wouldn’t be whole. The portion consumed by Isaac would never return.

He realized now that this wasn’t just a way to kill Archangels—it was a way to permanently weaken them. Even if he didn’t devour them completely, every bite stolen from them would chip away at their divine essence.

***

“Isaac! Where is she? Did you get her?”

Tuhalin ran up, his stubby legs carrying him as fast as possible.

Isaac had no intention of telling him the full truth—that he had eaten Pallor whole. So he did what he always did.

He lied with ease.

“I clipped her wings and severed her neck. She crumbled into dust.”

“Turned into dust, huh? So that’s it. We really killed an Archangel?”

“Looks that way.”

Isaac glanced around at the swirling dust now drifting through the air.

The scattered flock of birds that Pallor had created all disintegrated at once, turning to powder and floating away. The influence Pallor had exerted on the undead soldiers also faded rapidly. Their ranks collapsed like sand, their resistance crumbling to nothing.

Seeing this, Tuhalin let out a long sigh, his face filled with a mix of awe and disbelief.

“An Archangel… killed so easily?”

“It wasn’t easy.”

Pallor had been on the brink of death after sustaining mortal wounds from Isaac. Even then, she clung to life, blocking Tuhalin’s advance until the very end. Her tenacity was beyond mere toughness—it was malice incarnate.

In truth, much of the credit for this victory belonged to Ansel, whose self-sacrifice had inflicted the decisive wound on Pallor. Without that, Pallor’s defensive maneuvers might have been impossible to breach.

Tuhalin spoke, perhaps trying to justify his earlier remark.

“I didn’t mean to make it sound like it was nothing. It’s just… hard to believe that an Archangel can really die. The Thunder Artisan told me once that since the Immortal Order’s angels exist beyond the divide of life and death, they can technically die. Still, seeing it with my own eyes is something else…”

‘It’s not like an Archangel being slain by a human is unprecedented.’

Rare though it was, there had been instances in history where humans had managed to vanquish Archangels.

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Isaac himself had defeated an Archangel from the Red Chalice, though it had been considered an extraordinary event rather than an impossible one. There had even been cases of angels being executed by the gods they served.

He thought of White Owl.

Two other Archangels had helped, but it was Kalsen who delivered the fatal blow to her. Her fate—being erased from Urbansus—was the destiny of every Archangel deemed unworthy by the gods. It wasn’t a matter recorded in history, but it happened all the same.

Tuhalin, his gaze still skyward, muttered in disbelief.

“When I saw the Immortal Emperor appear, I thought we were done for. I never imagined he’d just… leave without doing anything.”

The darkness that had swallowed the sky was gone. Now, only gentle gray clouds floated overhead as if nothing had happened.

Tuhalin’s voice still carried a trace of unease.

Isaac, gazing at the overcast sky, spoke quietly.

“Pallor was abandoned by the Immortal Emperor.”

The moment Isaac devoured Pallor, he realized something.

Although the being he consumed had contained immense divine power, she no longer possessed the dignity of an Archangel.

At the very last moment, the Immortal Emperor had stripped Pallor of her rank.

At that point, she was no longer an Archangel but a Fallen Angel in the making.

Her name would not be erased from Urbansus, but now that she had been completely consumed by Isaac, there was no chance for her to ever return.

“Abandoned? Why? Just because she ran away?”

“Who can say for sure?” Isaac shrugged. “Maybe because a dead Archangel is more honorable than one who flees. Or maybe he was just angry at her for constantly losing.”

If the Immortal Emperor had been a mortal king, this would have been seen as a brutal decision. Pallor had made mistakes, but she wasn’t incompetent. She still had potential to grow from her failures.

But Beshek clearly thought that the cost of her defeat outweighed her future potential.

‘Most likely, it’s because the very reputation of gods and angels is at stake.’

For gods who draw their power from faith, trust, and fear, being ridiculed by mortals was unacceptable.

From that perspective, it was better to claim, "The enemy was too exceptional," rather than admit, "We lost because we were incompetent." This way, admiration for Isaac would eventually translate into greater reverence for all divine beings.

’In the end, even the Immortal Order values their image more than their followers.’

***

“Holy Grail Knight!”

Riding on horseback, Edelred spotted Isaac and rushed over with a beaming smile. His face was as red as a puppy’s nose after running through the snow.

He dismounted with practiced grace and, with a breathless grin, thrust the banner of the Issacrea Dawn Army toward Isaac.

“Once again, we owe this great victory to you! Your insight is like gazing into the heart of the enemy. Your ability to find alternate routes, your precise timing, and your unmatched skill in positioning troops—there’s nothing to criticize!”

“You flatter me, Your Majesty.”

Isaac responded with modesty, but Edelred was too thrilled to calm down.

“No, no! I saw it myself—those soaring birds. That was Pallor, wasn’t it? When I saw her rise, I even prayed to Elil, thinking it might be the end. But to think that just two people—you and Tuhalin—could pummel an Archangel like that!”

Edelred’s excitement was shared by the Knights of Elil.

For them, this was a legendary event—something they had never witnessed before.

The Issacrea Paladins, however, had a different reaction. Having already seen Isaac face much more dangerous moments and defeat Pallor before, they weren’t as awestruck.

“Tuhalin’s assistance was critical. If not for the timely arrival of Elil’s forces, we wouldn’t have been able to break through. Speaking of which, what about those Lua impostors? Were they dealt with?”

“Hmm, there were some losses, but nothing serious.”

Edelred grimaced slightly but still spoke with delight.

“However, we managed to reclaim a significant portion of our ancestral remains and family heirlooms. The operation went so smoothly that it felt like victory was guaranteed as long as we marched under the Issacrea Dawn Army’s banner.”

Edelred’s unshakable trust in Isaac was so palpable that it even began to fuel the faith of the Elil forces.

Isaac’s heart ached as he thought of Ansel.

It was nice that Edelred had so much trust in him, but too much faith could also lead someone to leap headfirst into death. Isaac didn’t want that fate for Edelred.

“This is nothing more than the result of discipline, training, and fortune. Your Majesty, I urge you to focus on training and discipline instead of relying on superstition.”

“Huh? Ah… yes, of course. I’ll do that.”

Edelred blinked, a little taken aback by Isaac’s tone. He had expected warm words of encouragement, not cold, practical advice. But Edelred didn’t dwell on it.

Isaac himself knew how ridiculous his own words sounded. Telling people in a world governed by faith not to believe in superstition was absurd.

But it was all he could think to say.

However, regardless of Isaac’s intentions, faith had already taken root in the hearts of many.

The soldiers of Issacrea and Elil now believed that “If it’s the Holy Grail Knight, he can do it.”

To them, he could achieve what had been beyond reach for centuries—like reclaiming the Holy Land Lua.

He could break the long stagnation that plagued the world.

He could guide them to the most glorious battlefield.

He could rise above all as the architect of the most secret of conspiracies.

He could gather all the wealth and glory to satisfy even the most unquenchable greed.

And so, they believed.

And in this world, belief itself could become a force.

The jumbled prayers and desperate desires of those seeking change and salvation began to crystallize into something more tangible. And that something flowed into Isaac.

***

The Gertrude Fortress had been reduced to rubble. The area beyond it was a wide plain leading to the Labyrinth Valley. With no better location for a camp, the Dawn Army of Issacrea decided to stay an extra day to regroup.

Campfires were lit. Soldiers set up camp, tending to their equipment and wounds.

While the soldiers rested, Isaac walked off alone into an empty clearing.

Hesabel kept watch from a distance, just in case. But Isaac made sure no one would be close enough to hear him.

Once he confirmed he was alone, he sat down, closed his eyes, and began to meditate.

“Pallor.”

The response was immediate.

Within Isaac’s mental landscape, a figure slowly emerged—a woman who was emaciated to the bone, as though she’d been starving for years. Even before she had become an undead, her body must have looked skeletal.

Her gaze was filled with disdain as she glared at Isaac.

‘As expected, you’re still here.’

Just like with Kalsen, a being of such great power took time to be fully digested. Even if Pallor’s rank had been stripped, it was no different.

Pallor’s expression was sour, but she didn’t seem particularly angry.

“What is this trash heap?”

“It’s your new home, so I suggest you choose your words carefully.”

“Humans are all walking bags of filth. Meat sacks dragging around their own excrement. No matter what you call it—a trash heap, a bag of filth, or a basket of flowers—it doesn’t change the truth.”

“Sure, sure. Must be nice to be so thin, huh? No extra baggage to carry.”

Isaac’s sarcasm was met with an unwavering stare from Pallor. After a moment, she spoke with quiet certainty.

“You’re the same. Holy Grail Knight or whatever they call you. No matter what title you carry, you’re still a monster. No different from the so-called righteous Dawn Army. No matter how much they wrap it in the cloth of virtue, it’s still just a parade of death.”

Her eyes, hollow and piercing, stared at him with certainty, as if she were peering into the very heart of him.