Paladin of the Dead God

Crakshal had a look of disbelief.

“Does the Codex of Light have a miracle like that?”

Accelerated decay sounded like something more commonly associated with the Immortal Order, where stripping flesh to the bone might be intentionally attempted. But this was the Codex of Light they were dealing with, known for its sanctity.

“Well, there are rumors that the Holy Grail Knight is actually a monster, and considering the mishmash of individuals they’ve gathered over there, it wouldn’t be surprising if there are those with unique talents. In any case, if their strategy is to delay us, it’s working.”

“Is it not possible for the shamans to use their powers to counteract this?”

It was a reasonable question, so Kima shook his head without anger.

“Decay and vermin are natural phenomena. They aren’t within Olkan’s power to control. The enemy is merely accelerating a natural process. We could prevent the effect from taking hold at the moment of activation, but it’s so sporadic, and with other threats to consider, we can’t focus solely on this. For the same reason, it’s hard to directly blame the enemy.”

Kima added his advice.

“I’ve already issued orders for pest control. But remember, if it rots, everything in the same container has to be thrown out too. It’s best to plan for a food consumption rate that’s 20% higher than usual.”

A massive army consumes an equally massive amount of supplies.

Typically, some loss is accounted for when provisioning, but an additional 20% consumption rate is staggering for any commander. At this rate, even if they did occupy the Issacrea Estate, they wouldn’t be able to make up for what they’d lose. They were an army that consumed and scorched everything in their path.

Crakshal had no choice but to significantly adjust his strategy, even if it meant accepting some sacrifices.

***

“They’ve changed their strategy,”

Isaac noted, quickly sensing the shift in the orc army’s tactics centered around Crakshal. The orcs began to focus on breaking through pre-existing roads swiftly. Meanwhile, Crakshal seemed to have changed his strategy to send out numerous scouts first to quickly respond if attacked.

“He’s a smart one. He already figured out I would employ guerrilla tactics.”

From a high mountaintop, Isaac watched the movements of the orc forces. The sheer number of orcs was enough to make the ground appear to change color, so tracking their movements wasn’t difficult.

Yet, Hesabel responded to Isaac’s words with a sly grin.

“So what if he knows? What can he do about it?”

“Indeed, let’s begin.”

Isaac gave orders to his minions.

His forces were not limited to the troops of the Issacrea Estate. He had also gathered minions, relics, and rituals that couldn’t be displayed in the estate. Thus, they were bound to shine in guerrilla warfare.

At last, the battlefield conditions Isaac desired had been set.

Isaac’s minions began to prepare to make their moves from their respective positions.

***

That night, the Olkan Code army occupied the first ridge of the Geliperth Mountains. Crakshal’s decision to switch to a speed-focused strategy led to a swift breakthrough, albeit at the cost of significant forced marches. Although they faced minimal resistance during the process, the number of casualties was still under double digits.

“If we keep up this pace, the Issacrea Estate will be within reach in two days.”

A fast horse ride would cover the distance in a day. However, Crakshal still hadn’t encountered Isaac or the estate’s army. The two days were considering the likelihood of clashes along the way. It would still involve substantial forced marches.

Crakshal discussed the newly revised strategy with Kima. The map obtained from Seor made the assault on the Issacrea Estate much easier. Although the map was somewhat dated, they had no choice but to believe it hadn’t changed much.

“The key areas of concentrated resistance are expected at the bridge in the valley and a place known as the Perse Valley. If a few knights stand their ground, they could hold back an entire unit. However, if Deron’s forces on the right can hit the upper Perse Valley on time, passing through shouldn’t be difficult.”

“What about the bridge?”

“The bridge is the issue. It’s a wide, sturdy stone bridge capable of supporting carts, but they might destroy it. The valley is deep enough that repairs could take a while.”

“Should we assume they’ll destroy it?”

“It’s hard to say. The bridge essentially represents the value of the Issacrea Estate itself. Without it, the estate would fall from a strategic hub connecting east and west to a remote frontier of the empire. On the other hand, we can simply build a temporary bridge and only experience a slight delay.”

Kima nodded.

“The enemy is desperate. Expect them to destroy it. It’s wise to have carpenters prepared to construct a temporary bridge. Remember, the enemy is filled with fanatics of the Codex of Light. Look at that priest we captured in the camp. I’ve lived about 400 years combined over my past lives, and I’ve never encountered such a lunatic before…”

“I heard they bit off the fingers of their torturer, didn’t they?”

“Not only that. They thought its eyes were made of glass and tried to gouge out its left eye, only to get burned because it was so hot. Turns out it was imbued with miracles. If all Codex of Light priests are like this, I’d advise the Khan to reconsider fighting them.”

Crakshal didn’t respond.

He knew Kima’s lament wasn’t just idle talk. However, if the enemy’s morale was truly that formidable, there was a possibility that the Olkan Code’s forces could be demoralized before achieving their objective.

Suddenly, Kima jerked his head up and stood. He stared intently into the void before urgently gesturing to Crakshal.

“Warlord, it would be wise to prepare for an attack. I sense a miracle approaching.”

Crakshal quickly armed himself and rushed outside the barracks. What greeted him was a thick fog that had appeared out of nowhere, a fog he hadn’t seen before setting up camp. Though it wasn’t unusual for a thick mist to settle on a mountain, Kima’s warning made it clear that this was no ordinary phenomenon.

“Get up! Prepare for an attack and stand ready for an assault!”

The orcs, having just settled down after their forced march, grumbled but promptly got into formation like the veterans they were.

Kima immediately sat down and began preparing his ritual, while Crakshal patrolled with a grim expression, peering into the mist.

The forest, abandoned by even beasts and insects, was eerily silent. Only the rustling of branches brushing against one another in the wind could be heard. If regular conscripts could maintain this level of stealth, Crakshal would willingly acknowledge the entire Empire’s military as elite knights.

Swoosh, thunk!

As a sharp whistling sound cut through the air, Crakshal narrowly deflected an arrow with his hand. The arrow pierced through his palm but did no further harm.

Crakshal snapped the arrow and pulled it from his hand.

“A red feather?”

He recalled seeing similar arrows lodged in the heads of numerous thousand-man and hundred-man commanders who died in Seor. It signified that there was a possessed sniper on the other side.

More arrows flew from beyond the mist.

Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh!

This time, the arrows struck the faces or necks of orcs staring blankly into the mist, unable to see anything.

“It’s a sniper! Return fire!”

Crakshal ordered a counterattack in the direction from which the arrows came. But in the dense fog, even the best marksmen among the orcs couldn’t find their mark. The enemy seemed to be shooting from the treetops, rapidly changing positions while picking off orc heads. The orcs’ morale plummeted as they were struck down without even seeing their attacker.

“Damn it, what kind of demon is that…? 5th and 6th Centurions! Prepare for a raid and conduct a search! Shamans, track the arrows’ origin!”

Crakshal ultimately decided to risk deploying his troops.

Conducting a search at night, especially in such thick fog, was risky. The Issacrea army could ambush them. However, they couldn’t leave the sniper unchecked, and he doubted they’d lose even if there was an ambush.

Once the search party was deployed, the sniper stopped firing, likely unable to continue under such circumstances.

Before long, a faint greenish light emanated from the main camp, dispersing the fog. Kima had successfully completed his ritual. Crakshal somberly counted the orcs who had been shot. There were 27 casualties, mostly ordinary soldiers or centurions, a negligible loss.

However, out of the 28 arrows, 27 had struck their targets in the head or neck, decimating their morale. Even arrows guided by ancestor spirits, shot by the finest of the Keshik, could not guarantee such accuracy.

“Recall the search party.”

Crakshal ordered the return of the troops sent to find the sniper. Fortunately, there were no sounds of battle, indicating no ambush had taken place.

Although it was puzzling, Crakshal understood what had happened once the search party returned.

About 100 orcs from the search team hadn’t come back, including the 5th and 6th cent

urions.

Within just 30 minutes of searching, such a massacre had taken place, leaving Crakshal with his head in his hands.

The following day, as the sun rose, the full extent of the previous night’s events became apparent.

All over the forest, orc bodies hung like ripe fruit. The impaled orcs were strategically displayed so that, although their heads weren’t touched, they were in plain sight. Some seemed to have been devoured, their rough remains and missing body parts visible.

Among the corpses were the heads of the 5th and 6th centurions.

It was unclear if they were devouring one another or simply locked in a grotesque kiss, but their mouths were clamped onto each other. Seeing this scene, Crakshal began to fundamentally question what he was dealing with.

What kind of madness had spawned this?

“Shaman General Kima, are we really facing the Codex of Light?”

“…I’m not sure. But one thing is certain. Everything we brought to prepare against the Codex of Light seems useless in this battle.”

But Crakshal’s despair was only just beginning.

***

“Huff, huff…!”

The orc panted heavily as he ran along the mountain path.

His lungs burned and a metallic taste filled his mouth, but he couldn’t stop running. Each time he glanced back, he confirmed that no one was pursuing him, yet he wasn’t confident he’d truly escaped his pursuer.

But his constant backward glances led him to miss the tree root in his path.

“Ugh, oof!”

Tumbling forcefully, the orc hastily righted himself and drew his sword. Fortunately, there was still no sign of pursuit. It was only then that he felt certain he had evaded his hunter, allowing himself to catch his breath.

“Caught your breath? Then let’s get to work.”

A chilling voice suddenly emerged from behind, followed by a face popping out of nowhere. The orc tried to scream, but his lungs were too exhausted to do more than emit a metallic rasp.

The man before him was strikingly beautiful, even to the orc’s eyes. He leaned in close, pressing the orc down, bringing their faces mere inches apart. However, writhing tentacles slithered out of the man’s left eye, a grotesque contrast to his handsome features.

“Spill everything you know.”

Crunch, squelch.

Without the orc needing to speak, tentacles burrowed between the orc’s eyes, piercing deep into his skull. As the brain filled with tendrils, splintered fragments and brain matter oozed through the punctured eyes.

Moments later, Isaac withdrew the tentacles, wiping away bloody tears—whether his own or the orc’s, he couldn’t tell. The orc had been in possession of some high-value information.

“It was worth the chase.”

That morning, Crakshal received a report that the forces under the right flank’s Deron Warlord had been halted due to a sudden landslide. It was also reported that the isolated Deron Warlord was inexplicably found in the middle of the forest, with his brain and eyes melted.

Without hesitation, Crakshal sent messengers to the main force.

Before long, the Khan’s elite guard, the Keshik, began appearing at the front lines.

This meant that Sahulan Khan, the Great Chief of the Olkan Code, had arrived on the battlefield and begun personally leading the army.

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