Paladin of the Dead God

“Ugh… Sniff.”

Leonora’s face contorted as if resisting, but the moment her eyes met Isaac’s, her expression immediately softened. She had clearly succumbed to the overwhelming allure of the Nephilim.

Just then, the coachman saw Leonora being restrained and rushed forward. Isaac effortlessly stopped him with the activation of his Eyes of Chaos.

The moment Isaac’s eyes turned a violet hue, the coachman was seized by an inexplicable terror that could neither be described nor comprehended. He could do nothing but cling desperately to the carriage, struggling to keep himself upright. In the pitch-black darkness, it was as if only Isaac’s violet eyes were left floating.

Isaac looked down at the coachman and coldly spoke.

“Take your master back to the city. If you value your life, don’t think about coming back. I will handle Angela.”

His voice sounded like that of a demon crawling up from the depths of the underworld. The coachman could only gasp for air, unable to respond. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to speak; he simply found it hard to breathe.

His heightened sense of danger had amplified Isaac’s power to an unbearable level. Isaac, believing his threat to be sufficiently conveyed, disappeared into the darkness with Angela.

It was only long after Isaac had vanished that the coachman and Leonora regained their ability to move. The coachman managed to gather his strength and stand up. All that occupied his mind was getting Leonora to the city before she fully regained her senses.

Then, Leonora, who had already stepped out of the carriage, tossed something to the coachman. It was a medicine that restored stamina and cleared the mind. After taking a swig of the potion, Leonora came back to her senses. The coachman smiled bitterly and followed her lead, drinking his own share.

The coachman wanted to advise Leonora not to chase after Isaac, but before he could, she made a decision.

“Let’s go back to Renheim.”

“What?”

“The Holy Grail Knight has decided to compete with us, so we need to change our strategy. From now on, consider the Holy Grail Knight as an adversarial group to the Golden Idol Guild and execute a strategy accordingly. We cannot entrust the future of the guild to an outsider.”

Leonora muttered this while staring into the darkness where Isaac had disappeared. The coachman thought her fighting spirit had been reignited, but it was quite the opposite.

Leonora was experiencing an intense emotion she had never felt before: love. It was a fervent, consuming love.

“A man who can’t be swayed by money, recognition, or honor? And he possesses the innate talent of a king who can wield all the world’s resources?”

Her heart pounded wildly.

Angela was no longer Leonora’s goal. She now coveted Isaac Issacrea—the man himself. She wanted to possess him, to have him under her control. But Isaac was an arrogant Paladin who was bound by nothing.

If so, she would teach him what it meant to lack, to hunger, to feel deprived and desperate.

She would show him that without her, he could not accomplish anything. Then, she would be the one to embrace him and care for him, proving her worth in his life.

‘Angela doesn’t matter anymore. To claim Angela, I must first defeat Isaac.’

The day Isaac came under her control would be the day Leonora seized everything she had ever dreamed of.

She was sure of it.

***

Unaware that he had caught the attention of a capitalist sociopath with an obsessive personality, Isaac returned to his territory.

‘She won’t give up that easily.’

Although Isaac didn’t know Leonora’s current state of mind, he was sure she would not let things go so easily. Leonora was the type who would obtain what she needed and complete deals that had to be made.

This did not mean she was stubborn; rather, it meant she had complete confidence in her own judgment. She never pursued reckless or overly greedy plans. But this time was different.

‘If it’s Midas’ Hand… it’s not a deal she can just walk away from. She’ll be back.’

Isaac still did not fully understand the powers of Midas’ Hand beyond its ability to create gold, but whatever its powers were, it was enough to be the winning condition for the Golden Idol Guild. There was no way she would ever abandon it.

If the Golden Idol Guild seriously started to interfere, it was impossible to predict how much trouble they would cause. Even if the flow of supplies to Issacrea’s territory was cut off and funds were halted, trade disruptions alone would severely limit what they could do.

He had to act before it was too late.

“Master! You’re back.”

Edelred, who had just come out into the courtyard, spotted Isaac and approached him with a surprised look.

“We heard you suddenly left the monastery, so everyone has gathered again. Did you receive some kind of intelligence?”

“Everyone’s gathered?”

“Yes. Ah, and this is Angela. I heard she left with the Golden Idol Guild; did something happen? Was there an attack?”

Isaac shook his head. Instead, he indicated he would explain inside and followed Edelred into the reception room. The people gathered were almost the same as those present at the evening meeting, but this time Gebel was also in attendance.

Isaac recalled the contents of the meeting from earlier that evening.

“We still haven’t decided who will be the second strongest among us, have we?”

“Are we still talking about that?”

Tuhalin scoffed in disbelief and asked, “What are you trying to say? Are you suggesting we hold a mock battle?”

“We don’t have time for that,” Isaac replied, smirking as he spread out a map on the table.

Isaac’s finger pointed to the southern continent, the land of spices and wealth—Odryf Port, the city of pearls and the headquarters of the Golden Idol Guild.

“Each of you will lead your forces and head to Odryf Port as quickly as possible. Along the way, help others, defeat enemies, and build your reputations. When we arrive at Odryf, we will select a deputy commander that everyone can agree upon.”

Isaac’s suggestion, which sounded like a race, caused some to chuckle.

Everyone present already held prominent positions within their own factions and didn’t need Isaac’s validation to prove themselves. They had little to lose.

Yet, it was precisely because of this that they felt no burden accepting Isaac’s proposal. The tedious wait while preparing in the territory had frustrated them, and this challenge offered a welcome change of pace.

“A bold strategy. The Kingdom of Elil accepts,” Lianne said confidently, exchanging glances with Edelred. Tuhalin and Raulok also nodded in agreement, smirking.

“If you think our short legs mean slow speed, you’re mistaken. I’ll be waiting at Odryf with a mountain of Orc heads,” Raulok boasted.

Rottenhammer also slammed his hammer onto the table with a loud thud. “We’ll show you what a rapid advance by the Paladins looks like. We…”

“Oh, the Brient Paladins will travel with my troops. To be exact, they will lead the Issacrea Army,” Isaac interrupted.

Rottenhammer looked flustered, realizing that his plans to compete against the other heroes were disrupted.

Isaac had no intention of sending them off alone. Elil and World’s Forge were moving with their armies, and Rottenhammer’s attempt to travel with just a handful of knights was neither fair nor strategic.

“I will move separately. I’ll use Nel to scout and coordinate communications for everyone,” Isaac continued.

Unbeknownst to the others, there was a fourth faction at play—those loyal to the Nameless Chaos, secretly serving Isaac. They would form an unseen fourth front alongside him.

***

However, the idea of the Supreme Commander moving separately didn’t sit well with everyone, especially Rottenhammer.

“But shouldn’t the commander of the Issacrea Army be you, Isaac, not us outsiders…?”

“If that’s the case, let’s rename the Brient Paladins to the Issacrea Paladins. Their base will be Issacrea Cathedral, and if your heart hasn’t changed, I’ll allow myself as the patron saint.”

Rottenhammer’s jaw dropped.

Realizing this was the founding moment of the Issacrea Paladins, he hurriedly knelt before Isaac, not wanting to miss this historic opportunity.

The decision might seem sudden and unexpected, especially just to establish competition, but Isaac had considered it for a long time. It was a necessary move, given the suspicions that might already be circulating. Establishing a dedicated order under his command would also lessen the attention on him from the Dawn Army and the church.

Isaac took out the Luadin Key, and the gentle warmth it emitted transformed the reception hall, which had hosted a raucous party earlier, into a solemn chapel.

Rottenhammer instinctively knelt, bowing his head, signaling his acceptance before Isaac could change his mind.

“My soul is already dedicated to the Codex of Light, but my body still walks the thorny path left by the divine. To overcome these trials, I seek to take Isaac Isacrea as the guiding light of my soul.”

The founding of a Paladin Order required four key elements: a high priest to give the blessing, permission from a noble who owned the land, the presence of another Paladin to act as a witness, and the Paladin accepting the role of patron saint.

Isaac fulfilled the first three roles himself. He placed his hand on Rottenhammer’s head and declared:

“I, Isaac Issacrea, Saint of Resurrection, bless your path and grant you the right to name me as your patron saint.”

He continued seamlessly:

“I, Isaac Issacrea, Abbot of Issacrea Monastery and Count of the land, bless your path, offering you bread, shelter, and salt.”

Then the next declaration:

“I, Isaac Issacrea, Holy Grail Knight, witness this oath as your fellow Paladin. Any who stand before Rottenhammer’s blade shall also face mine.”

Typically, the patron saint, often deceased, would have words spoken on their behalf, but since Isaac was alive, this was omitted. Isaac might have been the first living patron saint of a Paladin Order.

Though some onlookers were baffled by how smoothly the ceremony flowed, everyone eventually applauded, recognizing it as a moment worth celebrating.

Gebel, observing the ceremony, approached Isaac with a wry smile, patting him on the shoulder.

“To think that brat would become the patron saint of a Paladin Order, not just a commander.”

“Would you consider rejoining?” Isaac asked, smirking.

“I think teaching idiots suits me better than being in a Paladin Order.”

Their fighting styles were too different to harmonize anyway.

Though it seemed like all issues were resolved, one more problem remained. Lianne raised her hand, pointing out the last concern.

“Sir Isaac, I apologize, but we are still foreign forces. If we move separately, there’s a high chance we could be mistaken for enemies when facing the Gerthonia Holy Empire’s forces. How do we handle that?”

Proper identification was crucial, especially given that the foreign troops had entered without explicit permission from the now-leaderless Empire. Even as invited guests, acceptance was not guaranteed, particularly against the Dawn Army.

Isaac had an idea and answered simply, “Let’s make a banner.”

He retrieved a bundle of white cloth and sliced it into appropriate sizes with a swift slash of Kaldwin. He then fetched the purple dye stored in the corner of the reception hall, sprinkling it generously over the cloth.

Tuhalin, horrified by the apparent waste, began to protest, but Isaac paid no heed.

The purple dye, valued at five chests of gold, was lavishly used to color the cloth. Despite the rough dye job, the fabric took on a rare, mysterious sheen. The dye seemed to exude a faint sense of divinity, likely because it was scraped from a temple.

Isaac waved the flag to let it dry and then painted a simple white cross over the purple background.

“This will be the symbol of the Issacrea Army from now on. Please fly my banner beside yours.”

Wouldn’t the lack of recognition be a problem since it was just made?

That wouldn’t be an issue.

Because soon, this banner would be known far and wide, driven forward by the army rampaging southwards.