Paladin of the Dead God

Devan’s expression hardened.

He knew Isaac’s orders were right, but following them could cause Ciero’s Dawn Army to collapse. Just as Devan was about to voice his objections, Ciero spoke up.

“Do it.”

“Pardon? But Ciero, if we do that…”

“I said do it. If we do nothing, we’ll die at the hands of the residents like common thieves. If we do as the Holy Grail Knight commands, at least we’ll die as the vanguard of the Dawn Army he leads.”

Devan’s face was full of reluctance. He asked cautiously.

“Do you think this will cleanse us of our sins?”

“Who the hell is trying to cleanse their sins here?”

Ciero snapped at Devan, sounding both incredulous and exasperated.

“This isn’t about survival for all of us! You all need to live for me to live!”

Ciero’s outburst silenced Devan. Isaac noticed the troubled look that flickered across Devan’s face.

Devan finally nodded, seeming to realize that Isaac and Ciero were right.

“Understood. I’ll round up those who caused trouble first.”

From Devan’s perspective, it wasn’t an easy decision to make.

After all, the ones who had caused trouble were the very people defending Kran Fortress. If they saw their own being apprehended, morale could plummet once again. In that case, a rebellion could erupt among the Dawn Army before the residents even got the chance.

Ciero, aware of this, rose unsteadily to his feet.

“No, if you go around doing it, there will be problems. Just tell me who they are, and I’ll handle the persuasion.”

Devan nodded, his face still sour.

After all, they were Ciero’s followers. These were the same people who had rushed out to save him when he was isolated in the middle of the undead horde. If anyone could minimize resistance, it would have to be Ciero.

But Isaac, wary of the situation, accompanied Ciero just in case.

Isaac whispered to Ciero.

“You’re doing well.”

“…I don’t even know if I’m doing the right thing. To the soldiers, it might feel like I’m stabbing them in the back while they fight. That’s probably what Devan’s worried about.”

“The stricter the discipline, the stronger the elite. If they call themselves an ‘army,’ they must know that military law is sacred. And there won’t be as much backlash as you think. People feel guilt, and when discipline is restored, they find comfort even in punishment.”

“…You really have a lot of faith in people, don’t you? But you know as well as I do that Nephilim magic doesn’t work all the time. ‘Persuasion’ needs a pretext. If you force results without any basis, you’ll get pushback.”

Isaac felt that Ciero’s argument resembled how Urbanus manipulated people.

Ciero was right. If you punish soldiers during a battle without giving them a reason, other soldiers will feel that their comrades are being treated unfairly.

“Then make the pretext. Besides, the troublemakers likely haven’t caused problems just once.”

Isaac rubbed his palm as he spoke.

“I’m not aiming for petty thieves, anyway.”

***

In an isolated fortress surrounded by zombies, there were only so many places to hide looted goods or criminals.

Devan identified the looters, and Ciero either persuaded or intimidated them into handing over hidden assets. Naturally, there were those who resisted, but with Ciero’s scathing reminder that there was no point in hoarding treasures while on the brink of death, they eventually surrendered.

Since the Death Knights had no proper siege engines beyond the zombies they dropped from the sky, returning the stolen goods to the residents wasn’t too difficult. By morning, the zombie bombardments had slowed down, giving them some breathing room.

Of course, some damage was beyond compensation. In such cases, Isaac ordered severe punishment for the offenders.

“Next.”

The plaza in front of the fortress gate was crowded with residents who had come after hearing that the Dawn Army would return the stolen goods and punish those who had committed crimes. The soldier being called out was bound and dragged forward by Devan. The man looked at Isaac with a dazed expression.

“Hendrik. Charged with murder, rape, and arson against civilians. His actions have brought great dishonor to the Dawn Army and are crimes committed against our fellow brothers of the Codex of Light. As such, he is sentenced to death according to the law.”

Isaac was both a noble and a paladin, so he had the authority to carry out the sentence under imperial law and religious law.

And with no “real” priests or paladins present, there was no one to contest Isaac’s authority. Even Ciero, who was the only one with the right to object, nodded solemnly.

“May the Codex of Light guide this lost soul from the darkness into the light.”

As soon as Ciero’s words, which were practically a death sentence, fell, the man realized his situation and began to struggle.

“Wait, wait! How can you do this?! I worked so hard for you!”

Ciero desperately avoided looking at him. In his mind, he was executing someone who had followed him faithfully, and the turmoil was clearly written on his face.

When Ciero continued to ignore him, the man turned and screamed at the other soldiers.

“You’re all the same! How many of you are without sin?! You all came here thinking you’d get a piece of the action, didn’t… Ugh!”

Devan punched the man, who was still being dragged, across the face. Once, twice—the man’s face quickly became a bloody mess, silencing his protests.

Isaac stopped Devan before he killed the man. Execution had to be carried out without personal feelings involved. The man looked at Isaac and mumbled something.

But Isaac didn’t bother to listen to his words. Instead, he prepared to swing his sword. Turning to Ciero, who stood beside him, Isaac whispered.

“Ciero, keep your eyes open. Whatever happens, you have to witness this.”

“…Does it really have to be this way? Couldn’t we at least let him die fighting…?”

“Do you want to add one more enemy to our ranks? There must be a clear distinction between those executed under military law and those who die gloriously on the battlefield. Penal units and convict units are trash. Such practices make honorable service feel like a punishment.”

Isaac was neither a warmonger nor a military enthusiast.

His words were closer to a philosophy of governance. Those who risk their lives for others deserve respect. If soldiers are reduced to paying for their crimes, the soldiers beside them will feel they, too, are there simply because they lack connections or power. It’s disastrous for morale.

As soon as Ciero finally lifted his head and met the man’s eyes, Isaac swung his sword, beheading the man in a single stroke. The lifeless body was quickly collected by other soldiers and set aside to be burned before it could rise again as undead.

This was the last execution. More than twenty soldiers were executed that day alone. The soldiers silently moved the bodies, and Ciero himself set them ablaze.

Fwoosh!

The oil that had been generously spread around caught fire, fueled by the miracle Ciero had performed, and blazed fiercely.

The burning flames and intense heat etched themselves into the eyes of the soldiers and the residents.

It was a kind of signal fire.

This fire declared that Ciero’s Dawn Army would now move in a completely different direction, severing ties with their past.

***

Of course, Isaac didn’t entertain any fantasies that burning some criminals would suddenly transform these ragtag soldiers into elite troops. Ciero might be imagining such things, but the world doesn’t work that way.

‘At the very least, they should realize they’re not just a band of thieves.’

Isaac hoped they could revive the spirit they had when they first joined the Dawn Army, the sense of noble purpose and the dreams of glory that had driven them. That alone would be the best outcome Isaac could hope for.

Isaac secretly observed the soldiers through the Eye of Chaos. There were about 5,700 soldiers within the fortress. While he couldn’t check all of them, roughly one in six appeared to resent Isaac’s ruthless executions.

From their perspective, a stranger had rolled in and disrupted what they had thought was a “good” journey.

Two out of every six, however, seemed to anticipate a new and “real” Dawn Army, just as Isaac had hoped.

These were the ones who had tried to maintain some level of decency, even when the Dawn Army had descended into little more than a band of brigands. Despite being overshadowed by those who said, “Everyone’s doing it,” and “Who’s without sin?” there are always those who strive to keep their conscience intact in any group.

The remaining three soldiers were… well, they simply had no strong opinions. They just wanted this damned campaign to end so they could go home, were too scared, or were just too exhausted to care, behaving according to the situation around them.

They might seem the most pathetic, but they were the most common.

Isaac staged this not-quite-a-show for these ordinary people. If their environment turned virtuous, they would follow suit.

‘Is it time yet?’

Isaac continued to watch the group that led the Dawn Army’s atmosphere. Though possibly the smallest faction, they were the most extreme and barbaric, often muddying the overall mood with their actions.

Isaac’s true target was them.

However, he also needed to keep an eye on external threats. The Immortal Order, aside from its undead bombardments, still hadn’t made any significant moves. That could only mean they were hiding something, waiting to spring it at the right moment.

***

“Have you not made up your mind yet?”

“…”

Lich Al Retma pressed Batenna Kran, the new follower of the Immortal Order and former king of Kran.

Batenna Kran had become a member of the Immortal Order according to his contract, which stipulated that his soul would be surrendered after death. With his decaying body falling apart, the human part of him was all but gone.

Nevertheless, Batenna had not fully embraced the Immortal Order. He had not converted by choice but had been murdered unexpectedly, losing his chance to break the contract.

“We’ve come from afar to help you reclaim your land and exact revenge because of the contract you made with His Majesty the Immortal Emperor. Yet you still treat us like invaders,” the Lich said, clearly frustrated.

“The ones who killed you and invaded your territory are the beggars of the Codex of Light. They act righteous but will use any means against those not on their side. Judging by their recent actions, they’re merciless even to their own followers. And yet, you still wish to protect them?”

“I don’t care how many of those scumbags die,” Batenna Kran snapped, clearly displeased.

“What worries me is that revealing the secret passage will make Kran a permanent territory of the Immortal Order. The Order could occupy the fortress anytime through that passage.”

Kran Fortress was protected by a powerful blessing, but like all fortresses, it had hidden passages for discreet entry and exit. This secret passage was also marked as a “permitted path.” Batenna Kran had escaped through it after being resurrected through his death insurance.

The Lich gave a dry, spectral chuckle.

“The king of Kran has joined the Immortal Order, so it’s naturally Immortal Order territory, isn’t it?”

“My child is still alive. The heir of Kran is now that child, so the land doesn’t belong to the Immortal Order yet.”

The Lich tapped his bony fingers against his jaw. As a priest of the Immortal Order, he could forcefully compel this arrogant king who had already pledged his soul to the Immortal Realm.

But the Lich had once been a follower of the Codex of Light. Out of respect for the devout former king of Kran, he chose not to use coercive means. Instead, he recalled an old saying:

The most painful apostasy comes from the most devout followers.

The Lich opened a book created by a miracle, the pages emitting a cold, blue aura.

Flipping through the pages of the “List of the Doomed,” the Lich caught Batenna’s eye. Pointing to a specific line with his thin finger, he murmured.

“Lehena Kran. Scheduled for death.”

Batenna’s sole remaining eye widened, trembling. With no facial muscles left to betray his emotions, the Lich casually continued.

“The time is tomorrow. Cause of death… burns.”

It was a statement that left no room for choice.

As Batenna was not a priest, he couldn’t read the book, leaving him unable to confirm the truth of the Lich’s words. But if he didn’t reveal the secret passage, the Lich could easily “fulfill” that prophecy. After all, it didn’t specify who would do the killing.

Ultimately, Batenna Kran had no choice but to speak.