Paladin of the Dead God-Chapter 376: Eternal Pallor (2)

Boom! Boom! Boom!

With just two individuals, Isaac and Gebel, charging in with explosive force, the Avalanche Knight Order’s coordinated offense completely fell apart. The avalanche that had seemed poised to sweep through the Issacrea Knight Order ground to a halt, as the duo’s blades roared back like a fierce storm.

The Avalanche Knight Order began to split in two.

Watching this in disbelief, Rottenhammer hastily barked an order.

"Follow the Holy Grail Knight and Gebel!"

Thud! The Issacrea Knight Order immediately obeyed, clashing head-on with the divided Death Knights. The Avalanche Knight Order, unable to regain their formation, began to retreat. Behind them, soldiers scrambled to recover the wounded and the dead.

In battles against the Immortal Order, managing casualties was as important as defeating the enemy. The hands of the priests quickly healed the severely injured, while the deceased were purified without delay.

The momentum of the Avalanche Knight Order faltered under Isaac’s counterattack, and they could not easily reverse the tide.

[─────!]

Suddenly, an eerie, unintelligible scream rang out. From the center of the Death Knight ranks, Linde abruptly lunged forward, striking down the advancing Isaac in one swift motion.

Thud. A heavy impact pinned Isaac to the ground.

Isaac immediately felt the weight of Linde’s attack—far heavier than before.

No, it was heavier. When Linde’s cursed blade struck Kaldwin, a torrent of malevolent spirits erupted from within. The spirits clawed at Isaac’s body, dragging him downward. He felt as though dozens of hands were pulling him into the earth.

“How ridiculous.”

Isaac shook off Linde’s blade, slicing through the spirits with the sword aura imbued in Kaldwin. The spirits screamed and scattered in all directions. Gebel seized the opportunity and swung his blade to sever Linde’s spine.

But Linde viciously deflected his attack, resuming her relentless assault on Isaac.

Isaac found it strange that Linde’s attacks were focused solely on him rather than Gebel. While it was true he posed the greater threat, the Avalanche Knight Order’s usual tactics dictated that they prioritize Gebel, the most dangerous member of the Immortal Order. When they first encountered Linde, she had shown no interest in Isaac at all.

“Could it be…?”

If this assault and her current state were not of Linde’s own volition, it would make sense. Linde swung her cursed blade with reckless fury, battering Isaac.

Isaac deduced that her sword possessed a soul-devouring ability, allowing its wielder to use the captured souls as tools. A relic like this would terrify even the orcs of the Olkan Code or the undead of the Immortal Order.

Using the blade’s dark power without hesitation, Linde launched a ferocious offensive against Isaac. Despite his efforts to subdue her, her attacks only grew heavier and sharper over time.

Her movements were on a completely different level from their previous encounter. Linde no longer employed the swordsmanship of the Avalanche Knight Order.

She was like a drunken madman, a rampaging demon, or a grim reaper dancing across the battlefield.

Her movements were wild and erratic, impossible to predict. Linde had been consumed by her cursed blade, now reduced to a mere tool for its dark will. If she managed to break through to the knights behind Isaac, a massacre was inevitable.

“I need to destroy that sword.”

However, this was no easy task. The blade had withstood even Kaldwin’s aura. It was likely a high-level relic, perhaps not on par with Kaldwin but formidable nonetheless.

Isaac adjusted his stance, preparing to kill Linde for real this time.

He had intended to engage her using the swordsmanship of the Avalanche Knight Order, but now that he understood she was no longer herself, there was no reason to hold back. Besides, his body was beginning to strain.

Using advanced swordsmanship other than his own still placed a heavy burden on his body. His palms had already split open, blood dripping steadily.

Isaac summoned the predator lurking within him.

Crack. With a deep breath, his sword moved swiftly.

No one present could follow Isaac’s movements.

Not even Linde, who stood directly before him.

The moment Isaac readied his sword, the distance and obstacles between him and Linde vanished.

In a single fluid motion, Isaac sliced through Linde’s waist, spine, and neck, finally driving his blade into her philtrum to extract her skull. It was as simple as a hunter snatching a rabbit by the scruff.

***

A soul does not reside in any single part of the body, but the undead still think and act as they did in life. Deprived of its skull’s control, Linde’s body collapsed limply. Even if it could somehow move again, it would never move properly.

However, Linde’s body defied expectations.

Despite the destruction of critical bones that should have rendered her "connections" irreparable, her body crawled away from Isaac using countless small fragments, moving like a centipede. Such movements were impossible for a human—unless possessed by something more fitting for such grotesque contortions, like a centipede or a snake.

At that moment, Linde’s jaw snapped open, emitting a bizarre sound.

[You are nothing more than a group clinging to a single hero!]

The source of this c𝓸ntent is frёeweɓηovel.coɱ.

It was Linde’s voice, but not her tone. Something else had commandeered her body and was speaking through her.

[Thanks to your presence here, the comrades you left elsewhere are already dead!]

Isaac’s expression hardened. The words clearly referred to his divided allies. The voice continued to cackle without pause.

“Isaac!” Gebel shouted urgently. “Isaac, the frost! The frost is coming!”

Crack, crack, crack. Isaac finally noticed the frost creeping in from all directions. The battlefield where they fought so fiercely was now the only place untouched by the spreading white. The surrounding land had been blanketed in snow.

The priests hastily lit flames, and the wounded knights began to chant hymns with strained voices. As the miraculous flames spread their warmth, the encroaching frost halted.

Even the Death Knights ceased their movements as the frost arrived. The gentle wind, the drifting dust, and even Linde’s laughter all seemed frozen in place.

The world turned entirely white.

In the endless expanse of white, the only colors were the flames conjured by the Issacrea Knight Order. Yet even the priests, strained by maintaining such a vast miracle, began to shiver and sweat.

“Everyone, chant the Hymn of Saint Arte!” Rottenhammer commanded. Preparing for the worst, he and the knights joined in the miracle, barely managing to hold their ground.

But Isaac already understood the meaning of this phenomenon.

An angel was coming.

In the chilling silence and void, the angel spread its wings and descended.

Thump, thump, thump. Amidst the echoing hymn, Isaac heard the flutter of wings. He wasn’t the only one; all eyes turned skyward. From the faint sun veiled by dark clouds, a shadow flickered.

The shadow revealed itself as a flock of countless birds. They soon blanketed the sun, creating an artificial eclipse. Amid this sacrilegious and terrifying spectacle, a single white bird slowly descended to the ground.

A three-headed dove, stripped of flesh and feathers, reduced to bare bone.

Isaac immediately recognized it.

The Eternal Watcher, “Pallor.”

***

The Archangel Pallor perched silently on the shoulder of a Death Knight, observing the battlefield.

The fragmented skull of Linde, still impaled on Isaac’s sword, suddenly convulsed and screamed.

[The Eternal Watcher has arrived! You have only two choices: become undead or be frozen here forever as statues…!]

Linde’s voice abruptly dropped. Pallor’s gaze had shifted to the skull. Its empty eye sockets, devoid even of the characteristic blue glow of the undead, revealed nothing but void.

[Winterfang.]

The voice was clear and resonant, like the ringing of a bell. Its beauty caught even some soldiers off guard, drawing gasps. However, the tone carried no kindness.

[Silence.]

The malevolent spirit inhabiting Linde’s cursed blade obeyed instantly.

Isaac stifled a groan as he realized the cursed sword’s name—or perhaps the name of the spirit within it—was Winterfang.

Winterfang was both a demonic sword and a sacred relic, notorious even within the Immortal Order. A collective of malevolent spirits bound together, Winterfang epitomized hatred and resentment. It was so loathed by Beshek, who prided himself on “refined” undead existence, that he tolerated its presence only grudgingly.

In the game, Winterfang had long since changed hands to another Death Knight, which explained Isaac’s delayed recognition.

It was, in the truest sense, a blade of pure malevolence—a cursed blade.

Isaac carefully set down Linde’s silent skull. He would have sealed it if time permitted, but with the priests fully occupied maintaining the miracle, he couldn’t spare a moment. His true opponent was the angel, and vigilance was paramount.

Yet Isaac noticed something different this time.

Even in the presence of an angel, he didn’t feel the suffocating pressure that had once overwhelmed him. The Dead December had nearly killed him with its sheer presence, and other archangels had driven him to his knees simply by appearing.

“But now… I only sense that it is powerful.”

“Pallor,” Isaac addressed the archangel, steadying his breath.

“I didn’t think you’d show yourself. Was the outcome not as expected?”

Pallor tilted its head, birdlike, observing Isaac in an unnervingly natural motion. The eerie mimicry of a living bird by the undead left Isaac unsettled.

After a long pause, Pallor finally spoke.

[No, everything has gone as planned.]

“Are you saying the Avalanche Knight Order’s crushing defeat was part of your plan?”

[No, your faction’s division was my goal. Your allies have all been defeated and are in retreat. Their leaders’ heads are displayed on pikes, and their Armyes will soon join my ranks as slaves.]

“What a ridiculous lie,” Isaac retorted without a trace of fear.

Winterfang’s earlier lies had already been exposed through Hesabel and his familiars, allowing Isaac to grasp the actual situation. While his allies faced challenges, they were far from defeated.

Pallor tilted its head, curious.

[Hmm, how do you know? You show no sign of distress.]

Of course. Even if Isaac hadn’t confirmed the truth through his familiars, he wouldn’t have believed Pallor’s claims. He had ensured every possible safeguard for his allies.

He had sent nothing but “Isaac” to the Issacrea Knight Order—leaving behind his familiars and relics to protect his comrades.

Isaac’s allies were anything but incompetent. Not even an angel’s appearance could ensure their defeat.

“They are all heroes,” Isaac declared with a smirk, as if laughing off a joke.

“They don’t rely on me. I rely on them. They’ve kept me from becoming a monster, allowing me to stand here as a hero, a Holy Grail Knight. Honestly, you owe them your gratitude.”

Otherwise, you’d have been devoured long ago.

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