Paladin of the Dead God-Chapter 378: Eternal Pallor (4)

The fallen Winterfang stood upright, clashing swords with Kaldwin. Perched on its shoulder was Pallor, who had descended from the heavens, where she had gazed down with haughty disdain.

Unlike the angels of other faiths, the angels of the Immortal Order were not purely spiritual beings. Much like the Immortal Emperor, they still possessed physical bodies and remained within the territories of the Immortal Order instead of residing in Urbansus. Thus, to perform miracles, they had to visit the location in person.

Through grueling meditation, the Dead December Twelve could achieve the separation of soul and body, enabling them to send their spirits. However, even then, their presence only made itself known—they could not use miracles.

This duality presented both advantages and disadvantages for them.

The advantage was that their powers faced no restrictions or drain when manifesting on the mortal plane. All angels consumed their energy rapidly upon descending to the mortal world. To mitigate or prevent this, they often exerted influence indirectly through proxies or artifacts, albeit with limited strength.

However, the angels of the Immortal Order could remain on the mortal plane indefinitely, an overwhelming advantage.

The disadvantage was akin to that of any physical being. To exert their divine authority, they had to move their physical forms, and destruction of their bodies inflicted severe damage. While most angels could not die unless punished by their deity, these angels faced the risk of complete annihilation.

Read 𝓁atest chapters at fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm Only.

Of course, as beings fundamentally “immortal,” killing them was nearly impossible. Even if their souls were shattered, consciousness obliterated, and they were left to wander the void, they could seek revival as long as a fragment of their spirit endured.

Yet for Pallor, the limitation of her physical body was especially severe.

Even before becoming an angel, her bones had been fragile.

In her mortal life, a simple fall was enough to break her bones. To her, the world had always been harsh and perilous.

From the perspective of the Immortal Order, which venerated the beauty of bones (and truthfully, found little else of her appearance to revere), she was not considered especially gifted. However, her frailty had driven her to obsess over the concept of immortality.

Pallor found an aesthetic in her weak and delicate bones.

Birds could fly because their bones were hollow.

She believed her brittle bones were designed for her to soar through the skies.

After becoming undead, she sculpted countless flocks of birds from her own bones, dividing her body into hundreds, even thousands, of fragments. This act established her as the most capable sculptor in the Immortal Order and a herald of the Immortal Emperor.

Pallor had gained the power to sculpt the world itself.

To her, the world was merely a fragile sculpture of soft bones, easily carved. Her sole desire was to admire a world preserved in eternal beauty, like a masterpiece encased in a timeless tableau.

The Winterfang was one of her chisels for shaping the world.

***

The clash of steel echoed violently as Kaldwin and the Winterfang collided with a furious intensity. The Winterfang, which should have shattered instantly, screamed but endured. This was because Pallor poured enough power into it to crush even the souls within.

Pallor could not afford to let the Winterfang break. It was a masterpiece she had meticulously crafted over countless years.

The cursed blade was both a tool to protect Pallor’s frail body and a vessel for the immense power needed to sculpt the world.

More importantly, the countless souls of knights she had collected within it were not something Pallor could relinquish.

To fend off Isaac’s relentless strikes, Pallor even narrowed her Domain of Heat Death. Yet, Isaac’s sword aura seemed to devour her power endlessly, as if drawing it in.

["What... is this...?"]

A force so heavy and oppressive it seemed to consume her.

Within the darkness, Pallor felt a power both similar to and distinct from her own. While her power created infinite stillness, this force worked by condensing endlessly.

The artificial cold she crafted was swallowed whole.

["But that’s all."]

Pallor recognized Isaac’s strength, remarkable for a human, but she believed he had clear limits. Even while she blocked the Knights of Issacrea and clashed with Isaac, she felt confident in a drawn-out battle.

Subduing him instantly might not be possible, but over time, she was certain of her victory.

["A mere human, challenging an angel?"]

To Pallor, Isaac was laughable.

Yet at the same time, he piqued her curiosity.

It was inevitable—the gaze of an artist discovering a beautiful medium.

Youthful, beautiful, bold to the point of recklessness, with noble ideals, camaraderie, and above all, exceptional skill.

Everything about him was pleasing.

It would be a shame to destroy him outright.

["Holy Grail Knight."]

Thus, Pallor spoke first.

["This time, I’ll be generous. How about you take the Winterfang with you?"]

Isaac’s expression twisted subtly.

Pallor thought it a most magnanimous offer.

The Winterfang was a powerful relic. Seeing that he already carried two swords, Pallor assumed Isaac had a fondness for blades. In her experience, no knight could resist the allure of a fine sword.

Isaac, however, seemed to realize something, and he asked, "Are you... the blacksmith who was killed by Commander Linde?"

["I am,"] Pallor replied calmly.

["To be precise, I tricked her into thinking the Winterfang was her ’trophy.’ Linde was a knight of exceptional character and will. She was the first to make me feel anxious about failing to recover the Winterfang."]

“Why would you do such a thing?” Isaac demanded.

["To temper the Winterfang,"] Pallor answered.

To an artist, explaining a masterpiece was both a rare privilege and an important process.

Perhaps Pallor thought it not unpleasant to explain her "artwork" to Isaac, the finest knight she had encountered since becoming an angel.

["Every knight obsesses over a fine blade. I love knights—strong and courageous ones. Particularly those with noble spirits and virtuous hearts. The stronger their resolve, the better the Winterfang is forged. Watching them succumb to its power and reveal the darkness within... I find it captivating."]

Isaac wanted to scoff at her absurd explanation but had no room to indulge such a reaction.

“And why would I want something like that?”

["Are you afraid?"]

Pallor asked with a voice tinged with amusement.

["The Winterfang won’t try to dominate you until you become undead. For now, it simply lures knights who are entranced by its power, eventually making them a part of the sword itself."]

She whispered temptingly.

["But you might just become its final master."]

Isaac snorted. “My swords are the Luadin Key, which reflects the light of heaven, and Kaldwin, the holy blade of Elil. Do I look like I’m lacking weapons?”

["Wouldn’t it be interesting to add a notorious cursed blade, imbued with the souls of hundreds of knights, to your collection?"]

Isaac hesitated for a moment, though he didn’t show it.

It wasn’t the Holy Grail Knight in him that faltered—it was the gamer.

The desire to collect rare artifacts is a universal temptation for gamers, especially when it involves obtaining a powerful relic that was unobtainable in the game.

But instead of answering, Isaac channeled more power into Kaldwin, pressing it against Pallor. She sighed, disappointed by his silent rejection.

["Well... you can always reconsider after you’re dead."]

The tension in the air was palpable.

Pallor directed her will toward one of the nearby Death Knights. The fallen knight staggered to its feet, lurching toward Isaac. Drawing a dagger from its robes, the undead knight thrust it into Isaac’s left flank.

The blade sank deep under his ribs with a thunk. Yet Isaac didn’t flinch. His unwavering focus unsettled Pallor. No knight could be so consumed by battle that they ignored such pain.

‘One more strike….’

Pallor commanded the Death Knight to stab him again. As the dagger twisted, its wielder could not withdraw it. Instead, the Death Knight’s hand pressed deeper.

A grotesque sound of bones cracking and grinding made Pallor’s breath catch.

["No."]

Pallor’s voice trembled as she commanded the Death Knight to retreat. But before it could, the dagger was devoured by a mouth that had formed where Isaac’s wound should have been.

The opening yawned wide, revealing rows of sharp, sinewy tendrils that lashed out, consuming the Death Knight’s hand and arm.

The crunch of bone breaking made Pallor shudder.

Isaac’s ribcage extended its tongue-like appendages, licking as if savoring the gruesome meal.

["What are you?"]

Pallor’s voice, which had been soft and seductive, turned sharp and hostile.

She had heard rumors that Isaac was aligned with the Domain of Chaos. But he had shown only righteousness and camaraderie, distancing himself from those powers.

This, however, was no righteous knight. It was a monster.

Isaac chuckled, his laugh devoid of humor.

Pallor’s gaze fell to his violet-tinged eyes, where writhing tendrils of darkness stirred, sending a chill through her.

She had fought countless Outer Boundary entities, but she couldn’t fathom the nature of the thing that lay beneath this Holy Grail Knight’s skin.

“Disappointed that I’m not the noble, gallant knight you were hoping for?”

In Pallor’s vision of a perfect, eternal world, there was no place for monsters.

To her, Isaac was an abomination that deserved to be purged. She resolved to carve him out of existence entirely.

Frost began to gather at Isaac’s fingertips.

["Die, monster."]

***

“We need to help Isaac!”

Despite the wounds he’d sustained holding off the Avalanche Knight Order, Gebel shouted, his voice hoarse but resolute. He squirmed in his seat, ignoring his half-bandaged injuries.

Rottenhammer shared his frustration but shook his head.

Even though Isaac and Pallor had vanished into the thick, dark shroud of her Domain of Heat Death, its oppressive reach continued to close in around them.

“Isaac’s in there fighting an angel by himself! If you won’t help, at least let me go!” Gebel snapped.

But his plea fell on the weary shoulders of the Knights of Issacrea, who were barely holding their ground under the blessings of hymns and miracles. Rottenhammer shoved Gebel back down into his seat, glaring.

“Look around, idiot! Does this battlefield look like a place any human could survive? All we can do is trust the Holy Grail Knight!”

He gestured to the carnage left in Isaac’s wake. Death Knights, armor, and stone debris had been cleaved in a straight line, leaving a path of destruction too precise to comprehend. The trail disappeared into the dark veil.

Whatever Isaac was facing inside that shadow, Rottenhammer couldn’t imagine it.

“Isaac is a hero under the protection and blessing of the gods. Our job is to trust and support him!”

“Then what are we here for? Just to tail after the hero and watch him fight?” Gebel growled.

Rottenhammer, equally exasperated, retorted, “Watch your mouth! You want to break through that deathly domain? It’ll rip you apart before you take two steps!”

Before he could finish, a calm voice interrupted.

“I will go.”

Rottenhammer turned to see a knight standing at the edge of the Domain of Heat Death.

The man’s name eluded him—someone insignificant.

“If you believe in the Holy Grail Knight, you will not die.”

‘Ansel,’ Rottenhammer suddenly recalled. Ansel had been a knight of the Issacrea estate even before the formation of the current order.

Before Rottenhammer could shout a warning, Ansel stepped into the deadly cold.

Rottenhammer held his breath, praying for a miracle.

But, as expected, Ansel began to freeze instantly, his armor creaking and cracking under the frost.

Yet, despite the ice spreading across his body, Ansel moved forward.

TL Note: Read Next 50+ Chapters on Patreon - /Akaza156

[ $5 - 10 Chapters]

[$10 - 20 Chapters]

[$20 - 50+ Chapters]