Paladin of the Dead God-Chapter 389: The Masked Monster (1)

“A suicide march?”

Isaac tilted his head as he considered the phrase. His thoughts circled back to the possibility that the Lighthouse Keeper’s schemes were behind the Dawn Army’s movements. If anyone knew more about it, it would be Pallor, an Archangel of the Immortal Order.

Pallor, with her arms loosely crossed, glared at Isaac with a mixture of contempt and amusement.

“The Codex of Light has never reclaimed the Holy Land Lua except during the 1st and 3rd Dawn Army campaigns.” Her voice carried the weight of a teacher lecturing a child. “The leader of the 1st Dawn Army, Bishop Villaire, became the Archangel known as ‘The Dead December.’ The commander of the 3rd Dawn Army, King Sarka Noir, became the Archangel known as ‘The Lord of the Graveyard.’”

Isaac let out a quiet sigh of disappointment.

This was common knowledge—stories known to anyone who had even a passing familiarity with the Codex of Light’s history. He had expected something more secretive or forbidden. In comparison, the tale of Pallor herself—who had apparently once been a destitute artist before becoming an Archangel—was far more intriguing.

“Right, and then you showed up as the runt of the litter. It’s true that the Codex of Light’s campaigns have ended up strengthening the Immortal Order’s forces. So? Are you saying it’s going to happen again?”

Isaac pretended to be annoyed, feigning frustration to provoke Pallor into revealing more.

Pallor smiled slyly and snapped her fingers.

From the dark, surreal mental space they shared, a chair rose up from the floor as if it had been there all along. Pallor gracefully sat down with ease, crossing her legs like she was in complete control.

Isaac was briefly speechless at the audacity. This was his mental world, yet Pallor was moving through it like it was her own home.

“How did you do that?”

“What, you don’t know what a chair is?”

Pallor raised an eyebrow and squinted at him as if he were the strange one.

“Wait a second… is this not Urbansus?” she muttered, scanning her surroundings. “I thought this was the Forest of Forgetfulness.”

“The afterlife, huh?”

Isaac found the thought strangely amusing. Technically, she wasn’t wrong. This space was within his stomach, a place where devoured souls lingered. From Pallor’s perspective, it would be no different from being sent to a different god’s afterlife.

Seeing no reason to correct her, Isaac decided to use her misconception to his advantage.

“Yeah, it’s the Forest of Forgetfulness, sure. But I’ve never seen someone summon furniture before.”

“Then study harder, fool. Being a pretty face is only useful if you’re smart too.”

Isaac briefly considered pointing out that it was she who had been devoured by a “foolish garbage can,” but he held his tongue.

Just to test the concept, Isaac concentrated on the image of a chair. To his surprise, a simple wooden chair manifested behind him.

‘Can anyone do this in Urbansus?’

Isaac wasn’t sure if this was something unique to him, but the discovery made him feel like his encounter with Pallor had been worth it.

Pallor, still seated, gazed at him with the confidence of someone who had already won.

“Let’s continue, shall we? You don’t understand the Immortal Emperor’s ‘Great Cause’, do you? It doesn’t matter what grand strategy the Lighthouse Keeper has, what scheme the Red Chalice is brewing, or what seeds are being buried by the World’s Forge—all of it is trivial under the Great Cause. Meaningless distractions, every one of them.”

Her words were cold, absolute.

“This Dawn Army is no different. All it did was accelerate the path toward the Great Cause.”

“Really? Then why does it feel like the Lighthouse Keeper is doing too good of a job? This Dawn Army feels far stronger than any of the previous ones, and there’s even talk that this one is the last.”

At those words, Pallor’s expression froze for a moment.

Isaac knew it too. This Dawn Army was different. Unlike past attempts, this one was driven by the full power of the Empire, a force at its absolute limit. To withstand it, the Immortal Order had no choice but to mobilize all their Archangels and undead forces.

And then Isaac struck the rear, forcing their attention to be split. Defending the frontlines was difficult enough, but with the rear constantly under threat, the Order was being slowly bled of its forces.

“Maybe the Immortal Emperor is being tricked by the Lighthouse Keeper.”

Isaac decided to voice the rumors he’d been hearing from Linde. It was a safe risk since even Linde had been speculating about it.

Pallor’s response was a bitter laugh of contempt.

“The Lighthouse Keeper? Trick the Immortal Emperor? You fool.”

Her grin widened as she shook her head.

“The Lighthouse Keeper is powerful, yes. He’s so arrogant that he thinks he can oppose the gods themselves. But that arrogance is also the downfall of all Archangels. You have no idea how many of us have fallen because of it.”

Isaac couldn’t deny that hubris was a familiar pattern.

The Archangels were all powerful figures whose abilities were recognized by the gods themselves. Their downfall was inevitable when they believed themselves to be equal to their creators.

“But the Immortal Emperor? He doesn’t need to outplay the Lighthouse Keeper. He allows him to play his little games because, ultimately, even his “grand plan” fits perfectly into his Greater Cause. The Emperor’s cause requires no complexity or cunning. His will naturally comes to pass.”

It was a simple, elegant doctrine.

Isaac smirked. It seemed like nobody in Urbansus could be trusted. Lies, betrayal, and manipulation were common currency. And that included the gods and angels.

“So what exactly is this Great Cause?” Isaac asked, his eyes locked on Pallor.

“Immortality.”

Pallor grinned as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“The Immortal Order never loses. The Emperor’s cause is to bring salvation and eternal life to all. Even you, a monster like you, can be saved.”

Her grin shifted into a sneer of disgust.

Isaac mulled over the meaning of her words. Everything she’d said matched with what he knew of the Immortal Order’s doctrine.

‘So maybe it really is too far-fetched to think the Lighthouse Keeper is tricking Beshek.’

If anything, it made more sense that the Lighthouse Keeper was being used by Beshek.

Or perhaps they were simply aligned. Their ultimate goals might not be as different as they seemed.

Regardless, one truth remained clear:

The war of gods and angels was fueled by the endless grinding of mortal lives.

“So, I take it the Immortal Emperor plans to crush the Dawn Army, right?”

“Of course. They will all become part of the Order’s forces. Perhaps even Dera Heman will be worthy of becoming an Archangel.”

“But what if, by some chance, the Dawn Army actually takes the Holy Land Lua?”

Pallor didn’t respond.

She only gave him a chilling smile, her eyes never leaving his face.

It was clear she had no intention of answering that question.

Isaac met her smile with one of his own.

“Come on, you’re already abandoned by Beshek. If you’re going to be stuck in a trash heap, wouldn’t you prefer to be in a clean, well-decorated one? Why not tell me something useful?”

“Persistent fool…”

Pallor sneered as she gazed up at the unseen ceiling, her eyes filled with amusement and cold indifference.

"That will never happen. But if it does..."

Pallor tilted her head slowly, her cold smile unwavering.

"...then you will witness the fulfillment of the Immortal Emperor’s Great Cause a thousand years ahead of schedule."

Isaac conversed with Pallor for a while longer, but after her cryptic response about the Dawn Army’s conquest of the Holy Land Lua, she grew noticeably more reserved. Her once sharp tongue had dulled, and she offered little of value in return.

Realizing the futility of further conversation, Isaac decided to end it.

‘The whole point was to see if she had fully digested or not. In that sense, this wasn’t a waste of time.’

As he prepared to exit his meditative state, a sudden thought struck him. He turned to Pallor and asked:

"By the way, have you seen a certain Paladin around here?"

Pallor narrowed her eyes, tilting her head with mild curiosity.

"And why should I answer you?"

“Come on, you’ll want a neighbor, won’t you? A little company might do you good. His name’s Kalsen Miller—I’m sure you’ve heard of him.”

At the mention of the name, Pallor’s eyes widened.

“Kalsen Miller? That heretic? I thought he just vanished one day... Was it you? Did you eat him? No, wait a second. You’re, what, twenty years old? Kalsen disappeared over ten years ago. How old were you when you devoured him?”

"Forget the timeline. Did you see him or not?"

“Hmph. I’ve seen a lot of trash floating around, but I didn’t spot him specifically. If he’s here, I’ll find him eventually.”

Her tone was indifferent, but her interest was clearly piqued.

She didn’t particularly care whether Kalsen was alive or dead. However, something about his disappearance had left a lingering sense of unease in her. She hated the idea of leaving something unresolved.

Isaac let the topic drop and ended his meditation.

***

When Isaac returned to the military encampment, the sun had already risen.

The first people to greet him were Tuhalin and Edelred, who both seemed surprised to see him walking in from outside.

Edelred, his face filled with confusion, quickly approached.

“Holy Grail Knight? Weren’t you just talking with us back at the camp? When did you go out?”

Isaac’s eyes flickered with understanding, and he replied calmly.

“I went to check the remnants of Pallor one more time. I thought it might be necessary.”

“But—”

“Ah, of course!” Tuhalin cut in with a knowing nod. “His Majesty was just talking about how hard it was to believe an Archangel could be destroyed so easily. It must have been nagging at you, huh? You wanted to make absolutely sure, right?”

Isaac immediately nodded.

“Indeed. Rest assured, Pallor will not return.”

“Then I suppose that’s that. That only leaves the other two—The Dead December and The Lord of the Graveyard. If they’re sent to stop us, the Dawn Army won’t have the strength to hold them off. But if they stay put, we may just reach the Holy Land Lua with no further issues.”

“Don’t forget about the Celestial Beasts and the elite Eclipse Legion. There are still plenty of threats, so let’s stay alert.”

Isaac’s calm, steady response made it easy for Edelred to accept the situation. Being a young king, Edelred lacked the experience to detect subtle inconsistencies in conversation.

But not Tuhalin.

As Isaac began to walk past, Tuhalin grabbed his sleeve and whispered in his ear.

“That little toy of yours, whatever it is, don’t overuse it. If you’re not careful, rumors will start that the Holy Grail Knight is doing something strange. I know you like sneaking off on your own, but at least inform one of us. Understood?”

Isaac felt a brief flash of discomfort. He hadn’t fooled Tuhalin after all.

With a wry smile, he nodded.

“I’ll be more careful. Thanks, Tuhalin.”

Back in his personal tent, Isaac finally let down his guard.

The first thing he saw was another Isaac, standing in the center of the tent, waiting for him.

The clone bore his face, his posture, his very essence. He was perfectly identical to him.

Without a word, the clone reached out and clasped Isaac’s hand.

The next moment, “Recall” activated. The clone’s body collapsed into wisps of energy and was drawn into Isaac’s body.

This was the ability he had acquired after devouring Pallor:

[Form of Division (S+)]

“Through the self-inflicted agony of separation, you have earned a sixth finger.”

You can divide portions of your strength and flesh to create a perfect copy of yourself.

The clone can be recalled at any time using “Recall,” absorbing its knowledge, memories, and experiences.

he “Original” is determined by which body contains the soul.

If the clone is destroyed, the portion of strength and energy used to create it is lost.

It was, in essence, the same ability Pallor had used to create her flocks of bone birds.

Her real body had always been hidden, while her fragments waged war. Likewise, Isaac’s clone was an extension of himself, albeit a weaker one.

Before heading off to meet Pallor, he had created this clone so that his absence wouldn’t be noticed. This had been a simple test of his new ability.

As soon as he recalled the clone, all its memories and thoughts flooded into him.

Tuhalin and Edelred had discussed the upcoming battle plan—how to approach the Labyrinth Valley, whether to expect another Archangel, and the status of enemy forces. It was all standard fare for a war council.

But during the conversation, Tuhalin had noticed something.

‘He must have spotted a difference.’

The clone was a perfect reflection of Isaac. Its mind, reasoning, and responses were identical to his own. But there was something only someone like Tuhalin could see—the subtle difference between the original flame and an imitation spark.

Isaac didn’t feel any existential crisis from this realization. The clone wasn’t a “separate entity” to him. It was more like an extra limb.

Just like how having a sixth finger doesn’t create an identity crisis for the other five fingers, Isaac saw no issue in using his clones.

‘It’s probably because they’re made from my tendrils.’