Paladin of the Dead God

Those watching were shocked.

‘He took that black sphere head-on yesterday, but now he’s backing off?’

Isaac’s swing cut through nothing but air, yet Dera felt an unsettling chill. Under normal circumstances, he could have endured the strike easily—his armor, blessed by divine miracles, should have withstood it without issue. But something in his instincts screamed at him to be wary of the man before him.

The person standing before Dera was no longer Kalsen.

It was a new beast, a monster that had emerged from the storm of the hunter and the lion’s battle.

Isaac, with his hazy gaze and staggering movements, seemed lost in thought. Dera was on the verge of shouting at him to “give Kalsen back,” but before the words could leave his mouth, Isaac transformed—becoming the storm itself, charging at him like an avalanche.

Isaac unleashed his Isaac Swordsmanship: Eightfold Path, the strikes moving to engulf Dera from every direction. To Dera, it appeared as though an entire mountain was collapsing on top of him, with a monster lurking deep within the avalanche.

‘What… what is this?!’

Dera retaliated with his own high-level swordsmanship, bright beams of light erupting as they tore through the dark energy coming at him. Trusting in his miracles and holy power, he accepted the risk of being wounded to break through Isaac’s attack.

The more ferocious Isaac’s strikes, the greater the risk for him if Dera could deflect them. Isaac still bore the remnants of Kalsen’s influence, and Dera saw his chance.

Crack, crack!

Dera’s armor and body sustained blows that would have ripped an ordinary person apart, but his limbs stayed attached. Knowing that as long as his body remained intact, he could push through, Dera shattered through the core of the Eightfold Path with a decisive strike aimed at cutting Isaac in half.

Crash!

But waiting for him was Kaldwin, Isaac’s sword, held in a perfect counter to block the deadly strike. Dera was stunned. The powerful attack he had just delivered was nothing more than a feint, a move to keep Dera off-balance.

‘He anticipated my movements?’

At this distance, the fight should have already been over. Dera’s Luadin Key was now glowing so brightly it drained the color from everything around it. It was the pinnacle of the Golden Lion Paladin’s swordsmanship, a technique only a handful of former commanders had ever mastered.

The Sword of Judgment—a blade forged in the image of the weapon used by angels to punish sinners.

Dera had reserved this secret weapon specifically to defeat Kalsen.

But as he raised the sword to strike, Dera saw something that made him question his sanity.

Isaac mimicked his movements—perfectly.

It was an impossible, yet terrifyingly real vision.

His hand moved on instinct, the Sword of Judgment slicing through the air, calling forth a blinding light from heaven itself. The flash and the deafening sound of the attack were so overwhelming that none of the paladins watching doubted Isaac had just been executed. It was a method far too luxurious for an execution, but fitting for one who had committed such sins. ȓἈɴóBЕⱾ

However, as the light faded, what was revealed left the gathered paladins speechless.

Isaac stood there, sword raised as if he had sliced upward from below. Beside him, the Luadin Key, split cleanly in two, lay on the ground, its once-glowing brilliance reduced to a dull, ashen hue. Before Isaac, Dera Heman knelt, clutching his face, blood dripping between his fingers.

Crack, crack…

The shattered fragments of Dera’s mask fell to the ground, slipping through his trembling hands.

Isaac had won.

***

Despite the clarity of the outcome, the scene was so shocking that no one could speak.

Dera Heman, the commander of the Golden Lion Paladins, was on his knees, and the Luadin Key, a symbol of the paladin’s honor, lay broken on the ground.

More shocking still was that the Sword of Judgment, a technique imparted by angels themselves, had been defeated. Historically, no human had ever managed to deflect, let alone destroy, such a divine weapon.

The whole sight bordered on blasphemy.

Isaac, panting heavily, finally relaxed his stance, the adrenaline draining from his body.

His entire body screamed in agony.

Kalsen’s use of advanced swordsmanship had taken a massive toll on him, and Isaac had strained his body even further by forcing himself to absorb Kalsen’s knowledge in such a short time. His muscles spasmed in pain, and his strength was completely sapped, causing him to collapse.

‘I couldn’t even beat a squirrel with a stick right now.’

Isaac briefly worried that Soltnar might charge at him out of revenge. He could only hope that the paladins still had some sense of honor. However, when Isaac turned his gaze to Dera Heman, he realized his current concern wasn’t with Soltnar or anyone else—it was with Dera.

Blood was steadily dripping from the cracks in Dera’s mask.

Dera’s mind raced as he recalled the moment their swords had clashed.

‘It’s certain now. He watched my swordsmanship… and mimicked it on the spot.’

As Dera had brought down the Sword of Judgment, Isaac had subtly shifted his blade’s trajectory, striking upward from below. But just as the heavenly light fell from above, Isaac had summoned a dark force from deep within, meeting the angelic strike head-on.

The precision with which Isaac had timed and executed his counter was unnerving. He had exploited Dera’s weakest point, striking directly in front of his mask.

What do you call a sword that defies an angel’s judgment?

The word that crossed Dera’s mind was blasphemy. The sheer irreverence of it sent chills down his spine. What had Isaac seen, or what had he aimed to strike, that allowed him to manifest such a terrifying technique?

Dera looked down at the pool of blood gathering in his hands. It had been a long time since he had bled this much.

And whenever that happened, she appeared.

His seven eyes, hidden behind the shattered mask, suddenly turned pure white.

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