Paladin of the Dead God
Chapter 90

Isaac couldn’t understand why he kept dreaming of being killed by the Immortal Order. Nor could he comprehend why he was the old man in yellow clothes.

‘It’s not like the nameless chaos is messing with me now, maybe….’

Isaac recalled the book of the Nameless Worm. The moment he created it, he felt momentarily connected to another world, and the aftermath seemed to affect him.

He would have preferred to face a physical assault, like the Night Stalker, able to fight or devour the intruder, rather than suffer these nightmares. The content was too troubling to comfortably share with anyone, so he kept it to himself.

It was still the dark blue dawn outside.

Unable to fall back asleep, Isaac went outside.

From atop the city walls, the Issacrea estate was quiet. The changing sight of his estate somewhat satisfied Isaac’s heart. However, his peaceful dawn stroll was interrupted by an unexpected figure.

“Need help?”

Isaac asked Eidan, who was hanging at the end of the wall.

“Sir Holy Grail Knight. It’s nice to see you.”

Eidan answered with an awkward expression. Before Eidan could finish speaking, Isaac grabbed his hand and pulled him up forcefully. He did not wish to cause a diplomat from the Salt Council to fall to his death.

“Why were you climbing the walls at dawn? I need a connection with a blacksmith, not a corpse from the Salt Council.”

“I can climb this much. I was just startled by suddenly running into Mr. Isaac. And the guards are lax at this time… Actually, I wanted to seek you out again, secretly.”

“Secretly?”

“The blacksmith has agreed to meet. However, there is a condition.”

“A condition?”

“Of course, it’s a reasonable request. That you protect the blacksmith while he stays in your estate.”

Isaac narrowed his eyes. Eidan was right; it was a reasonable demand.

Many would target the blacksmith for his incredible skills, This is especially true for a blacksmith who has entered the continent.

Isaac had no intention of letting the blacksmith slip through his fingers and naturally planned to protect him. However, depending on who was after the craftsman, the condition could either be cheap or costly.

“Who is after the blacksmith?”

“If you’re thinking of refusing upon hearing the condition, that would be problematic. I am also being pursued, so it’s difficult for me to speak freely.”

Tiredness was evident on Eidan’s face. Climbing walls since dawn suggested he was avoiding pursuers.

Isaac realized the situation for the blacksmith and Eidan wasn’t good. They were putting on a brave front, but without Isaac’s protection, they were in a tough spot.

“If it involves opposing the Codex of Light, that would be troublesome.”

Isaac could handle many things, but not that. It was impossible to live in the White Empire while opposing the Codex of Light. Eidan shook his head.

“It’s not the Codex of Light.”

“Hmm, if it’s the blacksmith, many would ask for protection, so why me?”

“Perhaps they trust in Mr. Isaac’s reputation and integrity…?”

Eidan answered with a vague smile. Isaac read between the lines of Eidan’s heart.

True to the faith of the Salt Council, Eidan’s trust in Isaac’s reputation and integrity was not a lie, but it was only part of the truth. More than that, it was Isaac’s open-mindedness, the rumors of his noble status as a Holy Grail Knight, and his capability to stand against angels that had truly impressed him.

‘Do I need the power to stand against angels? Who is pursuing him so desperately?’

Isaac attempted to use his Chaos Eye to peer into Eidan’s deeper intentions. However, followers of the Salt Council, while unable to lie, were skilled at concealing their deepest secrets.

Others might have been deceived.

But Isaac alone could sense the fragments.

Darkness, white bones, chill.

Isaac unknowingly clenched his fist. A sudden chill made his fingertips ache.

Startled by the sudden shift in Isaac’s demeanor, Eidan stepped back. Isaac guessed the identity of those pursuing the blacksmith. He was unsure how they had made it to the Gerthonia Empire, but he was convinced their appearance was not coincidental.

“Fine. Bring the blacksmith.”

Isaac’s interest shifted from the craftsman himself to those targeting him.

With a tangible intent to kill.

***

‘Is it already a month since our promise?’

In the evening, Isolde went to find Isaac in the central hall. However, what she wanted to say was not ‘Why haven’t you shown me a miracle as promised?’ but to offer an extension, even indefinitely.

Truth be told, Isolde felt that Isaac’s management of the estate was miraculous in its own right.

‘Honestly, I thought maintaining the status quo would be impressive enough.’

No one expected Isaac to be fit for lordship. Isaac was a man of the sword, not of administration.

Yet, the Issacrea estate was changing day by day.

This wasn’t to say that Isaac’s managerial skills were extraordinary. In terms of agriculture, Lehart was better; for commerce or logistics, Caitlin was superior.

What overshadowed these was Isaac’s discernment, his ability to rally people, and a progressive stance rarely seen among the upper echelons of religious orders.

Indeed, these three qualities were crucial for a leader.

Isolde, observing from a step back, could see the changes in the estate, but almost everyone within seemed almost bewitched in their following of Isaac. The dramatic transformation of the estate was largely due to his overwhelming charisma.

Even the priests and paladins sent by the order followed Isaac. Regardless of his ability to defeat angels, their deep faith in him seemed almost unnatural.

‘Isaac does have a compelling charm.’

This was different from rational appeal or appearance.

His speech, vocabulary, demeanor, all radiated a compelling force.

How a newly adult paladin possessed such qualities was beyond her. Isaac seemed to carry a conviction that his actions were just, supported by his mysterious abilities and charm. Even Isolde felt swayed to follow him.

What held her back from these impulses was her position as an Inquisitor and Isaac’s occasionally anti-church remarks.

‘It’s clear Isaac isn’t fond of the church. But the church isn’t exactly the Codex of Light… He’s not a heretic yet.’

Isaac’s unique interpretations of scripture sometimes baffled her. scripture interpretation could easily lead to accusations of heresy, a concern not lost on her, but she sensed good intent and justice in his interpretations, avoiding malicious misinterpretations.

The fact that she could make such interpretations was precisely because she wasn’t a full Inquisitor.

‘Did my father… foresee this situation when he made me an Inquisitor?’

Isolde thought of her father. Not warm, but not cold-hearted either.

He had pushed her into the Inquisitor position, half by force, yet taught her to maintain her own perspective.

Thanks to him, Isolde could perform her duties without succumbing to fanaticism. It wasn’t a path to promotion, but Isolde vaguely understood his intentions.

Ironically, those who stood up to the corrupt old men of the church were likely to be Inquisitors themselves.

In the midst of unexpected turmoil filling the central hall, Isolde’s confusion grew as she observed the flurry of activity around her. Knights, soldiers, and bureaucrats were already gathered, buzzing with concern.

“What’s happened?” Isolde asked, grabbing a bureaucrat who seemed particularly agitated.

The bureaucrat’s alarm upon seeing her only deepened her sense of unease, though she did her best not to show it.

“Sir Knight Werner returned from investigating poachers. He went to warn a village of slash-and-burn farmers not to encroach on the Lord’s lands, but found only bloodstains instead of people,” the bureaucrat hesitated before continuing.

“Bloodstains?”

“Yes, and not just from one or two people. It seems like a mass amount, but no bodies were found…”

Realizing what the bureaucrat was hinting at, Isolde’s expression hardened instantly. Raids, mass bloodstains, and an empty village were not uncommon in the frontier.

The ‘Draft’ of the Black Empire.

She understood why the bureaucrat had recoiled at her presence.

This was Gerthonia Empire territory, albeit on the fringes of the White Empire, but still far from the Black Empire. A Draft by the Immortality Cult here was no small matter.

Then, Isaac entered with a stern expression. Dressed in armor, except for his head, he seemed ready for immediate action.

“Send word to Captain Jacquette of the mercenaries to scout the estate’s surroundings immediately. Patrols should consist of no less than ten, including knights. Priests, please bless the walls,” Isaac commanded, outlining measures for the residents’ protection and defense strategies. However, before he could finish, he sharply turned his gaze northwest.

Following his lead, Isolde and the others turned in the same direction.

The civilians, unfamiliar with such sensations, were merely puzzled by the chilling aura, but those of the clergy understood the ominous meaning behind it.

Isolde paled at the force of the aura.

‘At least a bishop’s level…?’

Displaying such chill without concealment was akin to a declaration of war or a warning to back off. Yet, it seemed no one here had any intention of retreating.

Especially Isaac, who seemed almost prepared for this, burning with a calm fighting spirit.

That’s when someone burst into the hall.

“Lord! A mysterious group attacked a merchant caravan near the bridge! The merchants have urgently requested aid.”

“Understood. Immediately…”

Isaac paused, contemplating. The knights too realized the implications of the report.

“The bridge is to the southeast, isn’t it? That’s…”

It was the complete opposite direction from where the chilling aura was detected. Isaac and Isolde quickly understood the hidden message from the source of the chill: stay out if you don’t want to be broken. Given the significant power behind it, if Isaac left to save the merchants, the estate might be attacked in his absence.

Caught in a difficult situation, Isolde spoke up without hesitation.

“I’ll head towards the bridge. Sir Holy Grail Knight, please protect the people.”