Paladin of the Dead God

Since humanity began recording history… in this world, that meant about a thousand years.

Expressions like “since the Lighthouse Keeper Luadin brought forth the Dawn Tablet” or “since the beginning of the Age of Light” followed the same pattern. Human civilization had begun alongside the Codex of Light, and all civilizations before that, no matter how grand their structures or nations, were classified as the era of “barbarism.”

The history before that was erased and worn away, passed down only through oral tradition. Only the glorious history of humanity after the start of the Age of Light was preserved in written records.

And now, Brother Horhel, a monk, was standing on the verge of witnessing the largest war since the dawn of history. He watched from a high hill as the main forces of the Dawn Army marched forward.

Once a crowd grew large enough, it no longer appeared as individuals moving, but like the flow of a river.

People bumped into each other, split apart, and bypassed obstacles in motions that mirrored the behavior of fluids.

However, what Horhel imagined now was not a river. He envisioned the tide slowly rising toward the shore, an unstoppable force that would soon submerge the land completely.

Yet, this tidal wave did not consist solely of humans.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Giant, white marble statues in the form of stags walked with heavy steps through the marching army. These colossal beings, known as the White Guardians, had been summoned from heaven through a ritual. Each over ten meters tall, they moved on six legs, dragging an enormous amount of supplies and siege equipment that no human strength could hope to carry.

Among the equipment they hauled were the “lighthouses.”

These structures, which indeed resembled towers, had sled-like bases to support their immense weight, as wheels could not handle the load.

The role of these lighthouses was much like their common function—guiding the lost. However, these lighthouses guided the lost by burning them. Priests stationed atop the towers used special relics to incinerate and obliterate enemies in an instant.

The sight of dozens of beams of light pouring from the lighthouses onto the enemy was simple yet majestic. The lighthouses not only indicated where the enemy was but also made it easier to command the troops.

But the lighthouses were not the only tools used to annihilate the enemy.

There were “Ivory Idols,” which could paralyze and render minds blank just by the recitation of scripture. The “Baptists” rained down sacred fire from the heavens. And the “Teeth of Saint Aila” granted vitality and healing to allies whenever heretics were thrown into flames. These were only a few of the many sacred weapons prepared for battle.

Some of these devices had been crafted by the Blind Sentinel, an Archangel of the Holy City Lichtheim, specifically for its defense. They had even stripped some defenses from the Holy City itself to arm the Dawn Army for this campaign. The entire strength of the Codex of Light had been committed.

Horhel was overwhelmed with emotion, unable to express in words how it felt to witness such a glorious moment before his death.

But it was too early to be excited. The war had only just begun.

“A grand sight, isn’t it, Brother Horhel?”

A large palanquin approached, gleaming in the sunlight. Inside, surrounded by golden decorations, sat Cardinal Rohen Otter.

“To be honest, when we first started assembling the Dawn Army, I had doubts if we could really pull it off. But the Codex of Light is indeed powerful.”

Horhel looked at Rohen Otter with a blank expression.

He had no thoughts of his own, only followed the instructions given by the angels, the messengers of God.

That was the mindset of the Watcher’s Council.

However, it seemed that Rohen had indulged in luxury for far too long.

“At this point, there’s no need for the angels to intervene, don’t you think? We should be able to crush the *Immortal Order* easily.”

“Overconfidence leads to defeat,” Horhel replied calmly.

“Many of the weapons and sacred beasts here participated in previous Dawn Army campaigns. Yet, despite that, we’ve failed to reclaim the Holy Land for a long time. We’ve only had our equipment seized, allowing them to grow stronger.”

Horhel gestured toward the vast numbers of soldiers. The ranks of tents stretched endlessly toward the horizon, and more soldiers continued to arrive, their march seemingly unending.

“Every day, we burn through an entire forest’s worth of wood just to provide these soldiers with enough firewood. Feeding them consumes as much food as an entire city would need.”

Rohen tilted his head, struggling to grasp the scale of what Horhel was saying.

“War is a cycle of consumption, exhaustion, and attrition. The side that can sustain this irrational, inefficient state the longest will win. In that sense, the Immortal Order has a clear advantage. They consume nothing, so just by enduring, they can win.”

No matter how thoroughly they prepared, they could not afford to be complacent. The reason the once weak Immortal Order had survived and risen to challenge the Codex of Light was not due to anything other than the fact that time itself was on their side.

Rohen’s expression hardened slightly at Horhel’s words. It irritated Horhel—this young cardinal still saw war as something distant and abstract.

“That’s why we must wipe them out, even if it means pushing ourselves to the limit. This could very well be our last chance with the Dawn Army.”

Rohen awkwardly nodded, coughing several times before shifting the conversation to his original purpose.

“Ah, yes… I understand. On another note, it seems that Dera Heman failed to bring Isaac back to the main Dawn Army force.”

Horhel raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Dera Heman?”

“Yes. He reported his defeat rather calmly. Apparently, Inquisitor Soltnar Culvain both died as martyrs during the battle.”

“…Soltnar died, but the Golden Lion survived?”

“Yes, it seems the Burning Maiden incinerated Soltnar, while Isaac was protected by the Sword of May. It appears the angels wish for Isaac to lead the Dawn Army of Issacrea.”

The Holy Grail Knights had not been informed about any disagreements between the archangels. But Horhel sensed that there had been a subtle conflict among the angels. After all, the Burning Maiden was Dera Heman’s guardian angel.

The Watcher’s Council directly communicated with the angels, but that didn’t mean they always understood their intentions. Sometimes, the angels gave contradictory or conflicting commands.

Bringing Isaac into the main force of the Dawn Army hadn’t been a directive from the angels—it had been a decision made by the Council. Yet, when they consulted the angels, none had objected.

Only when it came time to actually bring him did they intervene and stop it.

Of course, they didn’t know the specifics of what had happened at Odryf, so the exact reasons for the angels’ actions were unclear.

Horhel felt a creeping sense of fear rise within him once again.

‘There is no guarantee that the angels’ goals align perfectly with the interests of the Codex of Light.’

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