Paladin of the Dead God-Chapter 427: Beneath the Beautiful Skin (2)

Atlan heard Manseungja’s words but couldn’t comprehend them.

"Elil has manifested? A god? Descending from Urbansus like the Immortal Emperor?"

Was such a thing even possible?

If gods could freely walk the earth, then why hadn’t they done so from the beginning? If even a fraction of the legends about Elil were true, then this world would have long since fallen under the dominion of that god of war.

"How... can that be?"

[Because this has been declared the Final Battlefield! Elil has always longed for a war that ends everything—where either the world shatters, or he himself does. To fight Elil here is madness!]

Atlan still couldn’t grasp it.

But it was clear there were rules—things only gods and angels understood.

Manseungja repeated her command.

[Let Elil deal with the Immortal Emperor. Let the gods fight amongst themselves! Withdraw!]

Hooo...

The autumn leaves scattered.

From within them, Elil exhaled deeply.

His true form was still obscured, visible only as a silhouette, but even from that alone, Atlan could feel the storm of power radiating from him.

"That... that is Elil? The Elil? The conqueror of an era?"

[Atlan, now!]

Atlan clenched his teeth.

"Can Olkan not descend as well?"

[What?!]

"If Elil can manifest, then surely Olkan can too! Grant me strength! I will fight Elil!"

[You idiot! You’re not just a warrior—you’re a Khan, commanding thousands of tribes! Think!]

"Which is why I must fight! If Elil is serious, then half of my army will die here! Why does he get to interfere in human wars, but Olkan does not? That is—"

[Because if gods fully intervene, this war will become something else entirely—!]

["Begone."]

Elil’s voice rumbled through the battlefield.

A mere whisper—

But at that single word, Manseungja’s presence vanished from Atlan’s mind.

Elil had banished her.

Step.

From within the swirling leaves, Edelred—or rather, his body, now taken by Elil—emerged.

His physical form remained unchanged.

But his eyes—those green flames—

They burned with such an intensity that Atlan could not even meet them directly.

Atlan’s gaze flickered to Edelred’s armor, where his own hoofprint was still visible.

"I should have killed him then."

And yet—he didn’t feel regret.

Elil looked at him.

Creak.

The sound of Kaldwin tightening in his grip echoed like a ship’s anchor straining against a storm.

Elil held the massive greatsword in one hand, effortlessly swinging it like a fork.

And Atlan knew.

That hand could crush a warship in its grip.

His body shook with fear.

Yet at the same time, a grin spread across his face.

"I’m going to die."

The moment Elil expelled Manseungja, Atlan felt it—

All the blessings, all the miracles, all the divine favor that had fortified his body—

Gone.

He would have to face this god with nothing but his own strength.

Yet still—he did not back down.

Seeing this, Elil smirked.

He tapped his own shoulder with Kaldwin and then—turned away.

His gaze was set upon Holy Land Lua.

And just like that—

He vanished into the storm of falling leaves.

"K-Khan!"

A voice called out as a figure hurriedly approached.

It was Teherma, the shaman-general, who had been channeling Manseungja’s power to counter the Sword of May.

"T-The Archangel has... withdrawn, ordering a retreat! W-What is happening?!"

There was no need for that order.

The battlefield had already collapsed the moment Elil appeared.

Khan’s army was breaking apart, their morale shattered.

Meanwhile, the Knights of Elil fought even more ferociously, their voices rising in a thunderous battle cry.

Even the angels had fled.

How could mere mortals hope to stand their ground?

"Retreat?"

Atlan knew he had survived purely by luck.

Perhaps it was a reward—

For his "honorable" act of sparing Edelred’s life.

Maybe Elil, in his own twisted sense of fairness, had granted him mercy.

Whatever the reason—there wouldn’t be a second chance.

"Fall back."

Atlan issued the order without hesitation.

Unlike Edelred, he felt no loyalty to the Immortal Emperor.

He had already plundered all he could.

He had already proven his warrior’s might.

There was nothing left to gain.

Now, he would simply take his spoils and leave this madness to the gods and angels.

***

"Elil! That mad god, he actually..."

Even after being struck in the face, the Immortal Emperor did not glare at Isaac.

Instead, he looked skyward and shouted.

Isaac couldn’t immediately grasp what had just happened.

But the fact that he had reached this holy land meant that someone wanted something to change.

Whether it was a grand scheme or a conspiracy, it didn’t matter.

The hands of those who desired change had guided him here.

And now, at the critical moment, they had intervened to help him.

“I just didn’t expect it to be Elil.”

Isaac had no idea where or how Elil had appeared.

He hadn’t used any visible miracles or divine authority to aid him.

But by imposing his will upon the very fabric of the Immortal Emperor’s world, he had provided the most crucial help of all.

Now—

The rule that “a human can fight against a god” had been established.

"If the puzzle is impossible to solve, change the rules."

Isaac rushed forward again, striking the Immortal Emperor’s face with his fist and coiling his tentacles around his neck.

CRACK.

The force landed.

Whether or not it truly harmed the Immortal Emperor, Isaac couldn’t tell.

But the shock and indignation the god must have felt was probably even greater.

"How dare you defile me with such grotesqueness!"

For the first time, the Immortal Emperor visibly flared with anger.

He tore away the tentacles with a mere touch—

And wherever his hand grazed, the tentacles withered and crumbled like dried vines.

His visceral hatred for the powers of chaos was a remnant of his mortal past.

"A weakness of gods with human origins."

Just as Elil, even after death, had never abandoned his incestuous tendencies, the Immortal Emperor had never let go of the betrayal, rage, and wounds he had suffered before ascending.

"Begone!"

At his command, a tidal wave of skeletons surged forward, threatening to engulf Isaac completely.

The force was overwhelming, almost like a natural disaster—

Impossible to resist head-on.

But instead of fighting against it, Isaac let himself be swept away.

He stretched out his limbs as if surrendering to a landslide.

And then—

CRACK.

The massive tide of bones twisted unnaturally.

The Immortal Emperor had tried to crush Isaac beneath it, but—

The wave was no longer obeying him completely.

"So this is where I finally get to use this."

[Exoskeleton of the Dead (EX–)]

"If a soul had a shell, it would be called flesh and bone. To protect their fragile souls, humans wear their bodies like armor. This power brings the hardest parts to the surface, shielding the soul instead. However, it consumes a great amount of blood while in use."

Isaac began consuming the endless bones.

Until now, the skeletons had provided no nourishment to him.

But thanks to the ability inherited from the Lord of the Graveyard, he had finally found a use for them.

SHRRRK...

The bones twisted and fused, forming a massive, grotesque body.

It wasn’t refined—

It wasn’t intentional—

It was just pure consumption, creating a structure like iron shavings drawn to a magnet.

If one had to describe it—

It looked like a giant skull with thousands of writhing tentacles.

A monstrous exoskeleton made purely for protection and mobility.

And yet—

The price for using this power was not light.

"I can’t hold this for long."

Even in just a few moments, Isaac felt severe blood loss.

The bones, having been dried and starved for centuries, drank greedily from his veins.

His Innards of the Dead God struggled to keep up, but there was a limit.

He couldn’t just hold out.

He had to defeat the Immortal Emperor.

But even with Elil’s interference, the gap in power between them was still vast.

So—

How do you defeat a god?

Even if the battle had shifted from a debate to a struggle, a fight with a god was still a puzzle.

There had to be a way.

Something that could consume the bones—

Something that could...

A fresh scent drifted to Isaac’s nose.

For a moment, it felt completely unrelated.

But then—

A thought occurred to him.

"Tree burials."

And as Nameless Chaos devoured the Immortal Emperor’s form with its gaze—

It knew.

***

The main Dawn Army, which had been on the verge of collapse, didn’t hesitate to fall under Tuhalin’s command.

They had no paladins, no priests of the Codex of Light—

But now, they felt protected.

And then—

Everyone sensed it.

The battlefield itself shifted.

Tuhalin, who had been steadily rallying forces, breaking apart Khan’s army, felt it too.

The Elil knights were already on the verge of splitting the enemy in two—

But now, a powerful divine presence swept over the battlefield.

A holiness so overwhelming, it made the hair on his arms stand on end.

Anyone capable of sensing divinity shuddered at its arrival.

"Another god? After the Immortal Emperor?"

This presence was too great to be anything else.

Even the Archangels must have felt it.

Tuhalin could already sense that the Thunder Artisan, the Archangel he served, was watching through his body.

And he had no idea how many other angels had descended to witness history.

Perhaps this was the largest gathering of divine beings in history.

Then—

From within Khan’s army, urgent war drums began to sound.

Tuhalin, having fought orcs countless times, immediately understood the meaning.

The signal for pillaging to end.

In other words—a full retreat.

His eyes blazed.

"Those bastards aren’t escaping!"

Tuhalin charged forward, decapitating an orc mid-stride.

But the orcs did not even hesitate.

They simply ran.

They were masters of hit-and-run tactics, and their retreat was just as fast as their attacks.

None stayed behind for revenge—after all, they believed in reincarnation.

Just like that—they vanished like the tide.

Tuhalin let out a furious roar, but—

He had bigger concerns.

"Isaac. I need to—"

But his gaze turned toward the horizon—

Where a group of knights rode toward him, kicking up dust.

At the front—

Was Edelred.

Or rather—

What looked like Edelred.

But Tuhalin could not believe it was truly him.

Edelred turned his horse, approaching Tuhalin directly.

Instinctively, Tuhalin tightened his grip on his warhammer.

But as Edelred neared, he didn’t even acknowledge the weapon—

Instead, he spoke.

["Soldier. Prepare to advance."]

The voice resonated in both his eardrums and his soul.

Elil had reduced a commander of the Dawn Army—a man chosen by an Archangel—to nothing more than a mere soldier.

Tuhalin wanted to argue, to remind him who he was.

But his mouth would not move.

Strategy? Battle tactics? Experience?

None of it mattered before Elil.

Even though he was not a god, denying his authority felt like sheer arrogance.

"I serve the World’s Forge. I have no reason to obey you."

It was all he could say.

The other Thunder Artisan priests and werewolf warriors looked at him in shock.

But Elil simply smiled.

["You came here to fight, did you not? The battlefield is set. So fight."]