Paladin of the Dead God-Chapter 428: Beneath the Beautiful Skin (3)

Being addressed as “Officer” was technically a promotion, but Tuhalin felt no joy in his sudden rise in rank.

What Elil said was true—but agreeing with Isaac was one thing, while following Elil’s command was something entirely different.

It meant that a heretic god was now commanding other faiths.

But even if Elil hadn’t explicitly demanded loyalty, it was already happening.

The overwhelming divinity radiating from him was transforming the Dawn Army soldiers—

They were shedding their fanatic devotion to their own gods and being pulled into Elil’s gravity.

It was only natural.

A mind pushed to its limits by war and suffering would instinctively seek a stronger force to depend on.

"Holy Land Lua is not accessible right now. The walls—"

["The gates will open soon."]

Elil raised Kaldwin and aimed it at Holy Land Lua.

At that moment—

The Burning Maiden’s pillar of fire erupted violently.

["Now!"]

With her triumphant cry, the massive walls blocking Lua were ripped apart—

Huge gaps tore open in the barriers, and the Burning Maiden funneled her flames inside, incinerating the undead fanatics and Eclipse Army soldiers waiting within. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

She turned to the Dawn Army, ready to shout commands—

Only to realize that most of them had already fallen under Issacrea’s command.

Her eyes flared with fury.

["Furnace Artisan! Take your men and crush the enemy!"]

"Oh, for fuck’s sake. Why is everyone barking orders at me today?"

Tuhalin muttered in exasperation.

Maybe it was because he had just talked back to Elil, but compared to that, the Burning Maiden’s demands felt almost… insignificant.

He had spoken quietly, but the Burning Maiden had been focused on him—there was no way she hadn’t heard it.

She was about to explode in anger when—

Elil lifted his gaze and looked at her.

["Focus on your own task, soldier."]

She did not reply.

Her expression didn’t change—

But everyone could see that she had consciously decided to stay silent.

Elil smiled.

["See? If every soldier simply does their duty, victory is inevitable."]

"Does this crazy bastard see literally everyone as a soldier?"

Even the Burning Maiden—a powerful figure of faith—was nothing but another soldier in Elil’s eyes.

Tuhalin sighed.

At least Elil’s arrogance was so universal that it didn’t feel personal.

Then, something struck him as odd.

If Elil had truly descended, then Lighthouse Keeper and the Burning Maiden should be more concerned about losing Lua to him.

But they weren’t.

No—

They were actively avoiding acknowledging him.

The Lighthouse Keeper didn’t even look at Elil, as if whatever was happening inside Holy Land Lua was more important than the arrival of a god.

Then—

Elil took a deep breath.

And then—

His thunderous voice rang across the battlefield.

["Advance."]

The earth shook.

The echo of his command carried beyond the horizon.

And the Knights of Elil responded immediately.

There was no chant—

No battle hymn—

Just pure, absolute obedience to their god-king.

"Thunder Artisan, what should I do?"

Tuhalin’s mind raced, but—

There was no response from his Archangel.

It was as if the decision was entirely his.

With a sigh, he clicked his tongue—

And followed Elil’s knights.

"Move! We came all this way—might as well step inside Lua!"

The soldiers roared in unison, charging forward.

The gates to the afterlife were still open.

The undead inside were still strong.

But Elil’s presence had sent their morale soaring.

If Tuhalin hadn’t given the order, they would have charged in on their own.

And just as Elil said—

"If every soldier does their part, victory is inevitable."

But—

Would Isaac be able to do his part in this rapidly shifting battlefield?

***

CRACK. CRUNCH.

The Immortal Emperor watched Isaac, who was devouring the skeletal tide, growing larger and larger.

He had once believed that—

Despite Isaac’s corrupt nature, he still possessed a kind heart.

That, if properly nurtured, he could become a greater angel than any Archangel.

But there was one reason he could never trust him.

His hunger.

The relentless consumption—

The endless devouring—

Whatever fell into Isaac’s abyssal maw lost its original form—

It ceased to be itself—

And became part of him.

Isaac was a fragment of the end.

And now, he was growing into something monstrous.

The Immortal Emperor didn’t know what shape he was trying to take—

But the fact that he couldn’t comprehend it was what frightened him most.

"Do you truly think you can challenge me?"

He spread his hands wide.

CRACKLE. RUMBLE.

The very air trembled.

The sky split open.

And then—

A massive sphere descended from the clouds, hurtling straight at Isaac.

SCREEEEECH!

The screams of countless skulls shattered into the air as the meteor of bone and death fell toward him.

The colossal sphere descending from the heavens was a mass of wraiths—a convergence of curses and resentment.

This was a world where all living things had perished.

A place where no new life could ever be born.

Trapped in this lifeless eternity, disembodied spirits, consumed by their hunger and thirst, had long since lost any sense of self—

Until all that remained was pure malice.

From the beginning of history to its very end, the wraiths had absorbed every curse, every plea, every desperate cry, and now—

They unleashed them all upon Isaac.

You killed us!

Because of you, we had no choice but to die!

This is not the immortality I wanted!

Why must we be the ones to perish?

Mother, Mother of all Gods—give me a body!

Let suffering and death befall all who live!

I want to be alive!

The voices of hundreds of billions, perhaps even trillions, screamed in unison.

Their combined hatred was so overwhelming that it could cause a mortal’s brain to boil and explode.

Even angels would have been driven mad by the sheer weight of it.

But—

To Isaac, such psychic assaults were meaningless.

[Nameless Chaos watches you.]

Isaac, objectified by Nameless Chaos, perceived the entire event as nothing more than thousands of insults scrolling through a chat window.

He didn’t even have the chance to read them individually.

But—

Even if he was immune to mental attacks, the horde of spirits still had a physical presence.

Like a falling moon, they crashed down upon him, their hungry forms tearing into him even through his exoskeleton.

Give us your flesh!

Let us feel alive again!

"Fine."

Isaac whispered.

And then—

The wraiths that had pierced into his exoskeleton—

Vanished.

As if inhaled.

The Immortal Emperor watched in stunned silence.

"Did the wraiths… take over his body?"

"No… that’s impossible."

The vast swarm of spirits, once as large as a celestial body, had collided with Isaac—

Only to be devoured, as if bitten into.

And it kept happening.

Over and over.

The Immortal Emperor, unable to comprehend it, swept his arm once more.

A shadow blade, the same that had split open the celestial seas, swung forth—

This time, it sliced through Isaac’s exoskeleton with surgical precision.

CRACK. CRACKLE.

The tentacle-like armor began to shatter and expand—

Like a plant bursting through a seed—

Like a sapling suddenly growing into a massive, ancient tree.

What stood before him now was something entirely different.

Rooted deep into the barren earth,

It spread its thousands of limbs wide,

Moving with the slow grace of swaying branches in the wind.

The wraiths no longer attacked.

They drifted between its limbs, floating harmlessly like a gentle breeze through a forest.

Isaac, his form now colossal, lifted his countless eyes—

And stared directly at the Immortal Emperor.

The god recognized this form immediately.

"The Praying Whitewood..."

***

Even in Urbansus, deep within the Nameless Chaos, there existed a forest.

A cursed forest—

Where those who had offered their devotion to Chaos had turned into trees themselves, forever locked in prayer.

The Praying Whitewood.

Its twisted trees, half flesh, half bark, formed an endless, forsaken grove.

Through its branches, grotesque creatures and amorphous horrors wandered, basking in unstructured madness.

Unlike normal trees, the Whitewoods oozed flesh and blood, their bodies decorated with human limbs and eyes that never closed.

And now—

Isaac had become one.

But at a size unprecedented, towering far beyond any seen before.

Feeding not on mere offerings—

But on the very believers of the Immortal Order.

And he was still growing.

The Immortal Emperor saw the bulging fruits forming among the branches.

Then—

His eyes widened.

Within those fruits, he sensed familiar souls.

The fruits swelled, growing as fast as Isaac himself—

Until, at last—

They tore themselves open.

Not like fruits falling from trees—

But like infants clawing out of their own wombs.

And what emerged—

Horrified him.

The creatures born from the fruits had the bodies of sea anemones—

With bat-like wings.

The Night Stalkers.

One of the signature creations of Nameless Chaos.

Isaac had not only devoured the Immortal Emperor’s followers—

He had used their souls to spawn Chaos’s own minions.

Meeeeehhhhhhh—!

The firstborn abomination let out a sound—

Like the bleating of a newborn lamb.

But—

The hatred and resentment had been stripped away.

The souls, once filled with endless curses, had been reverted to their purest, most primal state—

Returned to Chaos’s original form.

And with that single cry,

The rest of the fruits burst open.

Squelch. Splatter.

A deluge of fluid rained down as more creatures crawled, flew, and slithered into the world.

Some crawled.

Some flew.

Some bounded forward on twisted limbs.

Some clung to Isaac’s branches like parasites.

They had no symmetry, no structure.

They were clumsy, like haphazardly assembled clay dolls.

Yet—

They rejoiced.

Fluttering around Isaac, dancing in worship, reveling in their chaotic birth.

And still—

The skeletons kept coming, fueling Isaac’s unholy growth.

The wraiths kept screaming, only to be swallowed whole, their energy transformed.

The Immortal Emperor, witnessing this grotesque creation, finally lost control.

"You’re mad—completely mad!"

For the first time—

His voice cracked with undiluted rage.

At last, he was convinced—

Isaac was not just an anomaly.

Not just a heretic.

Not just a mistake of existence.

He was a herald of the end.

A monster wrapped in a beautiful disguise, masquerading as a man.

But Isaac—

With his thousands of mouths, nestled among the grotesque branches, simply whispered:

["I can give your believers the life you never could."]

["Meanwhile, all you can do... is stand there."]

"THIS IS NOT LIFE!"

"THIS IS BLASPHEMY!"

"NO HUMAN SHOULD HAVE TO BECOME A MONSTER TO SURVIVE!"

CRACK.

As the Immortal Emperor’s furious cry rang out—

A shattering sound followed.

A fracture spread across the sky.

The world he had constructed was collapsing.

The Immortal Emperor turned in shock—

Only for Isaac to smile.

["Ah. You just contradicted yourself."]

A sound echoed through the void—

Not of bones breaking.

Not of chaos consuming.

But of a god’s foundation crumbling.

The final piece of the puzzle had fallen into place.