Paladin of the Dead God-Chapter 430: Beneath the Beautiful Skin (5)

Leonora felt the shift.

The world was fracturing.

Though she remained in place, she expanded infinitely—yet at the same time, she shrank to nothingness.

Within this world, she existed in countless forms, some of which weren’t even human.

When she saw her own hand morph into something resembling a spinal cord, she nearly screamed.

Then, she felt it.

A horrifying gaze.

Someone—something—was watching her.

She tried to look around, but before she could, Angela’s voice whispered from beyond the void.

“Shh. Bow your head. The Mother of All Gods is watching.”

Angela’s neck twisted unnaturally.

But Leonora didn’t know if there was anywhere she could hide from that gaze.

It watched from the sky, the ground, the depths below, the spaces between shadows, and from anguid, the incomprehensible angles beyond reality.

[The Nameless Chaos is watching you.]

At the sound of the eerie notification, Leonora was violently pulled back into reality.

Crunch!

With a sickening noise, her arm was severed.

Leonora saw her own arm falling.

She saw Gebel’s hand, the one that had swung the sword.

She saw Shalok charging forward with a roar.

She saw Rottenhammer, reaching out to stop them.

And all she could think was—

‘Too slow.’

Crash!

Leonora tumbled to the ground with a loud thud, and a mercenary rushed to support her.

Clang! Clang!

For a brief moment, a fierce exchange of blows erupted between Shalok and Gebel.

Blood gushed violently from her severed limb.

The pain was enough to make her black out, but she forced herself to scream.

“Stop!”

Shalok halted his attack immediately, stepping back.

At his signal, the mercenaries scrambled to fetch bandages, hastily applying first aid to Leonora’s wound.

Her face was pale, but she forced herself to steady the atmosphere.

“…Gebel acted wisely. That was a dangerous moment.”

“But…”

‘Midas’ Hand almost consumed me. If my arm hadn’t been cut off in time, it would have been too late.’

“Gebel, you were right beside me. You must have seen it too. Explain.”

Leonora fixed her gaze on Gebel, demanding an answer.

“The moment Angela spoke, your arm started turning into… something unrecognizable.”**

Gebel’s voice was calm but firm.

“I’m sure others saw it too. But I couldn’t tell what it was. I only knew one thing—

—I had to cut it off before it was too late.”

Leonora nodded.

It seemed that not everyone had seen what she had, but she was certain they had felt something ominous about her transformation.

She took a deep breath and asked, “What about Angela?”

“She’s here.”

But something was different.

Angela had vanished beyond the void earlier.

Yet now, she lay collapsed right at Gebel’s feet.

Leonora could sense the Immortal Emperor’s protection around the girl.

Angela had been sealed away and made to forget—all so that, as a mere child, she wouldn’t accidentally use Midas’ Hand.

Not until it could be passed on to another.

Meanwhile, Leonora’s severed arm had disappeared completely.

Rottenhammer approached.

“I’ll use a healing miracle.”

He glanced at her wound.

“I can’t reattach what’s missing, but at least I can stop the bleeding.”

Leonora nodded, allowing the miracle to be cast.

As the warmth of divine healing sealed the wound, she quickly analyzed the situation.

‘If they heard Angela’s words, then they all have a rough idea of what Midas’ Hand is now.’

Perhaps that’s why Gebel cut off her arm.

He had claimed he didn’t know what it was, but that might have been a lie—to conceal his true intentions.

Leonora hadn’t screamed “Stop” on a whim.

In that brief instant, her mind had raced through countless calculations:

—The Immortal Emperor’s words.

—The nature of Midas’ Hand.

—The consequences if she accepted it.

—Isaac’s warnings.

—The potential cost.

She had realized one thing.

If she remained silent, she wouldn’t obtain Midas’ Hand.

And that wasn’t an option.

The Immortal Emperor had been right about her.

Leonora could not reject Midas’ Hand.

Her greed was too great.

She couldn’t trust anyone else with it.

If someone else possessed Midas’ Hand, she would kill them to take it.

She could only be at peace if it was hers—if her own flesh contained it.

Her first wish had been a calculated declaration of bargaining.

Midas’ Hand only granted wishes in ways the user would never desire.

If that was true, she needed to confirm it herself.

Even if the price was death, neither Angela nor the Immortal Emperor had died immediately after making a wish.

Angela had made a wish—and she had still walked the earth.

That was proof.

And if she let fear of the price stop her from making a wish, then everything she had endured would be for nothing.

Leonora was someone who would gamble her life without hesitation.

She had heard many versions of the same story—of people who ruined their lives by making careless wishes.

Those stories all had one thing in common.

The price of the first wish was always the smallest.

Leonora had lost an arm, but now she was certain.

Midas’ Hand was not malicious.

It simply delivered the most efficient and rational outcome—

—without mercy, without concern for sacrifice.

“The cost of letting go was an arm. That’s expensive.

But if it means I now possess Midas’ Hand—

—it was a bargain.”

She was no longer just Leonora.

She was Midas’ Hand itself.

And now, even gods would have to sit at her negotiation table.

***

The Immortal Emperor had not yet unleashed his full power against Isaac.

Isaac was growing stronger.

Not only was he devouring the bodies and souls of the Immortal Emperor’s followers, but he was also consuming everything.

Pouring power into Isaac’s insatiable hunger was like pouring oil onto a fire.

If he continued to confront Isaac head-on, the creature would only grow stronger.

The Immortal Emperor had no choice but to return to a human state of mind.

He needed to analyze, identify weaknesses, and carefully approach his target.

The very fact that he had to strategize against a mere human was undeniable proof that he had abandoned his divine detachment.

Yet, the Immortal Emperor did not cling to his divinity.

He had never desired to be a god.

All he had ever wanted was to protect those within his domain.

First, he unleashed a massive wave of instant-death curses.

The widespread curse spread across the battlefield, bursting and corroding the hearts—or whatever passed for hearts—of the Nameless Chaos’ minions.

Thud, thud, thud!

Hundreds of those wretched creatures collapsed at once.

Isaac sneered.

[You gave them the bodies they desperately wished for, only to take them away again?]

"I merely preserved their dignity."

And death was the domain of the Immortal Emperor.

The fallen creatures were immediately recruited into his undead army, reforged into stronger, healthier forms under his rule.

He had turned Isaac’s own tactics against him.

“What you can do, I can do as well.”

“Reap and sow—if this becomes a battle of attrition, who do you think will win?”

His followers were still alive.

As long as they endured, his divine collapse would not be immediate.

He would weaken over time, but not yet.

Right now, his power was beyond what Isaac could handle.

[If you can’t kill me with that power, isn’t it meaningless?]

"Perhaps."

But the Immortal Emperor simply answered—and did nothing.

It was Isaac who was growing desperate.

Maintaining the Praying Whitewood’s unnatural state was straining him.

His overextended senses threatened to drive him insane, and his thousands of split limbs were becoming increasingly difficult to control.

More importantly—his hunger remained unfulfilled.

The old bones he devoured held little sustenance.

Each bite yielded nothing but brittle dust, and he had spent most of his energy birthing new minions rather than feeding himself.

Isaac’s body was slowly depleting.

‘I can’t win in a battle of endurance.’

Isaac knew exactly how the Immortal Emperor could secure victory—

Break this artificial world and return to reality.

The reason Isaac could maintain this grotesquely expanded form, and the reason the Immortal Emperor could unleash his full strength, was because this battlefield was a construct, like Urbanthos.

‘He’s hesitating because he doesn’t want Holy Land Lua to be destroyed.’

‘But if he chooses to break this world and return to reality—

—this body won’t survive even for a moment.’

If the Immortal Emperor was willing to sacrifice Holy Land Lua, then defeating Isaac would become infinitely easier.

Isaac needed to act first.

Instead of summoning more minions from the Praying Whitewood, he produced something else—

Fruits.

And when those fruits split open—

They did not birth minions.

They split off into multiple Isaacs—

—fragmented versions of himself, sharing his power.

The moment they were born, they knew their purpose.

Without hesitation, the split Isaacs charged toward the Immortal Emperor.

"Hah."

The Immortal Emperor let out a bitter sigh—

—and unleashed another wave of instant-death curses.

[The Nameless Chaos is watching you.]

But Isaac’s system replied immediately.

Not a single one of the split Isaacs perished.

They broke through the undead ranks, rushing toward their target at terrifying speed—

—before unleashing a barrage of sword techniques.

BOOM! CRASH!

The ground exploded where the Immortal Emperor had stood.

Each Isaac had attacked without any regard for survival, pushing their bodies beyond their limits.

Limbs snapped upon impact, some were torn apart by the force of their own attacks.

But their true purpose was not to cut him down.

They were dandelion seeds.

The split Isaacs—realizing they could not move—

—immediately extended their spinal cords and latched onto the Immortal Emperor.

Like spores, they infested his body, attempting to corrupt and drain his power.

‘If I keep producing fragmented versions of myself…’

‘Can I devour the Immortal Emperor as well?’

Isaac considered the possibility of victory—

—and rejected it.

The reason was simple.

The Immortal Emperor’s power was likely too immense for fragments to contain.

As expected—

BOOM!

The tendrils began to rupture.

Blackened cysts and tumors formed along Isaac’s tendrils, then burst apart, vomiting out putrid, toxic filth.

It was as if he had ingested poison.

Isaac fell silent.

‘I have to do it myself.’

There could only be one Agent of Chaos.

"Do you realize what state you’re in, Isaac?"

The Immortal Emperor’s voice returned—calm and measured.

Perhaps he was stalling for time.

But Isaac also needed time to recover.

[My state?]

"You once claimed you wished to remain human—

—that you desired the eternity of the world."

The Immortal Emperor’s gaze sharpened.

"But look at yourself now."

"Is this what the humans of your ideal world should be?"

‘Ah…’

‘He wants to restart the debate.’

Isaac recognized the game.

He had shattered the Immortal Emperor’s divine identity before—

—and now, the god was attempting to do the same to him.

The very fact that the Immortal Emperor was engaging in a battle of wits meant that the advantage had shifted to Isaac.

Isaac had no intention of falling for it.

But ignoring a debate didn’t stop it from happening—

—it only gave the other party the chance to speak uninterrupted.

"You believed that a parasitic spinal cord lived within you—

—that you could simply extract it whenever needed."

"But take a good look at yourself now."

"What do you see?"

Isaac refused to think.

But the Immortal Emperor’s words—

—cut into him like a blade.

"You were never a human with a parasite."

"You were always just a writhing mass of spinal cords."

"That ‘beautiful skin’ you wore was nothing more than a seal—

—to keep the tendrils from spilling out."