Paladin of the Dead God

‘So it’s come to this,’ he thought, glancing around the prison.

As a nod to his status as the Saint of Resurrection, they hadn’t stripped him of his armor, but all his weapons were confiscated. Not that it mattered—Isaac’s true weapon was hidden within his body. It wasn’t something he could casually wield, though.

Lying down on the rough floor, Isaac called out to Hesabel. She had been expelled from the monastery, as they feared she might help him escape.

‘Hesabel.’

‘…’

‘Hesabel?’

‘…Why did you lose?’

Her tone was annoyed, as if she had expected Isaac to bring down even the paladin commander like the haughty inquisitor he often resembled.

Indeed, this outcome differed from the scenario Isaac had originally laid out for her.

‘I didn’t lose on purpose. I really couldn’t win. Or rather, I shouldn’t have won.’

Isaac had truly intended to defeat Dera Heman right before the duel. However, just as he was about to strike Dera down with the Isaac Swordsmanship: Event Horizon, Dera had instead closed the distance and countered, forcing Isaac to abandon his plan.

Dera had been prepared to counter whatever swordsmanship Isaac threw at him.

It was a counter that struck at the very foundation of Isaac’s swordsmanship.

Back when Isaac was still a greenhorn in the monastery, catching rats with his sword, he had trained endlessly—swinging, thrusting, and slashing thousands of times to refine his technique.

Isaac possessed tremendous talent. Once he built a solid foundation, his innate gifts allowed him to bloom into a prodigy at an extraordinary pace.

And that talent was derived from Kalsen Miller.

The core of Isaac’s swordsmanship came from Kalsen. No matter what technique Isaac employed, its roots lay in Kalsen’s style. And Dera Heman, after his crushing defeat, had meticulously trained to counter Kalsen’s foundation.

It was an obsessive level of dedication. A testament to how much that previous loss had scarred him.

‘So, in the end, I had to cancel the Event Horizon and take the full recoil myself. After that, I couldn’t match Dera with any high-level swordsmanship. The bigger and stronger the technique, the more dangerous it became.’

Dera Heman’s swordsmanship was certainly formidable, but was he overwhelmingly superior to Isaac? No, not quite.

In fact, realizing how Dera had countered him from the first strike was impressive in itself. If Isaac hadn’t noticed, he would’ve been immediately defeated.

But even after recognizing it, Isaac had no real options left.

In terms of compatibility, it couldn’t have been worse. Dera was like a trap specifically designed to ensnare Isaac.

The result was inevitable.

Had it been Kalsen Miller standing in Isaac’s place, the outcome might have been different. After all, while Dera had been training relentlessly, Kalsen hadn’t been sitting idly either.

Kalsen was a swordsman who had secured the status of Archangel with just his blade, a man who even aspired to challenge the gods. He was the strongest swordsman since Elil.

Or perhaps, if Isaac had been given another year or two, the fight could have gone differently.

‘Maybe it would’ve been better to face him at Lichtheim… No, if we’d fought there, he might have read the traces of Kalsen’s influence on me.’

However, Isaac hadn’t lost solely due to the difference in swordsmanship.

Even if Isaac had defeated Dera Heman, there was still the possibility of an angel intervening. The contingency plan Isaac had prepared wasn’t fully ready, and he needed to buy time until it was.

Thus, the duel had ended in an unsatisfactory manner.

Isaac had left Dera Heman thirsting for more.

Even though Isaac would’ve lost if he’d gone all out, he held back, making it seem like there was a reason for his defeat, as if he had deliberately thrown the fight.

‘There’s still time. I knew from the moment Soltnar arrived with Dera that he wouldn’t kill me right away. There’s time before the trial, and maybe I’ll have another chance. You keep an eye on things outside. When the time comes, I’ll need your help.’

‘And what if Dera Heman suddenly decides you are worthless and barges in to kill you on the spot?’

Isaac was about to reassure her when strange sounds came from outside.

“Commander, you’re here? What’s that? The Holy Grail Knight? You want us to open the door?”

Isaac began to sweat. He wondered if smashing the window and diving into the sea would even allow him to escape in time.

***

When Dera Heman’s massive frame entered the cramped prison cell, Isaac felt a sudden onset of claustrophobia. The paladins watched nervously, noting that even though Isaac was in handcuffs, the commander still intended to meet him alone. At a gesture from Dera, they withdrew without complaint.

Since Dera wasn’t going to speak first, Isaac broke the silence.

“Don’t you think we should have someone to interpret?”

Instead of calling for his Commander, Dera slowly removed his Golden Lion mask. The sight of his face made Isaac feel an unfamiliar sense of dread.

Dera’s skin was pale, almost porcelain-like, as if it hadn’t seen sunlight for decades. His face was smooth, but seven eyes stared directly at Isaac, evoking a primal fear. The unnaturalness of it sent a chill down his spine.

It was a basic human instinct to fear something ‘unnatural.’ Dera’s existence defied natural law, and it was a violation of the very order the Codex of Light was meant to uphold.

[You were weak.]

Suddenly, Isaac heard a voice in his head.

He immediately recognized it as Dera Heman’s. Among the many miracles layered upon Dera’s body, one allowed him to communicate his will directly. It seemed he could only use it when his mask was removed.

[You were much weaker than Kalsen. What happened? How did you defeat the angels and bring Elil’s swordsmen to their knees with such poor skills?]

“You never considered that maybe you were just strong?”

[I am weak.]

Isaac had to wonder if this was really the same paladin commander hailed as the strongest within the Codex of Light. Then, as if struggling, Dera put his mask back on. To Isaac, it looked like he was putting on an oxygen mask, as though he couldn’t survive without it.

After a brief pause, Dera removed his mask again and whispered:

[…I am weak. It’s people like Kalsen who are truly strong. I thought you were like him, but now, I’m not sure. Are you just pretending to be weak, or are you really this fragile?]