Paladin of the Dead God

Seeing this, Soltnar erupted in fury.

“Heresy! The heretic is trying to escape!”

As Soltnar attempted to rally the paladins around him, the Commander sharply intervened.

“The trial is still in session! Silence yourself!”

“What?!” Soltnar exclaimed.

“Sir Dera Heman has called for a trial by combat to determine the accused’s innocence!”

Trials by combat were most commonly associated with Elil, but the tradition was not entirely absent within the Codex of Light. They were usually invoked when judges found it too burdensome or politically dangerous to make a ruling themselves.

Of course, it wasn’t considered as sacred, nor did it invite divine intervention like in Elil.

But for a judge to personally enter the combat? That was unheard of.

Soltnar fumed, remembering that Dera had already decisively beaten Isaac the day before. He assumed this was just Dera’s way of carrying out an execution under the guise of a trial.

In fact, Dera was thinking along similar lines.

He approached Isaac with large, deliberate strides, ready to enforce his offer from yesterday.

Kneel or surrender your neck. Those were Isaac’s only two choices.

Unless, of course, Isaac had undergone a significant change overnight.

This time, there was no hesitation. Unlike the previous day, both Isaac and Dera charged at each other simultaneously, their swords clashing with a loud *clang*.

Isaac’s knees buckled under the force, just as they had the day before.

Dera Heman had already memorized Isaac’s every move—the way he planted his feet, the rhythm of his steps, the balance of his sword, the way he exhaled. His focus was terrifyingly sharp, predicting Isaac’s every action.

Everything proceeded exactly as Dera expected.

Isaac knew he was being analyzed, but he swung his sword again. He could learn and analyze Dera’s techniques as well, but no reversal took place.

You are weak.

That was the message Isaac felt Dera was communicating through his sword.

So, either follow me, or die here. Before you end up like Kalsen.

‘Ah, this is inevitable,’ Isaac thought, clicking his tongue in frustration. He knew it might be time to reveal the truth he had kept from Dera.

Taking a deep breath, Isaac gathered his thoughts.

After a moment of controlled breathing, Isaac shifted his stance.

Dera felt a sudden, intense sense of unease.

Before he could pinpoint the source of this strange sensation, Isaac dashed toward him with unexpected speed.

*Crack.*

Dera stumbled back, caught off guard by Isaac’s unanticipated move. For the first time, since their encounters began, Dera Heman retreated.

Isaac didn’t let up. His attacks became relentless—quick, powerful, and unpredictable. The sudden shift in Isaac’s swordplay left Dera unable to read his movements. Yet it wasn’t that Isaac had become significantly faster or stronger than before.

The problem was something else.

‘Kalsen?’

Dera’s mind screamed silently.

What he saw now was not what he had predicted. In fact, the very unpredictability of it all made it feel so clear.

Someone else’s presence was emanating from Isaac’s swordsmanship—a presence much more defined than before.

The figure standing before Dera wasn’t Isaac.

It was Kalsen Miller.

***

Kalsen’s proposed plan had been simple.

“Dera Heman will give you another chance. He believes you weren’t using your full strength. If you do, and you defeat him, he’ll think he can guide you properly.”

“I think so too. But I have no way to win,” Isaac had replied.

“That’s when you hand your body over to me.”

“What?”

“Do you really think you can master the essence of my swordsmanship overnight? Sure, I know you’re capable of quickly creating advanced techniques. Your foundation is strong. But the true essence of my swordsmanship lies beyond that.”

Isaac had no idea what Kalsen meant by the “next realm” he had reached.

Perhaps it was a level reserved for those who could rival angels. If it was that grand, maybe Kalsen could teach him a part of it overnight, but the full extent? That would certainly be impossible.

‘Hand my body over to Kalsen?’

This had been the source of Isaac’s greatest inner conflict. He hadn’t even known it was possible for someone like Kalsen, who resided inside his body, to take control of it. But Kalsen had known all along.

Sensing Isaac’s doubts, Kalsen had reassured him.

“Don’t worry. I have no intention of taking over your life, or all those political acrobatics you’ve been performing among the faiths. If I were in your shoes, I’d be dead by now.”

“…”

“I want you to succeed. I believe in you. For that reason alone, I hope neither you nor Dera dies.”

Kalsen had focused solely on saving both Dera Heman and Isaac.

And now, the legend of the apostate had returned once more to Milishar Monastery.