Paladin of the Dead God-Chapter 410: A Nation for the Dead (3)

"The Holy Grail Knight defeated the Eclipse Legion?"

This was the first Ciero had heard of it. The Archangels had given no indication to the Dawn Army, and only a select few in the Watcher’s Council had pieced together the context. Feldren, however, had already learned through his personal information network.

Rubbing his tired eyes after the long battle, Feldren rose to his feet and glanced at the smoldering ruins of Ushak.

"That explains why the defenses here were so thin."

"But Ushak still had the Eclipse Legion and other garrison forces, didn’t it? What happened to them…?"

"They were all redeployed to Lua," Feldren explained. "Apparently, something catastrophic is happening there. The Immortal Emperor pulled every available unit, abandoning the capital in the process. Whatever’s happening must be significant enough to warrant sacrificing Ushak."

In fact, almost all of Ushak’s citizens, apart from the zombies and bound skeletons in the lowest caste, had been evacuated.

Given the Immortal Order’s nature, where the distinction between civilians and soldiers was minimal, such a massive conscription by the Immortal Emperor underscored the magnitude of the crisis in Lua.

"I don’t know the details, but it seems to coincide with the Holy Grail Knight defeating the Lord of the Graveyard. Maybe they’ve concluded the Dawn Army poses a real threat to Lua now."

Having lost two Archangels already, the Immortal Order likely found it unsustainable to maintain two fronts. Concentrating all their forces on Lua, the Dawn Army’s ultimate goal, might have seemed the better strategy.

"Whether the Codex of Light intended this or not, they’ve played it masterfully. They used the Holy Grail Knight, whom the Immortal Order underestimated, to eliminate two Archangels. Even the internal discord within the Dawn Army became leverage for their strategy. Now, the Codex of Light can bring its true power to bear against the Immortal Order."

Feldren believed this was all part of a calculated plan, but there was an unsettling thought in the back of his mind.

The real threat to the Immortal Order didn’t seem to come from the main Dawn Army with its three Archangels, but from Isaac’s smaller Issacrea Dawn Army.

Whatever the Immortal Emperor’s thoughts were, this war was proving vexing for Feldren and the shadowy figures backing him.

Ciero frowned, equally unsettled. Isaac’s progress was encouraging, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to distinguish allies from enemies. The situation was spiraling into chaos.

"What about Dead December? Weren’t we worried they’d strike the rear if the main Dawn Army moved recklessly?"

Feldren’s expression turned peculiar. After a brief pause, he replied.

"Dead December doesn’t seem like they’ll move. If they haven’t acted by now, they probably won’t. Maybe they see defending the Gehenna Prison Fortress as more important."

"Protecting a prison? More important than the Holy Land of Lua?"

"No one knows what kind of abyss lies sealed beneath Gehenna. Even the Codex of Light has avoided meddling there. Or maybe Dead December can’t leave Gehenna. They might exist more as a looming threat than an active force, something to intimidate rather than intervene."

"So what now? Weren’t you planning for the post-war outcome?"

"Who knows…"

Feldren reached into his coat and pulled out a strange object.

Ciero initially thought it was a crude leather ball, but recoiled when he saw it pulsate and writhe. It was a poorly stitched, tanned heart, likely a relic from the Red Chalice Club. Feldren raised it to his ear, and the heart throbbed irregularly, whispering something to him.

His expression hardened as he listened. Once the heart fell silent, he tucked it away and spoke in a subdued tone.

"For now, we head to Lua. That’s where everything will change. If we want to plan for the future, we need to witness the turning point ourselves."

***

[Lua is three days from here. The phantom steeds will pull the carriage without rest, so brace yourselves.]

The undead coachman, sent by Al Theodore, warned Leonora.

Shalock’s face turned pale at the thought of three days of continuous travel, but Leonora nodded without hesitation. Shortly after, the carriage began to move at breakneck speed.

Leonora gazed out the window at the distant plume of ash rising to the north.

It was smoke billowing from the now-ruined Ushak.

The sudden assault by the main Dawn Army had caught the Immortal Order off guard. The lich Al Theodore had been especially unprepared, smugly claiming that "our angels negotiated with their blind fools."

"At that time, he even believed an audience with the Immortal Emperor was imminent."

Leonora, like many, had assumed this 13th Dawn Army campaign would end in failure as always. But the Emperor’s sudden summons and the arrival of the Codex of Light’s Archangels had upended the situation.

The lich and his retinue had been among the first to flee to Lua at the Emperor’s command. When the Dawn Army attacked, the servants left behind at Theodore’s estate helped Leonora escape just before the city fell.

Leonora and the remnants of the Golden Idol Guild were the last to flee Ushak, allowing her to witness much of the carnage firsthand.

"Terrified soldiers, glass-eyed zealots, scorched ones, priests chanting hymns, holy knights wielding relics that set the city ablaze… and the angels."

Ushak was never a city meant for the living. Yet the undead inhabitants, unconcerned with consumption and focused entirely on production, had shaped it into a masterpiece. Artisans and masons, with endless time, had sculpted Ushak into something akin to religious art—a monument to dedication and discipline.

Leonora hadn’t particularly liked the city, but she recognized its cultural and historical value.

Now, none of that mattered. It was all ash and rubble.

"All in the name of the great Dawn Army."

The accomplishments of generations, built with care and devotion, were trampled underfoot by angels.

Centuries of work, destroyed in an instant by a divine plan.

The ruined city, the countless dead soldiers—all were mere footprints to the gods and their angels.

At that moment, the carriage jolted violently before coming to an abrupt halt.

Shalock instinctively drew his sword, but the undead coachman opened the window to report.

[Apologies, miss. A child suddenly ran into the road.]

"A child?" Leonora asked, narrowing her eyes.

Leonora couldn’t believe her ears.

They were deep in the heart of the Immortal Order’s territory, a place where the only living humans were likely Dawn Army fanatics. The phantom steeds began to turn the carriage to avoid the interruption, but a pitiful voice called out from outside.

"Help me!"

It wasn’t a psychic echo or spectral cry but a human voice.

Curiosity rather than sympathy prompted Leonora to open the window. On the roadside lay a young boy, his body wrapped in bandages, sobbing.

He was alive.

The boy, seeing another living human, widened his eyes in disbelief.

The undead coachman spoke hesitantly.

[He’s likely a Dawn Army prisoner. Too young to be useful as a slave, so they probably kept him alive for some other purpose. With his master conscripted by the Emperor, it seems he’s escaped from an abandoned home. This happens occasionally.]

The Immortal Order, for all its cruelty, rarely harmed children unless absolutely necessary. However, the Dawn Army had no such compunctions about using children in war. While they weren’t significant assets, it wasn’t uncommon to encounter young prisoners from the opposing side.

Shalok, certain that Leonora would dismiss the boy without a second thought, was caught off guard when she instead gestured toward the door.

"Shalok, bring him inside."

Shalok was dumbfounded at the idea of taking in a child—especially a problematic one like a former Dawn Army prisoner—while on the run. But he nodded, trusting that Leonora had her reasons, however ruthless they might be.

The boy hesitantly climbed into the carriage with Shalok’s help, and it resumed its journey. The boy’s injuries seemed superficial—likely minor cuts and bruises hastily treated with bandages since healing miracles were unavailable. frёewebηovel.cѳm

Leonora offered him some food and watched as he devoured it ravenously. After a while, the boy, noticing her scrutinizing gaze, grew visibly uneasy. Finally, he broke the silence.

"Thank you, ma’am. I… I’m—"

"Leonora," she interrupted. "No need for introductions."

Though she bristled slightly at being called “ma’am,” she didn’t show it. However, the boy flinched, cowed by her curt demeanor, and fell silent again.

"What were you doing out here, child?"

"Huh? Oh… um… I-I’m a Dawn Army soldier. I was fighting to reclaim the Holy Land of Lua."

"The Holy Land of Lua," Leonora repeated, cutting him off.

Smiling faintly, she leaned closer.

"Shall I take you there myself?"

Leonora thought about humanity’s feeble struggles amidst the clashes of gods and angels. Even in this merciless war, where bodies piled like mountains and divine powers carved the land, there was still a place for human defiance.

***

Those who believed themselves to be gods, angels, or the chosen ones who could see and understand all were now transfixed by the achievements of the Issacrea Dawn Army. The army’s destruction of the Lord of the Graveyard had sent ripples through the world.

Yet, the Issacrea Dawn Army itself had fallen into disarray, scattered where they had last fought.

"The aftereffects of miracles are severe," Gebel reported as he finished assessing the troops’ physical and mental states.

The side effects of miracles weren’t like ordinary illnesses.

Miracles drew on the power of Urbansus, temporarily granting euphoria or physical enhancement. However, as that power faded, the mortal body struggled to adapt to the mundane reality of the world. It was akin to altitude sickness or decompression sickness.

The Issacrea Dawn Army had endured two days of intense exposure to miracles during their battle against the Lord of the Graveyard. Ideally, they needed a gradual return to normalcy to recover fully. Unfortunately, both the priests and knights who would facilitate that process were themselves utterly drained.

Even the Salt Council’s priests endured an ordeal where they stood at death’s threshold during their induction, a process that claimed many lives. Thus, recovery from such overexposure wasn’t a trivial matter.

Isaac turned to his commanders, his expression grave.

"Is there any way to get help from the angels?"

Edelred and Tuhalin exchanged uneasy glances.

"Perhaps they’d assist with basic recovery," Edelred offered. "But to ask them to intervene for the lingering aftereffects? That’s uncertain. Honestly, resting properly—eating well and sleeping—is probably the best remedy."

Good food and rest—the ultimate panacea.

But the problem was that they were deep in enemy territory, and this was a war. Finding a safe place to rest seemed nearly impossible.

What’s more, they were now close to Lua.

The battles ahead would undoubtedly be more intense than their fight against the Lord of the Graveyard. Neither Isaac nor his troops wanted to charge into such a battle in their current state.

Isaac seemed lost in thought for a moment before abruptly turning his head eastward.

The others followed his gaze but saw nothing but tents. Yet, Isaac looked as though he had discerned something.

"We’ll move slightly northeast," he declared. "There’s a village there where we can rest."