Paladin of the Dead God
Chapter 429: Beneath the Beautiful Skin (4)

The Immortal Emperor loved humanity.

That was why he had struggled to protect humans, even at the cost of denying his own faith.

Perhaps he was the only god who truly loved and trusted humanity. But he loved human nature itself, not the idea of humans living as beasts or slaves.

Of course, there were slaves, but only while they still possessed flesh. Once they became ‘whole bodies’ with time, they were given the opportunity to convert.

Compared to the serfs of Barbarina or the Gerthonia Empire, this could be considered a much better fate.

Isaac saw this kindness of the Immortal Emperor as a weakness.

[I believed in your humanity. I was certain you would reject this form and become enraged.]

“You bastard…!”

The Immortal Emperor witnessed his world collapsing in real time.

Even Isaac had questioned whether such a thing was truly possible, yet it was happening before his eyes.

And the one who understood the possibility better than anyone was none other than the Immortal Emperor himself.

He had seen more divine ends than any other god, ‘events that had not yet occurred, but would.’

Faith perished more easily than one might think, replaced by something else. How many divine authorities had met their end throughout history?

And now, the Immortal Emperor had made a statement that denied his own principles—and he meant it sincerely.

Had it been an offhand remark or a joke, it wouldn’t have mattered. But the fact that his divinity was collapsing meant that his own values and worldview were shattering.

He was a god of immortality, not of humanity.

His pathological fear of the Nameless Chaos and his love for mankind were tearing him apart.

Ironically, his own humanity had undone his divinity.

‘No.’

The Immortal Emperor forced himself to stop thinking.

The more he agonized or despaired, the faster the collapse would accelerate. Now that his divine nature had been shattered, his downfall was inevitable.

Which meant he had to act—swiftly.

He had to prevent that profane beast from being unleashed upon the world.

To face the beast, the Immortal Emperor abandoned his divinity. He was no longer a god—he was a hunter, charging at Isaac with the resolve of a predator.

***

Not all of the Dawn Army’s main force had collapsed.

A small number of surviving priests, Scorched Ones, and the most fanatical of the Glass-Eyed Zealots remained steadfast, undeterred even as the Immortal Emperor’s divine ship was torn apart in the sky.

The moment the walls of Holy Land Lua crumbled, they were the first to charge inside at the command of the Burning Maiden.

The Scorched Ones vaulted over the breached walls. Though the walls had been half-melted by the Burning Maiden’s flames and still radiated intense heat, it was of no consequence to those who had already been consumed by the fire of paradise.

“Monstrous beings who reject providence, the day of judgment is upon you! The gates of the Millennium Kingdom open!”

One of the Scorched Ones roared as he lunged at an Undead Fanatic.

Crunch!

His sword, heated by his own scorching body temperature, easily shattered the fanatic’s ribcage, nearly splitting him in two. But the Undead Fanatic only laughed, retaliating with all four of his arms.

[Blind beggars have traveled far to grovel! Allow me to carve out a place for you to beg in Ushak!]

It was a refined insult, mocking the fact that most Dawn Army soldiers came from the lower class. But those warriors had long since abandoned the concerns of the material world. Even as he was struck, the Scorched One pressed on, snapping the Undead Fanatic’s spine.

The undead had attempted to organize their resistance, but the intervention of angels rendered all their preparations meaningless.

A sudden, scorching wind swept through their ranks, incinerating them in an instant. The Burning Maiden had entered Holy Land Lua, beginning her ruthless purge.

[Burn the heretics!]

With her decree, the judgment commenced.

Everywhere, there were only heretics. The only ones who did not burn were the true believers, proven by divine blessing. Thus, the Burning Maiden’s flames knew no hesitation.

It was a trial by fire—quite literally—where only the faithful would remain.

And the Burning Maiden was not alone.

The Knights of Elil had entered through another breach, while the Issacrea Dawn Army, led by Tuhalin, advanced through yet another.

Even the Knights of Elil felt uneasy. They had no desire to associate with the zealots of the Codex of Light, lest they be burned alongside them.

The Church of the World’s Forge had isolated itself from the world precisely because of its clashes with Inquisitors.

And Elil Kingdom had severed ties with the Gerthonia Empire because of an Inquisitor’s actions—the execution of Ashen by immolation during her lifetime.

Thus, it was best to keep their distance from these fanatics.

Boom! Crack!

Tuhalin crushed through undead soldiers with ease.

Perhaps because the undead were prioritizing their defense against the angels of Elil and the Codex of Light, there were relatively few of them in his path.

‘Is this really fine?’

Isaac had originally planned to strike before the Dawn Army’s main force could seize Holy Land Lua.

Even back then, it had seemed dubious. But now, looking at the situation, it was clear that the opportunity had already passed.

The walls had crumbled, and the Immortal Order was undeniably in retreat.

If the Immortal Emperor intervened, the battle might still be winnable—but for some reason, he remained silent.

‘So now, the real question is: will Holy Land Lua fall into the hands of the Codex of Light or Elil?’

Tuhalin recalled the long-standing conflict between the two factions.

Before the rise of the Immortal Order, the faith that had slaughtered the most believers of the Codex of Light was Elil.

If Elil claimed Holy Land Lua, what would happen?

Elil cared little for the Millennium Kingdom. But with a name meaning "Conquering King," territorial ambition was inevitable.

Judging by their actions, it wouldn’t be surprising if, after annihilating the Immortal Order, they turned to the Codex of Light next, declaring, “You’re next.”

And Tuhalin had no idea what would determine the rightful ruler of Holy Land Lua.

Would planting a flag suffice? Or did one have to take the Immortal Emperor’s head?

‘If neither… then is there some kind of vault key?’

[Tuhalin.]

At that moment, he heard a voice shake through his very being—the voice of the Thunder Artisan.

It was rare for the Thunder Artisan to speak to him directly. Tuhalin immediately halted his advance, adopting a reverent posture.

“Thunder Artisan, you have called upon me?”

[‘Mistilteir’ is nearby. It must be retrieved.]

Tuhalin’s heart pounded violently—for a reason different from the Thunder Artisan’s urgency.

Mistilteir.

A sacred material said to be sleeping beneath the Svanvar Archipelago, hidden within the Great Furnace—a key to awakening the true Codex of Light.

‘Isaac’s advice was truly meant for the World’s Forge… He was right to tell us to chase the currents of a changing era!’

Filled with newfound admiration, Tuhalin hastily inquired:

“Where is it?”

The Thunder Artisan did not respond with words, but with an instinctive revelation.

Tuhalin’s gaze was drawn toward the center of Holy Land Lua.

A massive pyramid—one that evoked an ominous dread simply by looking at it.

His heart screamed at him to go there.

***

With a deafening crash, Rottenhammer felt the dome above him collapse.

The once pitch-dark dome was now riddled with cracks, allowing beams of light to pierce through. The chaos of the angelic incursion and the ongoing battle had caused even greater fractures, making its complete collapse seem inevitable.

“Leonora, are you sure we’re going the right way?”

Rottenhammer asked, his frustration evident.

They had already entered the pyramid at the heart of Holy Land Lua.

Long, winding corridors branched into countless doors, their purpose unknown. By the time they arrived here, the Issacrea Holy Knights had fought relentlessly without rest, exhausted by both the lurking undead and the oppressive darkness.

Leonora raised a finger to her lips, furrowing her brows.

“Angela is concentrating. Be quiet.”

“Hmm.”

Rottenhammer gazed anxiously at Angela, who was leading the way. She had originally been positioned within the Holy Knights’ ranks for protection. But at some point, Leonora had skillfully manipulated the knights, persuading them one by one, until Angela had naturally ended up at her side.

Leonora guided Angela as if she were well-versed in handling children. Their pace had improved significantly as a result, but Rottenhammer, remembering Isaac’s orders, couldn’t shake his unease.

‘Recover the Midas’ Hand, either to destroy it or to steal it away.’

Rottenhammer still didn’t know exactly what Midas’ Hand was. But the fact that Isaac had given such a secretive directive made it clear that Leonora was involved.

Which meant that the moment they found Midas’ Hand, a conflict with Leonora was inevitable.

‘The mercenaries number sixteen. Aside from that Shalok fellow, they don’t seem particularly formidable…’

They wouldn’t stand a chance against Rottenhammer and the Holy Knights.

But there was always the possibility that Leonora would take Angela hostage at the last moment. Anticipating this, Rottenhammer had deliberately positioned Gebel by Angela’s side.

Leonora, for her part, was just as wary.

Merchants who lived surrounded by gold and riches were particularly sensitive to betrayal and murder. The Golden Idol Guild, which despised the inefficiency of maintaining standing armies, instead specialized in asymmetrical forces.

And the most cost-effective asymmetrical force was information.

Leonora suddenly noticed something odd—Angela’s movements had slowed.

They had stopped and started walking again countless times, but this time, Leonora’s instincts flared violently.

Angela’s value was shifting—drastically.

Leonora possessed a unique instinct that allowed her to calculate a person’s worth in monetary terms.

If Angela’s worth had simply increased, she might have assumed the girl had found some sacred relic or acquired some miraculous power.

But this wasn’t just an increase.

Because Midas’ Hand had no fixed value.

‘This is…’

At this moment, Angela’s value was fluctuating wildly.

One moment, she seemed worth enough gold to buy an entire kingdom.

The next, she was worth no more than a few measly coins in a beggar’s bowl.

Her value kept shifting, twisting, and blending, to the point that it was making Leonora dizzy.

Something whose worth changed based on perspective—that could only mean one thing.

They had found Midas’ Hand.

“Angela, what do you see?”

Unable to restrain herself, Leonora grabbed Angela’s wrist.

The next moment, Leonora nearly lost consciousness.

‘What… is this?’

Angela’s face was an abyssal void.

It was nothing, yet it was everything.

Leonora shrieked, trying to let go—but Angela clutched her wrist in return.

The empty void opened its mouth.

“I knew you would betray us, Leonora.”

It was the Immortal Emperor’s voice.

Leonora wasn’t shocked that the Immortal Emperor had anticipated this.

What unsettled her was that she had no idea what he had done to Midas’ Hand.

“Leonora, what’s happening?!”

Rottenhammer rushed forward, and Gebel raised his sword. But upon seeing Angela’s bizarre transformation, they could only inhale sharply, unsure of what to do.

Angela, however, remained focused solely on Leonora.

“You are someone who values only worth. You put a price on people, and if they don’t meet your standards, you discard them. I never liked you from the start.”

“L-Let go of me!”

This was no doubt some possessing spirit, relaying the Immortal Emperor’s message.

But the phenomenon of shifting value—what was that?

Suddenly, Angela’s empty face split open grotesquely, and she murmured:

“Midas’ Hand has no fixed form. Whoever holds it in this pyramid and makes a wish—

—their very flesh becomes Midas’ Hand.”

“Long ago, it was a monkey from the marketplace.

Most recently, it was a man named Midas.

Then it was me.

And now, it is this girl—Angela.”

The Immortal Emperor spoke with unsettling kindness, as if he were explaining a user manual.

“Which is why I have decided…

You are the most worthy recipient of Midas’ Hand, Leonora.

You alone deserve to bear this curse.

Go on. Make a wish.”

The moment the spirit vanished, the void completely devoured Angela.

All that remained was a small, delicate hand—tightly gripping Leonora’s wrist.

It would not let go.

Not until a wish was spoken.

Leonora gritted her teeth and screamed.

“STOP THIS RIGHT NOW!”

And then—

It was fulfilled.