Paladin of the Dead God
Chapter 431: Beneath the Beautiful Skin (6)

[Then why didn’t you just let that skin do its job?]

In the end, Isaac responded bluntly, refuting the words of the Immortal Emperor.

What the emperor had said was something that had been weighing on Isaac’s mind as well. After all, he had always harbored the fear that, at any moment, his spinal cords might burst forth and devour everything around him.

[I’m struggling to keep this monster restrained under this thin layer of skin.

So why do you keep poking at it, testing it, trying to see how sharp its teeth are?

Can’t you just let me stay beautiful for once?]

Isaac’s lament wasn’t directed solely at the Immortal Emperor. It was also a complaint to everything he had endured—his trials, his hardships, his relationships. And, most of all, to Nameless Chaos itself.

His journey had begun with the simple goal of restoring his nature without drawing the ire of the Codex of Light. And now, it was finally reaching its conclusion.

Live comfortably. Take care of only those within arm’s reach. Live safely, without trouble.

As long as he could secure that much, he had no need for the spinal cords that defined his existence.

[How many times do I have to say it? I have no intention of destroying the world. I want the world to persist.]

The Immortal Emperor fell silent for a moment at Isaac’s words.

He gazed up at Isaac, his expression unreadable, before finally speaking.

"In truth, it has been 300 years since I last had a conversation— a real conversation—with a servant of Nameless Chaos."

[...What?]

"In the past, I trusted someone. And I was deeply wounded because of it.

That person said the same thing. That he wished for the world’s survival. That he loved humanity."

Isaac thought of the old man in the yellow robe.

A bishop who had once been acquainted with Beshek. Yet he had later conspired with the local factions to assassinate Beshek.

Considering that he had ultimately been an agent of Nameless Chaos, the very one who unleashed the White Death, it must have been a cruel betrayal for Beshek.

[So you’re saying you can’t trust the words of an Agent of Chaos?]

"Indeed. For Nameless Chaos to charge toward the abyss is its nature."

[Then this conversation is pointless—]

"But I trust you."

Isaac, about to retort, was caught off guard by the unexpected words.

"Not your flesh. I trust your essence.

Even after becoming such a ‘form,’ you have continuously tried to converse with me. You have fought, but without losing your grip on reason.

I know how terrifying a mindless servant of Nameless Chaos can be.

But you... you have fought to remain human."

[So you’re saying you believe me...?]

"Yes."

The Immortal Emperor spoke with the demeanor of someone who had cast aside all burdens.

"I will bring you back before you become irreversibly broken."

‘So what does that mean? Are we fighting or not?’

Before Isaac could snap back, the Immortal Emperor suddenly lunged forward.

A black blade, one that had once cleaved the heavens, followed behind him in an ominous arc.

A sword that could split the world—a clear and unyielding symbol that divided life from death.

Isaac felt a surge of anger.

So, after exchanging just a few words, this was how it was going to be? A surprise attack?

He quickly retracted his spinal cords, shielding his core within the Whitewood in Prayer, preparing to counter the emperor’s strike.

But the Immortal Emperor never swung his sword.

Instead, he hurled himself into the Whitewood in Prayer, just like one of the countless billions of wandering wraiths.

***

The first thought that came to Isaac’s mind was exactly that: self-destruction.

Just moments ago, he had witnessed the Immortal Emperor’s divided forms attempt to devour him—only to be torn apart by his own resistance, unable to withstand the force.

What had happened when he devoured the Lord of the Graveyard?

He had nearly been ripped apart.

And what about when he consumed the flesh of The Caller?

He had been certain he was going to die. Even Amandalas and the Immortal Emperor had rushed to his aid, fearing for his life.

And now, the Immortal Emperor’s main body had thrown itself inside him.

[Accept me.]

Isaac screamed, but no solution came to him. He thrashed in vain.

As always, his ravenous spinal cords immediately lunged at the Immortal Emperor, seeking to devour him the moment they made contact.

But this was poison.

Even as the countless spinal cords shredded his flesh, the Immortal Emperor stood tall, his presence unyielding. He pressed deeper into the heart of the Whitewood in Prayer, step by step.

It was a sight that was at once noble, wretched, and terrifying.

Isaac envisioned a gruesome image—a snake trying to swallow prey far beyond its ability, only for its own stomach to rupture.

[Are you insane?! This kind of self-sacrificial attack is something a human resorts to when fighting a god! Not—]

[You have already lowered my dignity, have you not?]

Isaac was left speechless.

He could no longer reject the Immortal Emperor.

It wasn’t because his power was overwhelming.

It wasn’t because Isaac had given up.

It was because he was too hungry.

The beast within him growled, demanding its feast.

This was madness. A suicidal act.

And yet, the Immortal Emperor was too alluring a prey.

This wasn’t just any entity he could consume.

This was a god.

A living god. A god with flesh.

Considering that the gods of Urbansus existed as conceptual entities, the Immortal Emperor was likely the only one who could be eaten.

‘...Even if I choke to death, I have to eat him.’

In the end, Isaac surrendered himself to the inevitable.

He focused all his being on devouring that power.

It had already happened.

Isaac’s body, like a dried-out sponge, was absorbing the Immortal Emperor’s power. And if he wanted to endure even a moment longer, he had to continue absorbing it.

The Whitewood in Prayer trembled, waves of unstable power surging within it, twisting and writhing in an unintelligible dance.

His tentacles rooted themselves firmly in the ground, branching out into the air, desperately clawing at every last particle of dust, every scattered trace of faith left behind by the Immortal Emperor.

Thud. Thud-thud.

Boils erupted across Isaac’s tentacles, bursting open in rapid succession.

Dark crimson fluids rained down like a storm, spilling uncontrollably. Certain parts of his body were beginning to spiral into rampancy, unable to contain the excess power.

[Focus.]

Yet despite the fact that the Immortal Emperor could have easily let Isaac self-destruct, he didn’t.

Rather than allowing his power to spiral out of control, he let himself slowly crumble, dissolving like melting wax.

From the burst boils, new spinal cords sprouted, gluttonously growing at an exponential rate.

The spilled blood itself became spores, blooming into dandelion-like tendrils that spread even farther.

Branches split into more branches, which split into even more branches, forming an infinite fractal pattern the more Isaac consumed the Immortal Emperor.

And yet, amidst all this, the Immortal Emperor was still advancing.

Despite having his limbs gnawed away, despite his form becoming more and more ambiguous, he pressed forward, approaching Isaac’s true body.

Even as countless tendrils tore into him, feasting on his flesh, the Immortal Emperor remained unwavering.

[Why?]

He was offering himself willingly.

Even at the cost of his own flesh, even at the cost of his own existence.

But Isaac couldn’t understand his intent.

Let’s assume he was truly willing to be devoured—what did he have to gain from it?

This wasn’t a simple matter of "I trust you, let’s get along from now on."

There had to be a deeper reason.

By then, the Immortal Emperor had drawn close, standing right before Isaac’s core.

Isaac, barely maintaining a human form while fused with countless spinal cords, had a strange sensation—as if he were gazing into his own innards.

And he realized, with a start, that this was the Immortal Emperor’s perspective.

At last, the Immortal Emperor answered the question.

"Because I want to believe in you."

At this point, it was difficult to even say that they were separate entities.

Their thoughts had intertwined to the extent that they could understand each other before even speaking.

That was how Isaac knew—the Immortal Emperor was telling the truth.

"At the very least, you were never evil while I watched you.

You tried to help others. You grieved for their sacrifices.

You threw yourself into danger to protect them.

And your friends—they have responded to your trust and friendship in kind."

The Immortal Emperor, betrayed by both man and god, still couldn’t bring himself to give up on humanity.

And now, he was choosing to place his faith in a monster—a monster that had shown him humanity.

But he was no fool.

"Instead, I will become your death."

[...My death?]

"If you lose your humanity, I will kill you.

I will not allow you to become an undying, immortal entity.

If you attempt to bring ruin upon this world, I will tear my own soul apart to destroy you.

Until the day I permit your death—you will not die.

That is my sole condition for allowing you to consume me."*

Isaac finally understood the Immortal Emperor’s intentions.

He couldn’t trust Isaac completely.

Isaac was simply too dangerous to be left unchecked on the basis of faith alone.

So instead, the Immortal Emperor had chosen to become a part of him.

A final safeguard for Isaac’s humanity.

If there ever came a day when Isaac sought to destroy the world, the Immortal Emperor would tear his way out from within him, ensuring their mutual destruction.

It was a perfect trap.

Isaac acknowledged this truth.

And, accepting the emperor’s condition, he devoured him.

Uncontrollable power surged through him, taking root deep within his body.

He couldn’t absorb it all at once. A vast portion of the Immortal Emperor’s essence remained dormant, embedded within his soul.

Isaac focused solely on assimilating as much of that power as possible.

With the cooperation of the one being devoured, the process was far smoother than expected.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to claim the emperor’s divine authority, but…

With this power alone, no angel would dare challenge him.

His consciousness began to drift.

Floating in a haze of mist, he felt himself being pulled toward the edge of oblivion.

Then suddenly, the Immortal Emperor’s voice returned—offering a cryptic apology.

[And… I’m sorry.]

Isaac’s consciousness slammed back into reality.

His entire body felt unbearably heavy.

This was wrong.

Even after absorbing such immense power, he shouldn’t have felt this sluggish.

‘What… the hell?’

Then, realization struck him.

This was the same sensation he had experienced when entering and exiting Urbansus—the pressure differential caused by shifting between realms of differing faith.

Isaac opened his eyes and scanned his surroundings.

He found himself staring at the darkened Holy Land Lua.

The Burning Maiden, the Blade of May, the Dawn Army, the Eclipse Army, the fanatics, Elil and his knights, and what he assumed to be the Issacrea Dawn Army—

All of them had stopped fighting.

All of them were staring at him.

Isaac lifted his head toward the sky.

The once-impenetrable dome covering Holy Land Lua had been shattered open.

And at its center, towering above all, the Whitewood in Prayer had burst forth—its massive roots now exposed for the world to see.

Hanging from the exterior of the massive tree, like a beating heart, was Isaac.

And at last, he understood the Immortal Emperor’s apology.

The moment he had been devoured, the power that had maintained the realm of death had collapsed.

Naturally, that meant Isaac had returned to the real world.

‘Ah… So that’s how it is.’

Isaac thought about how he might now be perceived.

Would they see him as the hero who vanquished the Immortal Emperor?

Or as a monstrous aberration—one that had even devoured a god?

Isaac knew then.

This was the Immortal Emperor’s final trial.