Paladin of the Dead God
Chapter 433: The Millennium Kingdom (1)

As the six lighthouses surrounding the Lighthouse Keeper began to move slowly, the Burning Maiden instinctively realized that something was about to happen.

She, as a fellow Archangel, knew better than anyone that the Lighthouse Keeper was conserving his strength.

If he chose to exert his full power, he could have shattered the dome covering Holy Land Lua in an instant.

But he could not afford to waste his strength on such trivial matters.

The Lighthouse Keeper was waiting to plant the flag of absolute victory.

That was why he had allowed the Sword of May and the others to expend their efforts in breaking through Holy Land Lua.

‘The Millennium Kingdom is near!’

Determined to ensure that nothing interfered with this pivotal event, she sharpened her focus, scanning her surroundings with burning vigilance.

In her heightened state, everything around her felt offensive, hostile.

‘That blasphemous creature still remains in this sacred place?!’

Such a stain could not be permitted to exist on the land where the Millennium Kingdom would descend.

She finally pulled her flaming whip taut, ready to incinerate this profane heretic.

But before she could act, Ciero cried out defiantly.

"Look! Who has truly saved us and fought for us?"

"Was it the Burning Maiden, who lashed us with whips and drove us into the inferno of war?"

"Or was it the Holy Grail Knight, who threw himself into the heart of the enemy, ready to die for us?"

Ciero’s robes flared dramatically as he spoke, his voice filled with passion.

Every aspect of his delivery—the dramatic phrasing, the incendiary tone—was designed to inflame the crowd.

The agitator within him, the very same skill that had drawn tens of thousands into the Dawn Army, was now fully awakened.

"Who allowed the priesthood to rot and decay?"

"Who stood by as the Blind Sentinels ruled over us?"

"Who protected the corrupt priests as they hoarded gold, indulged in power struggles, and wallowed in wealth?"

The Blind Sentinels—those closest to the power of the Codex of Light, yet unable to see its truth.

Everyone knew about them.

Yet no one dared speak their name aloud.

Until now.

The soldiers were startled.

But at the same time, they felt a thrill course through them.

"That’s true… The priests, they’re all so bloated with greed!"

"But… many priests died during the campaign."

"Because the Archangels whipped them forward like cattle! Before that, they just sat back, preening like peacocks and pretending their miracles were their own doing!"

Hatred for the corrupt clergy was universal—even among the Dawn Army.

They had merely been too afraid of the priesthood’s power to speak of it openly.

But to say such things in front of an Archangel?

That was the act of someone who wanted to die.

The Burning Maiden saw it that way as well.

[So, you’ve lost your damn mind.]

His words—though true—were still infuriating.

Blaming the Archangels for the church’s corruption was unacceptable.

Enraged, she lashed out, her flaming whip streaking toward Ciero like a searing comet.

She had no doubt that once Ciero was reduced to cinders, the fools who had been swayed by him would come to their senses.

But the moment her whip struck, something impossible happened.

Ciero raised his arms in defense, and—

He did not burn.

The Burning Maiden’s eyes widened in disbelief.

Instead of turning to ashes, Ciero stood firm.

The flames curled around his arms, but his body remained intact.

Through the torn fabric of his sleeves, his forearms were revealed—brimming with radiant heat.

And in that instant, she remembered something.

Ciero was a Nephilim.

And though the origins of his bloodline were unclear, one thing was certain:

His parents had no intention of letting him die.

‘The World’s Forge?’

If his bloodline hailed from there, it would explain everything.

Regardless, it was clear that he was being shielded by an Archangel’s authority.

And to the Dawn Army, this took on an entirely different meaning.

Ciero did not miss the opportunity.

"Look upon this, soldiers! The Codex of Light does not forsake those who call for true justice!"

"The Burning Maiden’s power does not harm me—that is proof!"

"Ciero! Ciero! Ciero!"

One soldier, likely a former comrade of Ciero’s in the Dawn Army, began chanting his name.

Others quickly joined in.

"I was a priest of the Issacrea Dawn Army! I fought alongside the Holy Grail Knight!

"He fought the bravest among us—without hesitation, without retreat!"

"If he is unworthy, then no one is worthy!"

"The Holy Grail Knight is our Saint! He is our Angel!"

Resentment toward the Burning Maiden, and the desire to deny that their hero was a monster, had united the soldiers.

The only thing they feared was the wrath of the Archangels.

But if an Archangel could not even burn one man, then what was there to fear?

"The Burning Maiden must step down!"

"The Holy Grail Knight is the hero of the Codex of Light!"

As the soldiers’ uproar grew deafening, Cardinal Amila Endec and the gathered priests turned deathly pale.

Never before had they witnessed such open defiance against the Archangels.

And against the Burning Maiden, no less.

Even Isaac himself was slightly impressed.

‘This must be a little frustrating for her…’

‘This is why your reputation matters.’

People loved heroes more than they loved angels.

Even the White Owl had said so.

That was why Archangels only ever lent their authority to heroes.

The Burning Maiden had made a tactical mistake.

[These insane wretches…]

Her whip lashed the air, creating dozens of flaming tendrils that sent waves of black smoke billowing into the sky.

The searing heat that had once pierced Holy Land Lua’s dome now surged overhead, causing many soldiers to collapse in terror.

[Shall I burn you all as an example?!]

The heat was undeniable.

Even if Ciero was protected, could the rest of them survive?

Would the Codex of Light truly shield them as well?

Just as she prepared to bring her whip down—

A single breeze sliced through the flames.

With one gentle gust, the flaming whip was severed in half.

The scattered embers flickered and vanished like autumn leaves.

The Burning Maiden’s eyes flared as she turned sharply.

["The Codex of Light never changes."]

It was Edelred.

No.

The Conqueror who had descended upon this land—

Elil Kaldbruch.

With his gaze locked onto her, he spoke coldly:

["Even after 700 years, you still don’t understand justice or honor."]

["How can something remain so unchanged?"]

["By now, shouldn’t you have realized what the problem is?"]

["All you ever do is lament that your faithful believers have betrayed you—but what meaning is there in that?"]

["Do not interfere in matters of our faith, heretic!"]

The Burning Maiden growled, her voice filled with fury.

To stand firm against a heretic was a virtue of an Inquisitor.

But it was also a good way to become a martyr.

Elil bared his teeth in amusement at her defiance.

At that moment, the Burning Maiden recalled a crucial fact—

Before the rise of the Immortal Order, Elil had slain more followers of the Codex of Light than anyone else.

Before the White Owl appeared, no Archangel had been able to stop him.

["It’s been a while since I last took up the rod of discipline."]

The fight was not even a contest.

With every gust of wind, pieces of the Burning Maiden’s body were carved away.

Elil toyed with her from a distance, as if the very concept of range meant nothing to him.

His sword did not need to touch her—the wind was his blade, and his will was his hand.

["A whip? That’s the kind of thing you’d use on a horse’s hindquarters. Why would you bring such a thing to a battlefield?"]

Elil’s voice carried genuine curiosity, as if he truly could not comprehend her choice of weapon.

["You run your mouth well. Did you claim your throne with that mouth of yours? You have no place speaking in matters of divine retribution!"]

Even as she was struck again and again, the Burning Maiden did not yield.

Was it impressive that she could endure a battle against a god?

Or was it absurd that even a god would manifest in human form only to be beaten this easily?

It was hard to say.

But Isaac—who had fought gods before—knew the real reason she was being overwhelmed.

This was not a simple matter of strength.

The Burning Maiden was losing because, deep down, she believed she could not win.

No matter how mighty a being was, if its will to fight crumbled, there was no overcoming such despair.

If she had at least resolved herself to fight properly, she would not be this helpless.

‘The Burning Maiden is not a frontline warrior.’

‘Her role is to capture, bind, and burn prisoners. Not to fight a god.’

She was simply unfamiliar with true combat.

If there was anyone in the Codex of Light suited to facing Elil, it was not the Burning Maiden.

It was the Sword of May.

Yet, despite seeing her comrade being beaten, the Sword of May did nothing.

—[Isaac.]

As everyone’s attention remained fixed on the clash between Elil and the Burning Maiden, the Sword of May whispered to him.

[Take me in. I will help you escape from here.]

Isaac blinked in surprise.

The Sword of May?

The offer was baffling.

His tentacles had already been exposed.

The Burning Maiden had officially declared him a heretic.

And yet, she was offering to help him escape?

At the moment, public opinion was on his side.

But this incident would leave permanent suspicion hanging over him.

For the Sword of May to stand by him now—

It meant that there was division within the Codex of Light itself.

And she was openly admitting it.

[The Burning Maiden is too short-sighted.]

[She was useful until now, but the Lighthouse Keeper never truly counted her as one of his pieces.]

Once the hunt was over—

It was not Isaac who would be cast aside.

It was the Burning Maiden.

Isaac almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

More than amusement, however, he felt a deep revulsion at the Lighthouse Keeper’s ruthlessness.

[Come with me.]

[The Lighthouse Keeper has prepared a high place for you in the Millennium Kingdom.]

Not only was he being spared—

He was being offered a position of power.

It was, essentially, the future he had once dreamed of.

The reclamation of Holy Land Lua.

Becoming a celebrated hero, beyond suspicion.

Living a secure, honored life in the victory of the Codex of Light.

Achieving the Millennium Kingdom.

It was perfect.

It was perfect—

And yet…

[Nameless Chaos is watching you.]

A creeping unease settled over him.

There was no rational reason for it.

Everything was going too well.

It was not a matter of logic—

It was simply an instinctive sense of wrongness.

His gaze drifted.

To Elil—

No—

To Edelred, still battling the Burning Maiden.

And then, there was Hesabel.

She had followed him into war, leading Elil’s knights without hesitation.

Even now, she was likely watching, hidden, ready to fire the moment a threat appeared.

Among the surviving Dawn Army soldiers, there were those still carrying the Issacrea Dawn Army’s banner.

It seemed Tuhalin had managed to save a good number of them.

Eidan was likely fighting his own battles elsewhere.

Even though the Salt Desert had become a sea, they had still come all this way to stand by Isaac’s side.

And then, there was the Issacrea Knight Order.

They were no longer just knights.

They had become something more.

Even though their faith was different, they had chosen to believe in him.

They had fought for him.

They had brought him victory.

Was it truly right to help usher in the Millennium Kingdom?

A few months ago, if he had questioned himself like this—

He would have slapped himself for it.

“How else do you plan to survive?”

“If not the Codex of Light’s victory, then whose victory should it be?”

But now, he was ready to ask a different question.

"Does there have to be a victor?"

Does one faith have to crush all others to claim victory?

—[Isaac.]

The Sword of May pressed him, urging him forward.

She had helped him.

Even as an Angel of the Codex of Light, she had taught him—a Nephilim and a servant of Nameless Chaos.

Rejecting her felt wrong.

But why—

Why did Kalsen’s words feel like a thorn in his throat?

"Do not trust the Sword of May too much."

What had Kalsen seen in her that warranted such a warning?

The Sword of May knew of the Lighthouse Keeper’s schemes.

But the Burning Maiden did not.

Isaac followed his instincts—

And lifted his gaze.

The Lighthouse Keeper—

Was gone.

While everyone had been focused on Elil and the Burning Maiden—

The Lighthouse Keeper had already moved elsewhere.

Because the true center of this world was no longer here.

It was with a single merchant.