Paladin of the Dead God
Chapter 437: The Millennium Kingdom (5)

Isaac felt his mouth go dry.

He didn’t know how to respond or even what the Lighthouse Keeper’s words meant.

But he knew exactly what he had to do.

He couldn’t just leave the Lighthouse Keeper as he was. If the Immortal Emperor had spared his life for a reason, it was most certainly to kill the Lighthouse Keeper right here, right now.

Leaving behind the paladins who had succumbed to madness, Isaac sprinted toward the pyramid.

However, Kaldwin suddenly wrenched itself free from his grip with a violent tremor.

Isaac immediately realized that this was Calurien’s doing and, enraged, snatched the sword back up.

He nearly crushed his Dragon Heart in fury, but Calurien hastily intervened.

[Calm yourself, Holy Grail Knight! Think about why Elil was defeated!]

Panting, his mind burning, Isaac forced himself to think.

Elil had been taken down in an unbelievably futile manner.

Of course, a god could not truly die—perhaps they could be wounded to some extent, but that was all.

The angels under his command wouldn’t have perished either.

But Edelred and his knights…

Isaac gasped as another scorching pain lanced through his head.

He had never felt such agony before.

Something was wrong.

Until now, Isaac had always viewed this world with a sense of detachment, like a game he was playing.

Whenever he became too immersed, Nameless Chaos would intervene, restoring that distance.

But Nameless Chaos was silent.

‘Why?’

Because right now, it was up there, protecting Leonora.

Isaac, eyes bloodshot, lifted his gaze toward the top of the pyramid.

There, writhing atop it, were masses of dark red spinal matter.

They were the same growths that had sprouted from his own body thousands upon thousands of times before—yet this was the first time he had ever seen them from a distance.

The mere sight of them twisted his thoughts.

To exist in the same world as that grotesque presence was terrifying in itself.

It was the very embodiment of an abstract horror—an attempt to forcibly shape fear and chaos into a single, physical form.

‘Is that… why Nameless Chaos emerged there?’

Leonora.

It was Leonora—not anyone else—who was up there.

Isaac suddenly realized what she had done.

She had obtained Midas’ Hand.

Did that mean she had wished for the resurrection of Nameless Chaos?

No, that couldn’t be.

Leonora was cold, perhaps, but she wasn’t insane.

Then what kind of wish had been twisted so horribly that it led to the resurrection of Nameless Chaos?

[Isaac.]

A soft voice called to him.

From above, the Lighthouse Keeper gazed down and whispered.

[Come up. The filthy earth is not your place. We have much to discuss.]

Isaac panted heavily.

He couldn’t refuse the Lighthouse Keeper’s words.

Not because he was compelled to obey, but because—whether he intended to kill him or talk to him—he had no choice but to approach.

Running away wasn’t an option.

Isaac bound Kaldwin tightly with torn cloth to keep it from slipping away.

Calurien screamed and thrashed, but he ignored it.

[You must be curious about the wish Leonora made.]

The Lighthouse Keeper spoke as Isaac ascended the stairs.

Stroking the trembling Leonora’s hair, he continued.

[She wished for people to stop killing.]

Isaac clenched his teeth.

Of course.

A truly merchant-like wish.

She hadn’t wished for the world itself, like a ruler would.

She hadn’t wished for strength, like a warrior would.

She simply wanted to secure her own safety.

Because if she had that, she believed she could rule the world with money and negotiation.

And she wasn’t wrong.

The Golden Idol Guild had always been threatened by those who wielded swords.

No matter how much wealth they amassed or how many powerful figures they allied with, they were ultimately at the mercy of those who could take their lives by force.

Leonora must have pondered that while dealing with the Immortal Order.

If the threat of murder was removed, then the Golden Idol Guild would have nothing to fear.

Had she not been bound by duty to serve the Immortal Emperor or feared the scorn of others, she might have willingly become an undead herself.

Only then did Isaac understand why Elil had fallen so pathetically.

What happens to a god who defines themselves through murder, in a world where killing is forbidden?

The Lighthouse Keeper, delighted by Isaac’s realization, spoke again.

[Exactly. A god sustained by conflict cannot survive in a world where Leonora’s wish has come true.]

[Perhaps that was why Elil sensed the crisis so urgently.]

But Elil had been powerful.

Too powerful.

Powerful enough to summon the world’s counterbalance.

Elil had launched an all-out attack to obliterate both Leonora and the Lighthouse Keeper.

A full-force assault from a god.

And when such overwhelming power was unleashed, the world itself was forced to react, pushing back to balance the scales.

As a result—

Nameless Chaos had seeped through the cracks in reality.

“Are you trying to destroy the world?”

At last, Isaac spoke to the Lighthouse Keeper.

"...?"

Isaac felt strange.

It was as if this conversation had happened before.

Yet the Lighthouse Keeper showed no sign of noticing Isaac’s déjà vu.

[Impossible. If anything, the opposite is true.]

The Lighthouse Keeper gazed down at the writhing tentacles below.

[Leonora has already made her wish. This chaos exists to uphold her decree—a chaos that enforces the prohibition of murder.

It will become the blade that descends the Millennium Kingdom upon the world.]

Isaac found it absurd.

The sheer hypocrisy of proclaiming a ban on murder after massacring so many people before his very eyes was almost comical.

But the answer to his frustration soon became clear.

[It has begun. Chaos is now opening a new chapter in history.]

Isaac now had a vague understanding of what Midas’ Hand truly was.

The Mistilteir that Tuhalin had sought… was, quite literally, a relic of Nameless Chaos.

Perhaps only a fragment or a remnant of it—but then again, there was no precise way to describe it.

Midas’ Hand was a lingering trace of Nameless Chaos in this world.

A fragment through which Nameless Chaos could still exert its influence.

But… how? Hadn’t Nameless Chaos disappeared along with its followers during the White Death?

No, that wasn’t right.

The Codex of Light may have given a name to the way the world functioned, but the world had existed before the faith itself.

Even after Nameless Chaos had vanished, had humanity truly overcome the fear of the unknown?

Had they stopped imagining the horrors lurking in the dark?

Had they ceased their self-destructive fantasies of bringing the world to an end?

The faith in chaos still remained.

It had no name, no form—humanity simply did not know how to call it.

But the Lighthouse Keeper did.

Even without a name, he understood how to wield forgotten power.

He had always been adept at handling faith without a master.

Isaac’s heartbeat grew erratic.

Excitement? Fear?

He couldn’t tell.

An indescribable feeling overtook him as he ascended the steps.

Then he noticed something—the blood and flesh of Elil’s fallen knights were writhing.

The scattered remains were being reached by the tentacles.

A wave of nausea hit Isaac.

It felt as though the tendrils were merging into his own flesh.

They tangled and clung together like swarming insects, yet their union was as grotesquely intimate as a lover’s embrace.

Rather than flesh sticking together, it was more like colors blending into one another.

Everywhere, the crimson tendrils spread, erupting like wildfire in summer, forming new sensory organs.

Mouths opened, exhaling breath.

Eyes blinked, scanning their surroundings.

Unintelligible, fragmented words sputtered forth in irregular patterns.

Then—

Isaac froze.

He recognized a voice among the murmuring lips.

“…Mother.”

A weary, rasping whisper.

Edelred.

"Mother of All Gods, grant me a body.”

And so, the Mother of All Gods granted him one.

With a wet, tearing sound, the flesh surrounding Edelred peeled away.

Dark, clotted blood gushed down the steps.

He coughed violently, a bubbling spray of blood spilling from his lips, before collapsing onto the ground.

His body trembled violently—was it from the cold, the trauma of his death, or something else entirely?

But… was this truly Edelred?

As Isaac stood paralyzed, staring at the crumpled figure, a blood-drenched boy lifted her head and gazed up at him.

“…Teacher.”

Isaac wanted to scream.

To run.

To gouge out his own eyes.

Or better yet, to slit his own throat with his sword.

Anything to escape this moment.

For the first time, Isaac understood the terror that had driven people into madness below.

Fear was not something that existed in the present.

It was the crushing realization that the future was unbearable.

The knights of Elil, who had been resurrected by the Lighthouse Keeper’s chaos, were twitching and groaning around him.

They, too, were no different from Isaac.

They did not understand.

They did not want to understand.

Because if they did, their minds would shatter.

The Holy Land Lua resounded with agonized wails and screams.

Not hymns.

Not prayers.

Not chants of devotion.

This was not a new dawn heralding the arrival of the Millennium Kingdom.

It was pure horror.

[Is this… the Millennium Kingdom?]

And humans were not the only ones who could not bear it.

A scorching light blazed as the Burning Maiden appeared, her flames consuming the filth dripping down from the pyramid.

She had been locked in battle against Elil, trying to stall for time.

Now, she was barely standing—her body in tatters, her flames flickering weakly, barely clinging to life.

She looked as though she could collapse and disappear at any moment.

Yet she remained.

She had endured until now for one reason:

To witness the descent of the Millennium Kingdom.

But now—

For the first time, she regretted it.

[Is this… the Millennium Kingdom?]

She repeated, her voice trembling with disbelief.

This time, it was a question filled with pure hatred for the Lighthouse Keeper.

A sound like shattering glass rang out as she unfurled her flame-whip.

Compared to the overwhelming power of the Lighthouse Keeper, it was as insignificant as a candle before the sun.

But she did not hesitate.

She bared her teeth and pointed her whip at him.

[I knew it. There’s no such thing as a sane messiah who calls himself a savior.]

[You were a fraud from the start. You must have used tricks to pass your so-called trial of faith.]

[I should have burned you the moment I had doubts.]

The Burning Maiden had once been one of the Lighthouse Keeper’s most devoted followers.

But she had also been the first to question him.

She had possessed an uncanny instinct for detecting deception.

But she had failed.

And now, she was paying the price.

The Lighthouse Keeper did not try to defend himself.

He merely watched, waiting for Isaac to reach him.

The Burning Maiden, her rage boiling over, lashed out.

A crimson arc tore through the air, her whip flying toward the Lighthouse Keeper—

But the moment it touched his wings…

It ignited.

The flames of the whip were consumed by a new, white fire.

Fire… burning fire.

The Burning Maiden let out a scream.

The new white flames spread in reverse, consuming her from the tip of her whip back to her body.

Even though she had always been engulfed in flames, these new fires burned her away.

[Lighthouse Keeper…]

The pain was unbearable.

Yet it was not the pain of burning flesh that tormented her most.

It was regret.

She could have wept.

She could have cursed him.

But instead, as a heretic inquisitor, she chose to fulfill her final duty.

Her blazing eyes locked onto Isaac.

[Holy Grail Knight…]

She was nothing more than a crumbling heap of ash and white fire.

Yet she took a step toward him.

With each movement, her body disintegrated.

Still, she walked.

Until—

She stumbled.

Collapsing forward, she reached out toward Isaac.

[Take my hand.]