Paladin of the Dead God

‘There is no guarantee that the angels’ goals align perfectly with the interests of the Codex of Light.’

As countless dynasties and empires that had risen on this land had once been mere tools for the Codex of Light, the Codex itself was just a tool for the angels. Even if the Codex changed its name several times, a new order of believers would eventually emerge.

‘This Dawn Army may just be another treaty like the Licht Agreement,’ Horhel thought, recalling the records of how the Codex had suffered through unbearable bloodshed when it lost all its lands during the Licht Agreement. This time, however, it wasn’t just the Codex, but all faiths and all of humanity that would clash. The bloodshed would be on an entirely different scale.

Even though Horhel could sense impending catastrophe, he knew he had to accept and endure it all.

That was the grand design.

Horhel raised his head and looked beyond the front lines. If the Dawn Army was a gleaming sea of white, what lay ahead was a dark, ashen gray wave. Even though the priests had lit their incense burners thickly around them, the stench of corpses from the frontlines still reached them.

The land ahead was now part of the Black Empire, the territory of Urdantu.

Imitating the angels, Horhel gestured toward it.

‘Go. It is God’s will.’

The moment the main force of the 13th Dawn Army set foot on the lands of the Black Empire for the first time, Isaac found himself in a dire situation—on the verge of being thrown into the sea.

And it was by the hands of his own Dawn Army of Issacrea.

“South? You’re going south?!”

The most vocal in their protests were the sailors from the Salt Council.

“Are you insane? Do you even know what’s in the southern sea? We’ll all die there! How many ships and how many people do we have here? You’re planning to kill us all?!”

Isaac had intended to call the captains to calm their crews, but it was the captains themselves who reacted most violently. Isaac may have been a formidable Holy Grail Knight on land, but at sea, the captain was king. The sailors’ unrest quickly spread to the other factions as well.

The ships had come to a complete halt on the sea, and commanders from other vessels boarded to inquire about the situation. Isaac, deciding this was as good a time as any, confronted the captains directly.

“Didn’t I say from the beginning that we would be crossing the sea?”

“Of course, we thought you’d be heading east to target either Belslav or the fortress of Gehenna. It’s closer to Ushak, the capital of Urdantu, and we’d be better positioned to receive support from the main Dawn Army,” Yenkos protested.

Her assessment was almost entirely correct from a strategic standpoint. Belslav and the fortress of Gehenna were near the capital of Ushak, which was controlled by the Immortal Order. If Isaac attacked there, the Immortal Order would have to split their forces, and the main Dawn Army would find it easier to make their move.

The issue was that Isaac had no desire for such a situation.

Isaac hoped the main Dawn Army would take on the entire might of the Immortal Order, leaving him unscathed. And there was another reason he wasn’t interested in targeting Ushak.

“It takes us further from the Holy Land,” Isaac replied.

Yenkos had no response to that. The primary goal of the Dawn Army wasn’t to capture the capital—it was to reclaim the Holy Land Lua, so Isaac’s reasoning wasn’t wrong. ŗ�

Of course, geographically speaking, it didn’t put them much further from the Holy Land. The capital of Ushak just happened to lie in the path toward Lua.

“You don’t want to waste time breaking through Gehenna or Ushak? So, you’re heading directly for the Holy Land? And for that, we have to go south?”

“What’s so terrible about the southern sea?” Tuhalin frowned, disliking the fact that the captains were challenging the commander. Yet, the sailors, who had long abandoned decorum in favor of survival, continued to speak bluntly.

“There’s the damn Nightmare Strait!” Yenkos exclaimed.

The moment the words left her mouth, sailors from various ships began hurriedly crossing themselves or clutching superstitious relics while muttering prayers. Even Tuhalin, unfamiliar with maritime lore, could sense that merely mentioning the name was considered bad luck.

“What exactly is the Nightmare Strait?”

Tuhalin, though accustomed to sea travel from the Svalbard archipelago and the Kingdom of Elil, was unfamiliar with the far southern seas. He hadn’t heard of this strait.

Isaac, deciding it was best to explain before Yenkos could exaggerate, spoke in a calm, concise manner.

“It’s the sea that blocks access to the Salt Desert of Miarma.”

***

The legends of Miarma, the former sacred city of the Salt Council, still passed through the lips of sailors.

Once, the Salt Council had built a vast maritime empire rivaling the Codex of Light. But for breaking their pact with Luadin, all their glory had been buried beneath the Salt Desert. Since then, the Salt Council had fallen into perpetual decline, with only their sailors keeping their faith alive.

But they never forgot Miarma.

A golden city, bustling harbors filled with thousands of ships, sacred temples built beneath the sea, and nets overflowing with fish, courtesy of angels.

Now, all that remained were ruins, scorched by blistering heat and dry winds that stole even the last traces of moisture.

“In front of the Salt Desert is the Nightmare Strait, where, thanks to strange weather conditions created by the Lighthouse Keeper, all manner of terrible events occur. Storms, waves as tall as houses, whirlpools that reach the ocean floor… they say when the god trapped beneath the Salt Desert thrashes, it causes tidal waves.”

Isaac muttered as if sighing.

“The 7th Dawn Army attempted to cross by sea, just like me. They chose the shortest route, entering the Nightmare Strait, and were all drowned, transforming into undead pirates who now roam the sea forever. Some say the icebergs that sometimes drift down into the warm southern seas are their doing.”

“…”

Tuhalin stared at Isaac with a slightly horrified expression. Even Yenkos, who had spoken out so loudly, seemed at a loss for words, merely nodding in agreement.

Tuhalin, still skeptical, asked Isaac, “So, from what I’m hearing, this Nightmare Strait is a hellscape filled with glaciers, storms, whirlpools, tidal waves, ghost ships, and pirates—basically every sailor’s worst nightmare. Is that right?”

“Correct.”

“Are you sure your goal in this Dawn Army isn’t to strengthen the Immortal Order’s navy?”

‘Hmph. In the game, it was a thrilling adventure course that everyone wanted to try.’

Isaac thought to himself, but he knew no one here would find that reasoning convincing, so he didn’t say it out loud. Instead, he chose a more plausible explanation.

“I can’t do much about the pirates or ghost ships, but I do know a route that will help us avoid most of the other deadly obstacles.”