As Rottenhammer had expected, Isaac was fighting.

However, the way he was fighting differed slightly from Rottenhammer’s expectations.

‘There’s no point in slicing that thing with a sword.’

The Whitewood in Prayer seen in Ultenheim had some semblance of humanity, but now it had grown to a scale more akin to a structure than a living being. Though it still had tentacles of nerves and muscles writhing, Isaac cutting a few wouldn’t bring it down.

Especially considering the uncertainty of how massive its body was beyond that ‘door.’

Therefore, Isaac decided to close the door.

“Hesabel, protect me so that no one can come near.”

“Yes.”

Isaac sat down right in the center of the altar. Swarms of tentacle fleas and multi-legged spiders with deformed long legs converged on him. However, a sudden storm of red feathers swept through the area before Isaac even had to draw his sword.

Thud! As the red storm passed, Hesabel revealed herself. She spread her large wings, shielding Isaac and mercilessly eliminating any intruders disrupting his ritual.

‘To think I can now entrust my back to this one…’

It felt like just yesterday that Isaac had harbored gruesome thoughts of planting a bug in Hesabel’s head to blow her brains out if she showed any signs of betrayal. Now, Isaac intended to focus on closing the door he had opened. There might come a moment of weakness for Isaac during this process.

If Hesabel were to betray him, there would be no second chances.

Isaac was confident that Hesabel wouldn’t betray him, even though it would be heartbreaking if she did.

Isaac opened the book of the Nameless Worm, glaring at the Whitewood in Prayer.

The scriptures were still being updated with text, endlessly. It detailed how Isaac had disciplined the ignorant who impersonated him and punished minions who failed to recognize their master.

Watching a book write itself with him as the protagonist felt strange.

Isaac realized that even his thoughts of ‘feeling strange’ were being transcribed, making it difficult to think freely.

‘Focus.’

Isaac swept his hand over the book. From now on, he would author this book.

In the Nameless Chaos, there was no formal ritual.

All names, rituals, and miracles had been eroded and vanished. The remaining rituals were mere crude remnants pieced together from fragments of the past.

There was only one true ritual.

Everything Isaac read, spoke, and did.

His actions would be inscribed in Urbansus and become a replicable ritual.

The words of the Nameless Worm’s book followed Isaac’s fingertips.

[…Prophet Isaac sternly commanded the open door to close. The blasphemous being, lured by the eerie wind from outside, had its head severed and fell to the floor as the door closed…]

Rumble!

With a thunderous noise, the underground temple shook violently. A strange, unprecedented sound reverberated throughout Baelbaden. It was the scream of the Whitewood in Prayer.

The enormous scream caused the surrounding fleas to explode one by one.

Even Hesabel staggered under the assault, and suddenly, blood gushed from the cliff where the Whitewood in Prayer extended, like a flood.

Splat. The flowing blood surged like a wave, drenching Hesabel’s ankles and soaking Isaac’s scriptures and clothes.

But Isaac did not move an inch, simply staring at the book.

The Nameless Worm’s book greedily absorbed the pouring blood, the texts turning a vivid purple.

Rumble, rumble!

The Whitewood in Prayer’s resistance was significant, and the door wasn’t fully closed yet. Moreover, the tree struggled, twisting its half-severed body to try and reopen the door.

As the blood flood surged, the Whitewood in Prayer ceased its worship of the moon and turned its attention to Isaac.

[■■■■ ■■ ■■■!!]

A tumor swelled in the middle of the Whitewood in Prayer’s tentacle, forming Camille’s face. She screamed something incomprehensible at Isaac with a furious expression unbefitting a human face.

However, Isaac couldn’t hear a word she said.

His consciousness was already far away.

***

Isaac found himself sitting in the middle of a forest.

On a vast white sandy beach, unknown black trees stretched their blackened, dried hands towards the sky. Among them, one tree stood out. Unlike the others, it still seemed to have some life left in it.

Although seeing it for the first time, Isaac instinctively knew it was Camille. It dawned on him that all the trees around him were desiccated forms of the same kind of tentacles, stretching hundreds to thousands of meters.

[What are you?]

Camille, who should have been filled with rage, hatred, and murderous intent, stood in the middle of that desolate forest, weeping.

[What kind of creature are you to cast me into such a hell?]

Camille blamed Isaac.

Once a cardinal who was among the few in the sacred Codex of Light, she resented Isaac for casting her into such a dreadful place. She lamented, claiming that it was Isaac who had brought about her downfall, when even in death, she was assured of heaven.

“This hell is your creation, Camille,” Isaac said, quietly observing her.

“This place is the most fitting afterlife for you.”

Isaac remembered that no one mourned Camille’s death. Bishops who competed against her coveted the vacant cardinal seat, and the order sought a new cog in their machine. Even Claire might not have been too saddened if he knew the truth about his grandmother. The only one who seemed to mourn a bit was Neria, and for that reason, this place was the only suitable afterlife for Camille.

Isaac’s answer seemed unsatisfactory to Camille. She screamed and thrashed, swinging her branch-like hands towards Isaac.

Isaac turned the pages of the scripture.

As the blank white page appeared, Camille’s fingers broke and twisted in a spiral. The grotesque distortion spread up her arms, twisting her entire body until it burst. There was no logic to this phenomenon.

It happened simply because it was written in the book.

The Nameless Chaos was writing the book, and Camille was merely a character in it.

However, logic didn’t follow that way. Camille’s rage wrapped around Isaac, even with her body torn and shattered. She wanted to vent her anger, to see Isaac dead. Because a Prophet needed trials, and she was chosen to be one, even though she was insignificant.

A trial for the Prophet to take one step further.

The Nameless Chaos no longer intervened in the writing. From now on, it was a battle of will and realization.

Or perhaps, a chance for the Prophet to realize a new value.

[Gaahhhh!]

Camille suddenly screamed, her body twisting. Flames abruptly engulfed her fingertips, spreading quickly and consuming her body. It also crushed and pulverized her.

Isaac did nothing.

This was the work of his allies.

***

“Fire! Burn everything!”

“It burns well despite looking like a living creature, Captain!”

Rottenhammer and his paladins set fire to various parts of the Whitewood in Prayer’s body. The holy flames enveloping their weapons were one of the basic miracles for paladins. Camille’s body absorbed and burned with the holy fire like dry wood. It seemed the title “tree” was not for nothing.

Nel occasionally spewed lightning, leaving long fiery scars on the Whitewood in Prayer.

Nel seemed satisfied with the blazing inferno.

However, due to the sheer size of the Whitewood in Prayer, the paladins showed concern as the flames reached hundreds of meters high. If it collapsed while burning, the ensuing fire might become uncontrollable.

“Don’t worry about the fire, just burn it! This is a hot spring village, there’s plenty of water! Fighting this monster is worse than putting out a fire.”

The paladins, who felt the same, eagerly set more fires. The Whitewood in Prayer’s fleas climbing up were incinerated, and the night stalkers staggered, unable to withstand the heat. Any remaining ones were quickly caught and devoured by Nell.

“Cut down the burnt parts without mercy!”

Boom! Rottenhammer’s hammer smashed into the charred area, sending large fragments flying. Despite not being an ideal weapon for cutting wood, it shattered more of the tree than the swords and axes of other paladins.

The burnt parts were neither as tough nor as hard as the tentacles, making them easier to cut. Of course, cutting through a structure-like tentacle with a diameter of over ten meters was no easy task. But they steadily and surely cut down the Whitewood in Prayer. Their efforts consistently accumulated damage somewhere.

***

The attacks from the Brient Paladins inflicted damage on the Whitewood in Prayer, but it wasn’t fatal. More dangerous was Isaac closing the door in Urbansus, severing its body.

Not only was it a mortal wound, but if the power of the main body beyond the door was cut off, it would wither and die.

Thus, Camille tried to focus more on Isaac. However, the attacks from the Brient Paladins and Nel’s breath inflicted unbearable pain.

[Aaahhh!]

She released more bugs to suppress the intruders and more monsters towards Isaac’s main body. A creature resembling a fusion of a snail and a mantis crawled out from the tentacle’s flesh.

But a powerful guard was already waiting there.

Always accompanying Isaac, Hesabel was already among the strongest nobles of Wallachia. And the blood that powered her was flooding everywhere like a deluge.

As the monsters approached, Hesabel carefully covered Isaac’s face and body with her wings to protect him from the splattering blood. She then revealed a chilling smile and clapped her hands.

With a loud clap, the blood pooled on the ground surged into the air, forming head-sized globules that exploded in all directions. Each one carried the power of a ballista.

The bloody arrows burst into the monster’s skin and exploded again, soaked in more blood.

“Hmph.”

One snail-mantis managed to sneak around and try to wrap Hesabel in its tentacle-like body. Without even turning around, Hesabel thrust her palm under its chin, inserting a tentacle—a miracle granted by Isaac. She quickly pierced and dominated the mantis’s body, draining its fluids instantly.

The last mantis crumbled without a drop of fluid left. Only the fleas, barely surviving in the pit of blood, remained. They melted away every time they stepped into the blood, unable to approach Isaac.

With safety secured, Hesabel bowed and looked at Isaac, who was focused on the ritual.

A satisfied smile appeared on her face.

Rumble, rumble, rumble!

The ground trembled and groaned. The halted ritual resumed, and the door began to close again. Camille screamed, shouted, pleaded, and struggled with Isaac.

But her role ended here.

Crunch, crack, crumble…

The eerie sound of flesh and bones being crushed echoed. The Whitewood in Prayer thrashed, but it was nothing more than the meaningless spasms of a dying creature. As the rumbling ceased, the massive body of the Whitewood in Prayer slowly collapsed.

[The Nameless Chaos is watching you.]

[The Chaos Reward has been given.]

[The Nameless Chaos enhances the ‘Offspring of Chaos ’ ability.]