They were filthy and covered in grime, but Isaac recognized them instantly. It was a matter of instinct.

Ciero, too, recognized Isaac the moment he saw him. Yet, both remained silent about each other’s identities and started moving immediately for the same reasons.

Isaac gestured hurriedly, leading the ragtag group of survivors outside.

“Get out! Are you planning to stay here until you’re all dead?”

“But…”

Despite Isaac’s orders, they froze and glanced back. Even in this dire moment, they waited for Ciero’s command. Meanwhile, Ciero had already dashed to the door.

“Move! The Codex of Light promised that if we endure, our path will be revealed! The trial is over, so follow me and the messenger sent by the Codex of Light!”

“Ooh!”

Only then did the remaining soldiers of Ciero’s Dawn Army cheer and follow. Isaac found it absurd but led them regardless.

For a moment, he considered that a dead Ciero might be more valuable than a living one. But that would mean killing all the survivors here as well.

“Grrrr!”

Nel spewed out her breath at the zombies that began to swarm again. The Dawn Army was awestruck by the sight of the translucent dragon they had never seen before, but they focused solely on following Ciero’s steps. Isaac continued to fend off the zombie horde as he ran alongside them.

Then, a piercing shriek echoed from above—the sound of a Phantom Steed taking flight.

It seemed the alarms hadn’t been installed in vain. The noise had alerted the Immortal Order’s Death Knight. Fortunately, it appeared to be just one.

Isaac clicked his tongue and entrusted the fleeing Dawn Army to Nel.

The Death Knight also seemed to recognize that Isaac was a more valuable target than a bunch of fleeing beggars, and immediately charged at him.

Whoosh! The Phantom Steed hurtled toward Isaac with immense force.

The Death Knight seemed eager to stage an epic clash with the paladin, but Isaac had no intention of playing along foolishly.

Isaac swiftly sidestepped and used the Swordsmanship of the Drowned: The Hand of the Drowned.

An intangible force violently twisted the Death Knight’s trajectory. Feeling as though space had suddenly contracted, the Death Knight’s head slammed into the ground at full speed.

Boom! Isaac retrieved the Hand of the Drowned, twisting the Death Knight’s waist in the process. For an ordinary knight, this would have been less a finishing move and more an act of desecration, but Isaac never thought for a second that this was the end.

Instead, he aimed another sword strike at the fallen Death Knight to crush it further.

Crack, snap. The armor quickly disassembled and reassembled in place, reforming into the complete battle-ready shape of the Death Knight as its skull finally clicked back into place.

“Most young paladins fall for that trick. You must have more experience than you appear.”

“Do I look that young? I’ve got the soul of a guy in his thirties in here.”

“Oh, really? I’ve got a hundred and six-year-old grandpa in here. Come back after you’ve tripled your years.”

Though it seemed like a minor defeat, Isaac decided to help the old man go to the afterlife first, in accordance with the unwritten law of respecting one’s elders. By now, Ciero’s Dawn Army was far enough away that he didn’t have to worry about being watched.

Swoosh, thunk! Isaac closed the distance in an instant and swung the Luadin Key. The Death Knight, surprised by Isaac’s unexpected speed, sneered at his lack of finesse.

The undead neither eat nor sleep. People often say of dedicated individuals, “They train all the time except for eating and sleeping.” But the undead can train during those times too, without the need for rest or conditioning.

The Death Knight deflected Isaac’s sword with a move so precise it would have impressed even a sword instructor of the Empire. The slightest misalignment could have shattered the blade or fractured Isaac’s skull, but for the Death Knight, it was as easy as breathing.

“It’s time to pay for your arrogance, boy.”

The Death Knight instantly tried to unleash his secret technique, honed over a century, to strike Isaac down.

But Isaac had another trick up his sleeve that the Death Knight hadn’t anticipated.

Isaac never intended to engage in a pure sword fight with the Death Knight.

Crack! The colors from beyond surged along the Luadin Key and wrapped around the Death Knight’s blade. Although it wouldn’t last long, it was enough to destabilize the Death Knight in its current precarious state. Then, Isaac’s left hand darted into the Death Knight’s helmet.

Tentacles seized the Death Knight’s spine and yanked it out.

Ripping out a few bones wouldn’t kill a Death Knight, which moves with spiritual force. However, to mimic living movements, it still required a form similar to its living state. One couldn’t suddenly expect it to crawl on all fours or walk on its hands.

The neck bones are essential for holding the head up. Without them, the Death Knight would lose its balance, unable to discern where its hands or the ground were.

With a single bone fragment removed, Isaac reduced the formidable Death Knight to a flailing infant before swiftly fleeing.

“Killing a Death Knight quickly isn’t easy…”

He had no desire to fight on enemy turf with other Death Knights or Liches potentially arriving any moment. Isaac left the elderly undead for the others to deal with and dashed in the direction where Ciero’s Dawn Army had fled.

***

Isaac finally caught up with Ciero near the foot of the mountain. They had run until they were gasping for breath, all exhausted and collapsed on the ground. Ciero, too, was no exception, his face turning a ghastly blue as if he were on the verge of death.

Isaac looked at Ciero with a pitiful expression and was about to speak, but Ciero spread his arms wide and shouted first.

“My savior, my guide, my brother! I thank you for your helping hand. Would it be acceptable to take a moment for a consecration prayer?”

Since it was common for a priest to offer a consecration prayer to a paladin on the battlefield, Isaac nodded reluctantly. Under the guise of performing the prayer, Ciero led Isaac to a quiet spot, constantly checking to ensure they were alone.

Eventually, Isaac couldn’t bear watching him any longer and spoke first.

“We’re alone, so you don’t have to worry.”

“Are you sure? I really need to be certain…”

“If your identity is exposed, do you think I’ll be spared? Let’s just be honest.”

Only then did Ciero finally exhale in relief. He scrutinized Isaac with keen eyes, his interest clearly piqued.

“When I heard the rumors, I thought it might be possible… but I never truly believed it. A paladin, no less. You must have had a hard time growing up; how did you endure?”

“I just worked hard.”

“You think I didn’t try? But, you know, there’s only so much you can do with your natural limits. Honestly, it’s still hard to believe even when I’m looking right at you. The famous Saint of the Resurrection from the Codex of Light, Elil’s Grand Warrior… and you’re a Nephilim.”

Ciero whispered the last part as if seeking confirmation from Isaac. Isaac nodded.

“I never imagined that the famous Priest Ciero would be a Nephilim either.”

It was a lie. In fact, Isaac had known, but he hadn’t expected it to be so instinctively clear upon meeting him in person. Nephilim seemed to resonate with one another on some level.

“Ciero…”

But Isaac’s gaze toward Ciero was anything but kind.

Ciero was the one who had sparked the madness and incitement before the Dawn Army even began.

With his terrifying charisma, Ciero had quickly risen to a pivotal position within the army, mobilizing tens of thousands, even millions, of followers.

But how many had been burned at the stake, sacrificed to foolish strategies, or caught up in insane acts because of this man? The truth was, Isaac wouldn’t have hesitated to cut his head off right then and there if it weren’t for one thing: Ciero’s madness wasn’t entirely his own fault.

The Dawn Army was a product of the spirit of the times and the angels who stoked the flames of fanaticism.

Ciero was just a convenient tool.

Still, his ability to incite such events was rooted in his Nephilim bloodline.

Despite his Nephilim heritage, which endowed him with strikingly handsome looks, Ciero appeared slightly older than his age due to the hardships he had endured. However, with some grooming, he could once again become a charismatic figure capable of rallying the masses.

“So why were you here in such a state? This isn’t even Immortal Order territory. What’s with the undead and the Death Knight?”

“Well… it’s a rather complicated story.”

Ciero explained the situation with a sullen expression.

***

Ciero’s Dawn Army could be described as a spontaneous militia born from the masses who had gathered under Ciero’s incitement.

An enormous number had joined, deluding themselves into believing they were more powerful than the army led by the Pope.

Eventually, they began marching with the ambitious goal of reclaiming the Holy Land ahead of the main force of the Dawn Army.

“For the record, I tried my best to delay that march. I swear it. The Immortal Order isn’t a bunch of fools; they wouldn’t fall to a militia without paladins or priests. But at some point, it was beyond my control…”

No matter how overwhelming a Nephilim’s charisma might be, it only extended to those nearby, those within earshot.

Tens or hundreds of thousands of people? That was akin to an animalistic tidal wave.

The countless armies of the Olkan Code were disciplined and composed of soldiers trained through numerous reincarnations, making it feasible. But for ordinary people, control was impossible.

By this point, Ciero was merely being swept along by that tidal wave. Surviving was all he could manage. In the midst of it all, their first chosen destination was here—‘Kran,’ a small neutral fortress city between the Gerthonia Empire and Immortal Order territory.

“Kran’s king was a follower of the Codex of Light. He welcomed me, but… not the Dawn Army.”

Not even Luadin himself, if he had come back to life, would have welcomed nearly a million starving refugees. At that number, they ceased to be humans and became a plague of locusts.

“Kran’s king tried to provide food and lodging, but, well… a bit of a scuffle broke out. An incident occurred, and I offer my condolences to the king.”

“…Did you attack Kran?”

“My subordinates called it ‘active resupply.’ But what you call it doesn’t matter, right? From that moment on, the Dawn Army was completely unhinged. They looted and burned Kran… and then, a few days ago, the king of Kran returned.”

“Returned? What do you mean?”

“Well, it seems Kran’s king was a policyholder of some kind of death insurance. A follower of the Codex of Light, yet he had death insurance! Does that make any sense?”

Isaac held his head in his hands.

Kran was a small and neutral city. Despite being a follower of the Codex of Light, the king had tried to maintain neutrality, likely by canceling his insurance before death.

But this time, he hadn’t had the chance, as his own brethren had slaughtered his domain.

Thus, Kran’s king returned from the afterlife, this time leading his fellow followers.

This was the classic way the Immortal Order expanded its influence beyond its borders. It was no surprise, considering they had used similar tactics to try to overthrow the Kingdom of Elil.

What was shocking was the carnage wrought by Ciero’s Dawn Army.

‘…Then again, even in real history, Crusaders sacked Constantinople. There’s nothing surprising about a hungry, frenzied mob committing atrocities anywhere.’

Isaac sighed and continued his questioning.

“So, does this mean the entire Dawn Army is dead and only this handful remains?”

“No, of course not! Most of them seem to have fled, but a significant number are still in Kran. They’re bravely holding their ground, fighting off the undead forces.”

Isaac could bet that the “undead forces” they were fending off were, in fact, the Dawn Army members Ciero had led there. Yesterday’s allies, now fresh zombies, were crashing upon them, and the ones left in Kran could not have been in their right minds.

“Wait a minute. Then why are you here?”

“Oh, well, that’s…”

Seeing Ciero trail off, Isaac reflexively swung his fist.

Ciero collapsed with a scream, his nose bone crushed instantly. Isaac was a bit surprised at how fragile the Nephilim’s nose was, but it didn’t make him think twice about holding back.

“You abandoned your subordinates and got trapped in that warehouse, didn’t you? Am I wrong?”

Isaac’s words were now completely devoid of any courtesy.