Everyone’s gaze followed Isaac’s toward the sea.

Beyond the crashing waves, an old, small fortress rose from the waters—a desolate monastery. It was there that Isaac planned to stage his next move.

“I’ll challenge Dera Heman to a duel.”

***

Isaac’s proposal was easily accepted by the knights of Elil, but Tuhalin and Rottenhammer stared at him as if he were speaking nonsense. However, Isaac hadn’t made the suggestion lightly.

He was confident that Dera Heman would accept the challenge.

Isaac walked along the outer wall of Odryf, the vast ocean stretching below, its blue waves crashing against the towering walls.

Even in winter, Odryf remained relatively warm, often used as a retreat. But the distant Milishar Monastery, battered by barren waves, stood like a stone tomb, in stark contrast to the sunny southern seas.

“You think the Golden Lion will accept your challenge?”

Gebel, walking alongside Isaac, inquired.

The Golden Lion was one of Dera Heman’s nicknames, given because he always wore a golden lion mask. Isaac even recalled seeing him wear the mask during a midnight appearance in his pajamas when Isaac had infiltrated the secret archives of Lichthaim.

“He’ll accept it. Absolutely.”

“But the Codex of Light doesn’t value fairness or sanctify duels like Elil does. Why would they agree?”

“There are two reasons.”

Isaac held up two fingers as he turned to look at Gebel.

“First, the Codex of Light wouldn’t want to create the appearance of forcibly ‘replacing’ me. The Dawn Army is already on shaky ground. If they drag me away and install a replacement, it could cause the Issacrea Dawn Army to fall apart. It might even open up a new front in the war.”

Neither Isaac nor the church wanted the Issacrea Dawn Army to turn against the Codex of Light. Therefore, Isaac was confident the duel would be accepted as a form of arbitration.

“That makes sense. What’s the second reason?”

“Dera Heman’s personal pride. He’s paying close attention to me.”

“Paying attention? Why? It’s hard to believe that a zealot like him would care about anyone.”

Isaac shifted his gaze back to the Milishar Monastery, recalling the knights who had once resided there.

“Because I’m considered the new Kalsen Miller.”

Isaac knew the outcome of the duel between Kalsen Miller and Dera Heman. Though it wasn’t public knowledge, Kalsen had won—decisively.

The duel wasn’t even close. The result had been so one-sided that the church was left in shock.

In the end, the outcome was kept secret. The church needed to preserve the illusion that Lichthaim’s strongest paladin was an invincible guardian.

What made it even worse was that Kalsen had come from a humble family and was trained in a remote monastery, whereas Dera Heman came from a prestigious lineage and had been meticulously groomed by the church from birth.

‘That defeat left a deep scar on Dera Heman’s pride.’

Kalsen, however, wasn’t particularly affected by it. To him, it was just another victory in a long line of them. But for Dera Heman, the loss had been devastating, and he had been biding his time for a rematch. Unfortunately for him, Kalsen had become a heretic and disappeared, leaving Dera without a chance to redeem himself.

Just because Dera Heman didn’t talk about it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

For this reason, Isaac believed that Dera Heman would be compelled to duel him.

As Soltnar had said, within the church, Isaac had come to be known as the “new Kalsen Miller.”

When Isaac calmly explained this, Gebel stared at him, jaw agape.

“…How do you even know that? That’s supposed to be a church secret.”

“It’s just an educated guess. If Dera Heman had won, do you think they would have kept it a secret?”

Isaac shamelessly lied.

Gebel didn’t seem completely convinced, but he also knew this wasn’t the first time Isaac had done something inexplicable. Deciding to move on to more important matters, Gebel asked the critical question.

“Fine. I’ll accept that you have your reasons. But the real question is: Can you beat Dera Heman?”

“…”

This was the real issue.

Even back in Lichthaim, Isaac had been hesitant about facing Dera Heman. Their abilities were a terrible matchup. In truth, Dera Heman’s powers were practically broken in this world.

‘Divine Absorption…’

While Isaac’s tentacles devoured physically, Dera Heman absorbed divine power simply by breathing, turning it into his own strength. He could be loaded with blessings without suffering overload, and he could still maintain his human form.

The problem was that if Isaac used even a sliver of his Nameless Chaos power, Dera Heman could absorb it.

Unlike Kalsen, who was still a paladin of the Codex of Light, Isaac’s situation was far more complicated.

In short, Isaac would have to face the strongest paladin of the Codex of Light, covered in blessings and miracles, with nothing but his own raw abilities.

As Isaac imagined the scenario, his vision darkened.

“Well, I’ll give it a shot.”

When had he ever fought a battle where the odds were in his favor? If Kalsen had won, Isaac could, too.

‘And this is the only way to convince the Inquisition and the church of my capability.’

A duel with Dera Heman would force his submission.

What could the church say if Isaac, the stronger and more capable leader, was willing to continue commanding? If they had a problem with it, they could send someone even stronger than Dera Heman. But who could that be? Unless they were planning on sending an angel.

Isaac paused in his thoughts.

It wasn’t likely, but it wasn’t impossible either. After all, there had been terrifying cases like The Sword of May.

‘…Maybe I should have some insurance ready.’