The Codex of Light was the world’s largest and most powerful faith, an undeniable fact.

Since the Lighthouse Keeper emerged from the pyre holding the Tablet of Dawn, the Codex had grown by crushing and devouring its enemies, one by one.

There had been crises, of course. Elil’s Rebellion, the Nameless Chaos’s suicide, and the Immortal Order’s seizure of the Holy Land—all had brought the Codex to the brink of collapse.

But what all these crises had in common was that they originated from within the Codex itself.

Nothing else could push the Codex of Light into peril except the Codex itself.

Other faiths?

The Olkan Code was nothing more than a pest that pillaged momentarily before passing. The once-mighty Salt Council had been buried. The World’s Forge couldn’t even escape its island, and the Red Chalice was nothing but a parasite.

The Codex of Light was not a peaceful faith, nor was it a benevolent one.

This was the lens through which the Codex viewed the world and other faiths—a fact. Even the Immortal Order, which had suffered countless attacks, dared not launch an offensive against the Codex, resorting only to sporadic acts of terror.

In other words, if someone was the strongest within the Codex, they had the right to claim to be the strongest in the world.

Of course, boasting about human strength in the presence of angels was absurd, but by the time one reached such heights, they were often already receiving the favor and support of angels.

Isaac was now faced with that very paradox—Dera Heman, whom he had assumed was the strongest paladin of the Codex, was showing an unexpected weakness.

“Why do you think I’m pretending to be weak?” Isaac asked carefully, probing for the meaning behind Dera’s words.

Dera Heman gazed intently at Isaac.

[Then are you saying that someone who has defeated angels is actually weak?]

“…I have not hidden my strength. Sir Dera Heman is undoubtedly the greatest paladin of the Codex of Light. But your words sound as if you believe I went easy on you.”

Isaac was being truthful. Even if he had unleashed his Tentacles, he couldn’t guarantee victory against Dera Heman. Yet, Dera was pressing him, accusing him of pretending to be weaker than he was, which only left Isaac feeling frustrated.

“Why do you believe I’m so much stronger? Is it because my path resembles Kalsen’s?”

Dera remained silent for a moment, seemingly sensing the sincerity in Isaac’s words.

After a pause, Dera took a deep breath, still wearing his mask, and then removed it again to speak.

[Kalsen was a free man. He didn’t act like a paladin, bound by rules. He wandered where he wished, cutting down anyone he wanted. Even the angels trusted him and gave him missions. The Sword of May herself personally taught him the blade.]

Isaac recalled the similarities between himself and Kalsen. Even Dera’s account highlighted their parallels.

But then, Dera’s eyes darkened as he muttered:

[But that freedom led him to ruin. He fell into complacency, forgetting where his strength came from. Pride. Unchecked power always leads to destruction.]

Kalsen’s apostasy. It was clear that this event had deeply affected Dera Heman.

In fact, it might have scarred him even more than his defeat at Kalsen’s hands.

But Isaac, listening to Dera, realized something new.

‘He doesn’t know that Kalsen’s betrayal was orchestrated by the angels.’

Kalsen had been sent to replace the Nameless Chaos. In the process, he had hunted down the Archangel White Owl, with the Burning Maiden and the Sword of May collaborating to bring him down.

But the plan had failed when Kalsen entered Isaac’s body.

In other words, Kalsen didn’t betray the Codex out of pride; he was faithfully executing the angels’ orders when he became an apostate. Isaac briefly considered whether or not to tell Dera this truth, but there was no way he could explain how he knew.

[I still regret that day.]

“…”

[If only I had been stronger than Kalsen, I could have guided him. Then the Codex would be even stronger and shine even brighter than it does now.]

Isaac understood something new. What drove Dera Heman wasn’t the pain of defeat, anger, or even inferiority—it was regret.

A deep sense of loss over having failed to save a valuable paladin due to his own shortcomings.

Only now did Isaac grasp the true reason behind Dera’s approach to their duel.

Dera Heman, with heavy eyes, fixed his gaze on Isaac and spoke again:

[Join me.]

“…What?” Isaac, stunned by the unexpected offer, asked for clarification.

[I can already see how deeply influenced you are by Kalsen. But it’s not too late. I’ll guide you down the right path. I’ll even push for you to become the next commander of the Golden Lion Paladins.]

The commander of the Golden Lion Paladins. Isaac could aim for a position like chief knight or deputy commander, but if Dera personally supported him, the commander’s position would almost be guaranteed.

It was the highest rank a paladin could aspire to.

But it was a path Isaac could never take.

After a long pause—long enough to not make his decision seem rushed—Isaac finally spoke.

“What happens if I refuse?”

[You’ll die.]

‘Of course,’ Isaac thought.

Dera’s meaning was clear: he wouldn’t allow another Kalsen to emerge.

That meant either shackling Isaac under his command and reeducating him or executing him. And with the inquisitor’s accusation hanging over him, Isaac knew that the trial, sentencing, and execution would all be swift.

Isaac’s answer was already decided.

But to buy a little more time, he asked, “Can you give me some time to think?”

[The trial is tomorrow morning. You have until then to decide.]

***

One of the horrors of the Milishar Monastery was the constant sound of crashing waves echoing through the walls.

The waves wore down the stone, forcing air through small gaps, creating eerie noises. Just when Isaac was about to fall asleep, salty water would spray onto his face, adding to the maddening atmosphere.

Isaac found himself suffering from an odd form of insomnia that night.

‘I must be exhausted,’ he thought, looking at the figure sitting across the cell.

At first, Isaac wasn’t sure whether he was dreaming or hallucinating. The figure’s presence was so out of place.

“Well, it’s a bit of an in-between state. But I’ve got something important to tell you.”

Kalsen Miller stood, leaning against the opposite wall of the cell. Water seeped in through the window above him as waves crashed, but Kalsen didn’t get wet at all.

Watching this surreal scene, Isaac finally asked, “Are you a hallucination or a ghost?”

“You’re just imagining things,” Kalsen replied, sounding almost amused.

Isaac wasn’t particularly surprised. This was Kalsen Miller’s former monastery, and with Dera Heman’s deep connection to Kalsen, it wasn’t shocking that his specter—or a figment of him—would show up again.

“What nonsense have you come to spew this time?” Isaac asked with a sarcastic tone.