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Chapter 89:

“Behold us!”

“Open your eyes and lift the lantern high! If you do not see even when the Codex of light illuminates your path ahead, it is meaningless!”

Under the passionate atmosphere, Isaac concluded his sermon.

It was not just priests and paladins who came to listen to the sermon. Ordinary villagers who wanted to hear the words of the Paladin had also joined in. Some were even from Barbarians, coming along with Jacquette, and they were the most passionately responsive audience to Isaac’s sermon.

Isaac thought to himself as he wiped the sweat that had formed droplets all over him due to his passionate speech.

‘I never thought I’d be preaching and evangelizing in this world instead of fighting and preying on someone…’

Fortunately, Isaac was able to do well. Or rather, he had no choice but to do well.

It was because of the ‘Red Prayer,’ a perk obtained by devouring the prophet of red flesh.

[Red Prayer (A+)]

[Your likability and charm towards the public increases. Once likability reaches a certain level, emotional sympathy with you occurs.]

Thanks to this perk, Isaac could draw the public’s favor just by speaking plausibly. What and how he should preach was entirely up to Isaac’s efforts, but facing an audience that easily empathized, even a novice speaker could deliver a speech skillfully.

And Isaac was surprised at his own unexpected talent.

‘The problem is, it’s a talent for being a cult leader.’

Frankly, the sermons Isaac delivered were not about the Codex of light.

They were sermons filled with a cunningly crafted Scripture of nameless chaos.

Naturally, the words could be somewhat shocking or provocative to priests and paladins. Moreover, reactions like crying or cheering towards the end were something that could not happen in the traditional strict sermon atmosphere.

‘Who would have thought that going to church with my mom when I was young would come in handy here.’

Thinking back, the church had a somewhat cult-like nature, but it was useful in drawing out passionate speeches and speaking in tongues, and the enthusiastic atmosphere among the believers.

It was not without problems.

However, perhaps because Isaac was a paladin and not a priest, and because Barbarians were also mixed in, making it a service that ‘anyone’ could attend, it seemed to pass by somehow.

In the meantime, Isaac’s ‘ideological poison’ was spreading to the ears of priests and paladins.

They were not entirely on Isaac’s side yet. However, when they returned to the church and heard the traditional services and sermons, they would feel stifled.

That would be the moment they became Isaac’s allies.

***

However, Isaac could not be sure if this ‘poison’ had worked on one particular person.

“A splendid sermon, Paladin.”

Isolde approached with a slight smile. Over the past period, instead of interfering or giving advice on Isaac’s actions, Isolde had just quietly observed. She was faithfully waiting for Isaac to show a miracle within a month as he promised.

That one month was now just around the corner.

“Thank you, Inquisitor.”

“But I wonder if it’s okay to speak so freely.”

“What do you mean?”

Isaac feigned ignorance, asking what she was referring to.

“Being in the closest place to the light and feeling its warmth, yet being sinners who dare not look into it… It sounds like a metaphor for the Holy Pope and the bishops.”

“You mean blind followers,” Isaac said bluntly, to which Isolde seemed flustered but then calmly nodded.

“Such terms are sometimes used by people.”

“I wonder if I will be subjected to an inquisition for this?”

Isaac asked with a playful smile, causing Isolde to blush somewhat. However, she regained her composure and responded.

“You would be surprised to know how abundant the derogatory terms for His Holiness the Pope and the bishops are, Paladin. ‘Blind follower’ is actually on the polite side. If I were to catch all of them, I wouldn’t have time to catch heretics or apostates.”

However, she continued, indicating she wasn’t just going to let it slide.

“The problem is that publicly teaching such things could be problematic.”

Isaac realized her intent and was a bit surprised. Was the effect of the Red prayer working on Isolde too?

“Are you worried?”

“Frankly, I found it somewhat refreshing. But someone might take issue with it. The priests and paladins are people sent by Bishop Juan, they can’t possibly miss the nuance. If support were to be cut off…”

“You don’t have to worry, Inquisitor.”

The priests and paladins had a strong liking for Isaac. They wouldn’t take issue with it, and even if it reached Bishop Juan’s ears, he couldn’t simply dismiss Isaac. Isaac’s influence was undeniable, even if it was minimized.

Traditionally, a Paladin was someone who killed, not someone who led.

Of course, Isaac wasn’t a traditional Paladin.

“It’s almost been a month now.”

Isaac subtly changed the subject. Isolde knew he was diverting the topic but respected the Paladin’s privacy and nodded. The deadline for Isaac to show and prove a miracle to Isolde was one month. Of course, Isolde intended to wait as long as it took, without rushing him even if the month passed.

“That’s true. The events in this domain alone are miraculous enough.”

Isolde said with a smile.

“Of course, I assume you won’t say something cliché like ‘The miracle you wanted to see is the smile that has bloomed among the people of this village,’ but I think it’s a change worth acknowledging.”

“Ha, ha, even as a joke…”

Isolde quietly observed Isaac. She had almost never missed any of Isaac’s public actions. Indeed, to the extent that the inquisitors found it strange, Isaac had not used miracles. Even the monks in the monastery could perform the miracle of lighting a candle, which was odd by comparison.

“It’s not that I’m asking for a great miracle, Paladin. Even something as simple as illuminating the surroundings is enough. It’s a sign that you’ve been granted divine power.”

“And if I can’t perform miracles, does that mean I haven’t been granted divine power by God?”

“That’s…”

Isolde trailed off. In truth, the achievements Isaac had made were miracles in themselves. In a way, Isaac himself could be considered a miracle. Lighting a candle or illuminating the surroundings with a miracle were merely formalities.

Isolde knew that even the most corrupt and debauched priests could easily perform the miracle of lighting a candle. If Isaac couldn’t light a single candle, would that make him lesser?

It was a basic contradiction, but she couldn’t easily answer.

“It’s just that many people can’t believe someone could defeat an angel without miracles. I find it unbelievable myself. Even if you can’t perform miracles, Paladin, it wouldn’t be a big problem. Just questions would remain about how you did it.”

The inquisition is like a group of skeptics, but inherently, any internal investigation organization is bound to be. Especially with the recent appearance of crazed apostates like Kalsen Miller.

Isaac responded with a smile.

“Of course, my own strength is insufficient. I have certainly used miracles.”

“Really…”

Isolde looked at Isaac with a bright face.

“But I don’t wish to misuse the power granted by God just to prove myself.”

“Ah, of course.”

It was the mindset that any sincere cleric should have. Isolde was honestly impressed by his faithful mindset, different from those priests who misuse miracles for trivial conveniences like reading in low light.

“Soon, Inquisitor, I will be able to show you my miracle.”

Isaac was atop a high pyramid.

Dressed in yellow, his hands filled with wrinkly creases, he held a serpentine ceremonial dagger. Before him on the altar, a man intoxicated by some substance gazed upwards with a hazy look in his eyes.

Isaac followed the man’s gaze towards the sky. The purple heavens churned, creating bizarre and stained contortions. Within those clouds, an indistinct, massive object oozed and shifted.

Then, his hand moved.

Isaac thrust the dagger deep into the man’s chest. Blood spurted from the torn heart, but instead of flowing downwards, it climbed the blade and began shooting upwards into the sky.

Isaac sliced open the man’s abdomen, and now exposed innards and organs started to spurt out, followed by bones, flesh, muscles, and veins unraveling and soaring into the heavens.

Only a flapping skin husk remained, completely turned inside out.

Isaac grasped this skin and shook it vigorously.

From within the inverted hide, a child’s fingers emerged. Something new was trying to be born from within the empty shell.

That’s when chaos erupted below the pyramid.

A group of warriors broke through the crowd and stormed up the pyramid. Hidden among the masses, a group armed with swords quickly subdued the paladins and pushed upwards.

Isaac furiously shook the inverted hide, urging the being within to emerge quicker, but its movements were painfully slow.

Before the ritual could conclude, the attackers had rushed up and reached Isaac. He felt a chill. He wanted to act, but the intense cold froze him to the point he could hardly move a fingertip.

Suddenly, a sharp blade pierced Isaac’s abdomen. He tried to see who had stabbed him, but the face was indiscernible. It was impossible to tell if it was a man or a woman.

It was a knight of bones, burning with a cold, blue fire.

***

Isaac woke up.

As soon as he opened his eyes, he found himself staring into a pair of yellow eyes hanging from the ceiling. Hesabel, glowing eyes in the dark, spoke to him.

“Did you have a nightmare again?”

“Hmm.”

Isaac neither confirmed nor denied, just sat up. He hadn’t asked Hesabel for nighttime protection, but the domain was too peaceful for her to have much else to do during the night.

‘I keep having the same nightmare.’

It would be a lie to say he hadn’t experienced nightmares since coming to this world. Whether due to tentacles, memories of eating rat carcasses, or seeing ghastly human corpses, the environment wasn’t conducive to mental health, so nightmares were common for Isaac.

But this dream was different.

It was almost always the same setting with the same characters. Cold sweat covered his forehead, but his fingertips felt a lingering chill, as though the dream was more than just a dream.

And always, at the last moment, he was stabbed by a knight of bones.

Isaac knew well who these bone knights that wielded the cold were.

‘The Death Knights of the Immortal Order…’