Paladin of the Dead God-Chapter 390: The Monster Wearing a Mask (2)

To use the Form of Division, one had to "split off part of their strength and flesh."

Instead of severing his limbs or other body parts, Isaac chose to manifest tentacles to achieve the same effect.

Although the tentacles had no self-awareness or sense of "I," his first experimental attempt was an immediate success.

Isaac couldn’t quite grasp the meaning behind it.

"Let’s try it one more time."

He activated Form of Division once again.

A tentacle wriggled out of his left hand. It severed itself, taking a portion of his strength with it. The tentacle rapidly grew, forming a skeletal frame, and in an instant, it took on the exact appearance of Isaac.

Even the armor and cloak he was wearing at the moment were perfectly replicated.

Out of curiosity, he checked the duplicated equipment, but it was purely cosmetic. It had none of the original’s functions.

"So... the tentacles are, after all, a part of me?"

He had no choice but to think so.

Or perhaps, the system’s description was lazy, failing to properly distinguish between parasite and host.

Either way, Isaac wasn’t displeased. He could use this powerful ability without losing so much as a single finger or strand of hair.

Although maintaining it consumed holy power, the Predation of Pallor had filled him with an overwhelming reserve of divine energy, so it wasn’t an issue.

"And one more thing — the one with a soul is the true body."

Pallor had the ability to transfer its soul to another body at will. Isaac didn’t know if that was something unique to the Immortal Order or if it was also possible for him.

The very concept of soul transference felt distinctly like something from the Immortal Order.

If it was possible, it would be extremely useful, not just for convenience but also as a form of insurance. However, for now, he had no way of confirming it.

At that moment, the divided Isaac gestured with his finger, pointing outside the tent and then back at himself.

Isaac realized that he could fully understand the meaning behind the other Isaac’s gesture.

It was a signal that said, "If you understand the situation, let’s move on to the next step."

The reason for not speaking aloud was simple: someone outside might overhear them.

Isaac also made a gesture toward the divided Isaac.

The divided Isaac seemed to understand what he intended and naturally brought his ear closer. Isaac touched the divided Isaac’s ear, and a small Parasite from Beyond wriggled out and burrowed inside.

The divided Isaac did the same, embedding a parasite into Isaac’s ear.

There seemed to be a difference in power, but their abilities were shared.

"Alright, that’s perfect."

Now, they had established a way to communicate with each other from any distance.

For now, their thoughts were identical. However, from the moment they were split, they would begin to have different experiences. If their information diverged, so too would their judgments and decisions.

Therefore, constant communication was essential.

Isaac recalled the strategy meeting he had with Edelred and Tuhalin. The divided Isaac had already been devising plans for how to break through the Labyrinth Valley.

The contents of that meeting naturally flowed into both the current Isaac and the divided Isaac.

The divided Isaac made another hand gesture.

"You? Or me?"

Isaac thought for a moment before pointing to himself.

"Me."

The divided Isaac nodded in agreement and pulled something out of Isaac’s pack, tossing it over to him.

It was the mask he had worn when appearing before the Nameless Chaos cultists — "The Crawling Terror."

When Isaac put on the mask, the divided Isaac’s movements became noticeably slower. The Crawling Terror had the effect of instilling fear in lower-ranked beings.

Because the divided Isaac was weaker than the original, he was treated as an "inferior being" and was affected by the mask’s power.

"That’s kind of annoying."

The divided Isaac grumbled, his thoughts and emotions as frank as Isaac’s. But it didn’t really matter. After all, when they fused back together, those feelings would disappear.

"Let’s go over the plan once more."

Isaac spoke to the divided Isaac.

"I’ll rally the familiars and preemptively deal with the monsters of the Outer Boundary who are lost in the Labyrinth Valley."

"Meanwhile, I’ll act as the unifying symbol for the Dawn Army stationed in Issacrea."

"And if an Archangel or any other unexpected threat appears during that time…"

"We’ll immediately regroup and become one."

***

The Khan’s Army was experiencing a strange and unfamiliar emotion, one they had never felt before in their entire lives.

Surprisingly, it was a feeling that many young people experience, and one that grows stronger with age. If left unchecked, it could develop into mental illness or social problems.

That emotion was loneliness.

"This is the first time we’ve ever been ignored on the battlefield like this," one of the manhojangs muttered with a grumble.

The newly appointed Khan, Atlan, nodded, feeling the same way.

The massive force of the Olkan Code had marched southward, now observing the ongoing battle between the Codex of Light and the Immortal Order. free𝑤ebnovel.com

It was a terrifying sight, with the living and the dead tangled in a savage battle, but none of the factions made any effort to involve the Khan’s Army.

To be fair, Atlan had already made a few unauthorized moves, inflicting significant damage on the Codex of Light forces.

However, each time, the Dawn Army would simply counterattack and then return to ignoring them. Their sole objective was to push further south and crush as many undead as possible, as if that was the only thing that mattered.

The Orcs of the Olkan Code, who had long prided themselves on their fearsome presence and overwhelming power, now found themselves feeling an unfamiliar sense of isolation and loneliness.

"How about we just charge in and chop off the heads of those Dawn Army bastards? No matter how much they try to ignore us, they’ll have to acknowledge us when we tear their heads off, won’t they?"

The manhojang’s suggestion was tempting.

It was hard to resist the urge to attack an enemy that exposed its back so blatantly. But Atlan had two reasons why he couldn’t act on it.

The first reason was that the leaders of the Dawn Army, such as Dera Heman or the Pope, were heavily guarded.

Although the Khan’s Army could undoubtedly launch an overwhelming assault, the potential gains from such an action were unclear.

"Our losses would be too high. The Immortal Order would raise our dead as undead soldiers. I don’t want to see our dead comrades rising on the enemy’s side."

The second reason, as absurd as it was, lay with their "ally" — the Immortal Order.

The Immortal Order was infamous for resurrecting even the Orcs of the Olkan Code as undead. For the Orcs, whose souls reincarnated through a cycle of life and death, this was nothing short of sacrilege. To them, the Immortal Order was worse than the Codex of Light.

The Immortal Order argued that if one sought immortality, becoming undead should be acceptable. But the Olkan Code viewed such logic as heresy. They never wanted to fight on the same battlefield as the Immortal Order.

"Khan… Then why did we even come south in the first place?"

One of the manhojangs cautiously asked a question.

Questions regarding the route of a march were extremely sensitive.

If phrased poorly, it could be seen as challenging the Khan’s authority over the army’s movements.

For the Olkan Code, which operated as a nomadic society, determining their path was a power reserved solely for the chieftain.

“The former Khan said we should raid the Codex of Light’s headquarters. He claimed it held precious knowledge. Knowledge is valuable, sure, but let’s be honest — those Codex of Light guys live far better than the Immortal Order. They’ve got way more loot to plunder...”

Several other manhojangs nodded in agreement.

The Olkan Code certainly valued the theft and inheritance of knowledge, but as chieftains, they also had to feed the many mouths under their care.

If they failed to secure sufficient spoils before spring lethargy set in, many people could starve to death.

At this point, Atlan had to provide a reasonable answer.

“There’s definitely a rare and valuable plunder to be found there.”

“Valuable plunder? What is it? Are you sure it exists?”

“No idea. But it’s important enough that they’re willing to risk their lives to protect or steal it. That’s the proof.”

To anyone else, that would sound like the ramblings of an unqualified leader. Yet, the manhojangs glanced at each other with a flicker of doubt, as if the statement might have some merit.

The reason Atlan could make such absurd claims with such conviction was simple — he wielded Twilight.

The Archangel Twilight was the collective will of previous Khans of the Olkan Code. Any decision Atlan made was seen as the result of generations of wisdom converging into one.

If Atlan were truly spouting nonsense, he wouldn’t be able to draw on Twilight’s power. But just yesterday, they had witnessed him shoot down Paladins of the Dawn Army with it.

“If it’s something even the gods covet...”

“Wouldn’t the priests of the Codex of Light know what it is? Hey, you there! Tell us what you know!”

The manhojang pointed at someone at the corner of the room — a chained envoy priest from the Codex of Light.

Her name was Yurie Otter.

This envoy, who had once visited the Issacrea Estate, was now a prisoner of the Olkan Code after being captured and brutally tortured. Despite only having one eye remaining, her lone eye gleamed with such intense clarity that even the manhojangs found it unsettling.

Yurie spat her words with venom.

“All that lies there is the glory and the flames of the Codex of Light, you filthy bandits. The mere sight of that glory will set your bodies aflame and blind your eyes!”

“This crazy woman still doesn’t know when to shut up...”

Infuriated, the manhojang abruptly rose from his seat and kicked Yurie in the chest.

But before the assault could continue, Atlan stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

“She’s the one who provoked you. Let it go.”

“But, Khan...”

“I said let it go.”

The manhojang flinched and reluctantly retreated.

Atlan, a half-man, half-horse being, towered over even the largest orc by two full heads.

His sheer size, a primal symbol of authority, made it almost impossible for any orc to defy him.

Sensing the tense atmosphere, Atlan spoke with a tone of calm reassurance.

“She probably means the kind of glory that glows gold, like the glitter of treasure or the heat of an oven baking bread. People are all the same when it comes to greed, even humans.”

Yurie Otter’s face twisted with indignation, and she tried to shout something, but Atlan banged the table hard, signaling the end of the meeting.

Nothing had been decided, but for now, there was no other option but to wait and observe.

As the meeting dispersed, Atlan approached Yurie.

She glared up at him with the ferocity of a wild beast, her single remaining eye filled with undying defiance.

Her other eye had been gouged out when some orcs doubted her identity and sought to confirm she was truly "Yurie Otter."

That ordeal had cost the torturer two of his fingers and left him with severe burns, so no one dared to touch her face again.

No one, except Atlan.

“Would it kill you to keep quiet or play along? If you can’t do that, just stay silent. Why provoke them and earn yourself another beating?”

“No matter how much I suffer, it’s nothing compared to the punishment that awaits you in the Millennium Kingdom for daring to defile a priest.”

Her response was exactly what he expected. With a sigh, Atlan crouched down, placing himself on her level, and applied burn ointment to the area around her eye.

Because he was so tall, he had to kneel to reach her face properly.

None of the other orcs dared to touch Yurie’s face after what happened to the torturer.

The only one bold enough to do so was Atlan.

At first, Yurie had cursed him, calling it “the devil’s ointment” and “hell’s acne treatment.” But once she realized it eased the pain, she sat still without a word.

She didn’t even ask him why he was being kind.

She already knew the reason.

While applying the ointment, Atlan spoke calmly.

“Your family member is a cardinal or something, right? I heard you were of noble blood. We couldn’t help but gouge out your eye, but at least you can say I did everything I could to treat you. When it’s time to negotiate your ransom, that’s an important point to bring up. It’ll save us both a lot of hassle.”

Even when at war with rival faiths, it was a common practice among the Olkan Code to capture prominent figures, ransom them, and release them for profit.

Yurie Otter understood that now.

“Is losing face in hell more terrifying than having your ransom price reduced?”

Yurie scoffed, staring at him with cold contempt.

“Don’t worry! I’ll make sure to secure a seat for you in the mildest part of hell.”

Atlan silently gazed down at her face. Yurie, feeling uneasy, shifted her eyes away.

Seeing her reaction, he let out a sigh of regret.

“You look much prettier when you smile.”

“What?”

“For the ransom negotiations, make sure you smile. It’ll help raise your price.”