Paladin of the Dead God

Boom! Crackle… A blue bolt of lightning shot upward, spreading like branches in the stormy sky. The serpent, scorched by Tuhalin’s miracle, flailed in pain, briefly surfacing above the water. Its body was half the width of Aidan’s ship, but its length seemed to stretch endlessly.

“You filthy snake! How dare you stand before your elders!”

Tuhalin roared as he slammed his hammer on the deck again. While his blow had the strength to shatter Yenkos’s ship, the deck remained unscathed.

Instead, a powerful shockwave and lightning erupted from the ocean, sending the serpent writhing and shuddering in agony. Charred marks and fractured bones along its spine made its weakened state clear.

With its movement disrupted, the whirlpool began to noticeably slow. It was indeed the serpent generating the vortex.

But instead of retreating, the serpent turned to attack Yenkos’s ship, hoping to silence Tuhalin. Yet Tuhalin didn’t flinch as the massive creature charged straight toward him.

When Yenkos attempted to turn the ship away, he yelled out.

“Stay on course!”

“But—”

“Imagine this monster’s skull mounted on the prow as a trophy! We’re taking it down!”

Yenkos was exasperated but had no choice; the serpent’s spine was already coiling around the ship, blocking any escape route.

As the serpent lunged toward Tuhalin on the bow, he spun his hammer before bringing it down with full force on the creature’s brow.

Boom! The shockwave rippled outward, even shaking Yenkos’s ship.

The serpent thrashed silently, its mouth spilling venomous corpse-poison in all directions. Engulfed in burning agony as though his hand had been plunged into molten iron, Tuhalin only laughed.

“Pathetic!”

Once more, lightning erupted from the deck.

***

Watching the relentless flashes and thunder erupting from Yenkos’s ship, Aidan gripped the helm tightly.

A legendary hero was locked in battle with a creature from ancient myth. It was a sight that would seem plausible only in the oldest myths predating the Age of Light.

Aidan could hardly believe he was present at such a moment.

But elsewhere, another hero was in hot pursuit.

If Tuhalin was the hero forged by the World’s Forge, then Horace was the hero of the Salt Council. Though he’d lived over a century ago, his tales had been retold in countless forms, turning him into a figure of legend and folklore.

And here he was, resurrected from death, fighting Isaac, a hero of the current age.

‘No, to be precise, it seems Horace’s true target is… me.’

Horace seemed to believe with unwavering certainty that if he sank Aidan’s ship, Isaac would be trapped in the sea forever. Though Tuhalin’s arrival had thrown that certainty into question, Horace continued to fixate on Aidan’s ship. ṙ�

Aidan found himself in the unenviable position of matching wits with a hero from legend.

‘Am I really going to pit my sailing skills against Horace?’

While the whirlpool created by the serpent had slowed, it remained a massive hazard for any sailor. To make matters worse, a storm had arrived, bringing rain that pelted down and debris from broken ships swirling like jagged reefs in the vortex.

Any mistake here would mean instant wreckage.

‘Here? With Horace?’

Aidan let out a strained laugh.

His grip on the helm was tight enough to cramp, but instead of weakening, he felt a surge of resolve. He would have no better chance than this to test his skill against the legendary pirate captain.

“Haul in the sails, you sea dogs! Let’s see what we’re made of!”

With a loud snap, the sails filled to their limit, trembling under the strain. Riding the winds and the whirlpool, Aidan’s ship sped forward faster than he’d ever experienced. He could barely believe he was controlling the ship at all.

But at that moment, ship, crew, and captain moved as one.

The only words for this were that the sea was taking care of them.

Aidan judged the distance to Horace. Despite having lost many of his own crew, Horace was keeping pace, his skill driving Aidan to a simultaneous fear and admiration.

But honestly, Aidan wasn’t certain whether he feared Horace or another figure battling alongside him.

***

While Tuhalin fought the serpent and Aidan raced against Horace, a different, invisible battle was unfolding.

Isaac stood, eyes locked on Horace—or rather, on the invisible presence of The Dead December, the one who blessed Horace from afar. Though Horace was before him, Isaac could see the spectral form of a monk as large as an ancient tree, with twelve faces each staring in a different direction, hollow eyes fixed on him.

[Step back, child.]

The Dead December’s voice wasn’t one of scorn or contempt; it was the soft tone of an elder gently consoling a child.

Directly within Isaac’s mind, the Archangel began to speak.

[Captain Horace is a pitiable man. I vowed to watch over him until he fulfills his oath. You, followers of the Codex of Light, should not interfere with him.]

The Dead December’s tone was patient, almost fatherly, as though confident that once Isaac understood, he would retreat. But Isaac ignored his words, stepping closer to Horace. The presence of the Archangel suddenly intensified, weighing down on Isaac so heavily that each step felt like pressing through the deep sea. A crushing force seemed ready to break him.

Gritting his teeth, Isaac managed to steady his breath, staring defiantly at the Dead December.

“An oath, you say? The one where he swore to continue serving the Dawn Army until the Holy Land Lua was reclaimed?”

The Dead December seemed intrigued, scrutinizing Isaac.