The Fallen Knight (2)
“Truly remarkable, the more I think about it. Not only have you been recognized as the wielder of the Holy Sword, but you’ve also been granted a miracle by the gods. If it’s not too much to ask, could you share what kind of miracle it was?”
“Not yet.”
“Of course, someone of your caliber would receive such a high-level miracle… Pardon?”
Maug’s eyes twitched in surprise. Dalen chuckled softly. This guy was fun to tease.
“I haven’t received a miracle yet.”
”…And yet you’ve already had the tattoo for using miracles inscribed?”
“Is there a problem with that?”
Maug’s eyes clouded with confusion at Dalen’s nonchalant response.
Normally, there would indeed be a problem. Typically, one receives a miracle during training or battle, and only then gets the tattoo to use it. After all, miracles aren’t handed out to just anyone.
Among all the holy knights, only about five percent, at most, receive miracles. Even those who constantly hone their minds and bodies through prayer and training rarely receive them. So for Dalen, who lacked even a shred of divine power, to get the tattoo in advance was unconventional, to say the least.
But Dalen’s situation was a bit different. Thanks to his inheritor’s option, he could retrieve miracles in the form of skills. And given that there were several corpses of former holy knights deep within the rift, getting the tattoo in advance was a perfectly rational choice.
“Oh, no, not at all. There’s no problem. As expected of the Holy Sword’s master. Faith is the substance of things hoped for, and my lack of faith is once again exposed.”
Maug, who had been flustered, finally spoke up. Watching the middle-aged high-ranking knight suddenly switch to repentance mode, Dalen leisurely guided his horse, lost in thought once more.
Interestingly, it seemed that the people around him who were more analytical and research-oriented tended to be quite talkative. Like Maug, who studied holy tattoos, or Volkma, the merchant head of the Gallios Trading Company.
‘Come to think of it, that old man was a chatterbox too.’
Looking at Felber’s narrow back ahead, Dalen mused. Whether he had a serious demeanor or a more free-spirited one, Felber was always talkative.
But for some reason, ever since the battle at the sanctuary, the old mage had noticeably spoken less. He only said what was necessary, often giving short answers or just smiling things off.
‘Something must have happened to change him.’
Dalen had sensed it too, ever since Felber had recovered from the near-fatal wound inflicted by the vice-captain at the sanctuary. His level had risen to an incomparable degree.
Perhaps that incident had allowed him to break through a long-standing barrier. And if that were true, the reduction in his speech might be a side effect of such a rapid level-up.
‘Well, I’m not exactly in a leisurely situation myself.’
Dalen thought as he stretched his stiff shoulders. Lately, his body felt oddly creaky. He hardly noticed it during battles, but it became particularly apparent in everyday life.
‘Hmm.’
What could be the reason? It wasn’t due to the side effects of dragon blood. His physical stats were already too high, thanks to the regenerative factors of dragon blood.
It would probably take something as massive as single-handedly demolishing a giant maze, like in the underground ruins of the Sandstorm Dynasty, to even slightly burden him.
‘It’s not a matter of stat balance either. While my strength and stamina are significantly higher than my other stats, they are complementary.’
Dalen believed it was an issue of domain. Specifically, the power contained within the domain was too immense.
He had acquired well over ten skills by now. Among them were several C-rank or higher skills that were beyond the reach of ordinary talent. And as these skills reached their maximum proficiency, they were tapping into even greater potential power.
With such powerful forces residing within a single domain, the total amount of power contained in the vessel inevitably increased.
‘The sheer scale of that power is undoubtedly putting a strain on my body.’
If the domain was the vessel, then the body was the conduit connected to it. Of course, using the power of the domain didn’t mean summoning the entirety of the limitless possibilities of the fantasy world.
However, the inherent strength of that power was so great that even the portion manifesting in this real world had begun to strain his body.
‘My strength and stamina stats are holding up for now. But it’s a power that can’t be contained by those alone.’
In truth, this was something that wouldn’t typically happen. Gaining power that one’s physical stats couldn’t handle was logically inconsistent.
Normally, even a game character would need to achieve suitable stats and learn the theory from a proper master or secret manual to barely acquire a skill. And that was for lower-grade skills. Higher-grade skills often required extensive training and real-world experience.
But what about now? Acquiring a skill was as routine as retrieving a corpse or two. He was effortlessly incorporating spells from different schools of thought into a single domain, something that should have been extremely difficult to learn together.
‘It’s strange that there are no side effects when all sorts of powers are mixed together and even become stronger than before.’
Dalen concluded his musings and pulled out some jerky from his waist pouch, chewing thoughtfully. It wasn’t something he could solve immediately. However, considering how the course of action after this journey would change depending on the measures he took, it wouldn’t hurt to organize his thoughts in advance.
Enjoying the flavor of the juices seeping through the chewy texture, Dalen quietly reflected on the knowledge he had experienced beyond the monitor.
The journey from the second defensive line to the Estra Fortress was a two-day trek. However, the supply-laden wagons slowed their pace considerably. By the third day, just past noon, they spotted smoke rising in the distance.
“That’s not a good sign.”
Maug muttered as he saw the gray smoke rising in several columns. The group quickened their pace. It was a couple of hours later when they finally took in the full view of the Estra Fortress.
“Oh, dear God…”
The elderly holy knight, Deputy Inquisitor Domer, sighed deeply at the sight before him.
The Estra Fortress had been completely overrun. The walls were crumbled in places, and the anti-monster siege weapons atop them lay shattered. Between the collapsed stones, darkened blood had dried, and beyond that, buildings were engulfed in flames.
Amidst the scattered corpses of monsters and humans outside the fortress walls, a massive man in dull armor sat on a large rock, watching them.
“I was wondering when you’d arrive.”
He spoke. The emblem of the Holy Knights, once engraved on his armor, was now twisted into a blasphemous mockery of the divine.
The once-proud Holy Sword, known for its powerful healing abilities, was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a massive greatsword, as tall as a person, leaned against the rock.
Everlock Glastden, once the vice-captain of the Holy Knights, gazed at them with eyes that glimmered with an alien light. More specifically, he focused on the warrior standing a head taller than the others, positioned relatively at the back of the group.
“If you hadn’t come by tomorrow, I was planning to come find you. Northern barbarian.”
He stretched his lips into a long, sinister smile. Dalen met that wicked grin with his usual impassive expression.
“You’ve betrayed the gods.”
“Heh. Betrayed?”
Everlock laughed.
“I am still a faithful servant of the gods. It’s just that my master is now a true god who promises me endless power, not the old, stodgy one.”
He licked his lips, his tongue unnaturally long, extending several times the length of a normal tongue, reaching down to his chin. His eyes gleamed with a sinister light, and his twisted smile contorted his facial muscles, making him look like a demon wearing a human mask.
‘To think his basic physical structure could be altered to this extent.’
If he maintained his sanity while his body was twisted to such a degree, just how much of the dark god’s power had he absorbed? In terms of the total amount of power bestowed, it wouldn’t be wrong to say he had become demonized.
Thus, the expressions of the holy knights, which had been frozen in shock, quickly turned to uncontrollable rage.
Boom!
A massive double-headed axe slammed into the ground. It was as if a weight of several hundred kilograms had been dropped, leaving a deep indentation in the solid earth.
“You wretched apostate! How could someone who was once a member of the Order harbor the filthy blood of a demon in their veins?”
Domer shouted, surrounding his double-headed axe with divine power. The air around the old knight seemed to grow heavy with the glow of his holy tattoos.
“Even though the fortress has fallen, I wondered why no messenger or survivor came. So it was because of you.”
Beside him, the high-ranking knight Maug drew his sword, his face slightly flushed with anger.
“The secret passage to bypass the fortress is known only to a select few high-ranking holy knights. To think you would block the retreat of the defeated Order using it. Even though you were once the vice-captain, I didn’t expect you to turn so quickly and ruthlessly. Everlock.”
A powerful aura emanated from the chief inquisitor and the high-ranking holy knight.
The invisible pressure in the air was so intense that even the small stones on the ground trembled.
Everlock didn’t respond. He simply offered a deep smile, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on Dalen.
“Tsk. You’re not one to be reasoned with, are you?” Domer clicked his tongue in annoyance. Raising his left fist, he declared loudly enough for all his companions to hear.
“As of this moment, Inquisitor Domer Lycas and four others will execute the heretic Everlock Glastan.”
With a swift, metallic sound, the other inquisitors drew their weapons in response to the chief inquisitor’s pronouncement.
White flames flickered along the blades of swords, axes, and spears, ready to purge evil.
Only then did Everlock turn his attention to the elderly knight, a smirk playing on his lips. “Sorry, but I have no interest in dealing with the playthings of the knight commander.”
With those words, the very fabric of space began to warp. Dalen blinked, momentarily doubting his eyes.
The distant fortress suddenly loomed right before them, and the space where Everlock stood stretched like elastic, pulling him into the heart of the fortress.
This was no illusion or trick of the eye.
Dalen’s keen sight, trained to pierce through spells and mysteries, confirmed that the distortion was the result of powerful magic.
It was a force so potent it could twist reality itself, drawing Everlock into the ruins of the fallen fortress.
And if such a degree of reality-warping was necessary, then…
“The fortress is already tainted by demonic power.”
His sharp intellect quickly pieced together the truth.
Recalling ancient memories and analyzing countless possibilities against the current phenomenon, he concluded that when Everlock, the deputy commander of the Holy Knights, turned into a fallen knight, he inevitably received the power of the dark god, Lapilem.
And when a fallen knight like him seized control of the Estra Fortress, there were three possible courses of action.
He could use it as a base for an army of monsters led by a dragon.
He could open a massive gate to hell.
“Or he could offer the fortress itself to Lapilem’s phantom palace.”
Boom!
The ground exploded as soon as he reached his conclusion, sending rocks and dirt skyward.
In the midst of the chaos, a shadowy figure shot toward the fortress.
In a heartbeat, Dalen’s form, moving at near-supersonic speed, closed the gap between him and the fallen knight.
“The phenomenon before us can only be explained by the descent of Lapilem’s palace.”
Given that one of Lapilem’s titles was the dark god of endless change and distortion, if the ruins before them were cloaked in the shadow of that phantom palace, it would be impossible to destroy it from the outside with their current numbers.
“But from the inside, it’s possible.”
Dalen was certain. No, he simply knew.
If he could just break through.
If he could follow into that twisted space and enter the ruins shrouded by the phantom palace’s shadow.
He already had a perfect strategy mapped out in his mind for what to do next.
“Damn it…”
But he was a moment too late.
The distortion, pulling everything into the fortress like a black hole, was unbound by physical constraints.
The twisted form of the fallen knight was receding faster than Dalen, even at his near-supersonic speed, could catch up.
In that fleeting moment, he pushed off the ground repeatedly, his muscles straining to their limits, the air resistance battering his body as he neared the sound barrier.
Yet, despite pushing himself to the extreme, it became clear he couldn’t enter the warped space.
“Elle— Memento Elegus!”
It was then that Felber raised his staff.