The true terror of the Immortal Order was not rely their inability to die.
Of course, that was frightening enough, but their real threat lay in their seemingly endless influx of experienced recruits—who would never retire. In a world where individual prowess could grow to superhuman levels through effort and talent, this was an absurd advantage.
Consider the most imdiate example: Horace, the captain of the Salt Council.
Horace had accomplished feats as a captain that were so extraordinary they might occur only once in a century. Yet, instead of retiring, he continued to live on, constantly adding to his achievents.
Granted, in the process, his mind had sowhat deteriorated, accumulating layers of self-deception and absurdity, but his potential for monuntal accomplishnts had only grown.
What made it worse was that such experienced recruits continuously joined the Immortal Order—and unless they were captured, they would work for eternity.
As a result, the Immortal Order boasted an astoundingly high number of paladins and priests per capita, significantly bolstered by the Codex of Light, which generously supplied them with personnel through the Dawn Army.
And now, Isaac had heard rumors that an ancient hero of Elil—a legend from a bygone era—might stand in their way.
"The Red Blade, Lua Bellin…"
Isaac pondered over Lua.
To Isaac, Lua Bellin was the "strongest in the world" within the ga’s lore.
While she couldn’t compare to the gods, she had defeated angels several tis—an achievent Isaac could only compare to his own.
Many warriors from Elil had joined the Dawn Army over the ages. Though tensions between the Kingdom of Elil and the Gerthonia Holy Empire remained sharp, Elil was far too peaceful and isolated to satisfy its knights.
With the Codex of Light sparking wars all across the continent, Elil’s knights often participated individually or as families, seeking glory or personal advancent rather than the recovery of the Holy Land.
Lua Bellin, however, had been a unique case.
She had genuinely sought to reclaim the Holy Land Lua and had achieved astonishing victories during the 11th Dawn Army Campaign, at one point even threatening the Ushak, the capital of the Urdantu Empire.
But when the Codex of Light unilaterally declared the campaign a failure, she was left stranded deep in enemy territory, and then… she vanished.
At least, that was how it appeared to the followers of Elil.
“But… the one wandering around here couldn’t be Lua Bellin.”
Isaac knew where "The Red Blade" Lua was.
Contrary to speculation that she had beco undead, a wandering spirit, or had fled beyond the Outer Boundary, the truth was simple: Lua Bellin was alive—and quite well. ℟ᴀŊŐβЁṧ
But he couldn’t tell Edelred. Even with the excuse of a divine revelation, such knowledge wouldn’t hold water. If it had been a genuine revelation, the angels of Elil would have known long ago.
“Thank you for sharing, Your Majesty. It would be an honor to face such a renowned senior.”
Isaac responded courteously at first.
“As you know, the Immortal Order… doesn’t die. Moreover, they have no qualms about using the Armyes of other faiths. The enemies we’ll face will be our ancestors, seniors, and even ntors.”
It was as though they were battling the remnants of an era long past. The deeper they ventured into Urdantu, the more ruins and relics of ancient tis they would encounter. They would face legendary figures and mythic beings from ages long gone.
It felt like retracing the path of history—or walking through the depths of Urvanus.
That was the nature of what awaited them in this land where the boundaries of life and death had crumbled.
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid,” Isaac admitted. “But I’ve already prepared myself for every scenario.”
“As have I,” Edelred replied resolutely.
Followers of Elil never shied away from battle, even if their foe was an ancient knight who had once defeated angels.
Still, Edelred had sought Isaac out, not out of fear of losing, but for another reason entirely.
He hesitated, then spoke cautiously.
“If we do encounter that legendary senior, we must ensure that her remains are retrieved at all costs. I hope you can understand this.”
In simple terms, Edelred was saying there might co a point where the Issacrea Dawn Army and the Knights of Elil would go their separate ways.
It was a reasonable request. For Elil, reclaiming the Holy Land wasn’t a desperate goal. But for Isaac, already operating with limited forces, the idea of losing allies was unwelco.
He could have invoked his authority as Kaldwin’s wielder or as the supre commander to refuse, but he preferred not to.
“If such a situation arises,” Isaac declared firmly, “I will stand with the knights of Elil. After all, I owe much to Your Majesty.”
It would be better for him to intervene and resolve the situation swiftly.
Edelred smiled warmly, his face lighting up with relief.
Isaac, however, would co to regret that promise sooner than expected.
***
Isaac stood atop a pyramid. The gray sky churned ominously above him. He held a crooked dagger in his hand, his body clad in yellow robes.
He let out a deep sigh.
“This dream again…”
It was the recurring nightmare in which he beca an old man in yellow, performing bizarre rituals with dark sorcery.
Though he often experienced similar dreams, the repetitive nature of the pattern kept him from dwelling on it. Even when confronted with terrifying scenes, he knew it was just a dream and waited patiently for it to end.
But sothing about this dream felt different.
“…Why is no one here?”
Neither sacrifices nor worshippers were present. Not even the Death Knights, who would eventually co to sever his head, were anywhere in sight.
Isaac stood alone atop the towering pyramid.
Realizing that the nightmare was diverging from its usual course, Isaac looked around with a peculiar sense of unease. For the first ti, the surroundings ca into clearer focus.
The pyramid stood in the center of an imnse city.
High, imposing walls encircled the city, lined with bastions and watchtowers that seed to guard in all directions. It was less a city and more of a fortress, though its ancient state betrayed thousands of years of wear.
There was no mistaking it—this was Lua, the cradle of civilization and the Holy Land.
As Isaac surveyed the barren city, he slowly descended the pyramid. An eerie silence blanketed the area, sending chills down his spine. When he reached the base of the pyramid, he noticed the ground was covered in a thick layer of white powder.
"Is this how it looked after the Immortal Order took over?"
Isaac thought to himself as he stepped onto the ground. Yet, as he felt the unnaturally soft texture underfoot, the horrifying truth struck him.
It wasn’t snow.
It was white sand.
This was all that remained of those who had once known the forgotten na of Chaos—their bodies turned to ashen remnants, a grim mark of the White Sand Plague. Isaac’s stomach churned as he surveyed the expanse of white sand that blanketed the entire city. The population of this once-vast tropolis had been entirely annihilated.
"Then what about ?"
Isaac examined his own hands.
Had the one who unleashed this miracle not yet been infected? Had the plague sohow spared him? Or was it simply a quirk of the dream, rendering him immune?
At that mont, he felt a presence in the distance.
The figures that always ended his dreams—Death Knights—were appearing at the edge of the city.
The one at the forefront was clad in tattered robes but bore the stole of a bishop draped across his shoulders. His eyes burned brightly with an eerie light as he approached Isaac, his expression a mix of disbelief and despondency.
"Beshek."
Isaac’s lips moved of their own accord, uttering the na in a voice full of mirth.
[Why…]
Beshek responded in a voice steeped in despair.
[Why did it fail… Why…?]
Isaac tried to answer, but before he could form words, Beshek let out a furious roar and charged at him.
Isaac’s body felt unbearably sluggish. Before he could even raise his hand, Beshek’s cold blade pierced his throat. It was the sa death he always suffered in these dreams.
This ti, however, it happened after the ritual had concluded.
***
Isaac awoke with a start.
It was still the dead of night. Muttering curses under his breath, he gathered himself, trying to shake off the lingering unease of the nightmare. The air was so cold that even indoors, his breath turned to mist.
While the chill might have indicated the approach of an undead army, there were no other signs of such an event.
"What kind of dream was that?"
Isaac pondered whether the nightmare had any deeper aning.
It seed that the man in yellow had succeeded in spreading the White Sand Plague, while the Immortal Order had failed to stop it. Yet, in previous nightmares, the ritual always succeeded without interruption.
Looking back now, sothing about the situation felt off.
The Immortal Order had only erged after the White Sand Plague. The widespread fear of death caused by the plague had been the foundation for the Order’s rise. Without the plague, the Immortal Order couldn’t have co into existence, let alone interfered with the ritual.
"Unless… in Urbansus, such things are possible."
If so, that might an the Immortal Order had sought to prevent their own creation—a paradoxical scenario.
The thought made Isaac’s head spin. He gave up trying to make sense of it. From what he knew, the Immortal Order cherished their immortality far too much to destroy the conditions that enabled their existence.
"…No point trying to sleep now."
Though he considered going back to bed, Isaac doubted he could fall asleep again. While he could have used the Luadin Key to dispel the cold instantly, he decided instead to patrol the area and clear his mind.
Stepping outside, he encountered a startled patrol guard.
“L-Lord Grail Knight! What brings you out at this hour…?”
“Anything unusual to report?” Isaac asked.
“No, sir. Nothing to note. But… there are quite a few people who can’t seem to sleep in this strange village.”
Isaac paused, curious. "Others can’t sleep, either?"
“Yes, sir. As a result, we have more than enough personnel on watch. So are even out looking for a late-night al.”
In a disciplined army, soldiers who failed to sleep or eat properly were as good as useless. Curious about these insomniac soldiers, Isaac decided to investigate.
Near the village square, he found several campfires around which soldiers were gathered.
"What are you all—"
Isaac stopped mid-sentence when he noticed soone unusual among the group.
Sitting by one of the fires was a small girl: Angela.
“Angela?”
Angela turned her head toward Isaac and gave a rare, soft smile before nodding in greeting. As Isaac debated how to admonish her, his gaze shifted to the large man sitting across from her.
Isaac froze, a chill running down his spine. His hand instinctively moved to his sword.
The man was clad in a deep hood, his entire body hidden beneath armor and a cloak, leaving no flesh visible. Isaac began to draw Kaldwin, but a voice stopped him in his tracks.
[Such a kind little girl.]
Hearing the voice, Isaac felt as though his breath had been stolen.
He hadn’t even asked who the man was, but sohow, he already knew.
He didn’t need confirmation. He recognized the voice from his dream.
"Immortal Emperor Beshek?"
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