NOVEL WEB Chapter 346.1
Chapter 346: Sea of Nightmares (8)
[“If only you hadn’t forced him to swear, things wouldn’t have come to this. You followers of the Codex of Light treat oaths too lightly, demanding the price from others with cruelty.”]
The Dead December shouted these reproachful words, a lament in his voice.
[“Behold, the symbol of cowardice!”]
With a subtle flick of his fingers, the illusion of Dead December brought forth a wave of darkness that flowed like a billowing sleeve before dispersing like a mirage.
From within the darkness, a single undead figure dropped to the ground.
Once, this figure might have held an esteemed status, clad in a once-fine armor and a flowing cape. Now, however, it was merely a decrepit skeleton, covered in barnacles and corroded by seawater.
[“This is Arachel Brant, who was forced to swear loyalty to Horace.”]
Arachel Brant, bound in heavy chains, clattered like a wooden puppet with every movement of Dead December’s fingers. Dead December, lacking any finesse in manipulating puppets, rendered the scene grotesque and absurd.
[“Like Delrod Ciel, he hangs by the ship’s edge, facing punishment befitting a deserter. What’s fascinating is that all those who stepped onto Miarma ultimately agreed to surrender their souls. They realized the Codex of Light would not protect them.”]
Dead December’s tone was both merciless and gentle.
Though abandoned by the Codex of Light, these souls were tended to, albeit after death, by Dead December. Perhaps some of them had hoped to conclude their service with the Dawn Army in heavenly glory, but could deserters who turned their backs under the fierce desert sun ever expect such grace?
Looking at Arachel now, it was evident that the place the Dawn Army had chosen was not heaven, but home.
[“I intend to grant the wishes of those who surrendered their souls—after they’ve served their penance, of course.”]
Dead December leaned forward as he spoke.
Isaac knew the figure before him was only an illusion, yet he felt an intense sense that Dead December himself was watching him from a great distance.
[“You’ll fall into despair when you reach Miarma, regardless. So turn back now, child. Don’t create more souls like Horace’s.”]
A potent wave of resistance bore down on Isaac, pressing him with such force that he nearly stumbled back. Blood vessels burst one by one in his eyes, staining the whites a fierce red, yet he forced himself to stand firm.
Isaac slowly opened his mouth to speak.
“Do you think Horace is pitiful?”
Horace lifted his head at Isaac’s unexpected words, his gaze questioning as though he hadn’t expected Isaac to still be there.
“You’re right. The Seventh Dawn Army was made of deserters and defeated remnants. They lightly made oaths while pressing them heavily upon others.”
Dead December silently watched Isaac.
“But Horace is no pitiable man.”
[What did you say…?]
Just as Horace was about to snap back, Isaac continued.
“Horace isn’t a defeated man like the Seventh Dawn Army. He remains a member of the Dawn Army and chose another path to see it succeed. Unlike the weak ones who broke under rejection, he alone in the Seventh Army was truly strong. Don’t speak of him with contempt.”
With that, Isaac took a resolute step forward.
A powerful wave surged over him, threatening to scatter his mind. The divine power descended upon him, suffocating, as voices, illusions, and screams battered his will, attempting to shatter it.
It was the pressure of Urbansus.
Yet, clutching Kaldwin in his hand, Isaac pushed forward toward Horace, his blood-red eyes blazing.
“I won’t retreat, no matter what you say. If a few trivial words from an insignificant angel could deter me, I wouldn’t have started this at all.”
Isaac’s words, seething with a grandeur beyond arrogance, left Horace and Dead December speechless.
Then, in Isaac’s crimson eyes, a purple hue began to emerge. His pupils dilated fully, radiating an eerie, searing intensity.
As the Eye of Chaos activated, tentacles sprouted from beneath his left eyelid, seeping outward. Horace felt a shiver of unease at the sight of the tendrils writhing out of Isaac’s eye—proof that he was indeed an Agent of Nameless Chaos.
Yet it was this very Agent of Nameless Chaos who spoke.
With a tone more resolute than any paladin or priest Horace had ever known.
“I will reclaim the Holy Land.”
***
Isaac delved into Horace’s consciousness through the Eye of Chaos.
Isaac didn’t need to probe deeply into Horace’s consciousness; he was only searching for the link between Dead December and Horace. At last, he spotted a tangled thread-like trace connecting them.
Just as Dead December controlled Arachel Brant’s corpse like a marionette with chains, his influence extended over Horace as well. However, because Horace was already under powerful motivation, Dead December hadn’t needed to exert full control over him.
‘The Immortal Order grants a measure of control from higher undead to lower ones, regardless of influence.’
Many aspiring undead failed to realize that being granted the status of a “follower” did not mean complete autonomy. All souls in the Immortal Order were bound under the sway of the Immortal Emperor Beshek. Angels held authority below him, followed by bishops and priests in a hierarchical pyramid of control.
In its absolute control over souls, the Immortal Order was more rigidly hierarchical than any other faith.
Yet, in most cases, the Immortal Emperor forbade the exercise of “strong” influence on souls. Therefore, the undead generally lived independently, pursuing their own lives in individualistic ways.
However, some level of influence remained in effect as needed.
A life devoid of desire and purpose would inevitably degrade.
In Horace’s case, it seemed Dead December had suggested he roam the stormy sea, “recruiting” any trespassers as a sort of pastime.
Focusing his obsession on the past oaths and grudges he’d let slip away.
Isaac believed it was this very obsession that had driven Horace mad.
“I swear.”
Isaac took another step forward.
To break that unseen chain wrapped around Horace’s neck.
“I will reclaim the Holy Land.”