Chapter 381: Painted Paradise (2)
God wished for their deaths.
At Linde's words, Gebel was momentarily at a loss for words.
Rottenhammer quickly scanned his surroundings, startled by the shocking statement. Linde’s words, no matter how softly spoken, reverberated like a mental wave that everyone around could hear. The paladins, who had come to satisfy their curiosity about the former commander of the Avalanche Knight Order—now a Death Knight—wore expressions of utter shock.
Gebel reconfirmed Linde’s words.
“Are you saying the Codex of Light wanted Commander Linde dead?”
[To be precise, it was my interpretation of His will. I had long realized that the Church was driving our Knight Order into a death trap. No, not just us, but countless other paladins and priests as well. The only reason I desperately clung to life was that I couldn't bear to see all of you sacrificed too.]
Her voice was calm and unshaken. Gebel, at a loss for words, could only stare. Isaac was no different.
Gebel had lived with the torment of being the sole survivor of the day the Avalanche Knight Order was annihilated, while Bashul carried the guilt of having driven his comrades into a death trap, to the point where he wandered around with a sword gripped between his teeth.
But now, Linde claimed that she had known all along that the Church intended to lead them to their deaths.
“Are you saying the Codex of Light gave such an order?”
[You keep repeating yourself, Gebel. You've had trouble with comprehension since childhood. Let me correct you properly. The Codex of Light did not issue a direct order. I simply analyzed the context and circumstances, and I concluded, ‘They’re trying to kill us.’]
Her words remained composed, as if merely stating a fact.
[Holy Land Lua no longer holds any strategic value. The Dawn Army continues to fail, while the Church proposes only delusional strategies and objectives. In reality, since the first Dawn Army, all we’ve done is expand the Immortal Order’s power and territory.]
"I can't listen to this any longer. Isaac, must we continue listening to the words of this heretic?"
Rottenhammer, finally unable to endure it, spoke up. No matter how disillusioned he might be with the Church, he was still a follower of the Codex of Light. Though he wasn’t a fanatic, he had no desire to hear his faith mocked by Linde, a “heretic.” It was also unhealthy for the paladins of the Issacrea Knight Order to be exposed to such blasphemy.
Isaac decided it was time to intervene.
“Hold on. Linde, are you certain it was the Codex of Light? Not some other Archangel?”
Linde’s blue eyes flickered like a faint flame before she answered.
[Of course. When we speak of the Codex of Light, who else would it be but the Lighthouse Keeper? The Codex of Light reveals its will through the natural order of things, like the firmness of the earth or the rising of the sun. But tell me, is there any other entity we can call its 'voice'? Since the Lighthouse Keeper remains an Archangel, isn't it only natural to think that the will of the Lighthouse Keeper is the will of the Codex of Light?]
“…So you’ve met the Lighthouse Keeper, then?”
[Naturally.]
Her response carried neither awe nor reverence.
[The Lighthouse Keeper didn’t tell me to die. But that’s how kings are. They don’t say, ‘Go die.’ They say, ‘Raise the glory of the kingdom’ or ‘Show your courage to the world.’]
“That’s a metaphor for necessary sacrifices! If we don’t stand against these vile undead, then who will face the oncoming night?”
Rottenhammer shouted, his voice filled with righteous anger. But Isaac caught the flicker of doubt in his eyes.
Linde laughed softly, letting out a dry, hollow chuckle.
[Hahaha… Hammerhead old man, you may be right. It could have been a necessary sacrifice.]
Her tone grew cold, her words chilling.
[After all, when I refused to obey their orders, they drove my subordinate to betray me and pushed us into the jaws of death. Seems like it was quite a “necessary sacrifice,” don’t you think?]
It was about Bashul.
[The 12th Dawn Army, which even our battle-hardened knight order had survived, ended with us being slaughtered in a one-sided massacre. Bashulav… that pitiful soul must still be carrying the unbearable burden of guilt because of my stubbornness. I can only imagine the weight he bears.]
Rottenhammer clenched his teeth so hard his jaw tensed, but he remained silent. Even he knew of the Avalanche Knight Order’s once-fearsome might. He had witnessed it himself. Yet, this very same knight order had been massacred in a strategically worthless battle.
Could he still call that a "necessary sacrifice"?
***
[Alright, old man. Let's say it was indeed a necessary sacrifice, as you claim.]
Linde chuckled as she called out to Rottenhammer again.
Rottenhammer clearly didn’t want to hear any more. But the numerous paladins under his command were also present. They, too, could not avoid drawing connections from Linde's final words.
[But if that ‘necessary sacrifice’ was the death of my knight order, and the enemy we faced just happened to be the Immortal Order, then isn’t the intent clear?]
“W-what…?”
[The Lighthouse Keeper wanted me to become a heretic.]
A gift.
Isaac's mind suddenly latched onto that word.
An ominous outline of some terrible picture slowly crept into his thoughts.
[It’s one thing for a human to turn their back on God. People can do that if they’re angry or disillusioned. Even the most devout believers go against God’s will once or twice in their lives, praying for forgiveness afterward.]
“……”
[But what if it’s God who turns His back on you? What are humans supposed to do then? Should they accept that abandonment as God’s will, or should they beg Him to take them back? Isn’t the latter also defying His will?]
It was a concept Rottenhammer had never even imagined.
That God’s will was just, fair, and righteous had always been as self-evident as the rising of the sun. It was a truth he had accepted since birth. It was part of his worldview.
[The Lighthouse Keeper told us to march into the jaws of death. So, we had to die. And if I were to rise again by the hands of the Immortal Order, and then raise my sword against the God I had once served…]
Linde's tone was so sharp and biting that it was hard to tell if she was being sarcastic or serious.
Isaac realized it then.
Linde hadn’t been betrayed. She hadn’t been sacrificed.
“Then you and your order… are…”
[I am not a heretic. I am a martyr.]
Linde slowly tilted her head as she spoke.
[The Lighthouse Keeper commanded me and my Knight Order to serve the light from the shadows. If that’s the case, then there’s no reason I can’t become a heretic. In other words, the only form of revenge and prayer left to me is to slay the paladins and priests who serve Him.]
Isaac could see the outline of the picture the Lighthouse Keeper was painting begin to emerge.
Gebel had previously mentioned that, aside from the Avalanche Knight Order, many other knight orders had also been sacrificed in vain.
Bashul claimed that there were insiders within the Codex of Light's leadership who were in league with the Immortal Order, and that unholy collusion had taken place.
Kalsen, once recognized as a paladin blessed by the Codex of Light's Archangel, ultimately betrayed his order, offered his knight order as tribute to the Immortal Order, and sought to become a god by learning their forbidden knowledge.
For the past 300 years, the Codex of Light had raised the Dawn Army no fewer than 13 times. Millions of people had marched into the lands of the Immortal Order, throwing away their lives.
The Codex of Light had sent the largest number of believers to fight, and, as a result, had "offered" the largest number of followers to the Immortal Order.
“The Immortal Order is subservient to the Codex of Light.”
A chill swept over Isaac as this eerie realization dawned on him.
“The Lighthouse Keeper doesn’t care about the Holy Land Lua.”
His concern lay with the Dawn Army.
The Dawn Army itself was a grand stage play—a spectacle designed to push countless people to their deaths.
“But for what purpose?”
Why, for what reason, was the Lighthouse Keeper driving so many people to their deaths?
It felt like an unsolvable mystery, but once he thought about the result of all this death, the answer became shockingly simple.
When large numbers of people die, just as many souls cross into the afterlife.
But Urbansus is a sum of the past. It is also the collective unconscious of humanity—the shared foundation of society that has been built up by generations, ancestors, and untold masses of people over time.
The instinctive desire to protect children, to respect one's elders, and to help those in need—all of these deeply rooted impulses come from that collective unconscious.
Living in this world, it’s nearly impossible to break free from that unconscious influence.
If one were to think of Urbansus as clear water, then a few individuals’ will wouldn’t be enough to change its color. But if you threw in the lives of hundreds, thousands, or millions of people?
And what if all of those people shared the same singular, concentrated emotion and will as they died?
“Urbansus would be stained with that singular emotional hue.”
The vast, unchanging mass of shared memory that forms Urbansus would remain, forever marked by that single, overwhelming feeling—unless, of course, another madman with the same ambition came along to change it again.
In other words, it would be possible to dye Urbansus in whatever color one desired.
The Lighthouse Keeper had been painting Paradise in blood for 300 long years.
No, perhaps it had been going on for a thousand years—ever since the day the Lighthouse Keeper came into existence.
That was when Isaac, without even realizing it, muttered a single phrase under his breath.
“The Millennium Kingdom…”
***
“Isaac?”
Hearing his whisper, Gebel turned toward him and spoke.
“Millennium Kingdom? What do you mean? How is that relevant?”
“Ah, it’s nothing. I’ve just heard too many shocking things all at once.”
The concept of the Millennium Kingdom that the Lighthouse Keeper sought to create was too vast and overwhelming for Isaac to articulate. It was all still just speculation, and nothing had been proven as fact. Most crucially, he still didn’t understand why the Lighthouse Keeper was painting Paradise in blood.
Above all, it was dangerous to jump to conclusions about the enemy’s intentions.
It was only then that Isaac realized something chilling—he had unconsciously thought of the Lighthouse Keeper as "the enemy."
Up until now, at no point had he ever considered the Lighthouse Keeper to be an enemy. Even back when he played the game as a follower of a rival faith, the Lighthouse Keeper had been an entity to avoid, not oppose.
But the truth was undeniable. The Lighthouse Keeper had been feeding countless human lives to the Immortal Order for centuries.
“Then… was the suicide of the Nameless Chaos—the event that led to the creation of the Immortal Order—also orchestrated by the Lighthouse Keeper?”
Isaac dismissed the thought, thinking it was too much of a leap. But he still couldn’t shake his doubt.
After all, it was the Lighthouse Keeper who had enabled the Immortal Order to take root so firmly in the world. It was difficult to believe that he had nothing to do with its inception.
Perhaps even the rise of Immortal Emperor Beshek was the result of a command like the one given to Linde: “Go and die.”
Linde silently gazed at Isaac.
[Our rookie here is not only handsome, strong, and skilled but also quite clever, it seems.]
“Is there something else you know?” Isaac asked.
[Hmm… I’ve been trying to decipher the Lighthouse Keeper’s thoughts ever since I died, but I still haven’t figured it out. But if there’s one thing I can say for certain, it’s this: according to the Lighthouse Keeper’s timetable, this will be the final Dawn Army. I wonder what role our clever little rookie will play on this historic page of the story.]
Her voice quieted, and she spoke more seriously this time.
[Even if you come to believe that you’re being used in the grand scheme of the gods… do not give up.]
“...Why?”
Isaac didn’t plan to give up anyway, but he was curious why Linde had gone out of her way to say such a thing.
Linde replied as if she had been waiting for him to ask.
[For the same reason I became an undead. The Lighthouse Keeper promised us a ‘Millennium Kingdom.’]
Then, she let out a small giggle, as if she’d just told a joke only she understood.
Isaac wondered if it was some sort of inside joke. But then, slowly, the realization dawned on him.
The Millennium Kingdom that the Lighthouse Keeper had promised—perhaps it wasn’t a kingdom that would last for a thousand years.
It was likely a kingdom that would come at the end of a thousand years.
The reason for "a thousand years" must have its own logic, but it didn’t matter.
If the story only went up to the thousandth year, that meant the book ended there.
If Isaac could endure and endure, then from that point on, he would be the one writing the pages that followed.
Just because the ending credits rolled on a game didn’t mean the world itself ceased to exist.