Chapter 4
Chapter 4
Episode 4.
The paladin was one of the flagship symbols of the Varantes Church.
Flagship symbols existed for public perception, representing the identity of an organization.
Authority, dignity, sanctity, and nobility. Just as these were the doctrines preached by the Church, its symbolic paladins had to embody all these values.
This was why external presentation was so crucial.
Aiden shaved off his unkempt beard and neatly slicked back his hair.
Then he discarded his dull leather armor and donned his sacred plate.
"Sir Aiden, you look absolutely perfect."
He was one of the five new recruits assigned by the bishop, serving as Aiden's temporary squire.
A squire was essential for a paladin. The sacred plate was cumbersome to don and remove alone, and assistance was often required.
Aiden was currently in the VIP chamber of the lord's castle. They were preparing for tonight's battle, checking their equipment and finalizing plans.
"A bit excessive, isn't it."
Aiden muttered as he stood before the full-length mirror. In the game, he'd thought it looked cool, but wearing it himself, it felt overly conspicuous.
Of course, its practicality was flawless. Most blades couldn't even leave a scratch, and it absorbed the majority of impact.
The only issue was its tremendous weight—but that was irrelevant to Aiden.
"Excessive? It suits you perfectly."
The squire's eyes sparkled as he gazed up at Aiden. A rising star who had passed his trials and been ordained as a paladin in just two years. Rumors about him had already spread widely across the empire.
Being assigned to serve Aiden, even temporarily, was a great honor for the squire.
"What's your name?"
"Yuron."
"I want to assess your skills—and those of the other recruits."
The recruits were elites trained professionally by the Church. Their combat abilities and tactical understanding far surpassed those of ordinary soldiers.
One would expect them to be confident, but Yuron's expression suggested otherwise.
"W-well..."
Aiden found this odd. Whatever the case, he needed to know their capabilities.
"Draw your sword."
"Huh? What do you—"
"Now. I need to see what you can do."
A bewildering command. Yuron couldn't hide his confusion.
"Here?"
There was no need to go outside. A few exchanges would suffice.
Yuron hesitated briefly, but sensing Aiden's seriousness, slowly drew his blade.
"T-then, I'll take the first move."
Aiden gestured for him to come. Yuron lunged immediately—a straightforward thrust. Without even drawing his sword, Aiden deflected the attack with his plated gauntlet.
Ting!
The strike sent Yuron's sword clattering to the floor.
His face flushed crimson with shame—both for his lack of skill and for failing expectations.
Aiden's voice, however, remained calm.
"Are the other four about your level?"
Yuron struggled to respond.
"I need to know our combat strength. Answer."
"...Roughly the same."
"Understood. You're dismissed."
Yuron left dejectedly, stealing a glance at Aiden's face. Strangely, he didn't seem disappointed.
If anything, his expression was eerily composed.
Yuron's intuition was correct. Aiden was focused solely on how his suspicions kept proving true. 'Every last one is incompetent.' The Demon Cult was involved, yet they'd only been given five men—each lacking in skill.
Fine, one could argue that since their top forces—the paladin Aiden and the holy mage Zeras—were assigned, and their mission was reconnaissance and ambush, this made sense.
But then the question remained: Who was with the main force?
The bishop's plan was to raid the site where the Demon Cult was sacrificing children, track the fleeing remnants, and destroy their stronghold.
Common sense dictated the cult's leaders would be at the sacrifice site. Shouldn't the raiding party then be the main force?
Were there other paladins? If so, why bypass all protocols to hastily ordain Aiden?
Moreover, the ambush location being a graveyard was deeply unsettling.
Aiden knew exactly what kind of man Bishop Forel was. No doubt he planned to reclaim the kidnapped children—for his own twisted desires.
But why involve Aiden and Zeras? If not as enforcers, they'd only be liabilities. 'Is there another scheme beyond the children?'
Click. The door opened, interrupting his thoughts.
"Ha, turns out clothes really do make the man. But why the grim face? In deep contemplation, Sir Knight? Or is it something else?"
Zeras entered with a smirk. His silver uniform was smudged with dirt, and the stench of rotting corpses clung to him.
"Out for a stroll, were you?"
"Sharp as ever. How'd you know?"
"Your clothes are dirtier than before. And you reek. Of decay."
Zeras scratched his head in exasperation.
"I shook it off, but... Your vision isn't human, is it? Neither is your sense of smell."
Truthfully, Zeras appeared immaculate to any normal observer. Aiden could spot every speck of dirt on his clothes thanks to his vision stat—a crucial investment for a paladin who fought primarily at night.
At this distance, he could even see the sebum in someone's pores. It wasn't always pleasant.
"But why are you staring at me like that?"
"Never mind that. Where were you?"
"I was just about to discuss that."
Zeras studied Aiden's expression with his narrow, blade-like eyes.
"Didn't you find anything odd?"
In matters like this, Zeras was an absolute ally. He was practically a fanatic.
He would never act against doctrine.
"Everything about this is odd."
"Straight to the point, then."
Zeras pulled up a chair and sat at the table.
"I checked the location the bishop mentioned."
The suspected site of tonight's child sacrifice by the Demon Cult.
"The miasma was thick, and there were barriers erected."
Something was definitely planned there.
"I retreated. Touching the barriers would alert them—that's likely why they're there. Crude work, really. Anyway, I also checked the graveyard where we're to ambush them, and guess what? Found something interesting."
Zeras chuckled, drawing out the suspense.
"Several graves had been dug up."
Signs of necromancy. Corpses implanted with spells, waiting until the curses spread throughout the graveyard.
Once fully saturated, the caster could awaken all the dead within—a forbidden black magic.
"Quite skilled, too. Embarrassingly, I couldn't dispel it."
Dispelling magic was always harder than casting it. But if even Zeras couldn't break it, the caster was formidable.
"Regardless, what does this imply?"
Zeras posed the question like a mentor testing a novice.
"Either standard precautions, or they knew our plans and set a trap. One or the other, no?"
"Exactly. But doesn't it strike you as odd? Of all places, our ambush site is a graveyard, and the situation reeks of suspicion."
Zeras leaned toward the trap theory.
"If so, who's setting us up—and why?"
"No idea there."
If the bishop was behind it, his motives were unclear for now.
"Regardless, we have two options."
"Report this to the bishop, or walk into the trap ourselves to uncover the truth."
"Haha, indeed. So, what'll it be?"
Choosing the latter might lead Zeras to suspect Aiden thought the bishop was involved.
Not that it mattered.
"I hate headaches. I'll see the truth with my own eyes."
"Good. We're on the same page."
"Sunset's approaching. Time to move."
They led the recruits straight to the ambush site.
*Aiden and Zeras's attire was ill-suited for stealth.
The midnight mountains held no light, yet their uniforms and plate armor reflected moonlight, glowing conspicuously.
"From here, wear this."
Zeras handed Aiden a black hood.
The moment he donned it, the armor's gleam vanished.
"Light-absorbent material. Handy for times like this—keep one for yourself."
With their sole light source gone, the surroundings plunged into silent darkness.
The recruits trembled nervously.
"From here, we walk."
They tethered their horses and ascended the slope. As they neared the graveyard, the miasma thickened.
Now visible—mist-like miasma fractured the moonlight, dyeing everything purple.
Yuron struggled to control his shaking limbs as he followed Aiden.
They reached their destination after a long trek.
Rows of tombs and headstones stretched before them—a sizable graveyard.
"Perfect environment for demonic possession."
Zeras's remark made the recruits gulp. Aiden would've preferred leaving them behind but couldn't risk arousing suspicion.
Frankly, they were useless. Clearly the bishop's castoffs.
"S-Sir Aiden. What should we do?"
Yuron forced the question through his terror.
"Do nothing. Hold this position."
Harsh but necessary. Better than losing lives to reckless actions.
Aiden hid completely in the dense foliage, holding his breath.
Though pitch-black to normal eyes, Aiden's pierced the darkness, surveying the graveyard.
The recruits relied solely on hearing, blind in the abyss.
Crickets chirped; leaves rustled. Occasional howls sent chills down their spines.
Rustle. Something landed. Aiden's gaze snapped toward the graveyard—a figure had appeared.
Simultaneously, all forest sounds ceased. 'The recruits are panicking.'
They could neither see nor hear—only feel the suffocating darkness swallowing them like a sinking ship.
Aiden considered retreat. But abandon such massive undead EXP?
Moreover, capturing the necromancer was key to unraveling this mystery. 'We proceed.'
He exchanged glances with Zeras.
The moment they nodded, the silence shattered—replaced by the sounds of the dead.
Crk—kreek!
Shedding rotten flesh, they crawled forth—yearning for the living with unmatched hunger.
Greeeehk!
Their collective malice fixed on the living.
Aiden tore off his hood. Moonlight illuminated the undead, terrifying the recruits.
"DO NOT FEAR—!"
Radiant light scorched the darkness, engulfing the dead.