Immortal Paladin

Ezekiel walked at the head of the procession like a silent shepherd guiding an uncertain flock.

Behind him, the elves followed along the broken forest path, stepping carefully over roots and stones. Their formation was uneven and hesitant at first, but the distance from the demon village gradually loosened the tension in their movements.

Whispers soon began circulating through the group.

“My goodness… look at the glow around him.”

“Is that what a holy spirit looks like?”

“Do not walk too close, you might offend him!”

“No, no, stay closer. If demons appear, he will protect us.”

Ezekiel listened to them in silence.

The worship in their voices was unmistakable.

Faith flowed toward him in invisible currents. It felt fuzzy, burning, and strangely heavy at the same time. The sensation pressed against his existence like warm gravity.

He was not unfamiliar with such energy.

In the Hollowed World and within Luminary’s Rest, countless followers of his lord directed the same feelings toward Da Wei. Some of that devotion inevitably brushed against him as well.

Here, however, the attention was direct.

The faith fed his existence.

It strengthened the divine lattice that held him together. Even his awareness had evolved rapidly compared to the earliest days of his creation.

Back then, language had been beyond him.

He had existed as little more than a mindless construct of holy energy, a tool summoned to obey.

Now he could converse.

Now he could think.

The elves slowly gathered their courage and approached him with a barrage of questions.

“Lord Ezekiel, are you a man or a woman?”

“I do not possess a gender,” Ezekiel answered calmly as he continued walking. “My lord simply refers to me as ‘he’ for the sake of conversational convenience.”

Another elf hurried forward.

“Can you truly split the sky like Lord Da Wei did earlier?”

“No,” Ezekiel replied plainly. “That feat belongs solely to my lord.”

A third elf raised her hand timidly.

“Forgive me for asking, but… are you aware that you are naked?”

“Yes,” Ezekiel said without hesitation. “I am aware.”

“…And you do not mind?”

“I do not.”

The elves exchanged bewildered looks.

Ezekiel had spoken more during the last ten minutes than he had in weeks.

The effort was surprisingly exhausting.

In the Hollowed World, most people treated him very differently. They saw him as a herald of divine authority, an entity to be respected from a distance, feared, and obeyed.

Few dared to casually converse with him.

However, these elves were different. 

They stared at him with sparkling curiosity, as though he were the most fascinating creature they had ever seen.

Ezekiel did not dislike the feeling.

In fact, he admired their courage.

It was likely a side effect of their faith. Those who believed in the existence known as Da Wei tended to feel instinctively comfortable around entities connected to him.

The feeling was mutual.

Another wave of questions soon arrived.

“Lord Ezekiel, does Lord Da Wei have a lover?”

“Yes,” Ezekiel answered.

“Is it the pink-haired human woman?”

“Yes.”

“Is she a vampire?”

“She is not a vampire anymore.”

“Does Lord Da Wei believe in polygamy?”

“I do not believe so.”

“Do you have hobbies, Lord Ezekiel?”

“No.”

The questioning slowed after that.

If Ezekiel had a hobby, the closest thing would be immersing himself in the emotional echoes of his lord’s memories. Through their connection he could feel fragments of Da Wei’s thoughts, experiences, and inspirations.

Admitting such a thing aloud felt… embarrassing.

His lord likely knew already and permitted it as a form of quiet compensation.

Many of the small accessories Ezekiel occasionally conjured, a monocle, decorative chains, or elegant gloves were inspired by images within those memories.

Recently, Da Wei had unsealed memories of his original world.

The material was astonishing.

The things called “anime” and “movies” were endless reservoirs of aesthetic inspiration.

They would help him become a more refined servant.

Eventually, the elf who had spoken to Da Wei earlier approached him. The faint green wind spirit hovered near her throat as she bowed politely.

“Lord Ezekiel,” she said softly, “please forgive my sisters. Many of us have forgotten proper social conduct. Our lives until recently were… not pleasant.”

Her voice carried gentle embarrassment.

“Now that hope has returned to us, everyone is smiling again. They are excited, curious, and perhaps a little annoying.”

Ezekiel stopped walking.

He turned toward the group.

The elves froze, worried they had somehow offended him.

After a brief pause, Ezekiel spoke in his steady tone.

“You are not annoying.”

The tension dissolved immediately.

“My task,” he continued, “is to guide this pilgrimage. Questions do not obstruct that task.”

He resumed walking.

“Therefore,” he added calmly, “you may continue asking them.”

Ezekiel had begun to understand something important about elves during the journey. If he were to borrow from his lord’s wealth of vocabulary, there was only one conclusion he could reasonably reach. The race appeared to suffer from something called ADHD. 

They were astonishingly hyperactive.

The phenomenon made his duty as a shepherd extremely difficult.

During the single week since they had begun following the path Da Wei carved through the wilderness, three elves had nearly died through reckless wandering, seven had suffered injuries from falls or mishaps, and more than a dozen had experienced severe food poisoning after enthusiastically sampling berries that were very obviously suspicious.

The berries had been bright purple with faint smoke drifting off them.

Ezekiel had not believed edible plants normally produced smoke.

Anna, their representative, stood in front of him nervously while clutching her robe.

“I–I’m sorry, Lord Ezekiel,” she stammered with visible embarrassment. “The skills of our ancestors were lost after the destruction that followed the Final Adversary’s descent. Even I, the oldest among my sisters now, do not know much about hunting or foraging.”

She lowered her head slightly.

“Although I can cast spells through my wind spirit, I am completely ignorant of the traditional elven way of life before the Fall.”

Ezekiel processed the information calmly.

From the fragments he had gathered through conversation and observation, it had been one thousand eight hundred years since the event they called the Fall began.

According to the memories of his lord, Da Wei had originally been whisked away from this world when something called the “Fall Expansion” had already been underway in the game’s storyline.

The lore of that expansion placed the timeline around one thousand six hundred years after the beginning of the catastrophe.

Da Wei himself had spent roughly two centuries within the Hollowed World before returning here.

The numbers aligned.

The concept itself remained strange.

A “game” that had once been fictional becoming the reality of another universe would be incomprehensible to most inhabitants of either world.

Ezekiel only understood it because of the nature of his existence.

He could perceive fragments of perspective from his lord’s memories.

Even Dave, who was technically his senior in work among Da Wei’s summons, did not fully grasp that viewpoint.

The difference likely came from how each of them had been created.

“I understand,” Ezekiel said plainly to Anna.

At that exact moment, several screams erupted ahead.

“AAAH—!”

“My leg!”

“Something stabbed me!”

Anna immediately rushed forward in alarm.

“That’s bad!”

Ezekiel followed without hesitation.

Two elves had fallen victim to a concealed trap hidden beneath a layer of leaves.

One elf had stepped onto a pit device. Her foot was lodged inside while a short arrow protruded from her calf. The discoloration spreading across her lips suggested poison.

The second elf had triggered a different mechanism. A wooden stake launched from a spring trap above had pierced her shoulder and pinned her partially to the ground.

Ezekiel grasped the stake calmly and pulled it free.

The elf shrieked loudly as the wood slid out.

He immediately cast Blessed Regeneration, golden light flooding into the wound as torn flesh rapidly began knitting together.

The scream echoed through the forest.

It was loud enough to attract attention.

Ezekiel then moved to the other elf, gripping her trapped leg and pulling it free from the pit mechanism.

“Please hold still,” he said evenly.

He cast Cure and Cleanse in quick succession. 

Holy energy purged the poison while restoring damaged tissue.

The elf collapsed back onto the ground, breathing heavily but alive.

A sharp whistle suddenly cut through the air.

Movement erupted in the surrounding brush.

Ezekiel stood between the wounded elves and the encroaching cultivators as the forest filled with the sound of rustling leaves and hostile laughter.

The humans emerged from the trees in loose formation, weapons drawn and confidence obvious in their posture. They wore mismatched armor and carried crude talismans that glowed faintly with spiritual energy. Their eyes moved greedily across the group of elves behind him.

“Look at this,” one of them jeered in their native tongue. “A bunch of crippled forest girls and a walking skeleton.”

Another laughed loudly.

“Easy money today. Kill the guardian first and the slaves are ours.”

Ezekiel calmly processed the battlefield.

Thirteen attackers.

Four hidden.

Nine visible.

Combat engagement probability: inevitable.

He raised one skeletal hand and spoke calmly.

“Summon: Holy Spirit.”

Two additional Ezekiels materialized beside him in flashes of pale radiance. Divine energy condensed into skeletal forms identical to his own, divine fire flickering within their skulls like quiet lanterns in the dark forest.

This number should be enough.

One of the duplicates immediately conjured a sword and spear through innate holy conjuration. The other formed a long radiant bow, its string humming with sacred power. Ezekiel himself manifested a staff, gripping it firmly as the runes along its shaft ignited with golden light.

“I could not use my lord’s Divine Zone,” Ezekiel noted internally, “but Aura remains sufficient.”

Holy Aura expanded outward from his body like a silent tide.

The surrounding grass bent under the pressure of divine energy.

The bowman Ezekiel acted first.

He drew the radiant bow and unleashed a volley of arrows empowered with Frost Smite. The projectiles tore through the air like streaks of pale lightning, exploding into bursts of freezing mist upon impact.

“Argh!”

“Watch out!”

The front line of cultivators staggered as frost spread across their limbs. Ice crept along armor plates and boots, slowing their advance dramatically. One cultivator lost his footing entirely and fell face-first into the dirt as his legs froze solid.

“Kill the skeletons!” their leader shouted angrily.

The enemy formation collapsed immediately as those in the rear used their frozen comrades as shields. Two cultivators rushed forward recklessly, trying to close the distance before the archery pressure worsened.

The spearman Ezekiel stepped forward to meet them.

He clashed blades with the first attacker, blocking a downward slash with his conjured shield. At the same time, he spun the spear in his other hand and suddenly hurled it past the visible enemy.

The weapon pierced straight into a tree trunk behind them.

A hidden cultivator screamed as the spear impaled his chest.

The spear had been empowered with Divine Smite.

Golden lightning erupted through the victim’s body, blasting him from concealment and throwing him several meters across the forest floor.

The two charging attackers hesitated for a fatal moment.

The spearman Ezekiel did not.

Despite taking several strikes from their blades, he conjured another spear instantly and hurled it upward into the branches above.

“Thunderous Smite.”

The spear detonated with a roaring crack of divine thunder.

Another hidden cultivator fell from the canopy like a broken puppet, smoke rising from his charred armor.

Meanwhile, the bowman continued his relentless assault.

Arrow after arrow struck the advancing cultivators, frost spreading across their bodies as they struggled to push forward.

Several of them attempted to flank Ezekiel through the undergrowth.

Ezekiel raised his staff.

“All of these human cultivators were around the Ninth or Eighth Realm,” he observed calmly. “But I am Ascended Soul.”

Even at seventy-five percent of his lord’s power, the difference in realms was overwhelming.

He slammed the staff into the ground.

“Final Adjudication.”

The sky darkened for an instant.

A colossal scale of judgment manifested above the battlefield, its golden plates suspended in the air like the decree of an unseen god. The chains attached to the scale rattled violently before erupting downward like divine serpents.

“Impossible!”

“What is that thing!?”

The chains struck the battlefield with terrifying power.

One cultivator was seized around the waist and dragged screaming into the air. Another had his arm bound before being pulled violently to the ground. A third tried to escape into the forest but found his legs ensnared by blazing golden links.

The chains tightened.

Then the scales tipped.

Golden flames erupted across the restrained cultivators.

Their screams lasted only moments before their bodies were consumed entirely, leaving nothing but drifting embers in the air.

Three survivors staggered away from the divine attack, half-burned and terrified.

The remaining Ezekiels moved instantly.

The bowman fired a final arrow that pierced one survivor directly through the throat. The spearman lunged forward and split another from shoulder to waist with a radiant blade.

The last attacker attempted to flee.

He managed three steps before Ezekiel appeared before him in a flash of holy light.

The staff descended.

Divine energy exploded on impact, crushing the man into the ground with a burst of golden sparks.

Silence returned to the forest.

Behind him, the elves stared in stunned awe before erupting into cheers.

“Praise Da Wei!”

“Our protector is invincible!”

“That was a miracle!”

Several of them fell to their knees in gratitude.

Ezekiel allowed the noise to pass through his awareness without reaction.

He dismissed the duplicate spirits immediately, dissolving them into motes of divine energy that returned to his core. Maintaining unnecessary constructs would be inefficient.

One thing Ezekiel personally took pride in was efficiency.

Therefore, he could not forgive useless inefficiency of energy usage.

The skeletal guardian turned back toward the forest path.

“Form a line,” he instructed calmly.

Ezekiel observed the pilgrims with quiet attention as they gathered around him after the battle. Their earlier fear had been replaced by a strange mixture of reverence and excitement, and their eyes seemed brighter than they had been days ago. One of the younger elves stepped forward timidly, clutching a crude dagger they had looted from the fallen attackers.

“Lord Ezekiel,” she asked hesitantly, “can you teach us how to fight like you? We don’t want to remain helpless forever.”

Several others nodded quickly, their voices overlapping with urgency.

“Please teach us!”

“We want to protect the pilgrimage!”

“If enemies come again, we want to stand beside you!”

Ezekiel considered the request in silence. From a purely practical standpoint, training them would cost energy and time that could be spent advancing along the path his lord had carved. Efficiency had always guided his actions. However, Anna then demonstrated something unexpected.

The elf representative stepped forward and lifted her hand carefully. A faint shimmer of divine light gathered around her fingers, subtle yet unmistakable. It was not powerful, nor was it refined, but it was clearly a divine skill.

“I… I can do this,” Anna said nervously. “When we prayed, something answered.”

Ezekiel tilted his head slightly, thinking more carefully the pros and cons.

“For the sake of efficiency, I will teach you techniques that will increase your survival rate. Do not expect mastery. The purpose of this instruction is to reduce losses and maintain forward momentum.”

The elves reacted as if he had granted them an immeasurable blessing.

“Thank you, Lord Ezekiel!”

“We won’t waste this chance!”

The training began almost immediately. As the group traveled, Ezekiel demonstrated basic combat principles while walking. He showed them how to maintain formation, how to avoid stepping into obvious traps, and how to use terrain to their advantage. The elves practiced tirelessly, even when exhaustion threatened to overwhelm them.

Whenever they encountered remnants of abandoned camps or defeated enemies, the group scavenged everything useful. Rusted blades, broken armor, small pouches of coins, and worn travel cloaks gradually replaced the rags the elves had once worn. The pilgrimage slowly transformed from a group of helpless refugees into something more organized.

Despite these improvements, a new inefficiency soon emerged.

Every morning, before resuming their march, the elves gathered around Ezekiel in a small circle. They knelt and raised their hands in prayer toward the sky.

“At dawn we give thanks to Lord Da Wei,” Anna would say softly. “May his light guide our steps.”

Ezekiel attempted to correct the behavior.

“This ritual delays our departure,” he stated on the third morning. “The time spent here would be better used increasing distance from hostile territories.”

The elves listened respectfully, but the following morning they repeated the exact same ritual.

When Ezekiel examined the situation more carefully, he noticed something unusual. The prayers produced a faint but steady stream of faith power that flowed toward both himself and his lord.

After confirming the phenomenon several times, Ezekiel reached a new conclusion.

“The ritual may continue,” he said without further objection.

The elves beamed with happiness, interpreting his approval as a sacred endorsement of their faith.

As the days passed, their combat abilities improved. They proved naturally talented with bows, just as Da Wei’s memories had suggested about the elven race. Ezekiel compensated for their lack of equipment by using his conjuration abilities to create simple but durable bows of condensed holy energy.

The weapons glowed faintly whenever the elves drew their strings.

What made the arrangement particularly efficient was the interaction between their faith and Ezekiel’s conjurations. When the elves fired arrows, their belief in Da Wei infused the shots with additional power. Even ordinary arrows carried a subtle divine resonance that made them far more dangerous than they should have been.

Ezekiel watched the transformation with quiet satisfaction.

“Praise to Da Wei!” cried an elf, followed by another.

Days passed by, and there number slowly began to grow.

The evening camp bustled with activity as the pilgrims gathered around several fires. The air carried the scent of roasted meat, and voices filled the clearing with laughter that would have seemed impossible only weeks earlier.

A massive boar lay skewered above one of the fires, slowly roasting as elves, humans, and dwarves worked together to prepare the meal. The hunters proudly recounted the story of the chase while others cut portions of meat and passed them around.

“This one nearly gored me!” one of the hunters exclaimed proudly.

“You nearly tripped over your own feet,” another teased, earning loud laughter from the others.

Several elves noticed Ezekiel standing quietly at the edge of the camp, staff planted beside him like a silent sentinel. One of them approached cautiously with a wooden plate piled high with roasted meat.

“My lord Ezekiel,” she said respectfully, extending the plate. “You helped us survive another day. Please accept this.”

Ezekiel regarded the offering with a steady gaze.

“I do not consume food,” he replied calmly. “You should distribute that portion among yourselves.”

The elf hesitated, clearly unwilling to take the plate back.

“Even if you cannot eat it, please accept it as a symbol of our gratitude.”

Before Ezekiel could repeat his refusal, she gently placed the plate on a flat stone beside him and hurried back toward the others.

Ezekiel stared at the offering for several seconds.

From an efficiency standpoint, the situation was unacceptable. The food would spoil and attract predators if left untouched.

Without another word, he lifted his staff slightly.

“Divine Smite.”

A brief flash of holy light struck the plate, reducing the meat to harmless ash that scattered across the ground.

The problem was resolved.

Not far away, a loud argument erupted near another fire.

“I’m telling you he’s clearly an elf!” a human insisted.

A dwarf slammed his mug onto the ground in protest.

“That’s nonsense! Elves don’t walk around looking like that guy. He’s obviously some kind of celestial spirit!”

Another human leaned forward conspiratorially.

“Maybe he’s a dragon.”

“A dragon skeleton?” the dwarf scoffed. “With a very humanoid anatomy?”

“Why not?”

The debate grew increasingly heated as more people joined in, wagering small items on their theories.

Ezekiel observed the argument silently.

He was a skeleton imbued with holy power.

From his perspective, that description seemed entirely sufficient.

The camp itself had grown far beyond what it once was. When the pilgrimage began, only a handful of broken elves had followed him through the forest. Now the clearing held hundreds of individuals from many races.

Villages had been liberated along the path, and several concentration camps had been destroyed. Of course, they were all the doing of his lordship. It spoke of his conviction and spirit.

The most recent addition had come from a large mining settlement where enslaved workers had risen up during the confusion of his lord’s party crashing the place. Of course, Ezekiel’s lord left them to him. Just like that, it had nearly doubled the pilgrimage’s numbers.

At this point, the group resembled a small army rather than a refugee caravan.

As before, Ezekiel had trained those capable of learning divine skills. The elves had not been the only ones able to channel faith. Humans and dwarves had shown similar potential, though their abilities manifested differently.

The only individuals he declined to train were infants, small children, and the elderly.

Teaching them combat techniques would produce minimal benefits relative to the energy and time invested.

The elderly, however, had insisted on learning healing spells.

After evaluating their request, Ezekiel had determined the outcome would increase the group’s survival rate.

He had therefore agreed.

Nearby, a group of children suddenly rushed toward him with reckless enthusiasm.

“Lord Ezekiel!” one shouted.

“Teach us magic!” another demanded.

One particularly bold boy ran up and smacked Ezekiel’s shin with a small stick.

“See? He doesn’t even feel it!”

Before the situation could escalate further, Anna rushed forward and grabbed the boy by the collar.

“I am terribly sorry, my lord,” she said quickly, bowing her head. “I will discipline them immediately.”

She dragged the protesting children away while scolding them loudly.

Ezekiel watched the scene with mild curiosity. Anna had gradually become the central organizer of the pilgrimage, mediating disputes and coordinating the growing population with remarkable efficiency.

Her leadership had significantly reduced internal disorder.

A short while later, two figures approached him cautiously.

One was a human man, the other a bearded dwarf carrying a dented helmet under his arm.

The human cleared his throat.

“My lord… we were wondering something.”

The dwarf nodded eagerly.

“Yes, yes. Before you became a skeleton, what exactly were you?”

Ezekiel paused, considering the question.

The concept was difficult to answer because it did not align with his understanding of existence.

“I suppose,” he said slowly, “that I was nothing.”

The surrounding listeners reacted immediately.

Several gasped in shock.

Others whispered among themselves.

“Nothing?” someone muttered in disbelief.

“That’s tragic,” another murmured sympathetically.

Anna, who had returned after dealing with the children, coughed awkwardly.

“My lord, I believe they meant your lineage,” she clarified carefully. “For example, who were your parents? Personally, I believe you might have been a splendid elf when you were alive. Your archery skill is extraordinary.”

Ezekiel processed her explanation.

They believed he had once been a living being who later became some kind of mutated holy undead.

“I see,” he replied plainly. “In that case, my parents are one part human and one part skeleton.”

The crowd exchanged confused glances.

Seeing their misunderstanding, Ezekiel elaborated.

“I was created through the combined essence of Lord Da Wei and Jue Bu.”

Anna blinked several times.

Her initial look of disappointment quickly shifted into curiosity.

“To learn more about you is already a precious gift,” she said brightly. “So this Lady Jue Bu must be undead? I didn’t know such a union was possible, but I suppose anything is possible. Perhaps Lord Da Wei has a particular preference—”

Ezekiel interrupted her calmly.

“Jue Bu is a man from my lord’s life. The title ‘Lady’ would therefore be inaccurate.”

Silence fell over the entire gathering.

Jue Bu left off the part that he was created with magic.