Immortal Paladin

The world had ended, and that was a simple fact that nobody here could deny. The Fall had begun the slow death of Losten, and after nearly two thousand years of suffering the world had reached the point where it should have quietly faded away. Instead, fate had decided to deliver something absurdly inconvenient for the forces that ruined it. That miracle came in the form of me and the group that followed me.

Ox-Head returned from the horizon not long after I finished checking the defenses of the ruined city. His massive form descended from the sky with a thunderous landing that shook loose dust from the cracked stone streets. Behind him came a long procession of figures moving through the broken gates. Ezekiel walked at the front of them like a pale banner of faith, and the pilgrims followed close behind.

I folded my arms as Ox-Head approached.

“How did it go?” I asked.

Ox-Head wiped dust from his shoulder and answered in his usual blunt tone. “Not a casualty in sight. Ezekiel had done a good job keeping them alive.”

I glanced toward the skeletal herald leading the crowd and felt faint amusement tug at my lips.

Calling it a good job felt like an understatement.

The pilgrims attempted to appear disciplined and reverent as they entered the ruins, yet whispers traveled through the group like a lively breeze.

“Look at this place… this used to be the greatest city in the world.”

“That skeleton is Lord Da Wei’s herald. I heard he destroyed an entire ambush by himself.”

“Praise be to Lord Da Wei for saving us.”

“Thank the herald too. If not for him we would have died in the forest.”

“Is this truly where the pilgrimage ends?”

Despite their attempts at stoicism, their eyes wandered everywhere as they took in the skeletal remains of the once magnificent city. Broken towers pierced the sky like jagged bones while ruined roads stretched between crumbling districts swallowed by weeds and moss.

Most of the pilgrims now wore proper gear instead of rags. Armor pieces, cloaks, bows, spears, and shields had been scavenged from battlefields along the pilgrimage. The transformation from helpless victims to armed survivors was clear just by looking at them.

Ezekiel himself stood out the most.

The skeleton now wore an immaculate white raiment that flowed around his bones like ceremonial robes. Gold threads shimmered across the fabric, and his entire form radiated a dense aura of faith that was almost visible to the naked eye. The holy energy circulating through him had grown so strong that it resonated faintly with my own Divine Qi.

I studied him carefully and came to a simple conclusion.

The faith of the pilgrims had changed him.

Back in the Hollowed World I could sustain large numbers of summons thanks to the Hollow Star acting as a secondary power source. In Losten the ambient energy was far poorer, which forced me to be careful with my abilities. Yet Ezekiel now radiated so much faith that he practically functioned as a battery himself.

That was definitely new.

I stepped forward and raised my voice so the entire procession could hear me.

“Welcome, pilgrims,” I announced calmly. “You have reached the holy city of New Risendawn. Each of you walked the path through ruin, darkness, and death. That alone proves your resolve. I congratulate all of you for overcoming the pilgrimage.”

A wave of murmurs passed through the crowd as they looked around the ruins with renewed emotion.

Some began crying quietly while others dropped to their knees in prayer.

I lifted a hand to stop them before the atmosphere became too dramatic.

“Celebration can wait,” I continued. “This city will become a refuge for the survivors of this world, but ruins do not rebuild themselves. We will need many hands to restore its walls and prepare for the battles ahead.”

I gestured toward the large church standing near the center of the ruined district.

“First you will meet the rest of the community. After that, we begin rebuilding.”

The group followed me through the cracked streets toward the church.

Lunch seemed to be underway when we arrived.

Ru Qiu had just returned from a hunting trip and was currently standing beside two massive beasts lying on the ground. One looked like a monstrous elk while the other resembled an oversized boar. Both creatures had clearly died very recently.

Ru Qiu crouched beside the carcass of the boar and hacked at it with awkward enthusiasm.

Yggdra stood next to him with her arms crossed.

“That is not how you butcher an animal,” she scolded while grabbing his wrist mid-swing. “You will ruin the meat if you keep chopping like that!”

Ru Qiu frowned at her with visible irritation. “Then you do it. My techniques were designed for killing, not cooking.”

“I’m a historian, and not a butcher! Fine!”

Joan worked quietly nearby, preparing what looked like a large pot of soup over a fire while several survivors helped her gather ingredients.

Gu Jie floated over to me the moment she spotted me returning.

“Father,” she reported, her small face serious.

I crouched slightly to meet her eye level.

“What is it?”

“Mother said she had somewhere else to go,” Gu Jie explained. “She said she needed to check something and that she would return soon.”

Alice wandering off alone was never something I could classify as normal behavior, but I trusted her judgment enough not to worry immediately.

Instead I asked the next question that mattered.

“What about the Losten Champions?”

Before Gu Jie could answer, Dave approached me with two familiar figures walking behind him.

Arthur’s dark blue hair swayed slightly in the breeze while Fanarys followed with a guarded expression. Their hostility from earlier had cooled somewhat after witnessing Dave’s memories, but caution still lingered in their eyes.

Dave stopped in front of me and bowed respectfully.

“My lord.”

I nodded in acknowledgment.

He continued speaking immediately.

“We plan to head east,” Dave explained. “There is someone we want to bring back with us. A Lost God who is currently in hiding. Based on our information the journey should take about two weeks.”

A Lost God in hiding was not something I could casually ignore.

I looked at the three of them more carefully.

Back when LLO was just a game, these three were among the absolute monsters of the player versus player scene. Arthur’s swordsmanship, Fanarys’ destructive magic, and Dave’s hybrid combat style had dominated competitive rankings for years.

Now that the world had become real, their combat instincts had only grown sharper.

If anyone in this ruined world could survive a dangerous expedition, it would probably be them.

That realization made my decision easier.

Still, retrieving a Lost God from hiding was not exactly a simple errand.

“Hm. Let me think about it.”

This world placed the Great Enemy at a severe disadvantage by its very nature. The scarcity of qi alone crippled many of their usual advantages. However, not all of them relied on the same things, and some of the creatures we encountered along the journey proved that they could adapt frighteningly well.

The trio standing in front of me certainly didn’t need a reminder of that reality.

Arthur, Fanarys, and Dave were seasoned fighters who had survived battles that would have wiped out entire armies. Even when LLO had only been a game, these three had been among the most dangerous combatants in the entire community.

Still, I folded my arms and said calmly, “Just stay for lunch. It might be helpful to you.”

Fanarys immediately bristled.

“If you think my resolve is so weak—”

Arthur cut her off before she could finish.

“Sure.”

Fanarys stared at him in disbelief before letting out an annoyed sigh. “Arthur, damn you.”

Arthur had a remarkable ability to deflate her dramatic momentum in a single word.

Dave stepped forward and spoke carefully. “I believe it would be for the best if we go now.”

Fanarys smirked triumphantly. “See, Arthur? David gets it.”

Dave rubbed his temple in mild frustration. “It’s Dave from now on, remember?”

Fanarys scoffed loudly. “Huh? I refuse. As far as I’m concerned, the existence known as the Voice of David is different from David.”

I raised both hands slightly in surrender and insisted again. “Please stay, just for lunch—”

Before I could finish, a sudden commotion erupted among the crowd gathered around the church.

A young girl suddenly shouted in disbelief, “Dad?!”

A tired man standing among the church residents turned toward the voice and froze. His eyes widened before he rushed forward through the crowd.

“Lina? Lina, is that really you?!”

The girl ran straight into his arms, crying openly as he lifted her from the ground.

“I thought you were dead!” she sobbed. “They said the caravan was destroyed!”

The man held her tightly as tears streamed down his own face. “I searched everywhere for you. I never stopped looking.”

That reunion alone was powerful enough, but it quickly became clear that they weren’t the only ones recognizing each other.

Voices rose across the square as more people began noticing familiar faces.

“Wait… you’re from Stonehill Village!”

“Marin? I thought you died during the siege!”

“You’re alive?! Gods, I haven’t seen you in years!”

Some were distant acquaintances recognizing neighbors from their hometowns. Others were friends who had fought together in the past. A few were relatives connected only through extended family lines who had assumed the worst long ago.

The crowd quickly dissolved into clusters of emotional reunions.

I glanced at Arthur and Fanarys.

“Do you see what I mean?” I said quietly. “Maybe there’s a familiar face in the crowd.”

I gestured lightly toward the church as the reunions continued around us.

“I know your party came here because of the rumors surrounding Dave and Joan rebuilding this place from the rubble. I don’t know about you, Dave, but I think Fanarys and Arthur could use the break.”

Arthur watched the reunions silently for a moment before nodding slowly.

“That’s right,” he admitted. “My party came here thinking this might be a nascent settlement created by the Great Enemy… or even a trap.”

He scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

“We were hoping to make a difference even if it was just us. Honestly, I’m surprised to see Dave and Joan here.”

Arthur glanced at me with a complicated expression.

“I feel ashamed about how I acted earlier. Sadly, I don’t think I can find it in me to apologize to you yet.”

He turned and gave Dave a firm pat on the shoulder.

“But Dave, buddy, I think you can use a break too.”

Dave exhaled slowly, his posture finally relaxing in reluctant surrender.

Meanwhile, the reunions continued all around us.

A pair of elderly women clung to each other while laughing through tears as they shared stories about the decades they thought the other had died.

A group of former soldiers embraced one another after recognizing their old unit insignias.

A young man knelt before an older craftsman and called him “uncle,” explaining that his parents had spoken about him for years.

Of course, not everyone was fortunate enough to find someone they knew.

Many stood quietly at the edges of the gathering, scanning the faces of the crowd with cautious hope. Their expressions carried a mixture of longing and quiet disappointment whenever they failed to recognize anyone.

Still, they kept looking.

Even that small act mattered.

Looking forward to something was hope, no matter how small it seemed.

I watched the scene unfold and felt a quiet certainty settle in my chest. This moment, fragile as it was, might become the foundation of something greater. Perhaps this gathering of survivors was more than just a refuge. Perhaps this was the beginning of the world’s first true counterattack against the Great Enemy.

Nearby, the conversations grew louder as people caught up with each other.

“I escaped the mines three months ago and have been hiding ever since.”

“We thought the northern villages were completely wiped out!”

“You should have seen the pilgrimage. The herald guided us through forests full of monsters.”

“Is it true that Lord Da Wei destroyed an entire army by himself?”

“Forget that, tell me what happened to the old capital!”

Laughter, tears, and excited voices filled the ruined square of New Risendawn.

Hearing that sound in a place that had once been nothing but silent rubble filled me with a quiet sense of anticipation. I was eager to see this city rebuilt into something worthy of its former glory. 

Still, rebuilding walls and towers meant nothing if the people themselves remained broken.

The true rebuilding had to begin with them.

Lunch quickly became a communal effort. Joan handled the soup with surprising efficiency, stirring the large pot while adding herbs and vegetables with the practiced rhythm of someone who had done this many times before.

Meanwhile, I joined the butchering work.

Thankfully, one of the many memories floating somewhere inside my strange existence belonged to a professional butcher. I relied on those instincts as I worked through the carcasses Ru Qiu had brought back.

Several residents and pilgrims eagerly joined us.

Some helped skin the beasts while others carried meat to makeshift tables made from old wooden boards and broken stone.

Nearby, Arthur was surrounded by a handful of people who clearly recognized him.

“Sir Arthur, you remember me, right?” an older dwarf asked excitedly. “You helped defend our caravan during the Iron Pass raid years ago!”

Arthur blinked in surprise before letting out a small laugh. “The Iron Pass? That was ages ago. You’re… wait, were you the caravan guard who kept complaining about the ale rations?”

The dwarf burst into hearty laughter. “That’s the one!”

Another voice chimed in from behind him. “You also helped clear the bandit camp near Windfall Creek! I was the innkeeper’s son back then.”

Arthur scratched his head awkwardly. “Wow… I guess I did a lot of random quests back in the day.”

Watching him casually chat with people who had once been NPCs in the game felt surreal.

Of course, races like dwarves and elves lived extremely long lives. It wasn’t surprising that some of them still remembered the exploits of legendary adventurers.

Not far away, Fanarys was dealing with an entirely different situation.

A group of young magic apprentices and several proper mages had practically surrounded her.

“Archmage Fanarys, is it really you?!”

“I studied your thesis on Infernal Flame Convergence!”

“Your battle against the Frost Wyrm at the Northern Spire is legendary!”

“You’re the pride of the Crimson Tower!”

Fanarys stood in the middle of the crowd with her arms crossed, trying very hard to maintain her usual cold arrogance.

Unfortunately, the slight redness creeping onto her face betrayed her completely.

“Well… of course it’s me,” she said with forced composure. “Those achievements are merely the natural result of my talent.”

Another apprentice gasped excitedly. “She admitted it! She really is the Archmage!”

Fanarys looked dangerously close to smiling.

It seemed the terrifying pyromancer was unexpectedly weak to praise.

Watching the scene made me wonder what it would be like if the original players behind these characters ever met them face to face. The thought crossed my mind to summon some of the players currently living in the Hollowed World. However, I quickly dismissed the idea.

Tearing open that kind of emotional wound without preparation could do more harm than good.

Maybe it was better to leave such encounters to fate.

The truth was, far too few Losten Champions had survived.

Among the legendary Thirteen Seats, the strongest PVP players in the entire game, only Arthur, Fanarys, and Yggdra were still alive after enduring the horrors of this fallen world.

As for the other Losten Champions, it seemed they had been scattered across the continents during the long centuries of struggle.

Hopefully, some of them were still out there.

Once the butchering was finished, we began distributing the meat.

Pilgrims and church members lined up while volunteers carried baskets filled with fresh cuts.

“Take one piece each,” I said while handing a large portion to a weary looking man. “There’s plenty for everyone.”

A few people nearby began roasting meat over open fires while others added smaller pieces to Joan’s ever-expanding soup pot.

Thankfully, Ru Qiu had the foresight to properly bleed the beasts after hunting them. Without that step, the meat would have tasted unbearably gamey.

I held a thick piece of elk meat in my hand and decided to cook it the quick way. A controlled Searing Smite flickered across the surface. The divine heat perfectly seared the outside while leaving the inside tender.

Just as I was about to take a bite, Ru Qiu’s voice cut in from the side.

“Aren’t you ashamed eating that?”

I glanced at him.

“You don’t need food,” he continued, scowling. “Give it to them.”

I scoffed and waved the meat slightly. “There’s more than enough for everyone, okay? I’m just helping reduce the surplus.”

Then I added casually, “You can always hunt more for me.”

His scowl deepened.

“Next time, catch them.”

I shrugged lazily. “Nah, too busy.”

Ru Qiu narrowed his eyes. “You are doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

I took a bite of the meat instead of answering.

Nearby, I noticed something odd.

A group of pilgrims had received their portions but were standing there hesitantly, staring at the meat in their hands instead of eating it.

I walked over.

“What’s the problem?”

One of them nervously glanced toward Ox-Head before speaking.

“W-We’re worried it might be… disrespectful.”

I blinked.

“Disrespectful?”

Another pilgrim awkwardly explained, “The beast resembles Lord Ox-Head somewhat. We thought perhaps it might be… kin to him.”

For a moment, there was complete silence.

Then Ox-Head burst into booming laughter that echoed across the square.

“HA! HA! HA!”

He slapped his knee with enough force to shake the ground slightly.

“You think I’m related to every beast with horns and hooves?” he bellowed.

The pilgrims looked mortified.

Ox-Head waved one massive hand reassuringly.

“Eat, eat! It’s fine! I have no grudge against elk, boars, cows, or whatever else ends up in the cooking pot.”

He leaned down slightly toward them with a wide grin.

“If anything, you should eat more. A warrior needs strength.”

The pilgrims visibly relaxed.

Moments later, the hesitant group finally began eating.

The ruined square gradually filled with the scent of roasted meat and simmering soup, but more than that, it filled with something the world had nearly forgotten.

People who had once been strangers now sat side by side.

Pilgrims who had walked across a dying land shared food with residents who had rebuilt a sanctuary from rubble. Humans laughed beside dwarves. Elves spoke softly with men and women they had only just met. Old grief lingered in their eyes, yet for the first time in a long while, it did not stand alone.

Stories were exchanged. Names were spoken. Loss was remembered, but so were the living.

In that battered square, beneath broken walls and a wounded sky, the scattered remnants of a fallen world quietly began to feel like a single people again.