Immortal Paladin

There was a delicate balance in the Hollowed World.

Far beneath the roots of civilization, hidden within a cavern untouched by sunlight, pale figures gathered in the dimness like rotting thoughts given flesh. Their bodies were faceless and smooth, skin stretched white across twitching limbs that bent at unnatural angles. Some clung upside down to the ceiling while others crawled across the wet stone in restless circles, their voices overlapping into a chorus of whispers that never fully became human. The little ray of light spilling through a crack in the cave illuminated only fragments of their writhing congregation, revealing enough to understand that none of them belonged within the natural order of the world above.

“Our preparations are sufficient,” one of them hissed. “More pieces have entered their society than ever before. Politicians, merchants, priests, soldiers. We are rooted deeply now.”

“Deeply?” another snarled from the darkness. “You call this deeply? The Great Beast still moves beyond our influence. If it chooses to descend upon us, all this preparation becomes meaningless.”

“We should attempt to sway it.”

“That would be suicide.”

A third creature slowly lowered itself from the cavern ceiling, its limbs cracking softly as it landed. “The personality we believed would survive was devoured regardless. All of it was consumed. If we had not severed the connection when we did, we would have been taken as well.”

Silence briefly spread through the cave after those words. Even these things feared something.

“The Great Beast cannot be controlled,” another finally muttered. “At best, it can be redirected. At worst, it notices us.”

“That is why the Holy Emperor must die before the balance collapses entirely.”

The pale congregation stirred violently at the mention of that title. Hatred radiated from them like heat from a furnace, filling the cavern with a suffocating pressure. Strange limbs twitched. Fingers scraped stone. Something wet and organic pulsed deeper within the darkness behind them.

“He cannot be allowed to survive the coming upheaval,” one declared. “If he lives through it, there will never again be peace for our kind.”

“We know too well how difficult he is to kill.”

“Then we uproot everything beneath him.”

The writhing masses began discussing strategies with obsessive precision, dissecting the Hollowed World piece by piece while analyzing centuries of gathered intelligence. They understood that brute force alone would never destroy the Holy Emperor. The man had survived wars, calamities, betrayals, and horrors that should have erased entire civilizations. If they wished to bury him, they would first have to destabilize the delicate balance supporting the Hollowed World itself.

The Holy Ascension Empire stood above all powers, but beneath it were seven pillars maintaining the world’s structure: the Adventurer’s Guild, the Federation, Dragon Court, Ward, Martial Alliance, Four Pillars, and Radiant Losten.

To destroy the balance, they needed to identify the weakest link.

“The Federation,” one creature proposed immediately. “Or the Adventurer’s Guild.”

Several others clicked their tongues in agreement.

“The transformative factions,” another murmured. “The rising phoenixes. Contemporary scholars already question their legitimacy.”

“Because they are opportunists,” one sneered. “The Federation was nothing more than starving nations clawing at scraps during the Hollowed World War. Without the Holy Emperor and his disciples intervening, they would have vanished beneath stronger powers.”

“And the Adventurer’s Guild rose during chaos,” another added. “Its expansion was unnatural. Convenient. Entire regions fell under their influence almost overnight despite the Guild Leader’s crimes.”

A pale figure shifted closer to the ray of light, revealing a torso covered in moving mouths. “Because the Guild Leader had already been possessed by the Holy Spirit of the Holy Emperor. He used the disorder to strengthen his own reach while pretending neutrality. An empire hidden beneath the disguise of independence.”

The creatures collectively hissed in disgust.

“They may still be the weak link,” one insisted.

“No,” another immediately countered. “They are too integrated into the machinery of the world.”

Several heads turned toward the speaker.

“The Adventurer’s Guild handles military logistics, reconnaissance, monster suppression, courier systems, mercenary deployments, and regional stabilization at scales impossible to replace quickly. The bureaucracy of the Hollowed World depends upon them more than most realize.”

“And the Federation?”

“The same. Fragmented nations unified under shared survival. Remove them carelessly and the resulting instability may strengthen the Holy Emperor rather than weaken him.”

Another creature dragged itself forward across the stone floor. “The Primaries of the World Council tolerated the traitor Mao Xian precisely because the balance demanded flexibility. They welcome useful traitors when the machinery requires it.”

A low growl spread through the cave at the mention of the name.

“We could still turn him.”

“Impossible,” another replied. “The man currently resides within one of the Holy Emperor’s fortified cities.”

“The floating one?”

“Yes.”

Several of the pale creatures immediately erupted into curses and furious screeching.

“That lunatic obsession of his with flying cities!”

“How many does he even have now?”

“Too many!”

“They drift beyond conventional siege warfare!”

“One of them disappeared off-world for nearly six years!”

“The Holy Emperor builds fortresses the way normal rulers build walls!”

The cavern descended into irritated chaos before the tallest among them raised a trembling limb for silence.

“Complain later,” it rasped. “We proceed systematically. If the Hollowed World remains balanced, the Holy Emperor remains unshaken. Therefore balance itself must die.”

“How about the Federation?” one of the pale creatures asked from deeper within the cavern. “They represent the economic lubricant of the Hollowed World. Their resource diversity gives the entire civilization flexibility. Countless organizations depend upon Federation trade routes, supply chains, and industrial refinement.”

“They also stabilize logistics,” another added. “Armies move because the Federation enables them to move. Cities survive because Federation networks continue functioning. Even the lesser kingdoms orbit around their economy.”

“That influence empowers every major organization beneath the Holy Ascension Empire.”

A low murmur spread among the writhing masses as they considered the possibility. The Federation’s reach truly was immense. Trade caravans crossed continents beneath their banners. Merchant fleets navigated dangerous seas under Federation contracts. Entire industries relied upon agreements drafted within their halls. They were not merely merchants. They were arteries carrying lifeblood throughout the Hollowed World.

Yet another creature immediately rejected the proposal.

“It would have little effect now.”

Several turned toward it.

“Our probes confirmed recent developments. The logistical core has already shifted away from the Adventurer’s Guild. And in effect, the Federation.”

The cave quieted.

“Shifted where?”

“To the Crimson Empress.”

Even among those monsters, unease surfaced at the mention of that title.

“The Holy Emperor delegated the majority of wartime logistics to her,” the creature explained. “Ordinarily the Federation handled those responsibilities with supplementary support from the Martial Alliance and the Adventurer’s Guild. That is no longer the case.”

“That woman centralized everything?”

“Yes.”

A few pale figures clicked their teeth irritably.

“She replaced an entire intercontinental system?”

“She improved it.”

“Rather than intercontinental, it had transformed into an interplanar system, and it’s still evolving. Admittedly, the success couldn’t be attributed to her alone, considering the existence of that little girl.”

Disgust rippled through the chamber.

“The Holy Emperor surrounds himself with monsters.”

“She turned logistics into a weapon,” another muttered bitterly. “Supply lines, reinforcement timings, population migration, industrial output, resource allocation. She manages them like blood circulation through a living body.”

“Then crippling the Federation alone no longer guarantees paralysis.”

“Correct.”

A heavy silence settled over the cavern once more while the creatures recalculated their assumptions. The delicate balance of the Hollowed World was more adaptive than they preferred. Every time they identified a weakness, another layer emerged beneath it.

Finally, one of them spoke again.

“What about the Dragon Court and the Ward?”

The reaction this time was immediate.

“No.”

“Impossible.”

“Not them.”

The pale masses writhed violently as though rejecting the notion instinctively. Even discussing those two organizations seemed to irritate them.

The Dragon Court and the Ward were collectively known throughout the Hollowed World as the loyalist faction. Among the seven great powers beneath the Holy Ascension Empire, they stood closest to the Holy Emperor both politically and personally.

The Dragon Court originated from the remnants of the Grand Ascension Empire, a civilization that had once ruled vast territories before the weight of history shattered it into fragments. Its former Emperor had been one of the Holy Emperor’s closest companions, and countless stories survived in taverns, temples, and old battlefields describing the bond between them.

Whether exaggerated or not, one truth remained undeniable.

The Dragon Court’s loyalty ran deeper than politics.

The current Dragon King carried the bloodline of the former Emperor and possessed a terrifying dragon lineage powerful enough to shake nations. Rumors whispered that he was not merely human, nor merely dragon, but the reincarnation of a Lost God from the False Earth itself. Whether the rumors were true hardly mattered. The Dragon Court worshipped strength, legacy, and blood-bound loyalty above all else.

They could never become the weak link.

The Ward was even worse.

Among the seven major powers, the Ward arguably possessed the oldest uninterrupted legacy. Even the Four Pillars, infamous for their twisted history and fractured identity, could not compare.

Long ago, both organizations had shared the same master.

The founder of the Four Pillars had also founded the Ward, but corruption eventually infested the former organization. Ideals were twisted. Authority became abuse. Purpose rotted into ambition. The founder abandoned the Four Pillars entirely and created the Ward as a return to the original principles he once envisioned.

When Aixin invaded the Hollowed World generations ago, the Supreme Leader of the Ward, Shouquan, entrusted leadership to the man who had not yet become the Holy Emperor. Together they resisted annihilation during humanity’s darkest era.

After the Holy Emperor ascended fully into power, the title of Supreme Leader returned to Shouquan, who later passed it to his disciple Tao Long, another figure deeply tied to the Holy Emperor through friendship forged in war and bloodshed.

The connection between the Ward and the Holy Emperor was not political convenience.

It was history itself.

“The gains would be enormous if either organization fractured,” one pale creature admitted. “But we have nothing. No leverage. No internal collapse. No ideological divide significant enough to exploit.”

“Thousands of years of loyalty are difficult to poison.”

“Especially when the Holy Emperor personally bleeds for them.”

Another creature scratched furiously against the cavern wall before speaking.

“Then what about the Martial Alliance and the Four Pillars?”

Before the current structure of power existed, the Hollowed World had once revolved around the Summit of Four Powers.

The Grand Ascension Empire.

The Union.

The Martial Alliance.

The Heavenly Temple.

Now only two of them remained.

The Martial Alliance had endured the transition of ages relatively intact, preserving much of its authority despite the collapse of older systems. The Heavenly Temple had survived as well, though not without transformation. After internal upheavals and changes in leadership, it abandoned its former identity and renamed itself the Four Pillars, claiming the decision represented a return to its original purpose before corruption and politics had diluted its doctrines.

This two organizations were called the conservative faction.

Within the cave, the pale congregation debated endlessly over the implications.

“The Four Pillars remain fractured internally,” one creature argued. “Their history alone makes them vulnerable. Their identity has changed too many times.”

“They rebuilt themselves precisely because they survived that instability,” another countered sharply. “You mistake adaptation for weakness.”

“The Martial Alliance is no different. Traditionalists fracture eventually. Pride blinds them.”

“And yet they survived every era that erased stronger civilizations.”

“Because they cling to old systems!”

“Because old systems work!”

The cave erupted into overlapping voices once more. Limbs twitched violently in agitation while pale bodies writhed across the stone floor.

“The conservative faction remains the best target.”

“No, the risk is too high.”

“They are divided already.”

“They are disciplined.”

“The Four Pillars harbor darkness within their own legacy.”

“The Martial Alliance still commands too much respect among cultivators.”

“They can be manipulated.”

“They can also unify instantly against external threats.”

Again and again, the discussion spiraled into contradiction without resolution. Every perceived weakness possessed a corresponding strength. Every vulnerability carried generations of hardened experience behind it. The conservative faction was ancient for a reason.

In the end, no conclusion could be fully agreed upon.

Still, the pale congregation understood one truth clearly.

The conservative faction remained promising prey.

If they could destabilize it properly, the resulting fractures would spread throughout the Hollowed World. Political distrust, ideological disputes, sectarian conflicts, and territorial tensions would infect the greater balance naturally. Once the first cracks formed, the rest could follow.

Assuming they made no mistakes.

That assumption troubled even them.

Because above all else stood the greatest obstacle to their schemes.

The religious faction.

Radiant Losten and the countless faithful circles spread across the Hollowed World represented a danger unlike conventional organizations. Though Radiant Losten was comparatively new among the primaries of the World Council, it had earned its position through terrifying effectiveness.

Its warriors could perceive lies.

Not merely spoken lies.

Intent.

Falsehood.

Corruption.

Even beings capable of perceiving the laws of reality struggled to see through the pale creatures’ deception completely, yet the religious faction wielded power drawn directly from the Holy Emperor’s Origin Art. Their perception of truth and falsehood surpassed ordinary supernatural senses entirely.

If the pale congregation moved recklessly, the zealots would notice.

“They must be distracted,” one creature finally said.

“How?”

The chamber quieted.

Then another voice emerged from the darkness.

“We free War.”

Several pale figures immediately turned toward the speaker.

Another creature slowly raised its head.

“Or we resurrect the Origin King.”

A ripple spread through the cave.

“The corpse we discovered recently?”

“Yes.”

Silence followed.

Slowly, the pale congregation began to smile.

Though they lacked faces, the atmosphere itself twisted with sick amusement. Flesh shifted unnaturally. Mouths opened where mouths should not exist.

“A war against War itself would consume the religious faction’s attention.”

“And if the Origin King returns…”

“The world trembles.”

“They would have no choice but to respond.”

The writhing masses immediately began refining the strategy with frightening precision.

“First, distract the religious faction.”

“Then incite the conservative faction.”

“Destabilize the Martial Alliance.”

“Inflame the fractures within the Four Pillars.”

“Maim the transformative faction afterward.”

“Disrupt logistics.”

“Cripple communications.”

“Spread distrust between the Federation and the Adventurer’s Guild.”

“And finally isolate the loyalist faction.”

The voices merged together like insects swarming over a corpse.

“Separate the Dragon Court.”

“Corner the Ward.”

“Force them into defensive positions.”

“Break the balance one piece at a time.”

“And when the Great Beast descends…”

“The Holy Emperor will face it alone.”

Under the dim light spilling into the cavern, the pale creatures finalized plans centuries in the making. Their minds connected through unseen pathways as information flowed between them instantly. Orders spread across hidden networks embedded deep within the Hollowed World itself.

They understood the Holy Emperor thoroughly.

His personality.

His powers.

His habits.

His allies.

His methods.

Yet they had never dared investigate him directly.

Doing so would expose them immediately.

Instead, they relied upon layers upon layers of indirect observation. Deductive reasoning. Manipulated intermediaries. Ignorant third parties. Mortal investigators unaware they served monsters. They used mundane methods whenever possible, avoiding supernatural traces that foresight or divine perception might uncover.

The planning had begun long ago.

When Conquest first arrived in the Hollowed World, he had seeded countless mortals simply by touching them with his laws. Those touched unknowingly carried fragments of him into future generations. Families multiplied. Bloodlines spread. Entire populations inherited invisible corruption over centuries.

The pale congregation was not an invasion force.

It was a hidden civilization growing beneath another civilization’s skin.

Eventually, the discussions ended.

One by one, the pale figures walked toward the mouth of the cave.

As they stepped into the light, their appearances transformed.

A farmer carrying tools.

A tired guardsman.

A wandering scholar.

A soldier.

A merchant.

A bureaucrat.

A mother holding a child.

An old veteran.

A humble cultivator.

Someone’s son.

Someone’s daughter.

Someone’s father.

Someone’s elder.

Soon, hundreds of ordinary figures filled the world outside the cavern.

Then they vanished.

Some dissolved into wind.

Others faded into shadows.

A few simply blinked out of existence entirely before reappearing somewhere else within the Hollowed World.

Only a single pale figure remained behind, his sapience preserved against the chaos of its mind.

It was fused against the cavern wall grotesquely, flesh spreading through stone like roots through soil. Beneath it were more copies of itself layered endlessly together, bodies merging into one another in a horrifying mass of pale limbs and open eyes.

Unlike the resting figures surrounding it, this one remained awake.

Its eyes burned with manic delight.

“It is almost time,” the fused figure whispered softly. “For eras, existence has remained stagnant. Bound by false balance. Chained by weak gods, frightened mortals, and cowardly order.”

Its grin widened unnaturally.

“But when I become the Supreme Death… I shall change the universe itself.”

The voice slowly rose into madness.

“I SHALL BREAK THE CYCLE!”

Its body convulsed violently against the wall.

“I SHALL CONQUER HEAVEN!”

The cave trembled.

“I SHALL CONQUER DEATH!”

The eyes bulged with lunatic ecstasy as the figure screamed into the darkness.

“I AM CONQUEST!”

The fused masses beneath it immediately echoed in unison.

“WE ARE CONQUEST!”

The creature’s laughter became hysterical.

“AND I WILL CONQUER!”

“AND WE WILL CONQUER!”

The screams continued long after the cave itself fell silent again.