chapter 1 .The birth of the dark paladin.
The Birth of the dark paladin.
The moon's gentle glow bathes a battlefield littered with the corpses of men and monsters. In the distance, swords clash. Men howl. Monsters answer with guttural roars. Blood flows freely — fangs, claws, and blades biting into enemy flesh until a thin red mist hangs in the cold night air.
Our protagonist, Ferox Sanctus Malus, is a paladin of the gods, sworn to eternal service to the God-Emperor Yaldabaoth of the Halo of Light. Clad in finely crafted gold and white armor, he stands amidst the carnage. His red cape is ragged and torn. His armor is scratched and dented. He raises his great sword. In a flash, five greater angels, wreathed in holy light, appear before him. He points his sword forward — and the angels attack.
The angels are humanoid beings with metallic bodies that exude a bright, purifying light. Their beauty is exquisite — otherworldly and terrible. They throw themselves at the beast man with graceful skill and reckless abandon. Their intent is clear: they will kill him, even if it costs them their own existence. They strike simultaneously, aiming to sever all his limbs at once.
The beast man is a black-furred lion-man with glowing red eyes. He stands seventeen feet tall, with a thick black mane coated in blood. He carries a two-handed, double-bladed great axe. He raises a hand and growls.
The angels are consumed by a red-black fire — starting from the inside, burning its way out. They combust into flames, and with a sound of glass shattering, they break and burst into particles of light. Their spirits return to their origins.
Meanwhile, Ferox uses the time he bought with the lives of his summons to concentrate all his holy power — even his very lifespan — into one last attack. He closes his eyes — deep black as the void between stars — and whispers a prayer to Yaldabaoth. His dark hair, thick and curled like his ancestors of the southern sands, clings to his brow, matted with sweat and blood.
He launches himself forward. His blade, bathed in holy power, bites into the lion-man's arm but fails to cut through. Before he can think of why he failed, he is met with a wide-open mouth, a bite aiming for his head. He jumps back. This is no time to think.
The lion-man is already swinging his battle axe, aiming to cut Ferox in half. Ferox rolls forward, nearly avoiding being cut in two. He lunges forward, attempting to pierce the lion-man's heart — but again, his blade fails him. And now his power is drained.
He attempts to draw more power from the gods. But he feels nothing.
Where once there was a light in his heart — a small, warm sun — now there is nothing.
His sword crumbles away like silver dust.
And for the first time ever, he questions:
Why have you abandoned me?
The world tilts sideways as he sees the moon and stars dancing. Then he sees his headless body beside him.
The world goes black.
And he feels the darkness claim him.
As the light fades from his eyes, his eyelids grow heavy — but there is no fight left in him. He is already gone.
His soul does not ascend to his gods. Instead, it lingers where it is, trapped within his dying body.
The crimson fluid — his very blood — gushes from his headless body and bodyless head, creating a pool that sinks into the soil of the battlefield.
As he lies there dead, a beautiful woman appears. She is dressed in a flowing royal gown, her whole body made of a pale white light, as if she were woven from moonlight. She is there only in spirit — she is the goddess Luna.
She floats above the corpse of Ferox and looks at him with cold indifference.
She speaks, and her voice — young, yet carrying the wisdom of a god, and yet somehow youthful — echoes in the mind of Ferox.
"Ferox!! Ferox! Ferox."
Her voice echoes around Ferox, his spiritual body floating in a black, empty void deep within his dying mind. She does not sound worried. She sounds impatient — a goddess who expects obedience and is growing tired of waiting.
He remains silent and unconscious.
She repeats herself, attempting to wake him.
"Ferox. Do you know your transgressions against the gods? Awaken now!!"
In the black void of Ferox's mind, his spiritual body floats unconsciously. The sound of Luna's voice reaches him, echoing through the darkness.
Ferox opens his eyes slowly, only to see nothing. Before he can speak — before he can question his circumstances — he hears a voice. Cold and domineering, yet undoubtedly belonging to a woman.
"Ferox. You have been found a traitor — a heretic who dared question Lord Yaldabaoth. Your soul will be damned for it. You will rot in that broken vessel of a body. And when your bones are ash, your soul will be washed of its memories. By the will of the gods, you may find salvation in your next life."
She looks at him with disgust in her eyes, as if he were a cockroach. Then she turns to leave.
Ferox, still in the void, confused and feeling tired, hears what was said to him. When he hears the word heretic, his eyes widen. He protests.
"Heretic!!" Ferox repeats, stunned.
"My lady, I am innocent. I swear. I have never harbored anything but love and admiration for the gods."
His voice trembles.
"My lady, I have served the gods my whole life. I devoted everything to their will. Why is this happening to me? What wrong have I done to deserve abandonment? Please — at least tell me this.""
She looks back at the corpse.
"Ferox. How far must you have fallen, to not even remember your transgression? You who once stood in the light as Lord Yaldabaoth's greatest champion. Now you lay here abandoned — a rotting corpse. And yet you still questioned, and did not repent. How dare you question the gods? You are truly fallen. A shame — one like you, a being that once stood for righteousness and goodness. Now a dog that questions its masters. Stay and rot in repentance."
Luna turns to leave again.
"Stop!!" Ferox roars. "My lady Luna, please."
His spiritual body breathes heavy, his heart racing in fearful loss of something essential to his being — as if abandonment by the gods is worse than losing his life. Because it is. To a paladin, there is no path. To abandon all in service to the god they pledge themselves to is the sole reason they continue to live. That humanity continues its existence by the blades of the faithful, who are empowered by the gods.
"Please, my lady Luna. I am innocent. If I have sinned, then name it, so I may repent properly. Please, my lady."
"Haha!! Haha!! Haha!!"
The sound of laughter — cold and cruel — echoes in the void of Ferox's mind. His soul shudders at the sound. And it starts to fade, as if getting further away.
"My lady Luna? My lady — come back. Come back, please. Do not forsake me. Please, my lady."
The raw cries of Ferox's spirit echo out into the emptiness.
Ferox despairs in his abandonment. He calls out with all his heart to his Lord Yaldabaoth. There is no reply. In his heart, he feels the abandonment — deep, cold, and distant.
Feeling broken, abandoned, and discarded, Ferox tries to reach out to Yaldabaoth himself, like he used to do during combat or prayer. He reaches — and the connection is severed, like a loved one slapping away a reaching hand — cold and final.
He tries again. The link is cut again.
He tries again and again. It is cut each time.
He tries again, mustering every bit of his strength and his faith, and pushes as hard as he can to build the spiritual connection. As he does, his spirit flares bright with a brilliant golden light. His spirit leaves his corpse and ascends in a flash.
His spirit now stands outside an eastern-style castle, radiating a golden light just like him. This is the proof of his connection to Yaldabaoth. The castle exists in a cosmos-like realm with rainbow-colored nebular clouds.
But the moment he appears, he is surrounded by angels and greater angels — spears and swords drawn, pointed at his neck. These weapons radiate a golden light, meant to harm or help souls and spirits depending on the wielder's will.
He raises his arms in surrender. In a short time, he is guided to the audience chamber of Yaldabaoth.
And upon arriving, he sees a young, fit, handsome man, making merry with beautiful women — not even noticing the mortal who is being walked in.
His hair and eyes are gold, shining lightly with a golden light. His skin is like marble or jade. His smile is warm and charming, and he oozes charisma. His arms are wrapped shamelessly around two half-naked women. He resembles a charming prince with the audacity of a rogue.
Ferox is confused at what he is seeing. He has never beheld any of the gods' forms before. (In this world, the faithful always perceive their respective gods as masses of conscious power, and the people assign them forms based on their names and voices when receiving signs.)
But Ferox can feel it. This is Yaldabaoth. That brilliant, warm, and powerful aura can only belong to the Bright One — the God-Emperor.
Yet the actions he is seeing are not those of the teachings of Yaldabaoth. There is no wisdom. No discipline. No honor. No righteousness in his actions. But there is no doubt he is mighty — the aura he emits is like a scorching sun given will.
When Yaldabaoth's eyes finally land on Ferox, he looks bored, as if a burden has been placed on his shoulders. He exhales a long breath and asks, with a bored face:
"Ferox. What do you want? Did Lady Luna not give you the decree?"
Ferox looks stunned. Where he was once confused, now he feels only anger and doubt. His faith is fragile. He speaks only one word:
"Why?"
The question hangs between them. Before he can ask another, Yaldabaoth answers.
"Why what?"
"Why did you abandon me mid-battle? Why did you forsake me to rot in my own destroyed body? Why am I not worthy to ascend? Why am I labeled heretic?"
Ferox, boiling with anger, restrains his emotions, waiting to hear why
With a nonchalant face and reaction, Yaldabaoth replies:
"Because you inspire the people. You make them believe they can live safely with you around. So they started praying for you instead of worshipping me properly. I had to punish you — and them. Hence the beast men invasion."
Ferox's mind goes blank for a second. But before he can react, Yaldabaoth adds:
"Besides, they all deserve it. They can barely feed themselves, but they have the audacity to claim they are faithful."
Ferox's mind goes blank again in shock at what he just heard. The utter nonsense he just heard makes no sense to him. But again, before he can react, Yaldabaoth says:
"Besides, having a few village people become examples to rejuvenate humanity's faith is a good thing, no? Now — back to your torment."
And with a wave of his hand, Ferox's spirit is ejected from the realm. Before he can even get a hold of his thoughts, his spirit is flung back to the void.
His thoughts catch up with him. He realizes he was treated like an unwanted door-to-door salesman.
The despair from before is gone. Only anger, rage, and confusion remain. He realizes the lies of the gods and the deception of his death.
Meanwhile, on Yaldabaoth's side, he wipes his hand and resumes his merrymaking.
But this entire course of events — from the start of the war, to the meeting between Ferox and Yaldabaoth, to the return to the void — was being watched.
By the god Deus Mortis.
