Immortal Paladin

Two warps later, and we had yet to face any accidents. Almost sounded too good to be true.

I had my suspicions, but the answer was simple—Gu Jie.

She had been keeping an eye out, using her sensitivity to misfortune to help Ren Xun maneuver past potential accidents. A misaligned warp, a minor fluctuation in spatial stability, even an unexpected beast migration—she caught them before they could become problems. The result? Smooth sailing.

Now, night had fallen once more. The others had already finished setting up camp, and I stood outside, finishing my training.

I didn’t really need sleep.

Lore aside about demi-gods and their endless stamina, I had plenty of rest while mid-travel. Over the past weeks, I had figured out an optimal schedule—five hours of sleep every week and a half. Any more, and I just felt sluggish. Any less, and my Divine Sense started glitching out for some reason. Of course, if a normal person tried my sleeping schedule, they’d probably drop dead from exhaustion.

I had just finished using Divine Possession on Ren Jingyi for tonight as part of my training regimen. Sometimes, I would alternate with Lu Gao, but tonight was fish night. ”Ren Jingyi, you should grow fast, so that we don’t have to heft your bowl anymore... Let’s bring you to the others...” As quietly as I could, I tucked her inside the tent, making sure she was safe.

I took a moment to glance inside.

The tent was spacious—easily large enough to fit four people with room to spare. A few formation-engraved lanterns hung from the ceiling, giving off a faint, comforting glow. The air inside was warmer than outside, thanks to the insulation talismans Ren Xun had placed around the fabric walls.

Lu Gao lay sprawled out on his sleeping mat, one arm resting over his face, his chest rising and falling steadily. Despite his arrogant nature, the guy looked surprisingly defenseless in his sleep. His brows twitched occasionally—maybe he was dreaming about getting revenge or something.

Ren Xun, on the other hand, was curled up neatly on his mat, his hands folded over his stomach, breathing slow and controlled. Even in sleep, he maintained a kind of meticulousness.

Then there was Gu Jie.

She slept differently from the others, half-curled on her side, her body barely shifting. Every now and then, her expression would flicker—like she was reacting to something unseen. Maybe it was the aftereffects of sensing misfortune, or maybe she just wasn’t a deep sleeper.

I let out a breath and stepped away from the tent.

Tonight, like every night, I would stand watch.

As part of Lu Gao’s and Ren Jingyi’s training, I had been using Divine Possession alternately between them, testing who was more suited to becoming a Paladin.

It was an ongoing experiment.

Ren Jingyi, for one, had potential. Her instincts were sharp, her movements fluid, and her reactions quick. The downside? She was still, well… a fish. As a goldfish-turned-holy-beast, she lacked direct experience with humanoid combat. But she was learning. Fast.

Lu Gao, on the other hand, had combat experience in spades. He was aggressive, confident, and his raw talent was undeniable. The problem? He didn’t have the temperament. He was too headstrong, too reckless. A Paladin had to wield both strength and faith in equal measure, and Lu Gao only had the former.

Of course, by strength… I meant strength of heart… Still, that could easily break if you lacked faith in yourself, your comrades, and just about everyone.

I was still undecided.

Personally, they were an even match. I’m tempted to bring the fish in a different direction though... I recalled a certain quest... meh... I could deliberate just a bit more on that part. I was still unsure if I wanted to raise the fish as a Paladin, Priestess, or something more. By more, I meant something equivalent to a Dragon from LLO. Ugh... I felt disgusted about the idea of experimenting on Ren Jingyi. 

The fish was too darn innocent for something like uncertain experimentation... I didn’t know what I’d do if she suddenly croaked. Maybe, I’d suddenly become a vegan. 

With my experiments on hold, I cast Bless on myself and wandered around the camp. The skill was all-rounded like that—buffing my stats and even my luck. And it was luck I wanted to test tonight.

Lo and behold, as I walked, I spotted a few herbs growing near the base of a tree.

I crouched down and inspected them.

Some I recognized from Cloud Mist Sect’s alchemy books, others from the texts I had taken from Golden Sun Pavilion. Small, unassuming plants—yet useful in concocting medicine and low-grade elixirs.

“…Interesting.”

I plucked a few, tucking them into my Item Box. I wasn’t an alchemist, but information was information. Knowledge had saved my life more than once.

As I straightened up, the Holy Spirit within me stirred.

“Will you be training tonight as usual?”

I thought about it for a moment before shaking my head.

“Nah. Let’s take a break.”

I could practically sense Dave’s surprise, but he didn’t question me. Instead of training, I wanted to hone something just as important—lore knowledge.

If I suddenly ran into something Lost Legends Online-related and didn’t recognize it, I’d kick myself in the head.

I sat down by a tree, pulled out a book, and started reading.

My Linguist subclass was an absolute blessing.

With it, I could understand, absorb, and process information at an accelerated rate. The more I read, the more I realized just how much of an advantage it was giving me.

In LLO, subclasses were non-combat related. They were designed to enhance immersion, focusing on trade professions instead. But they also provided bonuses to hidden stats like speech and luck, making certain aspects of the game easier.

And damn, was I glad I picked Linguist.

If I had been stuck dealing with a language barrier on top of everything else, I’d be in deep trouble.

I flipped through the pages of the almanac, scanning the historical points from Lost Legends Online.

There were times when the game lore and this world’s history overlapped in strange ways. That was why I made it a habit to alternate between reading LLO lore and local history books. Switching between them helped me adjust my perspective, especially when I read things that made me… uncomfortable.

Like the fact that some ancient sects in this world had eerily similar names to factions from LLO. Or that some mythical figures shared story beats with legendary NPCs.

Coincidence? Maybe.

But if Lost Legends Online was some kind of distorted reflection of this world, then knowing its historical events might just help me predict the future.

“Nah, that’s too much a stretch, isn’t it?”

Just as I was tucking the history book into my Item Box, I froze.

Somewhere in the distance…

I heard singing.

It was soft, melancholic, and sung in a non-imperial dialect.

The language wasn’t completely unfamiliar. I had been studying different dialects. It was one of my pastimes. If I found myself in a region where Imperial Common wasn’t dominant, I wanted to at least understand the locals.

I closed my books, placed them into my Item Box, and silently followed the sound.

I walked.

And walked.

And walked.

The song pulled me forward, like a thread winding around my thoughts, drawing me deeper into the night.

There was something magical about it. Not in the literal, spellcasting sense—at least, I didn’t sense any Qi fluctuations—but it had that indescribable quality that latched onto something deep in the soul.

The lyrics drifted through the air, soft and steady.

”In the vale where the night wind lingers,

Footsteps fade like whispered sighs.

Ashes fall from embered fingers,

Scattered under silent skies.”

”Shadows dance where no light follows,

Breath is lost in hollow tune.

Graves are deep, yet hearts lie shallow,

Singing to a weeping moon.”

I understood the meaning of the lyrics clearly.

It was a lament. A song for those who had gone, those who had vanished like footprints washed away by the tide.

Before I knew it, my Divine Sense brushed against its outer limits. The camp was now at the very edge of my awareness.

I exhaled and summoned Dave.

A golden glow shimmered as Summon: Holy Spirit activated. In an instant, he appeared before me—a perfect mirror of myself.

His eyes immediately locked onto mine, his posture rigid.

”My Lord,” he greeted solemnly.

”Stay at camp,” I instructed. ”Be alert.”

At my words, wispy air gathered around his head, twisting into a ghostly helm that flickered with holy radiance.

Dave didn’t hesitate. He bowed slightly and, without another word, turned back toward the camp, disappearing into the darkness.

I let out a slow breath.

Then, I continued forward.

The night stretched deep and cold, the sky blanketed in a heavy darkness. As I walked, the song guided my steps—haunting, yet strangely mesmerizing. It carried the weight of something old, something tragic, and as the words sank into my bones, I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the night air.

”The flames rise high, they touch the sky,

Red like blood where children cry.

The walls collapse, the streets burn bright,

Ashes dance in endless night.”

”The screams fade slow, the hands grow cold,

Mother’s touch, now dust and old.

The world turns black, the stars fall dim,

A hollow song, a dying hymn.”

I stopped mid-step.

A child.

That was a child’s voice.

Something about that fact made it worse.

Singing such dreary lyrics with that small, clear voice… Yeah, if this were a normal D&D party, people would already be preparing their Turn Undead spells and getting ready to run the hell away.

Me? I just stood there, listening.

Some would argue I was too cavalier in my approach, but the truth was—I hadn’t seen ghosts in this world yet. Sure, I’d fought undead before. Skeletons, zombies, corpses puppeteered by whatever foul necromancy ran through Evernight. But ghosts?

Those were different.

Curiosity aside, my Legacy demanded me to act. Paladin instinct, divine obligation—call it what you will, but I couldn’t just walk away.

Maybe this was a soul that needed to move on.

Maybe I needed to do an exorcism.

I inched closer, silent, careful not to disrupt the song. The closer I got, the more the burnt smell of old charcoal filled my nose. The ground beneath my boots was scorched black.

Then, I saw it.

A charred house stood alone in the clearing, its skeletal frame barely standing, cinders long cooled but scars never healed.

And in front of it, a lone boy sat on the broken steps, legs swinging, head tilted up toward the starless sky—singing his heart out.

The boy stopped singing as soon as he saw me.

He stood up and stared at me, eerily still.

The ghost barely reached my knee. His translucent form flickered in and out, as if he wasn’t fully there. His clothes were tattered, burnt at the edges, and his skin was a pale, bluish gray—too smooth, too doll-like to belong to the living. But what stood out the most was the gaping wound on his neck, a grotesque, jagged opening that ran deep enough to sever his throat entirely. And yet, he had been singing, clear as day.

There were only two ways this would go.

One, he’d attack me, and I’d cast Turn Undead to send him running to the next life.

Two, he’d talk to me, and I’d be roped into a side quest.

I took a slow step forward, keeping my tone casual.

“Hey there,” I said, tilting my head, “where did you learn to sing like that? You have an amazing voice.”

The boy blinked at me, his empty eyes reflecting the dim glow of the moon.

I waited.

Okay. Looked like I wouldn’t be casting Turn Undead on him—yet.

Of course, Turn Undead would’ve been the easy way out, but… this was just a boy. A child.

And I wasn’t heartless enough to smite a kid before hearing him out.

I hummed for a second, then started singing to the tune of Mmmbop.

”Mmmbop, ba duba dop… ba du bop…”

Still no reaction.

Tough crowd.

The ghostly boy just stared at me, expression blank. For a second, I thought maybe he wasn’t capable of reacting. Then he tilted his head and said, “You’re weird.”

I grinned. “I get that a lot.”

Stepping closer, I lowered myself onto a rock, making myself comfortable. I wasn’t sure if ghosts felt things like intimidation, but keeping my distance might make me seem standoffish. And I wasn’t about to startle the already-dead kid.

The bonuses in speech from Linguist made a real difference in forcing dialogue scenarios back in LLO. Players who had the class could wring out extra dialogue lines from NPCs, sometimes even entire side quests. My talking with him was probably the result of my subclass in action.

I watched him for a moment, then asked gently, “Do you know?”

The boy blinked. Then, slowly, his small hand lifted to touch his throat. He nodded, eyes downcast.

He had a sad look.

This world believed rather strongly in the idea of reincarnation. If people died, they moved on, simple as that. But he hadn’t.

I rested my elbows on my knees. “So, what’s holding you back?”