Immortal Paladin

This was not my first rodeo, but that did not make it any easier.

The realm cap of the False Earth was a genuine inconvenience. My strength was strangled down to a level that felt almost insulting, yet rules were rules. Still, I was not without options. Mana, qi, aura, world force. I wove them together, compensating where brute power failed. Quintessence, however, was another matter. I could distinctly feel it growing harder to draw upon with each passing day, as if the world itself were resisting it.

That resistance only benefited me.

I had the Hollow Star.

Where others struggled to sip from a drying river, I drank from a well that fed upon absence itself. Scarcity became leverage. Limitation became control.

The Ascension Games unfolded as they always did, divided cleanly into two phases. Preparations, and then the war games.

During preparations, I worked relentlessly. I performed miracles in public and subtle ones in private. I spread faith, not as blind zealotry, but as a shared direction. I built infrastructure, fortified bases, trained commanders. I spied on my counterpart’s movements, pruned dissent among the Ancient Souls, and maintained a defensive posture that discouraged reckless engagement.

I had already lived through this once.

That memory was my greatest advantage.

While others stumbled, tested, and learned through failure, I coasted with precision. Every decision came with the confidence of foresight. Among the players from the previous iteration, only one familiar presence remained. The Grand Exorcist. He did not remember the prior games. That ignorance became a gift I did not waste.

Creation through quintessence became my workhorse. I spawned resources, weapons, tools. Entire stockpiles manifested where there had been barren ground. If I could have created a nuclear weapon, I would have ended everything without resistance. Unfortunately, knowledge I did not intimately understand from my previous life refused to take shape. The power of creation demanded familiarity, not imagination.

It made me consider the future.

Once I reclaimed the Source, if I reclaimed it, I would need to bring more mundane technologies with me. Engines. Logistics. Infrastructure. The quintessence cost would be immense, but I was running out of the luxury to be selective. It was almost ironic how readily I would sacrifice myself, yet hesitated at introducing weapons of mass destruction into this world.

Even so, without Earth’s conveniences, I raised an empire.

Technology advanced in measured leaps. Supply lines stabilized. Faith became cohesion. Authority became structure. Probes and small invasions came and went like ripples against stone. When necessary, I appeared personally. When not, my Paladins answered in my stead.

In this world, I felt no hesitation.

After all, my disciples weren’t here and the lack of familiar figures like parents or siblings helped me focus on the goal.

Through my Immortal Art, Divine Appointment of the Faithful, I created Paladins freely. When the time came, I stood before my people.

They filled the plaza in endless rows, banners snapping in the wind, armor gleaming beneath a sky that seemed to listen. Faith surged around me like a living thing. I felt it anchor into my bones.

I raised my hand, and silence fell.

“I was not born a god,” I said, my voice carrying without effort. “I was forged by struggle, tempered by failure, and sharpened by resolve. This world stands at the edge of annihilation, not because it is weak, but because it is coveted. Forces beyond your sight move against us. They see you as pieces. As fuel. As entertainment. I reject that fate.”

A murmur spread, then steadied.

“You are not pawns. You are not sacrifices. You are citizens of an empire that will not kneel. An empire built not on fear, but on faith, unity, and unyielding will. I am your Holy Emperor, not because I demand it, but because I will stand before every blade meant for you. I will bear every sin required to see you live.”

The faith surged. I felt it answer me.

“Prepare yourselves,” I continued calmly. “The war games will come. When they do, we will not survive them.”

I smiled beneath my helm.

“We will conquer them.”

Of course, I knew in the deepest sections of my heart, they were just pretty words and a huge part of me in reality knew there was predetermined.

What exactly was the purpose of the Ascension Games?

As far as I understood, it existed to elevate one being of this world into the Hollowed World. A rite disguised as a contest. A ladder built from blood, faith, and circumstance. If I won, I could leave this place behind, trap my counterpart within the False Earth, and return to the Hollowed World with a clean, sweeping victory.

That was the ideal outcome.

Unfortunately, I knew myself too well to believe it would be that simple.

My counterpart would never allow an easy ending. It was possible, at least in theory, to use the Ascension Throne with more than one person. I suspected that loophole only existed because of the unresolved conflict between the Supreme Void and the Yellow Emperor. One sought to consume or possess me. The other sought, in his own twisted way, to preserve me.

Right now, though, both of those existences were quiet.

They were not interfering. Not guiding. Not obstructing. Whether that was restraint or calculation, I could not tell.

What troubled me more was uncertainty. I had no idea whether the civilization I built would survive what came next. Traces of the previous iteration still lingered across this world, scars and echoes I had exploited to put myself in the most advantageous position possible. I had prepared relentlessly, but preparation did not guarantee continuity.

Honestly, I felt bad for using this people.

Then the invitation arrived.

The second phase of the Ascension Games had begun.

I stepped through the portal without hesitation.

The world shifted, and I found myself standing in a familiar place. Sealed Island. Mirage Island, as it was sometimes called. A land forever hidden, cloaked in distortion and illusion. Gray sand stretched beneath my feet, and at the center of the island stood ancient ruins where the final stage of the Ascension Games would be decided.

I was no longer clad in armor.

Instead, I wore regal robes, heavy with symbolism and authority, befitting the Holy Emperor of the Holy Ascension Empire.

A presence appeared beside me.

It was David, my counterpart.

He wore dark robes trimmed with red, as if he had committed himself fully to that aesthetic. Some things never changed.

“Let’s get this over with, you emo overlord,” I said.

“Shut up, weirdo,” he spat back.

“Hah. That’s the best insult you’ve got?”

“Keep talking. I’ll make you eat dirt.”

I blinked.

The world lurched, and in the next instant, I was forcibly seated upon a pale gray throne. David sat opposite me, bound by the same invisible compulsion. This had not happened before.

I frowned and looked upward, sensing an unseen presence.

Someone was impatient.

Behind David, embedded into the ruins, loomed a massive sword-shaped cross. When I glanced behind myself, I saw the same structure mirrored there. Only then did it sink in.

It was just us in here.

“Where are the others?” I asked.

“I killed them all,” David replied flatly.

I exhaled slowly. “You’re too bloodthirsty. Do you really think this is still a game?”

He scoffed. “Don’t play the fool. I know it was you who manipulated them and sent them my way. You sly bastard.”

I shrugged. “Poor showing. It only proves I’m wiser than you, and that’s saying something, considering that wisdom might be one of our weakest stats.”

It was true. I had nudged the other players toward him, subtly guiding their aggression. Not to eliminate him, but to probe him. To observe.

From what I had seen, David lacked depth in alternate power systems. Qi, aura, world force. He relied heavily on his Divine Spark. His mastery of it might even surpass mine, which I found troubling. He had not demonstrated any abilities that should allow direct interaction with it.

My Immortal Art, Divine Appointment of the Faithful, allowed me limited interaction through faith and designation. I doubted he had anything comparable.

Unless.

The Ophanim.

That broken existence could easily account for the discrepancy.

Before I could dwell further, a voice resounded across the ruins, vast and intimate all at once.

“Oh, such a delightful reunion between two halves, now destined to be whole again.”

The air thickened. 

“I shall be the arbiter of this fateful match. The rules are simple. In this space, you cannot harm one another. Fight with your pieces. Designate your generals. The one whose general dies, loses.”

A pause, laden with expectation.

“May your touch favor the life you will touch. Good luck.”

It was the Supreme Void.

There was no mistaking it. I could feel his presence oozing through the space between thoughts, clearly entertained by the confrontation unfolding before him. A vast projection of the False Earth materialized between David and me, hovering like a living board. Cities, factions, armies, faith, and bloodlines were all reduced into movable pieces.

This was not a duel of blades.

It was a war of strategy.

I steadied myself. I had prepared for this. Countless contingencies, layered redundancies, faith networks, logistics, morale… everything I could reasonably foresee had already been set in place. All I needed now was to trust that preparation.

Through my Immortal Art, Divine Appointment of the Faithful, I perceived every subject under my banner. Their prayers, their fears, their resolve flowed back to me as clearly as breath. With a single thought, I began issuing commands.

Armies gathered.

Supply lines shifted.

Paladins mobilized.

I had modeled my pieces after the Holy Ascension Empire I knew best, mirroring its institutions, its doctrines, and its chain of command. That familiarity let me think faster, adjust cleaner, and act without hesitation.

Across from me, David made his move.

He shaped his side into an imitation of the Heavenly Temple, unmistakably styled after the one in the Hollowed World. The resemblance was almost mocking, as if he were daring me to see ghosts in the mirror.

The battle began.

And it was brutal.

My forces swept through his lines with alarming efficiency. His formations collapsed one after another, his territory shrinking rapidly. On paper, it was a rout. A decisive, humiliating defeat.

However, it was too easy.

David remained unnervingly calm. His Ophanim spun and gleamed, fully on display, as if he were watching a predictable play reach its expected act.

“This mini-war feels like the one in the Hollowed World,” I said, deliberately breaking the silence. I needed to hear him think. “Tell me, how did you do it? Something clearly went wrong in your timeline. That’s why you came here. What was it? How many eras did it take you before you finally succeeded?”

He shook his head slowly. “You misunderstand. I didn’t plan any of it. It was all a coincidence.”

“So… fate?” I scoffed. “That’s a flimsy excuse.”

“No,” he replied calmly. “Not fate. More like luck.”

The uneasiness in my chest deepened.

“You know us,” David continued, his voice steady. “We’re not the kind of person who patiently prepares an epoch-spanning scheme. We solve problems after the fact. That’s how it always was. Just like the many times I tried to redo everything with the Supreme Void’s help. In the end, I still ended up trapped.”

His eyes flickered with something distant.

“The Hollowed World wasn’t designed just to trap the Supreme Void,” he said. “It was designed to trap us too.”

I clenched my jaw.

“Through countless iterations,” David went on, “I learned my limitations. And slowly, I honed in on what makes us unique. Did you ever notice this?”

“Notice what?” I asked, tension creeping into my voice.

“People feel at ease around us,” he said. “They care about us more easily. They sympathize. And if you reciprocate that care even a little, they return it a hundredfold. If you show enough concern, they’ll devote their entire lives to pleasing you.”

My pulse quickened.

“I think it’s tied to our trait of supremacy,” David concluded.

“What are you getting at?” I asked.

He smiled.

“Do you remember Yuan Shun?” he asked softly. “Did you really think she became obsessed with me because she was just crazy?”

My blood ran cold.

“That poor girl,” David continued. “I’ve seen your memories. So I’ll put it in terms you understand. She was my Nongmin.”

The word struck like a hammer.

Nongmin.

Someone precious to me. Someone who had anchored me, who had kept me from falling into a darker path. A friend. A debt I could never truly repay.

If Yuan Shun had been his Nongmin…

Then what had happened?

Had she dragged David into darkness as an inversion of my fate? Or had destiny simply twisted her role into a cruel irony?

I exhaled slowly, the truth settling heavy in my chest.

I was done fooling myself.

It was obvious.

“You twisted her,” I said quietly. “Manipulated her into your design. And then you used her… just like you’re doing now.”

David nodded.

“The Heavenly Eye really was something,” he said calmly. “An ability that lets you peer through time itself. My Yuan Shun met the iteration of Yuan Shun from your world through the Heavenly Eye. The two of them got along frighteningly well, like best friends reunited. The Destiny Seeking Eyes truly lived up to their name.”

He paused, then looked at me with faint amusement.

“You were able to leave the Hollowed World whenever you pleased, weren’t you?” he continued. “It was because of those… eyes.”

“You’re not going to get it,” I replied flatly. “I didn’t even have it anymore.”

“That’s fine,” he said without hesitation. “I don’t need it.”

“What?” I frowned.

“The Ophanim is superior,” David explained. “Far more powerful. I just haven’t recovered enough yet to unleash its full potential.”

I couldn’t tell if he was being arrogant or deliberately trying to lower my guard. Either way, the thought made my stomach churn.

I couldn’t believe this person was me.

And for the first time, I truly couldn’t fault Gu Jie for how far she’d gone to make things right. Compared to this… my counterpart had likely committed far worse sins than anything she’d done.

“Hey,” David suddenly said, his tone light, almost playful. “Let me show you something interesting.”

He raised his hand and made a simple gesture in the air.

“Summon.”

It was just one word.

Yet the entire space flooded with souls.

They poured in from everywhere, countless spirits, each one rushing toward David. They clung to him, embraced him, pressed against him with expressions of devotion that made my skin crawl. Age, gender, and origin  didn’t matter.

David stood at the center, unmoved and loved.

“See?” he said softly. “They still love me. Even after all the terrible things I’ve done to them.”

My Divine Sense flared instinctively.

These souls weren’t confined to the ruins. They were everywhere, spread across the False Earth like a second, invisible population woven into the world itself.

David lowered his finger slightly and spoke as if giving a casual request.

“Destroy the Holy Ascension Empire for me, please?”

My breath caught.

They moved.

From the projection, I watched an army of ghosts surge from the south of my territory. They weren’t ordinary wraiths. At their core, they were Holy Spirits, not as refined as Dave or my Six Path Souls, but their sheer number made up for the difference.

Normally, the type advantage alone would’ve let me crush a ghost army effortlessly.

But this?

“This is bullshit,” I muttered.

David shrugged. “I warned you. I told you I’d make you eat dirt. Maybe you could do something similar, if the preparation phase hadn’t already ended.”

I exhaled slowly.

“Well,” I said, my tone suddenly light, “you asked for it.”

David raised an eyebrow, clearly confused by my lack of panic.

“It’s time for a mini-game,” I continued. “A sudden, one-time player event like no other.”

I extended my hand, leaning fully on the Hollow Star as my power source.

“Summon.”

Reality rippled.

Players from Lost Paladin Online were forcibly pulled from the Hollowed World and dropped into the False Earth. Each of them appeared below Level 100, but strong enough to tip battles, farm experience, and most importantly, change outcomes.

David stared in open disgust.

“I thought I was annoying,” he snapped. “But this? This is just cheating.”

I smiled faintly.

“Loser says what?”

Frankly, I was nervous.

I hadn’t been sure it would work, casting a Mass Egress with quintessence of all things was reckless at best. Yet they were here. Real, breathing, shouting. Gamers from Earth, ripped straight into the False Earth, standing shoulder to shoulder with my Paladins.

Morale surged.

My people didn’t fully understand who these strange reinforcements were, only that they fought differently, spoke oddly, and charged into danger with terrifying enthusiasm. Cultures clashed, motivations differed, but blades still swung, spells still flew, and the war ground onward without mercy.

Then David smiled.

“Let’s raise the stakes a bit more,” he said.

My stomach sank. “What? You have more?”

“Nukes,” he replied calmly. “That’s what.”

“…What?”

I watched in horror as three cities vanished in blinding light, mushroom clouds blooming across the projection. Five more followed soon after, the shockwaves rippling through False Earth itself.

“That ought to hurt,” David said casually.

“How did you get your hands on a damn nuke?” I snapped.

“When I briefly grasped the nature of the Source,” he replied, unconcerned, “I used the Ophanim to memorize Earth’s weaponry. Nuclear arms were only one part of it.”

As if to punctuate his words, armies poured onto the battlefield. Soldiers wielding guns. Tanks rolling across plains. Flamethrowers spewing fire. Their realms were wildly scattered, their technology grotesquely out of place.

This bastard was playing an RTS from a completely different genre.

“It’s impressive,” I admitted, forcing calm into my voice. “Terrifying, too. But you’ve forgotten the essence of this game.”

David frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“The objective is to kill the opposing general first.”

I raised a finger and began casting Heavenly Punishment, intending to raze one of his cities in one decisive strike.

Before the spell could manifest, David countered instantly.

“Judgment Severance.”

My skill was swallowed whole.

He smirked. “It won’t work. I’ll counter any Ultimate Skill you try.”

“Fool,” I said. “I’m just getting started.”

“Give up,” he sneered. “I’ve outwitted you—”

He stopped mid-sentence.

Darkness swallowed the projection.

“What is the meaning of this?” David demanded.

By entering the Ascension Games and stepping into this place, the Supreme Void had bound me here. I was obligated to play. Even with the Hollow Star and the Dark Veil in my possession, I couldn’t simply leave or overturn the board outright.

But nothing said I couldn’t bring the Dark Veil with me.

The reaction was immediate.

A silhouette appeared within the projection. The Warden.

It slammed its scepter against the Dark Veil again and again, each strike shaking the island beneath our feet. I felt the rage of the system itself, ancient and unyielding.

I spoke steadily despite the tremors.

“You’re right about one thing. We aren’t good at long-term schemes. You coming here was a spontaneous miracle. My trust in my people wasn’t born from some flawless plan either.”

I looked straight at him.

“But that doesn’t make us idiots. We can think. We can adapt. And we can still make plans when it matters.”

The Warden struck again.

“Do you remember,” I continued, “what kind of plans we thrive on the most?”

David clenched his teeth. “Chaos and spite.”

I snapped my fingers. “Bingo.”

“You’re playing with fire,” he warned.

“I know,” I said plainly. “If the Supreme Void consumes the Dark Veil, he’ll recover part of his strength. That’s why the Warden is furious.”

I gestured at the projection.

“And as a consequence, every soul in that world will perish, only to repeat their lives in another iteration of the game. Except my players. They’ll resurrect safely back in the Hollowed World.”

I smiled thinly.

“In the meantime, they gain absurd amounts of experience. My forces grow stronger. And this little scheme automatically kills both our generals in the process.”

I met his gaze.

“So here’s the real question. If both of us lose… do we still get to ascend?”