Immortal Paladin

We followed the old man deeper into the Palace of Endings.

The interior was impossibly vast. Endless corridors stretched beneath ceilings covered in murals depicting civilizations collapsing into ash beneath black skies. Pale flames burned soundlessly along the walls, illuminating statues of kneeling dead arranged in rows that seemed to continue forever.

Yet despite the sheer scale of the palace, it felt empty and silent.

Like a mausoleum abandoned by time itself.

At some point during our walk, Duan Fen vanished without either of us noticing exactly when.

One moment he had been guiding us through the corridor.

The next, he was simply gone.

Ru Qiu immediately became vigilant, white flames flickering faintly around his body as we stepped into an enormous throne hall.

And there, seated upon the throne at the far end, was a boy.

He had dark skin and curly black hair that framed a strangely youthful face. His eyes, however, were unlike anything I had ever seen before. Endless death seemed to swirl within them, yet buried beneath that darkness was an unmistakable innocence that did not belong in a place like this.

The contradiction was unsettling.

The boy smiled lightly upon seeing us.

“I am the Unsupreme Death,” he said calmly. “Eldest son of the Supreme Death. One of the Four Horsemen representing the Pale Rider.”

The moment he spoke, my Supremacy Trait reacted violently.

Emotion flooded my senses such as expectation, fear, and hope.

A childish longing so pure it almost hurt to feel.

And beneath all of that?

A maturity so ancient and exhausted it contradicted everything else about him.

I frowned slightly.

Something about the boy felt wrong.

“Where is the Supreme Death?” I asked directly.

The boy tilted his head slightly before answering.

“Father will only meet you if you promise to slay him.”

The throne hall fell silent.

I stared at him for several seconds before asking, “Why?”

A faint smile appeared on the boy’s face.

“Because it is father’s greatest desire.”

My thoughts stirred immediately. I had heard something similar before from Gao Fu. She really had not been lying.

“I need to hear that from him myself,” I said firmly.

The boy shook his head gently.

“You misunderstand.”

The atmosphere in the throne hall suddenly became heavier.

“If you were to meet father now,” the boy continued softly, “you would die from his mere presence. The same is true for your companion.”

Ru Qiu’s expression darkened slightly.

The boy’s strange eyes settled on me.

“You possess the potential to fulfill father’s wish,” he said. “However, you would still die.”

This conversation had already gone in a direction I never expected.

I narrowed my eyes slightly. “Then what do I need to do in order to meet the Supreme Death?”

The boy slowly stood from his throne.

“You must reach the realm of Ruler of Laws.”

The words struck me heavily.

Ruler of Laws.

I already stood incredibly close to that realm, yet close did not mean attainable. From everything I understood, reaching that level required an immense comprehension of laws themselves, not merely wielding them, but embodying and governing them.

And despite everything I had achieved, I still lacked that final understanding.

The boy descended the steps of the throne calmly.

“I shall teach you about laws,” he said. “About myself. About father.”

He stopped before us.

“And what easier method is there than to relive the life I led?”

Ru Qiu’s expression immediately soured.

“This is a bad idea,” he warned.

I looked toward him calmly. “I know what I’m doing.”

Ru Qiu immediately rubbed his forehead in frustration.

“That’s what you always say.”

I almost laughed.

Normally, he would have been right. Back before Ophanim, whenever I claimed to know what I was doing, there was a very high chance I was simply being reckless and hoping things somehow worked out.

But now?

Things were different.

Ophanim allowed me glimpses, and threads of possibilities. I was not blindly gambling anymore. I was being efficient. I turned my attention back toward the boy.

“No,” I said quietly. “You seem to be misunderstanding something.”

The boy blinked.

I stepped forward slowly.

“I can see through you.”

For the first time, his expression shifted slightly into confusion, shock, and fear.

“You’re mistaken about something,” I continued. “I came here to speak with the Supreme Death. That’s still what I intend to do.”

The temperature inside the throne hall suddenly dropped.

Then a voice echoed from behind us.

“Whatever you are thinking of doing,” Duan Fen said grimly as he appeared out of nowhere, “do not do it.”

Ru Qiu and I turned immediately. The old man stood near the entrance to the throne hall once more, though the calm demeanor he previously carried had vanished completely. “It is better for things to remain this way,” he warned. “Or we may all come to regret it.”

The entire Palace of Endings began to shake violently. The floor trembled beneath our feet. Deep groans echoed through the walls like something colossal stirring beneath the palace itself. Then I sensed them.

Undead.

An endless mass of them awakening behind us.

Ru Qiu cursed softly and immediately summoned white flames around his body.

I looked toward him.

“Buy me time.”

His face twisted in disbelief. “You cannot seriously—”

“Ru Qiu.”

He stared at me for a brief moment before clicking his tongue in annoyance and turning toward the approaching horde. White fire exploded outward from his body as the palace doors behind us burst apart. Countless undead flooded into the throne hall.

I ignored them completely.

Instead, I walked toward the boy standing before the throne.

“It’s time to stop playing pretend,” I said quietly.

The boy froze.

“You should awaken your memories.”

Fear surfaced within his strange eyes.

Real fear.

I stopped directly before him.

“The Unsupreme Death,” I said softly, “is a lie.”

The palace shook harder.

Duan Fen’s expression paled.

And I continued speaking.

“A lie devised to dethrone you.”

“Stop.”

The voice echoed across the throne hall with enough authority to momentarily silence even the groaning undead flooding through the palace.

Then Duan Fen began to melt.

His body softened like liquefied wax beneath invisible heat, flesh dripping apart in long strands as the old man’s appearance collapsed into something formless and pale. The sight alone was enough to make the surrounding death qi fluctuate violently.

Ru Qiu swore under his breath while white flames surged around him, carving through waves of undead attempting to overwhelm us.

Slowly, the melting figure reshaped itself.

A faceless silhouette emerged from within the dissolving remains of Duan Fen’s body.

“...When did you find out?” the figure asked quietly. “How did you find out?”

I grinned despite the madness unfolding around us.

“So nice of you to finally join us here, Conquest.”

Ru Qiu’s head snapped toward me in shock.

“How is that possible?” he demanded. “The real Conquest should be in the Ninth Layer.”

The faceless figure remained motionless.

I answered calmly, “I knew the moment you returned from your adventures in the Greater Human Realm and I absorbed the memories accrued by my spy.”

For the first time, Conquest visibly reacted. Slowly, he raised a hand toward his own featureless face. Then he plunged his fingers inside. A cracking sound echoed throughout the throne hall as he tore something out from within himself.

A skeleton emerged.

Holy light radiated from the skeletal figure as Conquest violently pulled it free from his body. Ezekiel laughed hysterically the moment he appeared, his skeletal jaw clacking wildly as golden flames danced within his empty eye sockets.

The holy skeleton looked toward me.

Then he dispersed into countless motes of light and returned to my soul.

Conquest remained silent.

I folded my arms lightly.

“Remember when you tested me with your Dao Domain?” I asked casually. “The one where you almost tried to brainwash me?”

The faceless figure’s aura shifted slightly.

“I borrowed your Dao Domain in that moment,” I continued. “Then I reinforced the subtlety of my spell through it.”

I tapped my chest lightly.

“Combining it with my Supremacy Trait: Bearer, I fused Ezekiel’s existence into you so thoroughly that even the Supreme Heart couldn’t detect him.”

Honestly, even I felt impressed by myself. Never in my life had I prepared something so thoroughly or turned around a situation on such a ridiculous intellectual scale.

I smiled wider.

“I know everything.”

The atmosphere trembled.

“I know why you created Pestilence to measure me. I know about the deal you attempted to make with the Supreme Heart to preserve your existence under the premise that the Supreme Death eventually dies.”

Ru Qiu briefly glanced toward me with an expression that practically screamed why are you like this.

But I continued anyway.

“And I know about Supreme Heart trying to erase your memories afterward,” I said. “Including the little ‘prank’ where you were programmed to eventually backstab me through the people around me.”

I shrugged.

“I dealt with that too.”

The throne hall had become utterly silent aside from the sounds of Ru Qiu slaughtering undead in the background. Conquest still did not speak. But I could feel it now.

Tension.

Calculation.

A crack in his control.

I stepped forward slowly.

“I also know how long you’ve been planning this,” I said quietly. “Taking advantage of the new incarnation of the Supreme Death. Gaslighting your brothers, Famine and War, manipulating the entire situation from the shadows…”

I actually applauded lightly.

“Honestly? Your strategies were masterful. You implemented them almost perfectly.”

Then my smile sharpened.

“But in the end, you were still found out.”

The death qi around the throne hall began spiraling violently.

“And now,” I finished softly, “the tables are about to turn on you.”

I had no idea how many bodies Conquest truly possessed.

But this one?

The body masquerading as Duan Fen?

It was probably important.

Very important.

The boy on the throne stared at everything unfolding before him in visible confusion, unable to fully process the situation collapsing around him.

Then Ru Qiu moved.

He erupted through the battlefield like a comet of white fire, instantly crossing the throne hall before slamming his blade directly into Conquest’s chest.

The impact shattered pillars.

Conquest’s stolen body was launched violently across the palace, crashing through multiple walls as white flames exploded after him.

Ru Qiu landed heavily nearby, breathing roughly.

“I can only hold them back for so long!” he shouted over the chaos. “So you better do your business quick!”

I nodded once before immediately turning toward the boy.

Toward Death.

“Trust me,” I said firmly. “Accept me. Let me inside.”

The boy trembled slightly.

“No.”

A pale white silhouette appeared before him.

The figure resembled a young boy as well, though unlike the dark-skinned child before us, this one possessed ghostly pale skin and snow-white hair. His presence was horrifyingly quiet. Not overwhelming. Not oppressive. Simply absolute. 

The moment he appeared, every law inside the throne hall bent instinctively around him.

The dark-skinned boy looked upward immediately.

“Father?” he called softly.

My pupils contracted.

Ruler of Laws.

No.

More than that.

The pale figure gently brushed the boy’s curly hair.

“Everything is going to be fine, my son,” he said.

His tone contained no emotion whatsoever.

“I am going to die soon,” the pale figure continued calmly. “My wish… our wish… will soon be fulfilled.”

My instincts screamed at me instantly.

Something was very wrong.

I stepped forward immediately.

“Don’t listen to him!” I shouted toward the boy. “Conquest plans to kill the real Supreme Death and seize all of the authority for himself! Don’t be fooled! You are the real Supreme Death! That thing you call father is not the Supreme Death.”

The pale figure slowly turned toward me and pointed a finger.

“Law of Death.”

I died.

“Nice try,” I said as my body reformed on the spot, flesh stitching itself together through the Spell Resonance I had implanted beforehand with Divine Word: Raise. “It will take more than that to kill me…”

Golden radiance flickered beneath my skin as the remains of annihilation peeled away from me in layers. Bones reknit. Blood surged anew through veins that moments ago no longer existed. The surrounding void trembled under the pressure of my resurrection, unable to comprehend how a dead existence had simply decided to continue living.

I raised my hand toward the dark-haired boy.

“Divine Possession.”

...

..

.

[POV: Supreme Death?]

Many thoughts ran amok within the boy’s mind.

What did that mean?

He was the real Supreme Death?

Then who was this pale figure standing before him?

Nothing made sense anymore. Everything he believed in cracked apart like rotten glass beneath pressure. His thoughts spiraled uncontrollably as fear crawled deeper into his chest, cold and suffocating.

Why was this happening to him?

What did he do wrong?

This wasn’t right.

It was unfair.

Yet beneath the panic, another realization emerged, one so horrible that the boy wanted to reject it immediately.

But it made sense.

In the ancient past, the Supreme Death had attempted the impossible. He had tried to kill himself using life itself as the weapon. The resulting catastrophe birthed the Four Horsemen, twisted fragments born from contradiction and aftermath.

The boy had always believed he was one of them.

A Horseman.

A child of death.

But what if that was wrong?

What if he was not a child at all?

What if he was the ‘soul’ left behind after the Supreme Death succeeded?

What if the beings he called brothers were merely necrotic remnants of himself that persisted independently after the original whole collapsed apart?

The thought hollowed him out.

His breathing became uneven.

The pale figure stepped closer.

Its smile was gentle and comforting.

“You are not him,” the false Supreme Death whispered softly. “You never were. You are his son. My son. His continuation. My continuation. Yes, you must remember who you are. My precious son. A better existence born from tragedy, not the tragedy itself.”

The boy trembled.

“There is no burden for you to carry. No impossible history. No unbearable sin. You are simply the Unsupreme Death. A child born from the remains of divinity.”

Its voice wrapped around him like warm cloth against winter frost.

“You do not need to become the Supreme Death.”

The boy’s eyes shook violently.

“You only need to become yourself.”

In the end, he found comfort, meaning, and relief in those words. Also, a desperate desire to agree. Yes. Yes, that was right. He was the Unsupreme Death. The son of the Supreme Death. Nothing more.

…

..

.

[POV: Da Wei]

I was Da Wei.

At the same time, I had become the boy. So small. So weak. So filled with insecurities.

I could feel his trembling despite the bravado he desperately used to hide it. Beneath the defiance and stubborn belief he placed upon that pretender was a frightened child searching for certainty in a collapsing reality.

His emotions flooded through me completely.

Fear. Anger. Confusion. Loneliness.

I understood them instinctively because, for those brief moments, they were mine as well.

“Wake up to reality,” I told him coldly. “That thing is lying to you.”

But the boy ignored me.

No.

More accurately, he refused to listen.

The comfort was too intoxicating.

The lie was kinder than the truth.

I activated Transcendent Heart immediately, stabilizing my existence within his consciousness before I became submerged beneath his emotions entirely. Golden ripples spread through my mindscape, anchoring my identity firmly in place while foreign thoughts battered against me endlessly.

That was when I realized something else.

These feelings were genuine. The fear and despair was real.

Everything he felt was authentic.

But those emotions were trapped inside a cage created by Conquest.

I blinked.

The world changed instantly.

I found myself standing within a dark place devoid of horizon or ground. Blackness stretched infinitely in all directions, thick and suffocating like wet cloth wrapped around the soul itself.

Slowly, a beautiful woman appeared before me.

It was Pestilence.

Conquest’s counterpart.

Her beauty was unnatural. Seductive in a way that bypassed flesh entirely and reached directly toward the spirit. Every movement carried temptation. Every breath promised intimacy and understanding.

She approached slowly, her fingers brushing lightly across my chest.

“You’re tired,” she whispered softly. “You carry too much. Let me ease your burdens, Da Wei. Let me change your heart. You don’t need to resist anymore.”

Her eyes shimmered hypnotically.

“You could belong with us.”

Invisible pressure invaded my consciousness instantly.

It was the work of a mental spell, designed not to dominate the mind directly, but to reshape desire itself.

I grabbed her throat before she could continue.

Her eyes widened.

“That won’t work on me,” I said flatly. “Neither your spell nor your words.”

My grip tightened.

“An edgy, dark version of myself from another timeline already tried this nonsense before. He failed too.”

Pestilence smiled faintly and vanished into smoke. 

Something else emerged immediately afterward. A faceless melting figure made entirely from candle wax staggered toward me. Flesh dripped endlessly from its body while countless distorted mouths formed and dissolved across its surface.

The sound was wet, broken, and insane.

“HAHAHAHA—”

Its body melted further before proliferating violently outward. Countless humanoid figures erupted from within it like malformed births, embracing me from every direction simultaneously.

“There’s no need to fight anymore,” Alice whispered beside my ear lovingly.

Da Ji wrapped her arms around me from behind, smiling softly. “Oh brother… stay with us.”

Wu Chen touched my cheek gently. “Wouldn’t peace be easier?”

Gu Jie looked up at me with trembling eyes. “Father… don’t leave us again.”

Ren Xun laughed quietly. “You’ve already done enough.”

Nongmin grinned. “Rest for once.”

Hei Mao purred lazily. “Stop thinking so hard.”

My disciples joined us one after another, whispering promises and sweet lies.

“You can save everyone.”

“You can undo every regret.”

“You can finally be happy.”

Their whispers intertwined endlessly around my consciousness like poisonous silk.

I closed my eyes.

“Origin Art,” I murmured.

My pupils ignited.

“Ophanim.”

My ocular power bloomed in full. Golden rings manifested behind my eyes as reality fractured apart instantly beneath divine perception. The illusion shattered. And suddenly, I found myself standing on Earth.

Cold wind swept through the street as automobiles rolled past with heavy steel frames and rounded bodies polished beneath the afternoon sun. Men in coats and brimmed hats stood beside newspaper stalls smoking cigarettes while women walked carefully over damp sidewalks in dresses and wool jackets. Neon signs buzzed faintly overhead despite the daylight, advertisements flickering against brick buildings stained by years of soot and industry.

The air smelled like gasoline, rainwater, tobacco, and fried meat.

“This place got the best burgers in the whole South Side, I’m tellin’ you,” a young white man laughed loudly beside a diner entrance. “McDonald’s gonna take over one day.”

His friend snorted while adjusting the sleeves of his varsity jacket. “You say that every damn week, Tommy.”

“‘Cause it’s true.”

“You said the same thing about that hot dog stand over on Halsted.”

“Yeah, till they started cheapin’ out on the onions.”

The two burst into laughter like this argument had repeated itself dozens of times already.

Nearby, an older woman leaned out from a second-floor apartment window.

“Tommy!” she shouted. “You tell your brother if he tracks mud into my hallway again, I’ll beat his ass myself!”

“Yes, ma’am!” Tommy yelled back immediately.

“And stop loiterin’ outside Rosie’s place lookin’ unemployed!”

“We ain’t unemployed!”

“You been playin’ cards there three damn hours!”

The entire street laughed knowingly.

I walked silently among them, unnoticed despite my strange robes.

Finally, I saw him.

A dark-skinned boy walking beside his mother carefully along the sidewalk. Their clothes were worn but clean, luggage clutched tightly in tired hands. The mother’s expression remained composed, but her eyes constantly scanned the unfamiliar surroundings with guarded caution.

The boy stayed close to her side.

People noticed them immediately.

Some looked away.

Others stared openly.

A group of factory workers stood beside a parked truck drinking bottled soda during break.

One older white man frowned as he watched the newcomers pass.

“More folks comin’ up north again,” he muttered under his breath before taking another sip. “Feels like the whole damn South’s movin’ into Chicago.”

A younger man beside him shrugged. “Ain’t like there’s much left down there. Cotton’s dead. Jobs pay garbage.”

“Still changin’ the neighborhoods.”

Another voice interrupted them.

A broad-shouldered black man stepped down from the truck bed carrying a toolbox over one shoulder.

“Neighborhoods been changin’ since the day this city got built,” he said calmly.

The older man scoffed. “You know what I mean, Curtis.”

“Yeah,” Curtis replied evenly. “I know exactly what you mean.”

Silence followed briefly.

The younger worker quickly changed the subject.

“You hear the Cubs blew another lead yesterday?”

Curtis barked out a laugh immediately. “Man, don’t remind me. Damn near threw my radio out the window.”

“See?” the older man grumbled. “That’s somethin’ we can all agree on. Cubs still breakin’ hearts.”

The tension dissolved into tired chuckles.

Daily life resumed.

That was the strange thing about humanity.

Even hatred had routines.

The boy kept walking beside his mother quietly until they passed a diner with steamed-up windows. He stared inside briefly.

A waitress carrying coffee pots noticed him through the glass.

“You hungry, sweetheart?” she called kindly after stepping outside for a smoke.

The boy looked startled.

His mother quickly pulled him a little closer protectively. “He’s alright, ma’am.”

The waitress nodded slowly before glancing at the luggage.

“You folks just arrive?”

“Yes,” the mother answered cautiously. “From Mississippi.”

“Mm.” The waitress took another drag from her cigarette. “Lotta people movin’ up lately.”

The boy lowered his gaze immediately.

The waitress noticed.

After a few seconds, she sighed and reached into her apron before handing over two wrapped sandwiches.

“Kitchen made too many earlier.”

“That’s alright,” the mother said instinctively.

“Take it anyway,” the waitress replied. “Boss’ll toss ’em by tonight.”

The boy stared at the sandwiches with wide eyes.

“Say thank you,” his mother whispered softly.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

The waitress smiled faintly. “You stay warm now, alright?”

They continued walking afterward. Further down the street, music drifted from an apartment radio overhead. Frank Sinatra.

Somewhere nearby, children laughed while playing stickball in an alley.

“Car!” one shouted.

Everyone scattered briefly as a black sedan rolled through before immediately returning to the game afterward.

“Jimmy cheated!”

“I did not!”

“You moved the damn trash can closer!”

“That ain’t against the rules!”

“Since when?!”

“Since today!”

An exhausted-looking policeman standing nearby glanced at them without interest.

“Break any windows and I’m tellin’ your mothers,” he warned lazily.

“Yes, officer,” the children groaned in unison.

The dark-skinned boy watched all of it silently. The noise. The movement. The unfamiliar world. Fear lingered inside him beneath the surface, but so did something else. There was tiny and fragile hope, waning somewhere inside him.

I looked down at the newspaper I found at the corner.

October, 1955.

Chicago, Illinois.

Ah.

So this was where his story truly began.