Immortal Paladin

275 A Thorough Demonstration

I’m Da Wei, except not exactly. I’m Ghost Soul Da Wei, the best pilot to ever exist, the only soul who could wield the Phantom! Mwahahahahahahaha~! The laughter rolled from me like thunder as I swung the mech’s massive sword in both hands. Radiant Arc burst from its tip, a golden crescent that sliced the sky. The beauty of that technique was not just the initial impact but the delayed damage that followed. When the first explosion tore through the pirate fleet, a second wave flared moments later, compounding the devastation and leaving no mistake as to who held dominion here.

I spread my arms wide, channeling the halos of Holy Smite. One by one, they multiplied into dozens, until an entire corona of silver light shimmered behind me. The Phantom released the barrage with a glorious hum, and countless silver arrows streaked across the skies like a meteor shower. They rained upon the small, soaring boats filled with mercenaries, piercing wood, metal, and flesh. I made sure not to go all out and just destroy the vessels. The more survivors, the better. A few broken boats limping back to tell tales of the Phantom was worth more than silencing them all. Fear was a weapon, and I intended to wield it as sharply as any blade.

Fifty pirate vessels had swarmed this battlefield, with smaller soaring boats occupied by mercenaries. Already, a quarter of them lay in burning ruin. The air reeked of smoke and qi residue, the sky itself trembling from the aftershocks of my attacks. I grinned, proud of the carnage. This wasn’t just a battle; it was an exercise. The objective was simple: demonstrate that New Willow was not to be underestimated, show the world its protector needed no backup from the Guardians, no intervention from the Sovereign, and certainly not the presence of my progenitor. He could arrive at any moment with a Castling if I faltered, but I had no intention of letting him interfere. If I succeeded, I’d earn more playtime, and that was reward enough.

A furious cry tore across the battlefield. “How dare you!” I turned toward a surviving Thunder Serpent vessel. Its bow split the clouds as a young pirate stood at its prow, veins bulging, sword raised high. His aura told me he was Sixth Realm at best, though his voice carried the conviction of someone burning in desperation. “I’ll avenge my senior brother! As vice captain of the Thunder Serpents, I will be remembered as the bravest man of all!”

Ah. So the captain had been aboard the flagship I’d casually split apart earlier. That explained the trembling rage on the man’s face. But bravery? No, this was suicide. I leveled the Phantom’s palm toward him and summoned Holy Smite, condensing all the halos into a singular beam of divine wrath. The vice captain bellowed, “Abandon ship!” and his crew scrambled over the rails, flinging themselves into the open air in a mad bid to escape. My Divine Sense with the sensors picked up the surge of qi gathering inside the ship, and realization dawned. They intended to detonate their own vessel.

“Cute,” I muttered. With a thought, I canceled Holy Smite and raised a shimmering dome of light. Shield of the Eternal blossomed around the Phantom, a golden sphere of resilience. Layered atop it was Shield of Faith. Two barriers. Two certainties that even a suicide blast wouldn’t scratch me. The pirate vessel erupted in a blinding wave, the shockwave rolling outward with enough force to rip clouds in half. The Eternal shield flickered once, cracked at its surface, and then held. When the smoke cleared, I stood untouched, gleaming in divine radiance.

The vice captain flailed in the air, his aura flickering with panic as he tried to flee by flying on his sword. I extended my hand, gathering the power once more, and unleashed a singular Holy Smite. The beam speared through him, reducing him to ash before tearing into the still-burning wreckage beyond. Two birds, one stone, and not a shred of remorse. Pirates like the Thunder Serpents thrived on cruelty, and after reading their dossiers, I knew mercy was wasted on them.

The air hummed, and my mech’s thrusters roared to life. I bent forward, eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Let’s get personal.” Zealot’s Stride activated, propelling the Phantom forward in a blur of speed as arcs of golden lightning coiled around its massive frame. I chained it seamlessly with Thunderous Smite, my blade crackling with a furious storm. The first strike fell upon a ship that had dared to raise its defenses, tearing through its barrier as though it were parchment, splitting the vessel in half in a single blow. I pivoted midair, boosters flaring, and dove toward another. One swing, one explosion, and one demonstration of overwhelming dominance.

“Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha~! Perish before my might!”

The principles that allowed the Phantom to function were not new to me. They echoed the same core ideas of when the late Holy Spirit, David_69, possessed a Puppet Armor back in the day. The difference now was simple but absolute: this was no recycled husk of iron and qi. This was cutting-edge, Gu Jie’s masterpiece. Yes, the Empire had its famed blacksmiths, artisans capable of feats mortals could hardly dream of, but not even their greatest works could reach a fraction of Gu Jie’s ability. The Phantom wasn’t just a tool of war. It was perfection sculpted in steel, qi, and divinity.

The mercenaries didn’t seem to care as most of them continued to push forward. Brave fools. They pushed forward anyway, forcing their way with their soaring boats, their group already crossing the halfway mark toward New Willow. I could almost respect their determination if it weren’t so suicidal. A barrage of cannon fire thundered against me, its energy output sharper and heavier than the usual talisman-rigged artillery. I sneered. “That’s it?” With a sweep of my blade, I cast Flash Parry, and in a single breath, the arcs of incoming fire were scattered to harmless sparks, dissolving into the wind.

Enough warming up. I raised my hand and called upon a familiar power. “Summon: Holy Spirit.” The heavens trembled as Ezekiel answered. In his true form, he towered over the battlefield, a skeleton as tall as the golden dome of New Willow itself. Wings of bone stretched wide, draped in divine power that shimmered like starlight. His presence alone was terror incarnate. The mercenaries screamed as he swiped casually with one clawed hand, batting their messy formations like toys. His skeletal foot came down, crushing small vessels as though they were twigs. Every kick, every careless gesture from him left hundreds dead. Still, the mercenaries pressed on. Stubbornness could be admirable, but not when it was this hopeless.

I caught one of the smaller ships in the Phantom’s hands, the wood splintering under my grip, and with a laugh, I hurled it into another vessel. The two collided in a glorious fireball. “Strike true—Searing Smite!” I roared, cleaving another ship with a blade alight in blazing radiance, splitting it clean in half. From the corner of my vision, three bigger pirate ships surged forward, their intent obvious. They meant to ram me in suicide runs. Bold, but utterly useless. I raised my hand and cast War Smite, releasing a burst that knocked one ship away like an insect. For the other two, I invoked Divine Might. Power surged through my limbs as I reached out, seized both pirate ships mid-charge, and slammed them into one another with bone-rattling force. The explosion lit the sky like a second sun.

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For a heartbeat, I considered unleashing an Ultimate Skill. One cast, and the skies would be emptied. The temptation thrummed in my core, but I clenched my teeth. No. My flashy swordplay, empowered with paladin arts, and the radiant energy beams could be brushed off as some unfamiliar technique. But an Ultimate Skill? That would be too distinct and too telling. My progenitor had been careful, ever so careful, in keeping “Da Wei” hidden from recognition. To reveal that now would be unforgivable. I sighed. “Guess I’ll hold back a bit.”

Instead, I spread my arms wide and summoned more halos, each one glowing like a silver star. Holy Smite after Holy Smite rained down, bombardments tearing through pirate vessels and smaller boats alike as though the heavens themselves had turned against them. Screams carried on the wind, mingling with the thunder of falling ships.

But then, my senses prickled. A warning. Danger screamed at the back of my Divine Sense. Without hesitation, I triggered Flash Step, my bulky mech form blurring out of harm’s way just as a crimson slash carved through the sky. The heavens themselves bled. I turned, and from the drifting cloud of bloody mist emerged a figure. A red-haired woman, eyes burning with killing intent, shot forward. Her sword gleamed with condensed qi as she aimed straight for the Phantom’s head.

Compared to my massive frame, she was such a small thing. Yet she was fast enough to close the distance in a blink. I scoffed. “Bold little ant.” I raised Shield of the Eternal, the golden dome wrapping around me, but her slash cut through, shattering the barrier in an instant together with the Shield of Faith. Impressive. That only made this more fun.

“Armor of the Indomitable. Sacred Bulwark. Divine Flesh,” I chanted, layering defenses over defenses. Power rippled through the Phantom as my bulk thickened with radiant energy. On top of that, I triggered Stagger, my favorite little trick.

She swung again, her crimson blade colliding against my chestplate. Sparks exploded, qi rippled, and then… failure. Her weapon bounced back, the force reflecting against her own body. Her eyes widened, panic flashing across her face as the backlash struck her. Then the stagger effect hit, her limbs seizing up as though her very blood had betrayed her.

She was frozen, helpless, her mouth open in a scream she could not voice. Horror painted her face as realization dawned. At that moment, she knew: she was prey.

I chuckled darkly.

“Game over.”

With both of the Phantom’s massive hands, I reached forward, seized her fragile body, and without hesitation, ripped her apart.

I let go of the woman, her eyes dulling as her body unraveled into red motes of light that drifted into the air and were swallowed back into the world. That had been an Eighth Realm cultivator, and she was erased so thoroughly by the Phantom that even I had to pause. I wasn’t sure of the full extent of the Phantom’s capabilities, but that display was terrifying enough to make me wonder just what I was sitting inside of. I had thought her defeat decisive, yet I spoke too early. My Divine Sense warned me again as another bloody mist gathered, and from it the same red-haired woman reformed, followed by another to my left, one in front, and more appearing all around. So, a clone technique.

Her duplicates shouted in unison, striking with their blades, each blow absorbed and reflected by my defenses. Armor of the Indomitable only strengthened each time I took a strike, and I welcomed the impacts with calm detachment.

“Monster!” one screamed, her blade cleaving at my arm. “You won’t leave this battlefield alive!”

Another clone snarled, “I’ll carve open that black armor and drag out the coward hiding inside!”

One to my left leaned in with a smirk, her voice dripping venom and seduction. “What’s wrong, big knight? Afraid of a woman’s touch?”

Yet another clone, her tone bitter with grief, cried, “You killed my sister! I’ll make sure your soul burns forever!”

More voices overlapped, harsher and harsher, as they pressed the assault. “You can’t kill us all!” … “Fall already, fall and die!” … “I’ll taste your blood before the day ends!”

But I remained unmoved. Their words slid off me like rain on steel, their blades feeding only into the rising bulwark of my defenses. I stretched a hand forward, letting Divine Sense trace each duplicate until my fingers closed around the real woman’s skull.

“By now,” I said, tightening my grip, “you should realize the futility of going against me.”

The sky darkened as another presence descended. From the clouds came a man cloaked in wolf pelts, wielding a pair of curved scimitars crackling with lightning. His aura declared him the leader of the mercenary band, the Wolf Brigade. Seventh Realm at best, and yet he did not come alone. More cultivators revealed themselves from the shifting clouds, embraced by illusory buddhas whose radiance hammered down their Spiritual Pressure. It was a layered trap, a fusion of battle formation, array craft, and martial technique, carefully prepared for a moment like this.

“Steel yourselves, brothers! This monster bleeds like any other. Today, the Wolf Brigade takes its prey!”

All around me, Sixth Realm cultivators closed in, their weapons shining with condensed qi. One jabbed his spear forward, shouting, “We’ll pin him down, don’t give it room to breathe!”

Another raised his axe overhead, qi flaring like a raging bonfire. “For the Wolf Brigade! Even a giant must fall when surrounded!”

The halberd wielder sneered, “We’ll hack it apart and mount its bones at our gates. That’s our glory!”

Their leader raised his scimitars high, lightning dancing from blade to blade. “Form the circle! Bind it with the array! Our names will be remembered when this phantom is torn apart!”

They hoped to bind me in their cage. Weapons gleamed, killing intent pressed down as one, and the storm they summoned roared with conviction. The circle closed, and all their killing intent pressed down as one.

“Not bad,” I complimented their efforts. “But it isn’t enough.”

I sighed within the Phantom and squeezed my captive’s head. There was a soft, wet pop, and the red-haired woman’s last body dissolved into nothing. At my summons, Ezekiel manifested beside me, towering bones and radiant wings spreading wide. He was a Paladin in his own right, and with his own Spell Slots, he could invoke Divine Possession upon me, so that was what he did. Silver feathers erupted from my back as skeletal plates laced into my armor, fusing steel with bone. I invoked Blessed Weapon over my blade, then Bless across the Phantom itself, every circuit and gear thrumming with holy resonance. My next cast was Holy Wrath, building power until it reached the edge of bursting.

The Wolf Brigade tightened its circle, but it was already too late. I channeled everything into Divine Smite, weaving it into Hollow Point and extending it into a Hollow Line. The energy lanced outward in a roaring sweep of golden scribbles, shredding the air as if the heavens themselves had split. Those cultivators burst apart, their bodies minced into blood and scattered remains before they could even cry out. Weapons clattered down like broken toys, their masters erased.

When the golden light faded, I looked upon the carnage I had left. Very few survived, clinging to shattered speedboats or drifting helplessly in the sky with broken dantians and fear flooding their eyes. I showed no mercy. Raising one palm after another, I invoked Holy Smite again and again, beams of silver light piercing the survivors and raking across the fleeing speedboats until nothing stirred. The battlefield fell silent, wreckage burning as the last echoes of Holy Smite faded. I thought it was over, until the clouds split.

From the rift descended a figure in flowing pink robes, her face hidden behind a jade mask. She twirled an umbrella with eerie calm, standing atop a colossal eyeball that glared with unblinking malice. The weight of her aura struck like a tidal wave… It was the Tenth Realm, without question.

My circuits flared, my grip tightening. The Phantom hummed to life once more.

So… the real challenge had finally arrived.

“Do you like theater?” asked the woman. “I love theater.”