Immortal Paladin 042 Immersion

042 Imrsion

I excused myself as soon as I could, leaving behind the Elders and Ren Jin before they could question further. Their curiosity would have to wait—I had sothing far more urgent to deal with. Sothing I shouldn't be delaying.

The mont I was clear of the city, I ran. Not casually. Not cautiously. Full sprint.

Physics aside, I managed to escape them without a commotion and it helped that they left alone, probably to convene between themselves.

I dashed into the nearest forest, weaving through trees and undergrowth, finally coming to a stop in a secluded clearing. Taking no chances, I pulled out every defensive scroll I could stack upon each other and activated them in quick succession—Magic Reflection, Fortified Sanctuary, Arcane Warding, Divine Aegis, even so obscure ones like Barrier of the Unseen and Heaven’s Embrace.

I then cycled through every defensive skill and spell in my arsenal—Armor of the Indomitable, Sacred Bulwark, Shield of the Eternal. By the end of it, I was glowing like an overbuffed raid boss.

Only then did I allow myself to exhale.

“…Alright,” I muttered, adjusting my stance. “Co out.”

Summon: Holy Spirit~!

The air shimred, and a figure erged—a paladin was kneeling before . Except, he had a face this ti. Holy Spirits didn’t normally have… a face… not to ntion an identity.

“My Lord,” he greeted, voice calm and reverent.

I stared at him for a mont before sighing. “Can I call you Dave?”

He lifted his head slightly. “If it pleases you, My Lord.”

“…Okay, Dave.” I crossed my arms. “Let’s talk.”

Dave remained kneeling, awaiting my words as if they were divine scripture.

I wasted no ti. “What do you know of Lost Legends Online?”

Dave blinked. “I am not familiar with that term, My Lord.”

I frowned. “Do you know what a video ga is?”

“I do not.”

A chill crawled down my spine. I shifted gears. “Are you aware that you’re a ga character?”

Dave looked at with mild confusion. “I am your servant.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He hesitated. “…I do not understand what you an, My Lord.”

I narrowed my eyes. This wasn’t making sense. “Then why do you serve ?”

Dave lowered his head again. “Because I worship you.”

I stared at him. “What.”

“You are my Lord,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “That is enough.”

My thoughts ca to a screeching halt.

Back in LLO, the Gods were our enemies. Instead of worshipping them, Paladins and Priests devoted themselves to the Lost Gods—heroic NPCs or personified concepts that had ascended to godhood through sheer mortal will. That was how it worked.

And yet, Dave was here. Worshipping .

That didn’t fit.

And it really didn’t fit because, as a Paladin, I hadn’t chosen the Divine Descent skill. That ant 'David_69' technically didn’t have a God to worship. The whole point was freedom of faith, where players could pledge themselves to a cause rather than a deity.

So why was Dave acting like this?

I inhaled, forcing myself to focus. “…What do you know about this mory synchronization thing?” There was a ti when my mories synchronized with David_69 and I was imrsed in the life experiences of a ga character.

Dave tilted his head. “Nothing, My Lord.”

That was an even bigger mystery.

Because if he didn’t know, then that ant—

I shut my eyes, thinking.

This wasn’t just a weird chanic. This wasn’t just so lore discrepancy.

Sothing was wrong.

I had a bad feeling about this mory synchronization.

And the more I thought about it, the worse it got.

I stared at Dave, still kneeling before . His unwavering devotion didn’t sit right with —not because I was against having a follower, but because of what it ant.

mory synchronization.

I exhaled, rubbing the bridge of my nose. Should I go for it? Should I synchronize my mories with him?

What would even happen? Would I lose myself?

Last ti, it had happened naturally—I had been performing a sword dance, reminiscing about the ga and my past life. The mories had aligned, and suddenly, sothing inside had clicked.

Did that an synchronization could also be completed if I slept? My gut told yes.

I didn’t like that.

I folded my arms. “Dave.”

“Yes, My Lord?”

“…What do you think I should do?”

Dave lifted his head slightly, his hood shadowing most of his face. “I am uncertain of your dilemma, My Lord. If you seek clarity, then I will pray for your guidance.”

“That’s not helpful.” I sighed. “I’m asking if you think it’s a good idea for to synchronize with you.”

Dave was silent for a mont. Then, slowly, he spoke.

“I do not know what it would entail, but if it brings you closer to understanding yourself… then I believe it would be wise.”

I frowned. “And if it changes ?”

Dave tilted his head. “Would that be a bad thing?”

I hesitated.

Would it?

Would I still be ?

A creeping unease settled in my chest. I didn’t have an answer to that.

Divine Sense had always been a miraculous skill. It wasn’t just an extension of my perception—it was sothing deeper. A connection to the unseen. A way to feel the truth of things beyond just sight or sound. I've been researching and grinding it since I realized the flavor text could be manifested into reality in a manner impossible to translate in a ga chanic.

And right now? Divine Sense was warning .

I didn’t know how exactly, but the mont I even considered synchronizing my mories with Dave, my instincts scread at . The feeling wasn’t one of outright danger, but more like I was about to step past a threshold I couldn’t return from.

Still, hesitation wouldn’t get anywhere.

I clenched my fists. “Fine, let’s do this.”

Dave remained kneeling, watching with unwavering devotion.

Should I try replicating the sword dance from last ti? It had worked before.

Or maybe I should just fall asleep? That seed like the more natural thod, but—

I had a better idea.

It should be possible since a Holy Spirit had its own spell slots, allowing the summon to use a weaker version of my Ultimate Skills.

I extended my hand toward Dave.

"Dave, use Divine Possession on ."

A rush of golden light erupted between us. Unlike my usual skills, this one didn’t feel external—it felt like I was shifting. Falling.

And then—

I wasn’t .

I was him.

And I was inside LLO.

But not as a player.

Not from my comfortable chair, not through a monitor or a headset.

I was inside the storyline.

The world around wasn’t rendered in crisp ga graphics or bound by ga chanics. There were no UI elents, no glowing quest markers, no safe respawns.

It felt real.

So guttural.

So raw.

I—I was in a war.

Flas raged around . The battlefield was soaked in blood. Screams tore through the air. The scent of burning flesh filled my nose. My hands gripped a weapon—a greatsword, chipped and worn from endless combat.

I felt pain.

Pain like I had never felt before.

Not the controlled, calculated damage from a ga battle. Not the dulled pain of a status effect.

Real pain.

Sothing hot ripped through my side, and I gasped, staggering back. A spear had pierced . My vision blurred, but I gritted my teeth and pushed forward.

Enemies surrounded —demons. Twisted beings with eyes like burning coals, their claws dripping with corruption.

I cut them down.

Again.

And again.

And again.

My body ached. My breath was ragged. My legs trembled.

But I kept fighting.

Because that was what I had always done.

Because I had no other choice.

I was a knight.

A Paladin of the Lost.

And I would not fall.

It was strange.

What had Dave thought when he was fighting these wars?

What had been going through his mind while he cut down demon after demon, while he bled, while he suffered?

Because from where I stood—inside his mories—this wasn’t anything like what I’d experienced playing Lost Legends Online.

It didn’t look fun.

Not at all.

Yet… what was this feeling?

Through Dave’s perspective, I could feel it.

His devotion.

His sincerity.

His unwavering belief in—

A voice.

A presence that tugged at his consciousness, whispering commands in the heat of battle. It told him what skills to use, how to position himself, how to destroy his enemies, and how to protect his allies.

The guidance wasn’t intrusive. It wasn’t controlling.

It was trusted.

He believed in it.

He relied on it.

And he followed its will with absolute conviction.

Dave enjoyed the battlefield. The chaos, the struggle, the weight of every decision. And while war was a necessity, it wasn’t the only thing he lived for.

The World Arena.

That was where his passion truly lay.

The endless clashes with his peers, the thrill of battle, the challenge of adapting to different opponents.

Here, in these mories, I could hear him laughing.

Grinning as he exchanged blows with rival warriors.

Calling out to them as if they were old friends.

And then—

Familiar voices.

Familiar words.

—"So you’ve finally caught up, huh?” A rival’s smirk, a greatsword resting on his shoulder.

—"Don’t think you can beat just because I lost last ti!” The fierce declaration of a young warrior, fists raised, flas dancing around him.

—"A duel between heroes is a conversation of blades.” An old knight, his stance perfect, his eyes filled with knowing respect.

—"The world will know my na!" A brash challenger, reckless but determined.

—I even heard my own past words. "Tch, you’re getting predictable." A taunt, thrown carelessly before a sudden counterattack.

The mories weren’t just static images or hollow echoes.

They were alive.

They were real.

And they made realize sothing.

What the hell had I been doing all this ti, just playing LLO as a ga?

Because to Dave…

It had never been a ga.

I was starting to develop a certain level of understanding.

Lost Legends Online wasn’t just a ga.

I didn’t know what it was exactly—not yet. But this? This was sothing else.

It felt too real.

Not in the way people usually said it, like “Oh, the graphics are so realistic!” or “Wow, the AI is amazing!”

No.

This was ta.

LLO wasn’t just a ga. It was either a representation of sothing, or worse, a dium that facilitated the lives of the so-called “NPCs” in it.

Was it their reality?

Were they just as real as I was?

Or was it that LLO connected to sothing outside of itself?

I didn’t know.

And the more I thought about it, the worse my headache got.

So what was next? The ga devs were actually the Lost Gods?

No, that was stupid. Right?

Right?

I groaned, rubbing my temples.

This was too much. If I thought too hard about it, I’d go insane.

But I couldn’t help it. The questions kept coming.

And then—

I rembered.

Not the usual nostalgic mories of playing LLO.

But that mont.

The one ti I had actually felt sothing was wrong.

A hidden boss fight. A bugged-out nightmare of an enemy.

—

It was late at night. I was supposed to log out. But there I was, deep in an abandoned dungeon, following vague clues from old forum posts about a secret encounter.

The na?

[??????????]

Yeah. That’s what it looked like. The naplate was just glitched text.

And the boss?

It wasn’t normal.

It wasn’t ant to be in the ga.

Its attacks didn’t follow any logical pattern. It didn’t move like an enemy was supposed to move.

It phased in and out of existence. It rewrote reality around itself.

The damage numbers didn’t make sense. The status effects weren’t listed.

And worst of all—

It spoke.

Not in proper dialogue. Not like an NPC.

It typed.

In the in-ga chat.

Random, fragnted ssages.

"Who—"

"You do not—"

"This is not—"

I should have logged out.

But I didn’t.

Because I was . Because I was greedy for the loot. Because soone on the forums said there was a legendary drop.

So I did the only thing I could.

I kited mobs to it like crazy.

If I couldn’t beat it normally, I’d use the environnt against it. I had entire waves of elite enemies chasing , and I kept weaving them into the eldritch boss’s attack range.

It worked. Sort of.

The thing reacted. It hated being interrupted.

And for a while, it looked like I could cheese my way through.

Then—

It adapted.

The glitches changed.

The boss began absorbing the mobs.

It rewrote its own abilities.

It was learning.

That’s when I panicked and started calling in favors.

Every friend I had online at the ti, every high-level player I could think of, I sent out ergency ssages.

Most ignored .

A few laughed.

But a handful took the bait.

They ca.

They saw.

They regretted everything.

Even in a full raid group, we were barely managing. The bugged-out abomination was wrecking everyone with unbalanced, nonsense chanics. It was erasing people from the fight in ways that didn’t even make sense.

No death animation. No grave marker. Just—gone.

And then—

I got the last hit.

A stroke of luck. A final critical strike.

I barely even processed what happened before the screen froze.

Then the ga crashed.

Then my PC crashed.

Then—

Then—

My entire room flickered with light.

My PC sparked.

And the last thing I saw before my consciousness faded—

Was that boss’s glitched-out, broken text na appearing one final ti.

And then I woke up.

Not in my room.

Not in front of my PC.

But here.

In this world.

In my character’s body.

I exhaled slowly, feeling the blood drain from my face.

Shit.

Had that thing done sothing to ?