I Became The Pope, Now What?

Chapter 583 582. Battle of Miraj City IV: Changing Destiny

The bright radiance continued. The white light exploded from the Elder Rune array and turned into a glittering white mist. It entered every nook and cranny of the city; no matter how high or how low, none were spared.

Clank!

Thud!

The aftermath was immediate. Sylvester looked around and noticed the lack of raging voices from the soldiers who had recently swung their swords and spears at them. The bombardment from the wizards had also fallen silent—engulfing the entire city in an eerie stillness.

The mist took some time to disperse as it ran its course. The sparks it made were beautiful to one’s eye but also held a certain sedative that could calm the nerves of its victims, making them easier to manipulate mentally for a short while.

Sylvester coughed a little blood from his mouth and knelt down weakly. But he didn’t let his knees fully touch the paved tiles as he grabbed King Highland’s sword and tried to hoist himself up. Balancing with just one arm proved slightly annoying, but he slowly forced his mind to adapt.

“Sylvester!” Felix’s voice came from above, followed by a strong gust of wind that came from the sky.

It was Emperor Raz’s dragon, which hovered over the city briefly and returned as swiftly as it came. However, Felix and Aurora leaped down from its back, with their blades out and magic at the ready.

Aurora approached to help Sylvester stand up, “Why is everyone kneeling? What was that light?”

Sylvester appreciated her helping hand. He held her shoulder for some support and stayed like that. He glared at Lord Inquisitor’s face with pride and confidence, “You have no right to die before you see Aurora reach her peak, before she gets married or has children if she desires. Not before you see the new world I’ll make—I’ve had enough of other people talking about my destiny. I’ll choose my own path.”

The Inquisitor High Lord seemed frozen in his place. His damaged eyes had a look of confusion and guilt. He gazed around himself as countless soldiers knelt before them in all directions, as if they were lifeless. He had accepted his death that day, as the vision had foretold, yet he found things going differently from his expectations.

He glanced at Sylvester at last and spoke in a weak yet resolute voice, “Your Holiness—”

“Sylvester, that’s what you must call me when in private. For a man who’s somehow known me since the age of three, I’m no different from family to you. Aurora does the same; you should too—and this is an order.” Sylvester ordered, mouthing his words with much struggle.

The Inquisitor High Lord’s lips twitched a little as if he was overwhelmed with emotions. Sylvester detected the scent but didn’t respond, as the big man likely didn’t want to show them.

When he spoke again, a faint wisp of fire escaped his lips. “S… Sylvester… For years I believed the words of those visions. Somewhere down that path, I turned them into ambitions. Blind to realize that your words are the same as those revelations—That your orders are also fate’s calculations.”

The Inquisitor High Lord grunted and lowered himself to one knee before Sylvester. His face contorted as if he had aches in various places. “To die when you allow me to, if that is your mandate—To you I surrender my fate. Until the end of my natural time—I pray that you continue gracing me with your melodious rhymes.”

With that, Inquisitor High Lord’s head slumped forward, and his body froze in that state. Sylvester quickly moved forward, reaching out to feel for a pulse at the man’s neck. The first thing he noticed was the burning temperature of his skin, but thankfully, that meant he was alive.

“Aurora, take Lord Inquisitor to the sick bay and tell the healers to start working. You only have one hour before the soldiers in the city wake up. Place them all in the dungeons and find the rest of the Grand Wizards. They must be somewhere in the city, injured.” Sylvester firmly ordered and stood up straight with some effort.

“I’m getting married?” Aurora eyed Sylvester just then, referring to what Sylvester had said before.

Sylvester chuckled and mentally prepared himself for another battle. “I merely said it to provoke the Lord Inquisitor. After all, every old man wants to see grandkids in his life. But if you want to settle down someday, I won’t mind—I’ll make new laws that allow clergymen to have families, with some checks and balances, and exclusion from the highest administrative offices.”

Aurora sighed and proceeded to hoist Lord Inquisitor up by putting herself under one of his massive shoulders. “I know where you’re going next. Do you think you can win?”

Sylvester sighed and glanced toward the Pope’s Palace in the distance, where he felt Pope Axel was. “I can’t afford not to.”

“Then,” Aurora prepared to leave, but before that, she handed Sylvester her own sword. “It’s light and quick, and has my thunder imbued in it. Just keep it with you in case the other breaks. And… I’ll kill you if you die.”

“…”

Sylvester watched her retreat toward the sick bay. Then he glanced at his dear friend, Felix. While the man had come to help, he still stood with an arched back, and coughed repeatedly while groaning in pain. “And what will you do, Felix?”

“I shall fight beside you,” Felix replied and raised his Darksaber sword. “I will…”

Felix began coughing uncontrollably and vomited blood onto the poor unconscious soldiers kneeling nearby. “I can still fight, Max… Let’s go and beat that Pope’s ass. I got a score to settle with him.”

“At this rate, the only score you’ll be settling is your decreasing lifespan. Go to the sick bay and get yourself treated. Don’t give Isabella another reason to cry.” Sylvester ordered and placed his heavy hand on Felix’s shoulder, making him feel pain in his stomach. It made him realize how weak he was at that moment.

“You can’t fight him alone!” Felix protested, his concern evident.

But Sylvester was somewhat confident this time. “I accepted the Blood Contract from Saint Scepter. If I die now, that would oppose the man’s interest—he also ordered the Pope around for years. Pope Axel can’t kill me without inviting the wrath of his childhood friend.”

Felix found some solace in that information. Although he still felt annoyed that Sylvester was now stuck in a slave contract. Truly tired and worried, he inched closer to hug Sylvester, “I won’t go anywhere—I’ll wait close to your battleground. I’ve lost a brother already, and I can’t lose another.”

Sylvester hugged Felix with one arm and patted his back, “Don’t die a pathetic death while waiting for me.”

“Haha,” Felix laughed. “Take my sword. It’s from the Holy Land’s treasury.”

Sylvester eyed the lengthy Darksaber. “I only have one arm. What would I do with three swords?”

“Just in case.”

Sylvester sighed and took it as well, only to place it on his back. With three magnificent blades, he turned around and swiftly strode away. “I’ll be at the Pope’s Palace.”

Felix couldn’t walk too fast, so he allowed Sylvester to leave. But before the Holy Bard disappeared from his sight, he shouted one last time, “CHONKY! I don’t know who you are… where you are… Please, protect him.”

Sylvester, slightly amused, silently smiled while walking away. He knew some people would figure it out after he shouted that name so many times.

“Aye, Aye, horny Felix!” Miraj chirped as loud as he could while flying by Sylvester’s head.

“…”

Felix bellowed in laughter in the distance. From Miraj’s voice, he already knew he was going to love whoever this invisible being was.

…

Sylvester wasn’t feeling well in the least. The guise he showed everyone disappeared once he walked the empty streets. He had no solarium left in his body. His blood was being depleted rapidly, to the point where he felt troubled from merely walking. Speaking felt like a waste of energy; his eyelids felt as heavy as lead.

His vision had turned blurry, and his body was completely numb. He felt nauseous, and his head ached; while blood trickled out of every hole in his body. But the battle had to come to an end that day.

He used King Highland’s sword as if it was a walking stick and talked with Miraj along the way, “You’re going to get a few more friends after this battle is over.”

“Maxy, Dol-Dol, Big Mum, Felix, Fireman, Skele, and Arawra—We’ll all play together after. Eat tasty treats.” Miraj already started to dream. “But…” ｏｖ𝚕．ｃｏ𝚖

“I’ll be fine,” Sylvester reassured Miraj, noticing the raised hair of his long eyebrows. “Give me the sack number zero-zero-one.”

Miraj closed his eyes, remembering what it was while humming, “Hmm… The tiny one?”

“Yes.”

Miraj quickly began to vomit. It took some time as the item was given to Miraj years ago, nearly a week after they had met each other for the first time. “Uwaa… It was almost lost.”

Miraj helped Sylvester by picking up the small sack and handing it to him.

“Stay at a safe distance away from the Pope. He could sense you before, so he might do that again. Don’t try to save me if you see me falling or injured—make sure you stay quiet too.” Sylvester gave Miraj firm orders while rubbing the unknown substance from the sack to the blades of the swords.

Sensing seriousness in his tone, Miraj nodded his head and hugged Sylvester’s neck tightly. “But if he hurts you too much, I’ll eat him!”

“Hah…” Sylvester chuckled, not really sure if Miraj could do it. “If I die—you can.”

Finally, they stopped talking as they arrived at the entrance to the Pope’s Palace. Tensions hung in the air as the injured bodies of inquisitors were littered around. But to Sylvester’s surprise, none of them were dead, just severely injured.

‘He didn’t come here to destroy.’ Sylvester had suspected it before, and now he was sure. ‘He came here for me.’

“May the Holy Light enlighten us,” Sylvester muttered as soon as he stepped into the massive gates of the Palace.

“Do you still believe in that?”

Immediately, as if an answer to his prayer, a familiar voice responded. An old voice he had known since young, since he played on the lap of the very same man. He heard his laughter and sensed his positive emotions. Surprisingly, nothing had changed—no scent of hatred in the air, nor anger, only admiration, hope, and worship.

Wearily, Sylvester looked ahead, and there, in the grand expanse of the palace corridor, stood the Pope, with his magnificent mitre and armor, his red cape unblemished.

“Why not? Unlike you—Solice never betrayed me.”

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