I Became The Pope, Now What?

Chapter 602 601. Pope Sylvester Maximilian

Sylvester stepped out of the door and closed it behind him. The eerie and deadly feeling, along with the rushing solarium in the air, vanished with it. With a sigh, he scanned his surroundings as the torches on the walls rekindled on their own. Yet, after having learned what lay ahead of him in the struggle, it was hard to find any warmth.

“Maxy, why is your heart going boom boom?” Miraj inquired as he nestled between the chest armor. “Are you scared?”

Sylvester clenched his hands, both of them. “What if I say I am? Will that help?”

Miraj wriggled out of his seat, jumped onto Sylvester’s shoulder, and then hugged his head from the side, enveloping his fluffy paws across his forehead. “I used to be scared too, Maxy. But whenever you’re with me, I feel very strong. Maybe you can find someone who makes you feel strong?”

Sylvester chuckled wryly and patted Miraj’s head. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Chonky. That person has been lost… for a long time now.”

“Umm… Then what about me? I make you feel stronger? Like I ate all the water… Maybe I can eat worlds too.” Miraj curiously muttered, unsure of it himself.

But that immediately led Sylvester to the idea. Indeed, what he witnessed in one of the trials made no sense. Miraj had drained an entire planet of its water and had grown to the size of a massive mountain. The enigma surrounding Miraj’s existence only continued to grow larger, and he had no idea where the evolutions would even stop.

Squeak!

Sylvester squished Miraj by the sides and held him up to his face. Gazing at the plump, fluffy, and energizing face instantly lifted his spirits. “Chonky… just as I promised you. I have now become the Pope, so let’s go on a journey to find your origins.”

Miraj’s eyes widened and gleamed brightly. He threw his paws in the air in joy. “Really? Let’s gooo… You’re the best, Maxy.”

“Hah… I know.” Sylvester chuckled and walked out of the massive chamber. He kept the key tied around his neck, however. He could not afford anybody else entering the room.

Thud!

“Your Holiness,” Inquisitor High Lord appeared just outside the chamber’s entrance, saluting with his fist slamming on his chest. “I feel growth in your magic. I hope the price was not anything tragic.”

Sylvester nodded his head. Indeed, he felt a surge of solarium in his body, much more than ever before. However, he had not grown in his magical rank, and this meant he was once again stronger than what his rank indicated.

‘Considering my own case, the magical and knightly ranks are obsolete ways to measure one’s power. Perhaps it’s time to revamp this as well.’ Sylvester made a mental note.

“How long have you been standing here?” Sylvester inquired, knowing the old man stood there to guard his back, worried about him because of the Blood Contract.

“Merely a few moments, Your Holiness. You entered the door not long ago,” Lord Inquisitor answered. “I hope you concluded what you owe.”

‘Time contraction? I’m sure I spent at least a few days inside there.’ Sylvester understood something new about interdimensional travel that day. But it also made him happy since this meant he wouldn’t have to disappear for long periods when training with the Elder God.

“The current generation of everything that lives in this world is perhaps the luckiest, Lord Inquisitor.” Sylvester proclaimed, a grand statement in itself. “Sacrifices have been made by those the realm will forever consider evil—The truth the world knows is akin to the tip of a needle.”

“What happened to Saint Scepter?” Inquisitor High Lord asked.

Sylvester walked forward, allowing the old man to follow. “He… tried what he could. What matters is that his chapter is now over, despite the knowledge he left me, leaving me in more worry than ever. Solis… is not supreme, Lord Inquisitor. There are ‘gods’ that can rule time, space, realities—create life and destroy it with a mere thought.”

Inquisitor High Lord’s eyes flickered crimson behind his visor. “Are we to battle these beings?”

“Perhaps one day I might need to,” Sylvester replied, indirectly stating he was the only one capable of fighting them. “Enough of this; we must focus on uniting the world first. Summon the entire Sanctum Council. I need an update on all previous orders. Tell Gabriel to get ready to hold the Holy Court. Allow commoners and nobles alike to come and express their grievances.”

Inquisitor High Lord, trailing behind, observed as Sylvester’s shoulders seemed broader and stronger, yet still slightly hunched under the weight of responsibilities. Maybe it was just an illusion to his eyes, but he hoped to share some of that burden—especially now after his destiny shifted and his end was denied.

“A letter from Alfia has arrived. They want to send an envoy to the Holy Land to discuss the issue of the plague currently spreading through their lands. Likewise, the Dragons are thinking about seeking our help as the demon’s influence expands.” Lord Inquisitor detailed the recent events.

But Sylvester wasn’t interested as he already knew this outcome was a matter of time. “Any word about Bloodrain? We can’t afford to lose any more powerful members.”

“A search party was dispatched but found no proof of where Bloodrain went. We are attempting to find an anti-Light operative to interrogate. But as things are going, the mystery will only erogate,” said the Lord Inquisitor.

Sylvester was concerned for the man. “Try reaching out to the main branch of the Anti-Light. I became the Pope within a year, just as their leader had wagered. Their organization is no longer necessary since their issues were with the past administration.”

‘I should try and speak with him once again. Leaving a Supreme Wizard unmonitored could spell doom for all my reforms.’

…

Within an hour, the Sanctum Council gathered to discuss matters. Sylvester didn’t tell them about the Elder God or even the Primordial Gods, but he did reveal that their battle was far from over. Their only focus for now was the prosperity of life and unity and peace between all continents.

“What’s the status of the constitution committee?” Sylvester inquired, gazing at Gabriel.

Gabriel nodded and placed a thick stack of papers on the white stone table. “This is a draft, but we are still working on removing some redundancies, loopholes, and more. It will take some time to discuss the division of power with various nobles. We cannot afford them rebelling—there is one problem, however.”

Everyone straightened their backs once Gabriel said that. It seemed they all knew about it already and understood what bloody affairs were going to be discussed next.

Sylvester sensed a change in the air. “Speak openly. What happened?” 𝘯𝑜𝘷𝑙．𝑐𝘰𝘮

“Rebellion in the Ironstone Duchy of Gracia. Looking at history, it’s the area where you spent most of your time as a Sanctum Inspector. From overseeing Article Sixty-six on Duke Ranthburg to defeating Prince Daemon Gracia, who aspired to become the king. The nobles in Ironstone Duchy have been impacted by you the most as your military campaigns hurt them frequently—both financially and personally.

“Under the leadership of Count Shortwood, all nobles of Ironstone have united to refuse recognizing you as the new Pope. Simultaneously, they’ve demanded reparations from Queen Isabella, and if not provided, they’re threatening a civil war.” Gabriel expounded in detail.

Bam!

Felix slammed his fist on the table, looking domineering as he stayed in his armor and visor. “I told Isabella I can go there and bring each of their heads.”

Sylvester raised his hand to halt Felix and then murmured something toward his shoulder where Miraj sat. Swiftly, a cough-like sound reverberated from nowhere, and a cotton bag materialized out of thin air, dropping onto the table.

Without hesitation, Sylvester opened the bag and retrieved what resembled a child’s doll. He pressed the doll’s head, causing it to deform, and astonishingly, blood emerged despite it just being cloth.

Next, Sylvester pulled out another doll and repeated the action. Once again, the doll bled. Sensing the bewilderment, he addressed the room, “During my conflict against Prince Daemon Gracia, I also confronted his witch wife. She had crafted these dolls for every noble patriarch of Ironstone, ensuring their loyalty and compliance. You can imagine the outcome when I damage these.”

Woosh!

Sylvester continued to make the dolls ooze blood, deforming their heads. “Ironstone Duchy is a troublesome entity. It resisted me persistently, and the nobles refused to acknowledge their own failings. They stood with the false Pope, defied holy decrees, and even now—display heretical tendencies. Truthfully, this action should invoke Article Sixty-six, but I don’t desire that extent of bloodshed. Spread the word—let this be recognized as the divine intervention, a retribution for their unholy intentions.”

Pluck!

Sylvester decapitated another doll. There were hundreds of them, and he killed each one with his own hands while continuing the meeting. His hands soon turned crimson with blood, but he cared not and talked about the proposed Innovation Protection Act that he hoped would help progress the world scientifically.

“Tonight, we shall venture into the underground chamber that holds past inventions. We need to create an inventory and classify will forever last.”

Eventually, he finished killing each of the dolls and stood up as it them all. Let’s not miss the chance to utilize the creations of honorable men from the past. Let’s build peace and prosperity that will forever last.”

Eventually, he finished killing each of the dolls and stood up as it was time to address the first official Holy Court.

…

Sylvester arrived at the massive hall in the Pope’s Palace. Clergymen were running around in haste the entire time, trying to manage the people entering the hall. Meanwhile, the scribes took their seats to get ready to record all the events.

At the far end of the hall, Sylvester spotted the new throne resting on the elevated platform. Less grandiose, yet still potent, those were the words Sylvester pondered. Constructed from wood, adorned with gems and enchanted stones, it was painted in shades of gold and red, matching the royal colors. The craftsmanship of the dwarves was commendable.

Sylvester didn’t change into any royal attire. Wearing his usual robes, he simply placed the mitre on his head and ascended the stairs to take his seat. Beside him, Gabriel stood with a booklet in his hand; meanwhile, the other Sanctum Council members sat in regular chairs below the throne platform, on the sides.

Simplistic and solely focused on efficiency, no flattery was permitted when the Holy Court was in session. Guards remained vigilant at the sides of the pathway leading from the gates to the throne. Those wishing to meet the Pope were admitted one at a time only.

“Let the first one in,” Sylvester ordered.

Gabriel nodded to his assistant stationed near the gates. Soon, the gates parted, and a lone man entered. With black hair and fair skin, he appeared to be a commoner based on his attire, possibly a farmer, considering the state of his skin and hair. His clothes were patched in places, yet they were clean.

Fear etched on his face, desperation and anxiety evident in his eyes, the man tentatively walked up to the base of the stairs leading to Sylvester. Immediately, he knelt down on his knees and clasped his hands together in pleading.

“Please help me, my lord… My village is in ruins, my lord… thirty farmers in my village have committed suicide already, my lord… please have mercy.”

Gabriel cleared his throat and corrected the man. “His Holiness—

That’s how you should address the Pope, my friend.”

Thud!

The peasant man slammed his face onto the carpet floor. “Forgive me, my l… Your Holiness… I’m just an uneducated small farmer. Most of us go through our lives without meeting even a baron… I-I was flustered to meet the mighty Pope Sylvester… Forgive me.”

Sylvester raised his hand but refrained from singing or giving a lecture. This wasn’t the right moment for it. He signaled the guards, and promptly, a small wooden chair was positioned behind the peasant man. Then, the guards lifted him and settled him onto the chair.

“Don’t be scared. State your name, and what led to the demise of your fellow villagers?” Sylvester said, his voice projecting loudly and regally. “Tell me everything calmly and in detail.”

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