I Became The Pope, Now What?

Chapter 722 721. Ten Thousand Years Ago

722 721. Ten Thousand Years Ago

“Eeeee!” A massive eagle cried in the sky and descended to land on Castell’s shoulder. “Aye, Pope… Regretfully, he did.”

Amused and at the same time questioning if this giant boy was mentally challenged, Sylvester shrugged and welcomed him regardless. He didn’t fail to hear the part about the ‘O’fated one, the man of the legends, the ancient texts.’

“Prince Castell, why were you sent by your father?” Sylvester asked him.

“For my glorious purpose, of course. I’m the Crown Prince, and I shall spread the name of the Giants across the world once again. No longer w—”

“He has a message to give,” the eagle on his shoulder cried, shortening Castell’s response to six words. “But we need proof that you are indeed the Pope. The giants went into seclusion to keep it secure for millennials.”

Sylvester shrugged and raised his palm towards the giant, and spoke a sermon vocally, audible to everyone across the massive port. Immediately after, a warm halo of light appeared behind his head, enshrining everyone in a positive light.

?Welcome to the Holy Land, Prince of Giants,

May this journey lead to a fruitful alliance.

I bless you to bask in the warmth of the Lord,

Stand before the Pope, sometimes called a bard.?

Castell, like a little kid, stared at Sylvester with sparkles in his eyes. It was as if he was just a step away from throwing away his inheritance and accepting the faith of Solis.

?Let’s sit together and break bread.

Let’s eat for the tough journey ahead.

By the Holy Light, may we always be led.

May our enemies shiver in utter dread.?

Sylvester chose his words carefully, keeping in mind that this man before him was likely just a kid. And kids always liked to hear exciting things.

“Woooaaaah!” Castell exclaimed excitedly. “That was so amazing. I feel goosebumps all over me. Don’t you think so, Bajj?”

“What a gullible child.” Bajj sighed in disappointment. “No wonder His Majesty had to send me with you.”

Sylvester chuckled and invited them, “Come with me to the Pope’s Palace. It’s almost lunchtime.”

“Yes, I’m starving!” Castell didn’t think twice before following Sylvester.

Meanwhile, Sylvester had to keep a flying furball tightly captured in his arms as he tried to fly towards the talking bird and check it out. Saying it could be related to his species, which was clearly impossible.

…

Pope’s Palace,

The special kitchen in the first basement of the Palace was in chaos. Almost two hundred cooks worked together to make the meals, and yet they all looked tired and almost dead. Running around, shouting at each other, no matter what they made, how much they made, the massive saucers kept returning to them empty with a desire for more.

“T-This is insanity! We can’t cook this much,” the chief chef said, holding up a white flag and falling down to his knees. “I’ll go and ask His Holiness for mercy later. We’re almost out of ingredients in just three hours. Even the dragons didn’t eat this much.”

Ting! Ting!

“Saint Wazir is coming! Get up and salute!” A guard came running in and shouted for everyone to get ready.

“I’ll ask him for help,” the Chief Chef decided and got up tiredly.

A few moments later, Gabriel entered the kitchen with a curious gaze. The cooking stations appeared scarcely manned, far from the activity he was hoping for. “What’s going on here? Prince Castell wishes for more meat.”

“There is none left, respected Saint. We were never informed about this special guest. We’re no wizards either—our bodies are at breaking point. We cannot cook anymore, Saint.”

Gabriel sighed and rubbed his eyes, cursing Sylvester under his breath. “Fine, I will trouble them. Do you have a communicator installed?”

“O-Of course, Saint.” The Chief Chef quickly brought Gabriel to the magical communicator.

Gabriel quickly dialed a number on it and spoke in an official manner. “Good afternoon, this is Saint Wazir. Write down an urgent order for the Bards, directly for the Pope and Prince of Giants. Yes, five hundred buckets of fried chicken, change the flavor and spices for each fifty buckets. A hundred cheeseburgers, two hundred bags of french fries, and fifty milkshakes, divide equal numbers into all the flavors. Add thirty large pizzas, the loaded ones. Sixty plates of fish and chips, and at last, five whole buckets of ice-cream. Bring them immediately.”

“O-Oh Solis…” the Chief Chef sighed in pity. “Have mercy on those poor souls.”

…

Sylvester sat with Castell beside a special table that he modified for themselves. It was beside a balcony overlooking the sea and the beautiful gardens. The smooth breeze was making the lunch much more soothing, albeit all the unsavory noises of a giant chewing his food messily, and getting scolded each time by the big eagle.

“You can continue eating. More food must be on the way.” Sylvester was done with his lunch hours ago. “Enlighten me about the reason for your visit, please.”

“Oh… father said,” Castell quickly gulped down his food and answered. “He said that ‘You are the prince of Gantis. Blood of Fortius Gralith runs through your veins. Do not fear any; bow to none. Your fist is firm, your body unyielding, and your mind nourished. Go, and fulfill the destiny of this Kingdom—Guide the one named ten thousand years ago. To his destiny that he may not know,’ So I came to tell you about your destiny, because my family believes you are the one named ten thousand years ago.”

‘Ten thousand years ago? Ugh, I’m not even going to try to think with logic this time.’ Sylvester surrendered himself to the mention of such grand timeframes. ‘But this means the giants know about history beyond the past five thousand years.’

“And what is this destiny of mine?” He inquired.

“Cas, say those words.” The eagle named Bajj patted the giant boy.

“What?”

“The spell your father taught you.”

Castell closed his eyes and tried to remember. “Umm! Oh, that one? Yes, yes, it goes like this—Inomiki Onomiki Iris Egris Kaecel Sylvathon’ I think that’s i—”

Thud!

“Prince!” Sylvester jumped to his feet in alarm as the giant boy fell face-first on the empty plate he was eating from. “What happened…”

“M-Maxy… I feel dizzy.”

Sylvester looked below his table and found Miraj falling asleep as well. Once again, he looked at the table and noticed Bajj had also fallen asleep. Yet, he felt nothing other than a massive explosion of invisible solarium from Castell’s body.

‘A Trojan horse?’

Immediately, Sylvester tried to speak with Gabriel and call for a lockdown of the Holy Land. However, despite his best efforts, he couldn’t find the Solarium Signature. ‘Is he asleep? No, is he also unconscious like this?’

“Ten thousand years…”

‘It’s not his voice.’ Sylvester prepared for battle as Castell’s body began to wake up. But there was something different about him. His voice was different, and the Solarium explosion coming from his body was creating something similar to an illusion around them. Like a dark void, with a superimposed ghostly figure on Castell’s body.

“Who are you?” Sylvester questioned him. “Did that spell activate something?” .

The ghostly figure on Catell’s body formed a vibrant, white beard, and his hair grew long as well. The facial features made it seem old, and the shape of the body was more than muscular—

a beast was a better description.

“I am Gargamon Gralith, the fifth King of Giants,” the voice echoed, old and majestic, filled with power and wisdom. “The invocation of the secret spell must mean the named one has been found… Are you, Sylvester Maximilian? Jonathan Colt Westerling?”

‘Once again, someone takes the name I’ve almost forgotten.’ Sylvester’s gaze narrowed down, and he established his Supreme Void to ensure nobody could hear them. ‘Fifth King? I don’t know how far in the past it was.’

“I am.”

Gargamon stared at Sylvester’s face silently, as if he was evaluating him. “The visions of the golden god were accurate. You look as I was shown… ten thousand years ago. Foretold of the one who shall end the cycle, for this is the last chance.”

“Be more precise and elaborative, Your Majesty,” Sylvester respectfully said. “I don’t understand anything, as the world lacks history beyond the past five thousand years. What last chance do you speak about?”

“Of course.” King Gargamon raised his right hand, moving Castell’s body as if it were his own. All around them, faint flashing images started appearing, showing a bloody battlefield. “It was a war that encircled the world, and spread chaos in the life of every living creature in existence.

“The humans, the dwarves, the elves, the giants—a battle for survival, a battle beyond the control of gods, yet under their gaze. I made the decision to close the gates of Gantis, never to be opened until you were to appear. The ancient lords and kings of humans, dragons, and elves killed one another, but I made sure the visions and your destiny were passed down by my generations for this very moment.”

‘A war five thousand years ago?’ Sylvester frowned.

“Why do we not remember anything about this war? It’s unlikely that everyone died, since your descendants are alive.”

King Gargamon smiled in a self-deprecating way and changed the flashing holographic image. It was now a grand bird’s eye view from the sky, as a vast amount of land was suddenly engulfed in a mystic white hue, making castles turn to dust, cities vanish, and people fall unconscious, while many others vanish.

“The history is written by the victor, Sylvester Maximilian.” He answered. “And we lost that bloody war.”

“Against whom?” .𝒎

“The demons.”

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