I Became The Pope, Now What?

With a mind alert and a body primed for action, Sylvester stood at the ready, poised to engage in battle if the situation necessitated it. Yet, he maintained his composure, refraining from initiating any action that might provoke his adversary.

Despite being cognizant that his actions were pushing the limits of tolerance, he hoped that the Grand Wizard would exhibit the intelligence to comprehend the consequences of causing harm to a clergy member who held the exalted position of Archbishop. Such an act would be akin to stirring up a hornet's nest.

Vinland Markinson, with an air of disdain, dismissed Archbishop Nelson's concerns with a dismissive wave of his hand, conjuring in an instant a throne of sturdy stone behind him, upon which he crossed his legs and assumed a calm and collected demeanour. "I harbour no ill intentions towards you, Archbishop Nelson. On the contrary, my sole purpose here today is to inform you of our decision to cease all of our strategic activities within the confines of the Sorrow Kingdom in the aftermath of the turbulent storm wrought by the recent earthquake," he stated, his voice measured and composed.

Archbishop sneered at the man's calm words. "You have no shame, that I always knew. You lack every speck of humanity, now I've seen. You call your spree of destruction 'strategic' actions? Just say what you want and leave, heathen!"

The Grand Wizard looked annoyed, evident by the frown on his face.

Woosh!

Abruptly, he stood up and walked closer to the Archbishop slowly. "You have a loud mouth for someone so weak. You were banished by the church to here, so I suggest you remain within your limits."

Archbishop Nelson didn't act scared and stared into Vinland's eyes coldly. "It appears your age and strength did not bring wisdom with it. I may have been sent here as repercussions, but don't forget they can always use my death to bring their fury upon you and your people… Argh!"

Vinland was tall, more than six feet tall. He didn't look old either, so he was likely in his prime. Meanwhile, Archbishop Nelson was an old man in the last leg of his life.

Vinland vanished from his spot and appeared right in front of the Archbishop. He clutched Nelson's throat and raised him in the air easily. "Don't push it, old fool. Is dying really worth it?"

"Is killing me worth losing your entire Duchy?" Archbishop retorted.

Vinland's hand trembled, and his brows twitched involuntarily. Without delay, he gently placed the esteemed Archbishop back on the ground and proceeded to depart with an air of haughty dignity. "Let it be known that the Grand Duchy of the Patch shall not meddle in this affair for a span of one month. We shall neither offer aid nor obstruct your noble endeavours. After all, you have a plague to fight, too," he declared with measured solemnity.

Sylvester stepped forward at that moment and asked brazenly. "You caused it, didn't you? The plague was made and started by the Patch?"

Boom!

With a short flash of dark luminescence emanating from his palm, Vinland unleashed a forceful blow upon Sylvester, propelling him several inches away. Seething with fury, Vinland strode forward towards him.

"You insipid scoundrel," he spat venomously. "How dare you besmirch the noble reputation of my homeland! If I were to terminate your miserable existence at this very moment, it would be well-deserved retribution. No one would raise a finger for a mere priest."

Vinland's eyes glimmered with a malevolent gleam as he towered over Sylvester. The air was thick with tension as if a storm was brewing. Sylvester felt his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to regain his bearings.

He knew that he had to be cautious in his next move. He could not let Vinland's words get to him, nor could he let his guard down.

Sylvester held himself back and kept his light magic at bay. He could feel that the strange dark-coloured magic that Vinland used was the Darkness element. He had never come face to face with the element before, but now, he realised the advantage he had over darkness. He felt no pain from Vineland's attack, just a simple push.

'Was that a strong attack? Or did he not intentionally hurt me?' Sylvester wondered.

But he didn't push it as he didn't want to risk exposing himself. He needed to make a list of all the heathens first to kill them all in one go.

"Are you sure about that?" Sylvester asked while looking at Vinland. He was not interested in anything with him, however. He had already gotten the answers through the scents. "I may not be a higher clergyman, but you should know that the Church is merely looking for one excuse to come after you. So tell me, can you fight off the entire Inquisition, the entire Guardians of Light order, the Pope, and the Saint Sceptre? I don't think you can."

Vinland gnashed his dentition; his cranium suffused with veins, and his irises ablaze with an unprecedented crimson hue. Black spheres of fire suddenly manifested in his palms as he simmered with incensed animosity and fixed his scorching gaze unwaveringly upon Sylvester.

"You… Archbishop Nelson, you sure did attract an insect similar to you. Young priest, you just made an enemy out of me. Be sure to watch your back from now on." Vinland threatened him before moving away and walking the same path he had arrived.

Sylvester didn't speak it loud but did think of something. 'Ah, welcome to the club then.'

The menacing, overwhelming sense in the air vanished after a few minutes, and Sylvester felt much more relaxed. He glanced at the Archbishop and tried to check on the old man. "Are you alright, your grace?"

"Yes, I am fine, young priest. But I must say, you should not have said that to him. Now, he will make it his life's mission to send all the Widowmakers against you. He is a very petty man and won't forget what just happened." Archbishop warned him.

Sylvester shrugged. "There are people in the Holy Land who wish that I did not live, so I don't believe this will be that much of a hindrance. Let's just do our work in the name of the Lord, Your Grace. If our worship is true, the lord will never let any scoundrel harm us."

"Spoken like a true faithful. Come, we have many to heal."

Following the short meeting with the Grand Wizard of the Patch, everyone returned to work. In two days, as per Sylvester's orders, the Inquisitor General made his moves and sent the Inquisitors all around the Sorrow Kingdom. Since Sylvester never revealed where he was or what he was looking like in disguise, the old Inquisitor general could not find him specifically.

With the arrival of Inquisitors, Sylvester and the Archbishop became free to travel down south to the Wailing City. They wished to find the remaining royal family loyalists, and since Sylvester knew that the princess was alive somewhere, he wanted to start laying the foundation already.

Sadly, while they moved along the way to the South, they had to stop in every village, sometimes in the middle of nowhere. Where used to be roads, now were many deep ravines. It was dangerous to travel at night, and it was excruciatingly hot during the day.

"Sir, please! Anything will do!"

As they passed by one of the many little villages, men, women and kids ran after their small carriage with hope in their eyes. Dirt on their bodies had dried, their skin was cracked, and some traces of dried blood were spread all over them.

All villages were refugee camps at that point in time. Where Sylvester and the rest arrived was the closest to Wailing City, but that also meant they were too close to Mount Eternal, which was a volcano that spewed lava out at all times but slowly like a river.

It was inhumanly warm in the region; hence the state of the refugees was even worse. They were not only thin but suffering from many skin diseases.

"Let's rest in this village." Sylvester decided, seeing the state of the people. Because as far as he remembered, it made no sense to open a camp there. So there was bound to be something going on in the background.

When he got off, he spoke with Sir Dolorem and Bishop Lazark. "I want you two to investigate. Change into ordinary clothes and look around. Be careful; there could be some undercover agents of the Patch. Kill them if you find any. The Grand Wizard threatened me; that's a sin in itself. I'm justified to take any and every action against them now."

Thud!

Thud!

"Look! It's here!"

"Come quick!"

Just as they were getting off their carriage, suddenly, all the refugees started running towards the entrance of what used to be their village. The entire village, crowds of hundreds, ran at the same time.

"What's going on?" Sylvester wondered and looked.

"Trade convoy." Archbishop Nelson muttered. "Observe everything carefully if you wish to see the true depth of how rotten humanity can be."

Sylvester, interestedly, silently watched everything from the carriage. He saw it all from a higher point of view and noticed the crowds surrounding not the dozens of carriages coming there but the men coming out of the convoy.

All the incoming men wore decent clothes and looked clean. It was evident they had the money and the pull to be trading in that region.

"Wait…!" Sylvester held back what he was about to say.

Right before his eyes, he saw men from trade convoys pulling women of their choice away and entering a small house or shack in the camp. Some even took two women, and some didn't spare the young ones. The men also sold themselves to whoever they could, or simply worked to entertain the guests by wrestling in front of them or juggling something.

Slowly, some minutes passed, and the men who entered the small shacks started to come out tying their clothes back. Behind them came out women with dishevelled clothes, counting a few bronze coins.

As they appeared outside, their kids ran up to them to hug them. Meanwhile, the men from the trade convoy simply went to rest or find another woman. It was sickening and disgusting, but it was the dark side of humanity.

Sylvester sighed and relaxed back on the carriage seat. Beside him, Archbishop had the same reaction as he spoke. "This is the truth, young priest. This world is full of darkness, and humans have a high innate desire to survive no matter what.

"Here, in the Sorrow Kingdom, everything sells, be it bodies, flesh or dignity. Mothers sell themselves for their children. Men sell themselves for their families, and children are not children here but mindless weak tools. This is cancer, this is malignity and here exists nothing such as human dignity."

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