I Became The Pope, Now What?



After the heartfelt reunion of Felix and Isabella, everyone entered the New Holy Land's Pope's Palace. The city was almost complete by that point, and all of its major infrastructure had been constructed. What was left now were minor tasks for beautification and modernity, but Sylvester pushed all that to the back of his mind, at least until the end of the current crisis. 

As they entered the Pope's Palace, Sylvester saw the major wide streets being worked on by many dwarves and humans. It appeared that the tram's rail lines were being placed, and wooden electricity poles were also being erected to power the machine. It was a glimpse of the future that he saw with his own eyes. But sadly, the task at hand felt so monumental that the future felt utterly uncertain. 

"You crossed the Darkpit Sea?" Gabriel exclaimed after he met with Felix and heard about the adventures. "Is it really that scary?" 

"Yes." Sylvester, Sir Dolorem, Felix, and Dagorith replied simultaneously. They had no desire ever to go there again because they were sure they hadn't even met the strongest of the monsters there yet. 

"How was Beastaria?" The Inquisitor High Lord asked. "It's been ages since I was there. It was mysterious and deadly if one wasn't always beware." 

"It's still the same, and perhaps even more dangerous now. The Supreme Wizard tier demon residing in the Divider Swamp is slowly devouring everything nearby. The species there aren't going to have many pleasant days ahead." Sylvester revealed with considerable annoyance in his tone. It was yet another challenge, yet another headache. 

Sir Dolorem chimed in, as he still considered the Inquisitor High Lord his boss. "Right before we returned, the Demon poisoned the entire Merkin's Sea. All the Merkins were forced to come out and take refuge with the dwarves." 

"I can see this demonic problem spilling towards us eventually." Bishop Lazak added, who was also there, and walked alongside them toward the main meeting hall.

Sylvester didn't speak any further and entered the large hall that was made to look like a royal court. However, Sylvester had ensured the seats didn't have any difference. Even if he sat in the head seat at the far end of the hall, the others weren't made to feel a sense of inferiority. 

"So what should we prepare for first?" The Duchess of Normany, Lady Bethany, also a Grand Wizard, asked. 

"We need to start preparing for the Demon. Our history books describe an instance when such a demon killed not only the Pope but also five of the Guardians," Gabriel suggested, being the man who had read the most books there. 

The discussion continued among them. They fervently talked about their next moves or strategies for reclaiming the Holy Land. Their armies had grown huge by now. However, a Supreme Wizard sat at the helm of the Holy Land. It was a single man, but with enough power to be a deciding factor. 

"Since a battle seems inevitable, why don't we lay siege to the Holy Land?" Felix suggested. "No matter how much we plan here, it would be redundant the moment Saint Scepter enters the field." 

"It would be suicide," Dagorith exclaimed. 

"Better than sitting around and doing nothing," Soulbreaker added, heating up the arguments a little. 

The entire time, Sylvester remained silent, listening to them. His mind was completely empty, as there was simply no way to defeat something that held supreme power. Their struggle was comparable to an ant trying to oppose a human's foot set on stepping on it. The ant could run all it wants or scheme all it wants, but at the end of the day, it remained an ant. 

Seeing Sylvester quiet, the Inquisitor High Lord turned his attention to him. "Your Holiness, weeks ago, from the northern cold, an undead brought a letter—Emperor Lich's words it holds." 

Sylvester shook himself out of the daze and focused. "Where's the letter?" 

Quickly, Bishop Lazark walked over from his seat, "Lord Inquisitor asked me to check if it had any curses. I haven't opened it yet." 

Sylvester took it, noticing its somewhat damaged condition. He wondered what sort of adventures the undead went through to bring it there. But with a positive heart and hope, he opened it and read it silently. 

[To Sylvester Maximilian, 

My bones cluttered together in delight to see a missive from another sentient being. The north is harsh, if not on my body, but surely it can affect the mind. Forgive me for responding so late, for the letter was stolen by an eagle, and my undead, General Bob, had to go on a harsh adventure to get it back. 

Alas, I have read it and heard your call for assistance. But, considering so much time has passed, I believe it's better to check with you again if you need my help. 

I still haven't forgotten your help in releasing me from Masan's vile control. Furthermore, you went ahead and destroyed the entire Masan Empire—my jaw cackled in excitement for weeks upon learning of this development.

If you need my assistance, a simple sign will suffice. Perhaps a blinding ray of light from the peak of Mount Quaris will do. With that, I shall come forth with my army of a thousand brigades—I'm also looking into obtaining an undead dragon pet. Perhaps I may even fly to you in such an event.

Your Friend, 

Raz Mi'ul Naseer]

Sylvester finished reading and let out a sigh. "Such are the times; an Emperor Lich has more etiquette, honor, and integrity than half of the realm. He's willing to come and aid us with his millions of undead."

"Finally, some good news!" Gabriel breathed a sigh of relief. "With a Supreme Wizard Lich with us, our chances of winning are almost certain now. The Holy Land no longer has any Grand Wizards, and most other decent-minded Clergymen have aligned with us." 

Sylvester shook his head and rose from his seat. He paced in the middle of the hall, where all eyes were fixed on him. "It seems none of you understand the situation yet. We're not fighting the Holy Land. It became mine the moment Niel challenged me to a duel. Saint Sceptor himself told me that I am free to take the throne—So our battle now is only with Saint Sceptor—a man who's been pulling the strings in the Church for centuries. 

"Do you think he doesn't know about our Emperor Lich friend? Do you think he doesn't know our strengths and weaknesses? That man has powers we have yet to comprehend—we can't even remember him unless we write his name on walls and our bodies." Sylvester didn't hold himself back from letting everyone come face-to-face with reality. It was necessary since they were all the strongest and the most important members of his new church administration. 

"But isn't this better? We only have to defeat one man." Isabella questioned, not as confident, being aware of her own lack of battle experience. 

Sylvester shook his head, "I was overconfident not too long ago, so I went to investigate the Divider Swamp in Beastaria. That Demon, with its mere aura, brought me closer to death than I'd ever been before. My pride and overconfidence in my powers nearly had me killed. 

"So let's not make the same mistakes, because this Saint Sceptor is, in all likelihood, stronger than that Demon—Because while that Demon is at best slightly more than a century old, the Saint Sceptor has lived through multiple centuries while holding a position of power."

Faces turned downward in the hall, taking his words as lessons and calling for some introspection. Of course, none of them had fought against a Supreme Wizard before because there were so few of them in the world, and they usually avoided fighting. 

Sylvester continued with his reality check, "A fight with Saint Scepter is inevitable, just as Felix said. I don't know what his motives are or who he serves. But I'll be honest with you all today—When I imagine a future, I can't see myself surviving this battle." 

Instantly, an invisible strong hug tightened around Sylvester's neck. It was Miraj firmly squeezing Sylvester, worried deeply. 

As for the others, they looked down at their feet, even the Inquisitor High Lord. It stood as a stark truth—they were no match for Saint Scepter. Even if the Emperor Lich came, they had to take into account that Saint Scepter lived and ruled the Church for so long—the man likely had the absolute means to deal with any sort of undead. 

In short, they were simply powerless. They could try, yet many of them would die, and that was a grim certainty. But the thought of Sylvester's death—that was the most haunting part, for they saw him as the Church's future. Their hopes were all tied to his existence. 

"But victory must be achieved with our own hands." Sylvester continued, trying not to shatter their will to fight. "For it will give us the rightful claim as the real inheritors of the faith. Forget your tears, forget your families, and forget your pain—I cannot win alone, so if you stand with me, your peak strength you must retain. We cannot quit until only our side remains—with or without me." 

Of course, Sylvester had no wish to die, but after the incident with the Demon, he accepted reality no matter how harsh it may be. 

After all, for an ant, even a heavy drop of rain could be lethal. So he knew his life was also feeble. In front of the supreme might, he was just another tiny needle. 

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