I Became The Pope, Now What?

Lord Inquisitor continued to gaze toward the west; he could also see they were getting closer. But instead of healing himself, he stood up and allowed the wind to flutter his dirtied robes. His crushed hands were engulfed in fire as if he prepared himself for battle.

"Your Holiness, Lord Bard… Sylvester Maximilian." Inquisitor High Lord started; his voice was heavy and deep, echoing from behind his visor. The man who believed in speaking less spoke the most on that peculiar day. "When I was born, I was cursed. The moment I took my first breath, my body was scorched by sudden flames, suffering the fate of the worst. Left hideous, my body burned and bruised. Called a demon by my own mother; beaten, hated, despised, and abused."

Taken aback by Lord Inquisitor's sudden openness, Sylvester listened with focus and senses on alert. 'This is harsh... But I don't like the timing of this.'

The Inquisitor High Lord continued. "Then, one day, she took me deep into the forest to pick fruits and wood. She told me to wait while she found a tree to cut, and there I silently stood. I was three years old, and she never returned. Alone, scared, with no power, I was concerned.

"For three years, I survived there, fought against small animals, and hid from the bigger foes. Ate insects, grass, or whatever I chose. Alone, I waited for what I yearned—but my mother never returned."

Sylvester stood up and walked to Lord Inquisitor's side. He placed his hand on the high shoulder. "But you were saved?"

The Inquisitor High Lord nodded and continued, "After three years, I was found by the previous Pope before he took the throne. He took me in, taught me about my extreme fire affinity, and treated me like his own. Yet, he wasn't the one who saved me from solitude. Rather, it was the vision on the seventh night, a little boy with a radiant halo, that I viewed."

Sylvester found himself at a loss for words and looked at the Lord Inquisitor. "You've known me since the age of three?!"

"The visions of the boy, the songs he sang of joy—they kept me alive. Despite my hideous face, he strengthened me to thrive." Inquisitor High Lord stepped forward to the edge of the giant saddle on the dragon's back. "I remember the words, 'Find the boy of miracle in the south; You will know when holy sermons shall come from his mouth.'"

Sylvester rubbed his forehead, sweat forming from the uneasy feeling. "You came to Deserte village not by coincidence, but due to a song?"

Woosh!

Inquisitor High Lord jumped off from the undead dragon. Sylvester leaped forward and noticed they were already over the walls of Miraj City, where the Solarium-Light cannons were being prepared to shoot, aimed at them from the city walls.

It appeared that the city's defense was taken by those who surrendered to Pope Axel. Moreover, Sylvester tried to analyze the situation in the entire city. He didn't notice too much destruction but saw the isolated places where fires were raging.

"Bring it down!" Sylvester ordered and also jumped from the dragon. Emperor Raz quickly stirred the dragon to the side and soared toward the distant forest to land. Aurora stayed behind for the time being to ensure Soulbreaker's well-being.

Thud!

Sylvester landed beside the Inquisitor High Lord and looked at the destruction before their eyes. The city gates had melted away, and by the gates rested the bleeding, battered body of King Highland. There was a hole in his stomach. Blood oozed out of his mouth, and his white beard and hair almost looked scarlet. His armor had deep dents, and his right leg appeared broken, and twisted in unnatural ways.

"Chonky," Sylvester called. He then gave King Highland numerous healing potions and other supplies. "Your Majesty, drink the potions, pour them on wounds—you will live. You haven't lost too much blood yet."

"F-Forgive me… Sylvester." King Highland muttered weakly, ashamed of himself for his inability to protect the city.

Sylvester hastily stopped him and patted his shoulder. "You've done enough… I thank you for lasting this long and not dying. Rest now; I'll stop him now."

However, before he left, he picked up King Highland's long sword, which had shining magic stones in its golden hilt. "I've lost an arm, but I can use the other. I'll borrow your sword for a moment, Your Majesty."

Afterward, Sylvester and Lord Inquisitor entered the city gates despite their battered state. The moment they walked in, they were surrounded by soldiers who had been loyal to them just the previous night. There was fear in their eyes; however, there was also a strange glow as if they weren't in control.

"At least ten thousand." Sylvester estimated after noticing the soldiers on the streets, walls, rooftops, all over the place. They had the finest armor and weapons as well, but thankfully only a few were dwarven-made.

Boom!—Lord Inquisitor kicked the ground and charred it black with his flames that soon enveloped his entire body. "I wanted to see your journey and find a reason for my own existence. Thanks to you, I was able to find strength for resistance."

All of a sudden, the colossal man draped in red lifted his right arm. Despite his crushed hands, he moved one and held his visor.

Clasp!

With a little tug, Lord Inquisitor removed his visor and allowed the iconic, conical helmet to fall away. His face, for the first time, appeared in its true form. It was burned, charred, cracked with blood vessels exposed, and eyes that seemed damaged.

There was a look of pain behind the stoic expression that he donned—how much had he suffered since his birth?

"Go forth, Your Holiness. These men, I shall halt—you must go and stop the heathen Pope's assault." The Inquisitor High Lord commanded with conviction. When he spoke, fire came from his mouth, finally revealing his extraordinary fire affinity. The secret of why his eyes always seemed shining crimson also came out—it was fire from his breath.

Boom!

"Attack!"

Abruptly, the soldiers charged toward them. The wizards started to throw their elemental spells. Lord Inquisitor and Sylvester blocked a few and awaited the approaching charge.

Sylvester glanced at the soldiers and then back at Inquisitor High Lord. He shook his head firmly. "You've lost too much blood; you'll die here if you fight and use magic any longer."

"I've known the arrival of my death since the moment, as your student, I was reborn—Go, Pope Sylvester, there's nothing here to mourn."

Sylvester didn't budge, albeit his mind was overwhelmed with countless questions. "What do you mean? Who told you of your death?"

"Fate is such that none can change—What's hidden, only time will tell… farewell."

Bam!

The first line of soldiers approached them and attacked them with their swords and spears. Lord Inquisitor stepped ahead of Sylvester and used fire as he had never before, roaring at his enemies and spewing fire from his mouth. His shattered hands still launched fist-shaped fire blasts, and his stomping feet created crimson shockwaves in all directions.

With each passing second, Lord Inquisitor's face turned paler, his magic was already depleted, and his blood never stopped dripping.

Sylvester didn't stay hidden behind Lord Inquisitor and came out with King Highland's sword. He clashed with the knights alone, using his leftover strength. Even with solarium deficiency, he still held the strength of a Platinum Knight in his hands.

Clash!

Just one swing from Sylvester's sword, dozens of men were sent flying away. If he wasn't so fatigued, they would have been chopped to pieces. But he knew he could still stand, as it was no secret to him what magic his blood held. With the ability to turn blood into Solarium itself, he was powerful as long as there was crimson in his veins.

"Leave, Your Holiness! Use this strength against what matters." Inquisitor High Lord roared, spewing fire from his mouth. "If you don't triumph, this world's hopes and dreams will shatter."

Sylvester gritted his teeth and swung his blade. He shook his head a few times to stay focused. "Without just men like you, there's no joyous future for this world. You… must… live!"

Boom!

Suddenly, some soldiers on the city walls began firing cannons at them, albeit with lower intensity, as they were likely out of crystals. Sylvester and Lord Inquisitor still jumped aside to dodge and, without speaking, started to make their way deeper into the city, away from the view of the city walls.

Inquisitor High Lord's steps swayed at times, his balance faltering. But, like a drunken man, he fought in that state and incinerated everyone that approached him. "Your Holiness, this is my destiny. I must accept this, for it's the end of my legacy."

Sylvester continued to fight toward a city square, where a wider area welcomed them. But soon, they were surrounded from all sides, trapped within a tightening circle. But Sylvester didn't frown since he wanted to reach that place.

"Destiny, fate, providence—words of a fool. I am your Pope, and you die when I tell you to die!" Sylvester bellowed and formed a halo behind his head. His frustration came out in the form of words. "This is my life, and I form my own destiny—if you don't believe me, then watch me carve it!"

Sylvester plunged King Highland's sword into the ground as he needed to use the one arm he was left with. "I am the creator of this damn city, and before me—ALL MUST KNEEL!"

BOOM!

Sylvester slammed his brightly lit palm on the ground. A deafening blast echoed as the aftermath and strange bright lines started to shine all across the streets of the city. With Sylvester at the center, like a spider's web, the entire city was overtaken by warmth.

He clenched his teeth, teetering on the edge of losing himself. Blood spewed out from his mouth, nose, ears, and eyes; but he didn't falter.

"Misguided souls of this city, open your eyes to what I reveal!" Sylvester bellowed and activated the gigantic city-wide Elder Rune array. "Enough heresy you've committed—kneel!"

[A/N: See Inquisitor High Lord's face]

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