I Became The Pope, Now What?-Novel

Sylvester held on to the spear for dear life, not letting go no matter what. The downward pull was ever so increasing on his body as more and more hands came from below and shrouded him in darkness. They also tried to grab his hands and pull down the spear entirely.

At one point, the spear began to creak as if it was getting dislodged. A sense of fright ran through his heart, but Sylvester felt more concerned about the unconscious Miraj, and worried that the hands might try to take him away from him.

'My halo and light aren't helping either… Ugh, I should've stuck to scheming until I reached the top.' Sylvester muttered, disappointed in himself that he had gradually relied more on his physical powers than his mental abilities.

He forgot one simple rule—if you think you've got a big stick, there will always be someone with a bigger one. But if you have a bigger brain, you can win even with a small stick.

Unfortunately, nothing could help him at that moment since he was already deep in the mess. All he could think of for now was to get out of the situation first.

'...The spear is sliding out. The weight's too much.' Sylvester felt the slight shifts above him. 'Just a little more, buddy… you can do it.'

He had calculated that the sunlight would hit from above in ten minutes, enveloping the darkness below him with light as well. However, even that was merely an assumption for now. There was no guarantee the creature would let go of him.

Crack!

Sylvester felt it, the tremors from above. The spear was almost out of the cliff, about to fall. He prayed to all the gods and merely hoped for the best.

Bam!

The crack of the spear wrenching free from the final inches within the rocks came, and Sylvester felt his body becoming somewhat weightless, swiftly followed by an intensified downward pull. The weight of the hands that surrounded him dragged him down with all their might, and he could already sense the creature's delight with the scent of excitement.

"I… I lost."

He felt lost but mustered the determination to confront the creature with whatever he had left. As long as falling into the huge mouth wasn't instant death, he held onto a sliver of expectation.

"GRAB THIS!"

"Hm?" Sylvester noticed an unexpected human voice coming from above. "Grab…?"

At that instant, he felt something fall into his hands, and it came from above. It felt like a thick rope made of something that wasn't normal jute or cotton. But he grabbed onto it since anything was better than nothing.

Snap!

The rope stretched under the weight and force of the hands. Sylvester felt that there was someone above the cliff trying to pull him back up. That easily earned him a minute or two, a blessing from the unknown.

'The pull from the dark hands is waning.' Sylvester could feel it.

Slowly, the hands also began to vanish from his body, starting from the top. His face was soon uncovered, and he took a deep breath to calm himself afterward. The first thing he did was check on Miraj, safely nestled in his baby carrier near his chest and then looked down. The gigantic mouth was nowhere to be seen now, and the darkness had vanished.

"I-It's just a swamp." He muttered, noticing the thick green waters with some grass growing around. But what shocked him the most was that the swamp wasn't too far below him, and once he looked up, he felt even more confused since the clifftop wasn't that high either. Yet, he knew he had fallen over a kilometer down.

'It has to be a Supreme Void. The sense of distance and speed was altered.' Sylvester thought and quickly started to climb up the rope, leveraging his legs against the rocky wall. He didn't dare to waste time in that location, as the sun wasn't going to be there for too long.

It only took him a few minutes to pull himself up. Once he found his knees resting on the usual hard ground, he crawled away from the cliff and collapsed, breathless. His body throbbed with extreme fatigue, as every bone and muscle had been pushed to their limits like never before. Although he hadn't used too much magic, he still felt exhausted.

"Chonky…" He unwrapped Miraj from the cloak and looked at him. His breath and pulse were normal, but there was no reaction.

Sylvester then sat up and looked around. The rope that saved him was secured to a nearby tree, but he could confidently say that there was someone actively pulling him back up before.

He tried to find any clues and noticed some marks on the sandy ground. "A male's armored boots and a heavy sword were plunged into the ground—someone strong and possibly a warrior then."

It was confusing since he didn't know anyone but Avanss in Beastaria. "Why would anyone help me here?"

Regrettably, the bad news didn't end there. Sylvester once again crawled closer to the edge of the cliff and looked down, "My spear… I lost it… for now."

He tried to use metal manipulation to call his spear back to him, but it seemed to have fallen into the murky green waters of the swamp; It was unknown how deep it had gone or how thick the swamp's density was. The only option was to go down and get it himself, but he honestly didn't want to go anymore.

It was undoubtedly a terrible day for him, and before anything else happened, he immediately rose to his feet, placed Miraj back on his chest, and walked away without wasting time. His next objective was to stop the Inquisitors before they tried to handle the creature and become its food.

Sylvester didn't bother taking the boat or the river anymore and directly soared into the sky using the Light Steps. If there were going to be any Dragons, he was ready to kill them instantly without wasting any time.

He needed the altitude to look around and find the Inquisitors as quickly as possible before another night came. He looked for possible routes the Inquisitors could have taken to reach the area, and since they aimed to lure the creature towards Greenpeaks, the possibility of them trying to enter the Divider Swamps through the river was relatively high since the river originated from Greenpeaks, belonging to the dragons.

So Sylvester made his way towards the north while remaining close to the cliff's edge. However, he didn't dare to walk above the swamp and, at the same time, kept a keen eye on the position of the sun. In case of any shadows growing in the swamp, he had made up his mind to escape.

'Hmm… I see some smoke.'

Sylvester soon noticed what seemed like a tiny camp in the middle of the forest, just before the foot of the hills that led to the region of dragons. With haste, he cautiously descended and approached the camp, proceeding with care.

'I don't smell the usual scent of rage. Could they be away from the camp?' he wondered, choosing to land a few meters away from the campsite within the forest. From there, he slowly walked in and remained vigilant.

Eventually, he arrived at the boundary of the camp. It was a small opening in the forest, and the base likely belonged to the Inquisitors, considering the abundance of church sigils and the type of tents.

However, there was an issue. 'It's completely empty.'

Still, he carefully walked into the camp with cautious steps. Since he had seen some smoke coming out, he headed toward it. In the end, he found a doused fire pit in the middle of the camp, and a pot of soup was suspended over it.

'Still pretty warm… someone was here.'

Sylvester looked left and right. "Come out. I won't hurt you!"

Crack!

The echo of a twig being stepped on reached his ears, and Sylvester immediately jumped around to look. Emerging from one of the tents was an injured man adorned with the unmistakable mitre of a Cardinal, while his body was covered with fine, expensive armor of the gold and white colors of the church. The man was human, tall with broad shoulders and a thick black beard. Eyes were fierce and had strange, yellow, slit pupils instead of round ones.

"I'm not your enemy, holy man." Sylvester clarified, trying to discern the man's identity. "I'm Zohron of Alfia—I come to warn the Inquisitors not to go near the Demon in the swamp—It's at least on par with a Supreme Wizard."

The sturdy man scoffed and raised his sword towards Sylvester. "As if I don't know that—I, who spent his entire life in these lands—I, who… Forget it, elf. Why concern yourself with stopping the Inquisitors?"

"A truce has been achieved between the elves and Sol, and the false Pope Niel has been slain by Sylvester Maximilian. Alfia wants all Inquisitors to return to Sol unharmed—I came here to deliver this message." Sylvester wove a compelling yet fabricated story.

A sudden scent of sadness came from the tall man before he spoke. "I'm afraid you're too late, elf. The foolish Inquisitors have likely been devoured by the Demon. Only I remain now. They pursued me relentlessly, seeking to kill me, only to meet their own pitiful demise—such pathetic fate… that fool Darksaber."

'He's not Darksaber then?' Sylvester realized, but at the same time, felt confused since this holy man had the mitre of a Cardinal.

"Then who are you?"

"I'm Cardinal Bison, a man of true faith." The man answered.

'The man who made elves and dragons fight each other?' Sylvester remembered and felt somewhat impressed by this fellow spy who had given years to his noble work. 'It's better to treasure such talents.'

But there was one question he wanted to ask. "Why are you hiding then? Was it you who saved me from the cliff?"

"Cliff? What are you talking about? I've been on the run from Darksaber all this time. I've only arrived here." Cardinal Bison answered.

Sylvester rubbed his chin in confusion. 'Who saved me then?'

"You should leave while you can. Darksaber is still alive and chasing after me. He didn't enter the swamp yesterday." Cardinal Bison added while looking distraught. "He won't stop unless I'm dead."

"Why does he want to kill you?" Sylvester questioned him. "You serve the same Church."

Bison shook his head. "He received his orders before Niel's death, and until the next Pope orders him to stop, he won't stop. Only His Holiness, Sylvester, can save me now—possibly."

"Indeed, only he can save you," Sylvester muttered. "Follow me if you want to live. I'll help you return to the Holy Land through Alfia. That Darksaber can't fight an entire kingdom alone."

Bison stared at Sylvester for a few seconds, unsure if he could trust an elf. Sadly, when compared to the dark creatures of the forest, the Demon, and Darksaber, the good-looking elf seemed far more welcoming. Besides, he had been on the run for so long and was yet to find a safe way back home.

"I… I'll never forget this kindness, Lord Zohron."

Meanwhile, Sylvester was still absorbed in finding out who saved him. Since the closest settlement was the Inquisitor camp and Bison, it couldn't be someone else.

'Did this… Darksaber… save me? But why?'