I Became The Pope, Now What?-Novel



As the music continued to buzz in their ears, all the administrators in the court were killed swiftly. The Emperor, meanwhile, watched it all happen with his fallen shoulders and shocked eyes. His empire of thousands of years was collapsing right before his eyes, and he felt more powerless than ever in his life. 

Each head that fell felt like a pillar of the castle itself, undoing all the work he had done in his entire life. 

"G-Generals! D-Do something!" He noticed the Grand Wizards standing idle and commanded them. "Where are the rest?" 

Supreme General Manzax nodded and positioned himself behind the chairs of the Magistrates that sprawled beside the walkway leading to the Emperor's throne. Although all the regular administrators had been killed, only the magistrates remained. 

"What are you doing? Attack that lunatic on my throne?!" Emperor Zenith shouted. 

Woosh!

General Manzax and the other remaining Grand Wizards swung their blades and beheaded the Magistrates of the Empire. With that, the last backbone broke apart, and the Emperor fell down to his knees in disbelief. 

"May the Holy Light enlighten us!" The Grand Wizards saluted Sylvester. 

Sylvester nodded from the throne and rose to his feet. He moved behind the Emperor and placed his spear against the man's neck. "I had no qualms with you. I had no reason to fight you, nor did you have any reason to do so. Today's events are a result of your greed—because you decided to attack the Holy Land." 

"A man without ambition is a slave to incompetence." Zenith blurted.

"Blind ambition is the perfect recipe for disaster. I will make it quick, Emperor." Sylvester pulled the spear back a little. "May your soul repent in the life beyond!" 

"There is no go—" 

Woosh!

Before Zenith could finish speaking, Sylvester's spear dug into the nape of the Emperor with such force that the entire head was ripped off at the neck and stayed stuck to the spear's blade. A fountain of blood spewed from the body, and with that, the Emperor of the strongest Empire in the world was no more. 

"Nothing special about your blood either," Sylvester mumbled and shook the spear to throw the head away. The game was far from over, sadly, and he was prepared for whatever was to come, for he had more surprises up his sleeve. 

He looked back at the Empress. "So, Shadow of Masan, what will you do now? There is nowhere to run and no scheme left to carry out. Your eldest son is dead, your husband is dead, and…regrettably, your daughter lost her life to her own cousin—as they say, if you play with a snake, you're bound to get bitten—your husband's debauchery was your Empire's greatest serpent."

She didn't react with much emotion while slowly getting up from the Empress's throne. Her eyes remained stuck on Sylvester, and she began to remove the heavy fur robes over her shoulder that concealed her entire form. 

Woosh!

Suddenly, she cast them aside, revealing her ordinary cotton clothes, more suitable for a man than a woman. Her short hair swept away from her eyes, revealing a shining silver hue in them. 

Tick!

She snapped her fingers towards the ceiling. 

Screech!

An eagle flew from the ceiling, flying onto her extended hand. She caressed it softly and removed the falconry-hood from its eyes. 

Screech!

The Eagle abruptly began to cry toward Sylvester, its head seemingly focused on his shoulder. It greatly alarmed Sylvester. 'Can the eagle see Chonky?'

At last, the Empress spoke. "So we meet again, Sylvester Maximilian. I truly thought you were dead, but it appears you are actually blessed by Solis."

Her voice was feminine, yet not overly so. Her words held strange magic, as if they were trying to affect Sylvester's mind. He keenly felt it. 

"I did nearly die—and Solis did save me…personally!" Sylvester honestly replied.

The Empress's brows rose as if shocked. It appeared that Sylvester wasn't the only one who could discern lies through voice and facial expressions. She genuinely believed there was no Solis until that point. 

"But it changes nothing," she said. 

"Yes—your final day has arrived. Nothing will change that." Sylvester raised his spear toward her. "Are you going to battle me or surrender to death?" 

"Hahaha…!" 

A true villainous laughter escaped her lips, resonating throughout the court. She looked at the dead bodies and the commoners who were running out in the visitors' platform at the far sides and the back. 

"I wonder if you're delusional or a man with a plan. Why would you think that I'm oblivious to what you were up to in my home all this time? I wanted Zenith to die…I wanted all those administrators to die, I wanted those loyalist Grand Wizards to die, and you killed them for me, now becoming an enemy of the people!" She asked him with genuine curiosity in her tone. "Do you think that capturing the Southern City with Dwarves alone would be enough to defeat me?"

Sylvester acted shocked, being the greatest actor in Sol. "H-How do you know that? Since w-when…" 

"Hmph…since the beginning," she proudly claimed. 

"Hahaha!" This time Sylvester laughed like a villain. "I don't make the same mistake twice, whatever your name is. It's your naivety to think you know everything—when in truth, you know nothing. The Dwarves aren't there to conquer, but to win hearts—as the first Dwarven clan to become the faithful believer of the Light, bowing to Solis' might!" 

Thud!

"ENOUGH!" 

Sylvester and the Shadow of Masan both turned their heads. Jinn stood there, glaring at the Empress with anger in his eyes. 

"Mother—did you plan all this? All this death and misery…Fernis died because of you!" Jinn questioned her aloud. 

Yet the woman remained unyielding, even sneering. "I'm not your mother, foolish child. She died long ago, and I took her place. To deal with your insufferable father was the most annoying task of my life!" 

Jinn stepped back from the shock. "T-Then, who are you?"

"His wife!" The Empress pointed away towards the entrance of the court. "Killim Hu'ul Mirmasan, my husband, the love of my life—Elder brother of the Emperor, yet forced into exile due to your father's jealousy! Because Killim is much greater than Zenith, in mind and body!" 

"Pay no mind to her strong words." Killim walked up to them and climbed the stairs to stand beside the Empress, holding her hand with such love that even Sylvester could smell. "Lyra is quite emotional when it comes to me." 

"It was all a lie, then? For how long have we been ensnared in this trap?" Jinn questioned them with anger. "You betrayed your own homeland!" 

"I did not." Killim defended himself. "Let me tell you a story, my dear nephew…" 

"I wish to hear nothing!" 

Killim persisted nonetheless. "Slightly over a century ago, when I was a boy, I was sent to war with the Warsong Kingdom, together with Zenith, by our father's orders. We were young and strong, burning with the desire to prove ourselves.

"However, our campaign didn't go well, and a majority of our forces were killed by Warsong's Vanishing Knights. Zenith was mortally wounded, and we found ourselves surrounded. So, I instructed the last of our men to take Zenith to safety while I held off the enemy. The plan was for them to return with reinforcements for me—but they never came!

"I was wounded and captured, thrown into their dark dungeon to meet my death or be used as a bargaining chip in political dealings. But, inside the dungeon, I found another person, a woman even more grievously wounded than I was.

"She was on the verge of death from blood loss, so I used what remained of my magic to heal her. I fell unconscious, and when I woke up three days later, my head was on the warmest lap that reminded me of mother—her eyes peered down at me, and it was the most beautiful face I had ever seen.

"She expressed gratitude, she apologized, and she revealed her origins. A woman from Libertia, the land of the free. From that point onward, we remained in those dungeons for a year. I never heard from my brother or Masan, as if I was forgotten. With time, I recuperated and planned my escape with Lyra, my only love. 

"Yet, after fighting for survival, spending almost a year to escape from Warsong and arrive here—what do I find? My little brother was sitting on the throne as the Emperor, our father dead, poisoned by Zenith himself. But, as if that wasn't enough, he declared that I was unfit to rule, questioned my loyalty, accused me of being Warsong's spy, claiming there was no other way I could have survived—he banished me!" 

At this point, Killim looked angry, but the grip of the woman's hand calmed him down greatly. Though this time, she continued the story from there, as there wasn't much left. 

"For something so horrible to happen to Killim, I vowed to myself—I vowed to grant him not only Masan, but the entire Sol—for that is what my love deserves—the true Emperor of Masan," she concluded, gripping the neck of the Eagle now perched on her shoulder.

Low, metallic noises echoed after that, and the eagle's form began to dissolve, transforming into golden shards of metal that fused together, forming armor on her body. It spread around her entire body, covering her legs, arms, and shoulders, and even shaping a helmet on her head that covered her entirely, leaving space only for eyes. 

'A sentient suit of armor? Some sort of a treasure?' Sylvester was interested in it now.

Sylvester wore his helmet as well. "So you and Killim suffered a little, and you decided to massacre millions and destroy the world order? Because you felt you deserved it? If that's how this works—I deserve the entire galaxy for the pain I've suffered!" 

She scoffed and materialized a ball of fire in one hand and a sharp, slender long sword in the other. "Sacrifices have to be made for greater rewards!" 

"Indeed," Sylvester agreed. "That's why you two must die." 

"How?" She asked, ridiculing him. "Are you counting on the loyal believers you earned last night? Grand Wizards, prepare for battle—Sylvester must not escape alive today!" 

Thud!

Supreme General Manzax, Grand Wizard Wajir, Ellum, and all the other Grand Wizards saluted her by thumping their chest plates. Naturally, they spoke with each other and laughed among themselves, proud that they fooled the Bard. 

"Why? You thought they truly submitted to you? I ordered them to do it…And now you stand here facing your absolute death," she added proudly. "You aren't as wise as you believe, Sylvester Maximilian." 

Sylvester looked behind at all the powerful men, his face under the helmet smiling. Indeed, he expected as much since the last night. Blood Contract with Elder Magic was just a hypothesis to him, which finally proved to be wrong. A less powerful man can't enslave a more powerful man using Blood Contract, even with Elder Magic—because the basis of the contract is Solarium, which is the base of Elder and Non-Elder magic. 

"Thank you for helping me kill most of your other brothers. Without you, I wouldn't have been able to invite him to help me today…Truly, you should have accepted my blessing."

As expected, the Shadow of Masan, Killim, and all the Grand Wizards were taken aback by his reaction.

Sylvester laughed at their faces. "Surprised? Let me tell you a secret—you can hide all your emotions or even fake them with enough practice, but there is one emotion that you can never fake, for it does not come from the mind but the heart—Worship!" 

"KILL HIM!" The Shadow of Masan ordered. 

Sylvester shook his head toward the men. "There is a man out there who desires order, peace, and love, who detests the chaos that you wish to spread—although my enemy, today he's my friend!" 

BOOM!

All heads looked up. A massive black sword, two meters long and more than ten centimeters wide, fell and plunged into the ground with a loud sound. 

Hearts sank at the sight of a dark-haired man in black robes hovering in the air, without any armor on him, looking at all the people with a smile. 

"The Bard said it right—chaos and death, I deeply abhor. And I despise you for creating countless nonsensical wars. Thank you for giving me this opportunity to cleanse this land!" 

Sylvester nodded, "I get to kill the Shadow of Masan." 

"Of course, that was the deal." The man flew down and landed beside Sylvester, then easily took out the sword with one hand as if it was weightless. He then turned to the nine Grand Wizards that were left and put down a small hourglass on the floor. "Fifteen minutes at best." 

"W-Who are you?" Supreme General Manzax questioned. He clearly felt the tension. 

"Ah, forgive me for not introducing myself." The man in black robes apologized. "I'm Julius Aurelius Alexander—you probably better know me as the Chief of Anti-Light." 

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