I Became The Pope, Now What?

Sylvester didn't have any complaints about them living in the mountains as long as they had already embraced the faith of Solis. So he bid them farewell, fixed their wall, and left additional clothes for their people.

He continued his way up and soon entered the extremely cold north, where everything was either white as snow or black as stones. Ashra's size prevented them from falling into any ravines, and she already knew the pathway to the peak, so they found no trouble in reaching it.

But still, even at Ashra's speed, it took them a few hours to climb the summit. The higher they got, the less oxygen Ashra had to sustain herself at her peak. However, she didn't feel the cold, as her Mythril scales protected her. Meanwhile, Chonky remained hidden inside Sylvester's robes, inside his chest plate, while only poking his head out.

Once they reached the top, Sylvester began drawing an elder rune circle on the snow itself. He ensured it was big enough so the beam would be visible. The solarium was in plenty, as the mountain peaks were closer to the sun, and no trees or animals were around to consume it.

"Move back, Ashra." Sylvester prepared to activate the Elder Rune after ensuring it had enough solarium. "This will be very bright, so you might want to close your eyes."

Finally, Sylvester placed his palms on the rune circle and activated the magic. He tried to use a version of the Wrath of Heavens, one of his strongest moves. However, this time, the goal was more spectacle than destruction. But still, to activate it, he had to sing a hymn.

♫In the realm where mighty soar,

I summon the sun's radiant core.

A sigil of endings, of battles begun,

Evil's dark deeds shall be overrun.♫

♫By moon, by stars, by fiery sun's embrace,

Till the final shadow flees, leaving no trace,

Let the celestial choir sing and blaze,

May undying light conquer, setting ablaze.♫

BOOM!

The big, twenty-meter-wide rune circle that Sylvester had drawn on the snow lit up with magical light, bright red against the cold backdrop, almost taking on a golden hue. It gathered in one spot for a few seconds and then, with a deafening roar, soared into the sky like a beacon.

It went far into the sky, further than one's eyes could see. It radiated powerfully, but its heat was negligible. Far and wide, be it Sol or Beastaria, the cold icy home of the undead in the north, or the desert of the Blackhart Kingdom—some saw it as a grand shining pillar in the sky, and some saw it as a distant little twig, leaving its actual size to their imagination.

Never before had Sylvester thought that helping an undead would bring him such a boon in the future. It was something he never used to do before in his past life—helping. When there was no benefit to oneself, it was foolish to put oneself in danger. That was the lesson he had learned time and time again. But now, going against those beliefs had perhaps gained him his strongest ally.

For over ten minutes, Sylvester allowed the beacon of light to shine continuously. Once he felt the solarium in the air depleting too much, he stopped by breaking the rune circle. Just as the light had appeared, it vanished.

"Hisss…!"

Sylvester looked back at Ashra, "What happened?"

"Maxy, she said she wants to slide down the mountain." Miraj translated.

"..."

Sylvester peered at the vast distance below from the peak where he stood. "We're over ten thousand meters high. Are you sure?"

Ashra nodded her colossal head. "Hisss Shhhh…"

"She said she's done it many times," Miraj added.

Sylvester had no worries and even had a fun idea, "How about a race to see who reaches the bottom first?"

Ashra turned her head in confusion like a puppy, wondering if Sylvester was also going to slide down.

To her surprise, Sylvester conjured flat boards beneath each of his feet, made out of hardened light magic that Sylvester was a master of. "I'll ski down—just like you."

"Hsssss…!" Ashra excitedly hissed and agreed to race him.

She was his responsibility, after all. So Sylvester was just trying to make Ashra happy. "Whenever you're ready, you can start. I'll follow."

Woosh!

Without hesitation, Ashra leaped from the cliff and slammed down onto a massive pile of snow. She clearly enjoyed it and slithered down, rolling and sliding.

Meanwhile, Sylvester followed her closely, keeping a watchful eye just in case she fell somewhere too dangerous. But still, to keep it competitive, he occasionally surged ahead.

"Meooooow!" Miraj screamed excitedly while stuck on Sylvester's chest. "I love this! Faster, Maxy… Let's beat her!"

They weren't ordinary people, and that was a fact. Sylvester didn't care about any descents, no matter how steep they were. Meanwhile, Ashra had to be slightly careful in a few places where too many stones were piled together.

It took them hours to climb, but at their speed, they had already crossed the halfway mark by the third minute. And as they came closer to the base, the snow became ideal terrain for skiing, which meant Ashra also picked up speed.

"Hisss…!" She eventually passed Sylvester.

Of course, he could beat her, but to do that was akin to defeating a child. It meant nothing to him, but for the child, it was everything. Similarly, winning was going to be a lasting joyous memory for Ashra.

"No! What are you doing, Maxy? Go faster. We can beat her!" Miraj complained.

Sylvester laughed at their shenanigans. Strangely enough, he enjoyed his time with them more than with other humans. And that got him thinking about his future.

'If I survive this. Maybe I should build my retirement ranch somewhere near the mountains—creating a personal forest sounds interesting.'

…

Sylvester arrived back in Miraj City in a single day. As he expected, he was showered with questions about the blinding light in the north. After some explaining, he quickly got to work, as he had made a few decisions after doing a bit of pondering in the mountains.

Gathering everyone in the meeting hall, he gave them his orders. "I won't be taking the whole army into battle. Only a few powerhouses will come with me. The rest of you must stay behind and protect the city. I have a hunch that whatever Saint Scepter has in mind, it'll be far beyond our expectations."

Gabriel immediately stood up in disagreement. "We need everything we can to defeat Saint Scepter. Why divide our strengths? What if you die?"

Sylvester shook his head. "I can't bring King and Queen Highland with me. They're the backbone of the Highland Kingdom, and if something happens to them, it would mean ruin to millions. Similarly, I can't bring Lord Einarr because the Blackhart Kingdom will lose its only Grand Wizard if he dies. I'll only be taking Emperor Lich, Soulbreaker, Felix, and Lord Inquisitor with me. These are the only few names who are ranked above Grand Wizard level five, and to bring anyone below would be suicidal."

"You're ranked below that!" Isabella pointed out. "You said it yourself."

Sylvester shook his head. "But I'm the strongest in this room—Don't forget that I'm also on the second last level of Platinum Knight rank."

Everyone calmed down hearing that. It was no Supreme Wizard, but it at least gave Sylvester a slight edge. However, a Supreme Wizard was labeled supreme for a reason.

"We will leave to battle in three days. During these days, those going with me must create a single way of fighting that uses our strengths together. We can't act alone. If I'm right, one of his powers must be related to either mind magic, or soul magic. Only that could explain his ability to make us forget him." Sylvester briefed them all. "For those remaining behind, maintain the highest vigilance at all times. Considering the strangeness surrounding what's happening in the Holy Land, don't be surprised if an attack comes."

"But what is Saint Scepter's goal?" Sir Dolorem asked openly. "We're going into this blind."

True, Sylvester didn't like it. But, there was no way to find anything about Saint Scepter. The man was a ghost. "We'll have to ask him personally. I also considered bringing Bloodrain, but he spoke of being close to uncovering the mystery of the Chief of Anti-Light."

Sylvester got up, "Leave and start preparing. We don't have time."

Promptly, everyone got up and exited the meeting hall. They all had some things to request from the dwarves for the battle.

As Sylvester took a deep, weary breath, he noticed Sir Dolorem had stayed behind. "You'll stay behind and protect Mum. After this is over, I hope for a chance at peace—with those I care about."

"Aren't you being a little too hasty, Lord Bard?" Sir Dolorem asked carefully. He had found it hard to talk with Sylvester ever since he had returned from Masan. Something felt different from before.

Sylvester shook his head. "I am honestly out of options. Saint Scepter has manipulated all of Sol, the faith, and us for far too long. How do we even begin to fight such a man?"

Sir Dolorem got closer to Sylvester and placed a hand on his shoulder. "The way you've won all your battles until now. A little bit of planning, a little bit of strength, and a great deal of belief in oneself. Do what you're good at, plot things, and plan each move—consider all possibilities and how to tackle them. Yes, we're ants compared to him, but if we're smart enough, we can bring down this elephant."

Sylvester smiled, knowing the old man was trying to encourage him. "Thank you, Sir Dolorem. And… Just call me Sylvester. Otherwise, I'd feel suffocated in this place. Too many yes-men and 'lord this', 'your holiness that' fills the corridor these days."

"Haha. Tired already?" Sir Dolorem almost chuckled. "This was merely a glimpse, Sylvester. You have centuries ahead—the boon and bane of being the youngest Pope."

Sylvester grunted tiredly. "I hate desk jobs."

Sir Dolorem smiled and took out a folded parchment from his pocket. "I stayed back to hand this over. It came from Beastaria… an elf handed this to me secretly."

Sylvester opened the letter and skimmed its contents in a fleeting moment. Eventually, he sneered at it and burned it right on his palm. "He said he can come and help me fight Saint Scepter."

"Isn't he also a Supreme Wizard?" Sir Dolorem asked, somewhat interested in the offer.

"He is, but he's doing this for his own selfish reasons in the end. Besides, he's the last person we can look to for help. If he comes here, it would be the same as announcing to the world that those rumors about me were true." Sylvester predicted the bigger picture in advance. "Saint Scepter masterfully weaved his web—I bet he spread the rumors well in advance to cut off this helping hand."

Sir Dolorem's eyebrows arched in amazement. "And we're up against such a man."

"That, and much more…" Sylvester muttered, wondering what Saint Sceptor's real name was.

Only if he had known, he could have predicted the strategy based on historical deeds. Sadly, it was likely a secret the man wanted to take to his grave.

'Caesar? Pompey? Arminius?... the possible names are endless.'

Thank you for reading. Gifts and GT votes are highly appreciated.