I Became The Pope, Now What?-Novel

Sylvester's last words sent a chill down the collective spine. Masan empire, albeit followed by Solis, was slightly different as their way of practising was slightly different, which was at odds with the ways of the eastern portion of the Sol continent where the Holy Land lay enshrined.

Such differences bred disdain in the hearts of the Masan rulers, who would spare no effort in their quest for conquest, even if it meant turning against the very fabric of the continent. The inevitable target, of course, would be the Church, which they sought to subjugate and reshape to their own designs. Yet the Holy Land remained passive, resigned to its fate, for the sheer magnitude of the Masan behemoth made any form of resistance seem foolhardy and futile.

Now, if Masan got even two Supreme Wizards, the ramifications for the world at large would be catastrophic. The Church, already grappling with the Anti-Light and its Supreme Wizard leader, as well as the vexing conundrum of Beastaria, found itself overwhelmed with troubles and lacking solutions. In such dire difficulties, the last thing they could afford was a hostile Masan Empire, a prospect that filled them with trepidation and dread.

Sylvester looked at Emperor Lich. "Let's proceed as per our deal."

"Let's proceed then, bard of Solis. I shall retreat to my castle, but one million undead will still remain here and do what you planned."

"What are you planning?" Sylvester asked further, as he couldn't just let an Emperor Lich reside in Sol.

"I shall complete my castle and move it to my island in the north. Then, if the pests of Masan come to annoy me again, this time, I'd be prepared to face them and ruin their so-called Empire." Emperor Lich Naseer replied with some dangerous scents oozing out of him.

There was no doubt that Sylvester still smelled death from the lich. It was not because the Lich was hostile to Sylvester, but because he was so strong that for it, killing Sylvester and everyone else was as easy as swinging an arm.

'If I play my cards right, then one day I will be able to use him if a war against Masan ever breaks out.' Sylvester thought and decided to stay on good terms with Emperor Lich.

"Thank you, Lord Naseer. I will inform the Holy Father about your existence and that you are no threat to us. If everything goes well, he might visit you to clear his doubts." Sylvester ensured him, as he was supposed to kill the creature initially.

The Lich didn't speak further and started walking towards his palanquin. The strange ghostly figure of a child with a stone face still lingered on his shoulder. It was creepy and terrifying, so nobody asked him what it was. They were just happy by the fact that the creature wasn't hostile and was now leaving.

Sylvester took out a few healing potions from the bag that Chonky had taken out before and started pouring the contents on his wounds. "Lady Aurora, Sir Dolorem, Lord Gideon, please do what I had planned. Remember, only the commanders need to know the plan. The rest of the soldiers must get tired authentically."

He then faced his team and ordered. "Bishop Lazark, once Emperor Lich is gone, you take over the control of the undead and fulfil the needs. Felix, Gab and Elyon, you remain beside me and fight the undead."

"Got it, Max." Felix unsheathed his sword quickly and stood beside Sylvester. "Just point to which throat you want slit."

"Not throats, just the undead. Our goal now is to struggle with the undead until our entire army is utterly tired and unable to fight. The plan is simple, but I can't reveal too much, as the Holy Land is directly involved in this part. If everything goes well, I'm quite sure all of you are going to receive a big bonus, if not a promotion." Sylvester cheered them up and held his spear up, although his armour was broken and caved in from all around, and his entire body was bloodied.

The same was the case with all others. They were dirty, bloodied and injured, all the more convincing for what Sylvester had in mind.

Boom!

Just then, the battle started again as the undead who had stopped fighting began to move again. The Winter Army had already killed all the soldiers of the Borzol faction, so they had less fighting power now, which was a problem when combined with their early fatigue.

Adding insult to injury, the Borzol men they had killed started to rise up as undead zombies, spreading fear in the ranks. It made them think about their own death and their bodies ending up as zombies too.

"Keep fighting!" Sylvester roared aloud as he charged into the enemy undead horde with his spear out and a halo behind his head as he sang a hymn silently. He ensured that every single eye in the army etched his mighty blessed form for eternity, so when asked, they'd sing the praise in his name.

"Do not waver! Do not falter! Your destiny is yours to make and yours to alter!" Sylvester continued to energise the soldiers with his words.

At the same time, massive strikes were being inflicted by Lady Aurora, Winter Ghost and Gideon Gracia, destroying thousands of undead with each move. They were fast and swift, but they also openly appeared tired and wounded from the previous battle.

Boom!

Furthermore, the undead had started to explode occasionally, bringing down soldiers in the armies and knocking out many. The battle lasted for hours, and evening dawned upon them, but there was no end to the horde as even after killing hundreds of thousands, more were taking their place.

Thud!

One after another, the soldiers of Winter Army started to fall down, not due to injury, but due to fatigue or running low in Solarium. The wizards used all their spells. The knights used all their knightly magic. As the sun started setting, their powers began to weaken as well.

Cough!

Sylvester, still injured, couched out some blood as his internal organs were yet to be fully healed. He was not acting and was indeed in pain and extreme exhaustion. Heck, even Lady Aurora, Gideon Gracia and Winter Ghost were growling and panting as they had also been injured in the previous battles.

"Do not spare any of them! We must win. We must conquer! We are the Winter Army that shall vanquish these monsters!"

Sylvester had to focus twice as much because he had to maintain his halo. He avoided using any large-scale magic, however, as he was already tired and injured.

Slowly, the Winter Army started to dwindle in numbers. The two hundred thousand were eventually reduced to less than a hundred thousand—They were not dead, but just unconscious.

They fought from morning till evening. As the night started to touch upon, even seeing the undead around became burdensome, and fighting became impossible. The undead slowly began to gain the upper hand.

Sylvester bellowed as he walked to the middle of the battlefield and started shouting around, commanding the army. "Sons of Solis, I command you to stand behind me! For long enough, you have fought, and now it's my duty to protect you with the blessing endowed to me by the Lord Himself. So move, and stand behind—Move, and let peace be upon your mind!"

Slowly, the entire Winter Army started to shift their position and gather behind Sylvester as the focal point. After that, Sylvester stood at the forefront, with the Guardians on his sides and all the Undead at the front, and he started singing.

He kept one palm raised towards the enemy and one on the chest. Then his words echoed like the sermon of god, warm and strong, instilling confidence in all. Then as the halo became bright, a beam started to form on his raised palm—It was the wrath of the heavens!

♫Begone, the plight of this blessed land,

Burn in my light is all I solemnly demand.

As filthy scourge of the living, you, I brand,

With this purging fire, fall apart like sand!♫

Boom!

The beam of plasma of light came out of Sylvester's hand. It was wide and bright, basking everything in miles around in the holy light. The undead raged and growled as they got touched by the warmth. Those at the front got burnt away, and those at the back fell down.

Woosh!

The beam raged for a whole minute, melting the snow around the army in a wide radius. The coldness of the winter vanished, and warmth arrived as if all of them rested in the embrace of Solis himself.

The Winter Army only saw Sylvester's back. A man so young but like a god, his halo shined. He only appeared as a shadow in the backdrop of the enormous light beam, but even that looked so profound that many eyes teared up, for they felt blessed.

Thud!

"Lord Bard!"

"My Lord!"

The soldiers cried as Sylvester suddenly fell to his knees. But the raging beam of light did not vanish, and the echoing hymns did not go silent. Instead, the voice only became louder, and the undead enemies turned into thin charcoal powder.

Finally, when the beam of light started to dim and eventually vanished, the Soldiers cheered for there was no undead to be found anymore. In one single move, Lord Bard, the blessed son of Solis, God's Favored—Won!

Thud!

But Sylvester's body fell forward afterwards, spreading panic in the hearts of all believers.

"Lord Bard!"

"Healers! Quick!"

"He won against Emperor Lich!!!"

"Blessed Bard!"

Many shouts resounded, and the crowd gathered around Sylvester's body on the ground.

Paaaa!

The night had fallen upon the land. But the nightmare had not ended yet.

Thud!

Thud!

All of a sudden, the Winter Army got alerted as the earth shook. All swords rose in the air, and panic spread in hearts.

"W-what's happening?" Felix questioned and tried to look left and right in the darkness.

Woosh!

An arrow came out of nowhere and fell near a soldier's feet. Just one look at it, and it was clear who the attacker was, as he roared to alert everyone.

"Protect the Bard! The Barbarians are upon us! They betrayed! The Storst—betrayed!"

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