I Became The Pope, Now What?-Novel



Sylvester didn't feel threatened since there was no reason to. There were only a handful of beings capable of pushing him into a corner. And none of them existed in Sol at the moment. 

Seeing his overwhelming strength, the guards began to part and make way for him. They still kept their swords at the ready, however. They still lacked any sense of emotion—no confusion or fear, perhaps prepared to die. 

Considering they were also slaves, Sylvester decided to not go overboard with them and kill them. So he quietly followed the path made in the crowd. It led to the end of the long corridor, and a sizeable double-door entrance awaited him. 

Once he approached it, the doors opened wide, and blinding light came through. Sylvester squinted his eyes and tried to take a clear look. It was definitely sunlight; he could feel it. Soon, he noticed he wasn't entering a room but rather a massive hall with one side wide open, giving a view of the outside from the steep height he was at. 

'Is this the top floor?' He wondered and looked carefully. 

The hall was mostly empty but beautiful. The walls seemed to be made of gold itself, including the pillars. The gold walls were then engraved and decorated with patterns created from precious stones and diamonds. There was also an abundance of runes on the flooring—also made of gold. It was so shiny that he could see his own reflection on it. 

Just after entering, he could see five thrones set on a different platform. And behind the thrones was the lack of wall—leading straight to the edge of the building with no safety rails, letting in all the fresh air and sunlight. 

"Welcome to the Tower of Godless," spoke the man on the leftmost throne. He had dark skin and appeared almost naked except for leather pants and boots. His entire body was covered with white runic tattoos, and on the short-haired head was a crown made of white gold, molded to seem like it was crude and made of bones. "Godless—the name is such, for it means the very same. So what are you doing here, holy man? Once again, here to investigate and satiate your senseless hunger for justice?"

Sylvester rubbed his bearded chin while staring at the man's green eyes, "Your eyes would have looked wonderful with good mounds, hips, and long hair—without the instrument, of course. Ah, forgive me, were you saying something?"

"..."

"Godless—If I, Ma'kalinga Zofis, decide to kill you for this insult, nobody will come here to find you," Ma'kalinga said boastfully, looking angered by Sylvester's comments. 

"Please leave, holy man," the woman sitting on the middle throne voiced. She was a giant of a human being, at least seven feet in height and heavier than three horses combined. Red-haired, pale-skinned, with a face that'd put a bulldog to shame. It was a question if she could even walk, as her arms and legs seemed to have sunken into her blob-like body. Slaves were always wandering around her to fan her and feed her fruits. 

Sylvester held his laughter but still made a few noises, "And you could have done without such massive mounds and hips." 

"..."

"How dare you! The beauty of Minerva Lenis is famed across the continent!" 

"If you think that, you truly need a God in here," Sylvester replied and began walking toward the thrones. "On this land blessed by Solis, anything the light touches is governed by the faith—anything that resists will be erased as if a wraith."

The rightmost man sitting on the throne straightened his back immediately and stood up soon after. He looked old with short, curly white hair and a well-built average body, and his clothes appeared regal red but ordinary without any extreme extravagance. 

"I am Maklaire Martin, and I wish to make a deal," the man knelt after coming down from his throne. 

The other four Slave Gods stared at their colleague in shock and disgust, finding his cowardice to their distaste. 

"I knew he'd be a weakling! His father should have lived a few more years and seen us further the glory of Godless!" The second throne occupant said, looking bald with not even an eyebrow. He was dark-skinned, small-eyed, very skinny, and in a single-piece, black clothing that was so tight, every part of his body could be made out. "Why do you fear this holy man? Who is he? Solis?"

Maklaire stared back at his fellow Slave Gods and bellowed, "Worse!" 

"Is that so? Then who is this holy man, care to enlighten me?" The skinny bald man mockingly asked. "Let this Aku also bask in the same fright as you."

At that moment, Sylvester smiled and continued, "The one who sings—who sits above the kings. The one who brings light, the one who laughs at your forthcoming plight."

There was a change in Sylvester's voice at that moment, and the four Slave Gods straightened their backs. Of course, they knew about Sylvester's rhymes. It was their job to predict danger before it reached them. 

'Good thing I had prepared backup plans for backup plans.' Sylvester told himself and took off the disguise from his face. He lost his beard, cleared the color from his hair, and removed the belly and heavy frame of his body. However, that left him with oversized clothes.

"Should we talk business? I don't really enjoy this ugly tower restricting my view of the Wall of Void," Sylvester talked normally from then on. "The days of slavery are over—As the Pope, I have given my judgment. Your continued existence will only be seen as a challenge to my authority, and I'll have to launch a crusade or perhaps an Inquisition." 

By now, three more Slave Gods had stood up, and the woman was at least attempting to do it with the help of her slaves. They didn't laugh or smile anymore. The fear was rather clear. The scent was rampant. 

"P-Pope Sylvester?" Aku, the thin, proud Slave God, stuttered. "We knew you w-would visit us soon enough." 

"Good, then you must have come up with a plan to avoid dying," Sylvester was blunt with his threats. 

"Compromise!" The fourth Slave God spoke for the first time. A tall, burly man with unkempt blond hair, looking like a homeless man. "If you wish to destroy the Tower of Godless, there is nothing we can do to stop you—But in exchange for letting us leave and live our lives silently, we will offer you—"

"Ownership of slaves?" Sylvester completed the man's words. 

"Yes," Aku replied. 

Sylvester folded his arms, "I can simply take them and kill you." 

"Hehe!" Minerva Lenis giggled. "Our lives are their lives—Unless we let them go, they're merely our properties. You can kill us, but with it, you will inherit a tower of corpses."

Sylvester frowned, "You don't own all the slaves in the tower."

"No, but we hold the power to do so." Maklaire Martin, the one who kneeled, spoke out. "The most important rule all sellers here must follow is to sign a Blood Contract with us—through them, we own the slaves and can control their life or death."

With a sigh, Sylvester glared at each of the Slave Gods. However, it didn't take too long for him to make a decision, "I'll give you one day to leave the Tower of Godless. Failure will mean death. And you must relinquish your slave ownership right away." 

"Never! You won't honor your word," Minerva Lenis opposed. "You get the ownership the moment we leave the Tower of Godless." 

Sylvester sighed and tapped his foot on the ground once. Since there was gold, he made himself a nice chair. "Fine—You're free to move. Except for the slaves, take anything you want."

No more words were shared between them. All five Slave Gods rushed out of the room. Well, Minerva could not and had to be carried away by two dozen slaves in a very strong palanquin. She was going to die. There was no doubt about it. The chances of her being able to hide from Sylvester and escape in time were slimmer than Felix's balls—nonexistent. 

"And now we wait," Sylvester sat there silently, looking down from the open side of the hall. The view was mesmerizing, almost touching the clouds but still somewhat below. He could see Pitfall Town, a shadow of Kinman City, and even the Snake River down there. 

"Maxy… I did it!" Miraj came flying from somewhere and sat down on Sylvester's chest. "It was very easy. Where's my treat?" 

Sylvester sighed and allowed Miraj to take a banana from his belly and eat it. It was strange, but Miraj never ate without asking for Sylvester's permission. But this time, he also ate since he had a whole day to wait. Although he knew that, if they were smart, they'd try to leave within an hour. 

Clank!

Maklaire Martin, the one who knelt, came back first with a single bag on his back. In a highly terrified manner, he walked over to Sylvester and extended a parchment and a bracelet, "T-This is the Blood Contract and the slave key."

Sylvester took it and amusedly glanced at Maklaire as the man walked over to the edge of the open side of the hall. 

"My father sinned. I've merely been a Slave God for a year," Maklaire said before pacing faster and jumping off from the fiftieth-storey height. 

Sylvester shook his head, "Perks of being a Diamond Knight." 

Next, Lors Thorland came and gave the parchment as well as a locket. Aku gave a ring, Ma'kalinga handed his whole crown as the key, and at last, three hours later, Minerva sent a person from her family to hand over what appeared like a golden tooth. 

With that, Sylvester found himself as the sole owner of the Tower of Godless, "I don't even know how many there are—good to know they won't be dying."

He walked out of the hall and arrived at the long corridor. It was still filled with hundreds of black-armored guards of the tower. Walking in the middle of them, he arrived at the elevator and found the guard from earlier. 

"I own it all now, and I am setting you free. Go out there and try to live a normal life," Sylvester gave the order. "Is there anything you want in life?"

The guard didn't flinch and answered back monotonously, "Death…"

Sylvester's brows rose, "Death?" 

"Without a master, I have no purpose," the guard replied. Soon, all the others spoke the same thing in unison, "Without a master, I have no purpose—give me death." 

"...give me death."

"...give me death."

Listening to the way those words were spoken without any emotions was haunting. Being brainwashed to believe serving a master is the highest fulfillment in life—it was akin to killing a person while keeping them alive. 

"I knew you'd say that," Sylvester sighed and stepped into the elevator. "Fine, follow my command. Lock down the entire Tower of Godless. Nothing shall leave from anywhere anymore—arrest all buyers and sellers, send slaves back to their holding cells without hurting them or scaring them." 

Thud!

All the men slammed their feet to the ground simultaneously and started moving toward the stairway somewhere. 

'I don't even know what lies in the deepest of the floors yet—I hope it's not what I think it is,' Sylvester muttered and took the elevator to the ground floor. 

"Maxy, won't we punish the Sheep Gods?" 

"You mean Slave Gods?" Sylvester mumbled as he walked to the exit, ignoring the chaos around him as the guards began taking action. "Just wait and watch." 

He went all the way out of the building from the massive iron gates. This was a different entrance than the port. 

Boom!

And just as he reached it, a fireball fell from the sky, and from it emerged the Inquisitor High Lord, his entire body steaming from his rare magical move. 

"Is it done?" Sylvester inquired. 

"To bring down an Elder Witch was a task too light. But I wonder, how can such a vile creature help in our fight?" the Inquisitor High Lord respectfully asked. 

Sylvester simply turned around and looked upward, taking in the massive height of the tower in his eyes. "Nothing much, just an elaborate form of punishment for the so-called Slave Gods—I simply need the witch to make a few dolls for me... to play, of course."

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