I Became The Pope, Now What?-Novel

Chapter 652 651. The Victims Of War

'When will this war end? When will this misery be over? When can I go home and see my family? When will my death come?'

Sir Leyon asked those questions to himself every single moment he found himself standing on the hellish battlefield littered with dead bodies, poison, and mud from the rain as if even the heavens went for them. 

"Second army! Prepare to charge ahead!" 

Sir Leyon, merely twenty years old, anointed a knight just a day ago for the 'bravery' he showed, just like five thousand others like him, watched as the General of the Army commanded them. He was excited a few months ago, but now he knew the offer of being knighted was merely a gimmick to lure men to fight. 

All for what? A few silvers of payment? Losing limbs? Seeing all the friends you've known die; and scared of making more friends, fearing their deaths? 

There was no end to the mindless battle. Both sides stood almost equally powerful, and both sides refused to negotiate. Both sides fanatically pushed forward without any change of plans, as if what failed before would miraculously succeed now. 

"Leyon, wear your helmet, dammit. Do you wanna die?" 

"I don't care anymore." Battered, his armor almost ruined, his entire body looking dirty, and having lost the shine of a cheerful man, he stared ahead with his spear raised. "Our lives don't matter." 

"I don't want to fight either," another voice spoke from the formation. 

"Me neither!" One more came. 

"My sister was going to get married today—her fiance died right beside me last week!" 

"My father and brother died. It's just me left! My mother is waiting…"

"I want to confess my love…"

"I lost four brothers…"

"Just one good meal before I die..."

"I feel like running away…"

"I don't want to die…" 

Each cry came from a different voice. Hearts were beating strong, hard, and fast in both armies across the bloodied battlefield. All the men nervously prayed or remembered their last wishes, regrets, and pains. They wanted to cry, but society would call them weak. They wanted to run away, but they'd still be killed. 

There was no way out from the chaos, and now even a quick death had begun to look like a blessing on that agony-filled battlefield. 

"Archers… Lose!" The General commanded, and the opposite army charged forward. 

Leyon, from the side of Sorland, got ready as well. 

"Charge ahead! Kill them all!" the General roared at last, and the beginning of an end to many lives arrived. 

"Haaaa!" Leyon, with his hoarse voice that had left his ruined throat, already charged forward with all he had, blindly and recklessly. He had no hope left for better days, for any miracles to happen. They were far away from the land of Solis, and it appeared as though the blissful warmth of the faith didn't reach as far, all across the Divine Desert. 

Boom!

At last, the cannons resounded, spreading chaos among the charging soldiers. The cannonballs had no explosives, merely balls of solid metal filled with concrete. But it did far more devastating damage, with limbs and bodies being destroyed. It was such a weapon that it didn't kill as much as it destroyed many lives by ruining limbs. 

Boom!

However, Leyon couldn't complain since he knew that somewhere on the opposite side, there was also a 'Leyon' struggling the same way.

Shwooo!

He heard a cannonball fly by right beside his head and hit one of his fellow soldiers, ripping one's entire head off and then destroying the legs of those behind. He felt his heart shiver in fear, but his body refused to stop, and he simply stabbed ahead with his spear as soon as the two armies collided. 

'Just kill me… please make it quick,' he muttered under his breath each time he gave someone a swift death. It was the only small act of kindness he could afford in that hell on earth.

"Arrgh!" 

"No… I don't want to—"

"Kha…"

Thud!

Clank!

"Please don—"

"Mercy—!"

All across the battlefield, Leyon saw dead bodies fall. In any direction he looked, he only saw chaos and mindless violence for something that wasn't going to benefit him or the majority of those fighting and dying. Heck, he didn't even know why they were fighting; only rumors said it had something to do with gold. 

The last time he had seen King Elmond was only at the beginning of the war inside the recruitment grounds. He remembered the speech made by the King. So full of vigor and positivity, talking about duty to the kingdom as the motherland. 

'Lies!… What else had been a lie?' Leyon wondered at that moment of deadly affairs. All doors were open to him at that moment, while the future looked unpredictable. 'Was Masan better? Is the faith truly kind? Is Solis…'

He looked up at the mention of the god on his tongue. He hoped to see the blazing heating sun. However, he noticed something else, a figure of a man descending towards the battlefield. 

'Solis… is real!?' 

Leyon muttered as the shining, gigantic halo and the blonde hair appeared majestic. The fine, golden armor was contrasting, and the spear in hand looked precious. The Mitre that became visible on the head looked like a massive crown, one only the strongest deserved to wear. 

"Have you come to take me? Has my time come?" Leyon asked, surrendering himself to fate and dropping his spear. 

Then, a few moments passed, and he didn't feel any piercing pain. Confused, he looked around and noticed everyone was looking towards the sky like him. 

And then, it all made sense. No, his time hadn't come, but rather, the Lord had finally acknowledged their cries and pleading. 

Woosh!

Shhhh…!

A blazing beam of light erupted from the ground and rose towards the sky. They came out like massive golden walls that formed on land and parted the two, battling armies aside, creating a large empty area in between, like the one before their charge. 

The two walls of light were fiery, pouring over the dead bodies, giving them a gentle goodbye from the Holy Light. 

More holy was the aura of the man that eventually landed on the ground between them. Then, the two golden walls vanished, but not a single soldier dared to move forward to attack the man. They all knew too well what kind of people could fly in the sky. 

And there was only one Supreme Wizard the realm knew of, who had a halo of light behind their head and a mitre on their scalp. This was the Pope, the one who always wins. 

"Commanders!" The Pope roared after landing on the ground. "Commanders of both armies! I want your Kings standing before me by midnight. Failure to comply shall mean you forfeit your life and your bloodline—each male member of your family shall be killed, and children made celibate priests to cleanse the sin of their ancestor—Choose, or watch as everything you lose!"

Right away, a few heads from across the battlefield appeared to move. Multiple commanders rushed to get a horse, and they galloped towards the distant base behind the battlefield. To a lesser extent, they, too, were a 'Leyon.' 

"All soldiers, walk back calmly to your sides—any show of aggression shall mean disrespect to the faith!" The Pope ordered again. 

Leyon, shocked at how quickly hell started to turn into a hall of light, realized that only strength mattered in this world. That the only way to break the chains was to forge unbreakable chains on all others. 

Step!

Step!

With a mind of their own, Leyon's feet moved towards the shining Pope with the halo, looking majestic and supreme, above all mortals of the world, like himself. 

He ignored all the murmurs of worry and the hands on his shoulder that tried to stop him. Dodging everything, he soon walked off the frontline into the open field, sticking out like a sore thumb. 

Clank!

He held no weapon, but his armor made noise and alerted the Pope while the entire battlefield, from all sides, stared at him in confusion. 

"Pope!" Leyon called. 

The Pope smiled and walked to him. He expected to be scolded, shamed or pushed back. But instead, the Pope's gentle hands patted his injured shoulder and healed his wound. The soothing, bright palm emitted light on his body that made him feel energized. 

Yet, his mouth moved on its own. "Pope… If I can kill you, will I rule the world?"

The armies couldn't hear what he said since they were too far away. However, Leyon knew in his heart that everyone questioned it once in their lifetime. Imagine what it feels like to hold supreme power to make entire kingdoms kneel. 

"To break my chains, must I forge one on those around me?" 

…

Sylvester couldn't fly, but he successfully landed while looking majestic. He then easily stopped the war and waited for the two kings to arrive. But never in his wildest fantasies had he thought he'd find a man like the one who approached him. 

Despite being shorter than him, thinner, and clearly far weaker, the man asked a question that most would never dare not, even if he were to promise no retaliation. 

But he then noticed something in the young man's eyes. There was a fire that he knew needed guidance, or else the world might see the rise of another Anti-Light, another Julius. 

Sylvester smiled and handed the man a vial of healing potion, "Do I rule the world?"

"Don't you?" Asked the man.

"Isn't this war proof that I don't? There is free will, so there is greed that led to this conflict. If I were the ruler, this wouldn't have ever happened. But if I ruled the world, I would be called a dictator, not a preacher." Sylvester answered back with careful words. "My friend, even I am not free from chains that one can never break, and that is called fate—But let me tell you, I am not the mightiest being out there, for Solis does exist, and so do all those who rose above the limits of this world's chains." 

The man lowered his gaze, "Then… sadness, death, and misery all that's written in the fate of people like me…? How can I stop such wars from happening?"

"It's a question you and others like you must ask yourself because I do have a solution. But are you willing to accept it? Are you willing to stop being sheep? Are you willing to overthrow the monarchy with your own hands? Bring a new system that's run on laws set by the people that are equal for all?"

Sylvester noticed the silence and patted the man's shoulder before sending him away, "Think about it, my friend." 

"Leyon—please remember this name, Your Holiness." 

"I will," Sylvester nodded and watched him go. 

After that small interaction, he waited silently for many more hours without moving. In his mind, he just played a game of chess with himself as the opponent. It was tedious at times, but Miraj was there to entertain him with some of his songs. 

But punctual they were. Just an hour before midnight, the commanders finally returned with many more soldiers behind, likely the entire armies left at the hands of the kings. 

"Elmond! I am so disappointed in you!" Sylvester angrily looked at the King of Sorland before turning to the King of Marcia, "Hathem, you were an Archbishop whom I allowed to become king—is this how you repay me?" 

The two kings walked towards him pridefully with their retinues behind them.

"I came back to Sol after ending the war with Beastaria, and here I see my own brothers in faith battling for what? Gold?" Sylvester roared, deliberately hiding the mention of Skygem so he could take it later. 

Bam!

Sylvester stomped the butt of his spear on the ground, cracking it and sending shockwaves of anger everywhere. 

However, in the next moment, a chair formed behind Sylvester, made of stone. He then sat on it, crossed his legs, and stared at the two kings. 

"Fine, so you want war, I'll give you something better—that will decide a winner much quicker," Sylvester stared at each one of them alternately. "Both of you shall fight each other until death. The winner wins the war." 

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