I Became The Pope Now What Chapter 779

[ … words ]

“S-Sylvester?!” Gabriel murmured as his body stood up on its own. Overcome with warm emotions, he stepped down without a second thought and reached for his best friend. “Is that really you?”

“In the flesh,” Sylvester responded and surveyed the crowd. The moment his gaze fell on Xavia, he felt sorrow. In her late middle age, she had grown older with wrinkles on her face. Although the beauty remained, the signs were clear.

Even Gabriel looked older, but to a much lesser extent. He was still an Arch Wizard and had more than a century ahead of him.

He welcomed Gabriel’s brotherly embrace. His good friend was emotional. “It must have been hard being the Pope.”

“That’s why I’m crying. I can finally step back.” Gabriel whispered into his ear.

Sylvester chuckled and dropped the bomb. “What gave you that impression? Buddy, I’m the Holy Sovereign. You’re the Pope and will remain that.”

“…” Gabriel was speechless.

Pat!

Sylvester patted his back. “But I’ll help you make it bearable.”

“I’ll take that.” Gabriel relaxed and released Sylvester from the hug. Both of them looked at the crowd then, eyes brimming with fanatic worship. To Gabriel, it felt amusing as the last time he saw the Clergymen this excited was years ago.

In silence, he looked at Sylvester with much curiosity. What was Sylvester now? Beyond a Supreme Wizard, what was he now?

“Are you planning on kissing me now?” Sylvester japed.

“Ehm…” Gabriel coughed and focused on the people. “Just curious.”

“We’ll have time later.” Sylvester nodded his head for the fanatic scent he could still feel—A pleasant heating sensation on the tongue with a smell of tulip. The single ability he was born with that kept him alive for so long.

“Many of you have served the faith well, and many have allowed their pride, greed, and sin to swell. But worry not if you have nothing to hide, but others may, for I see what in your hearts resides.”

Sylvester noticed plenty of senior and junior Clergymen shaking visibly in fear, but he chose to deal with them later. This was the time to commemorate their victory, no matter how blind they may be to the real stakes.

“The false gods—Aveda and Ashraska, who desired to destroy us and enslave. By the will of Solis, not even their ashes remain to erect their graves. Let his day mark the beginning of a new era, for the future stands bright and full of light! Pray with my voice—May the Holy Light enlighten us! May the Holy Light enlighten us!”

The chants followed from the Clergymen. The echoes of their voices reverberated in the domed hall and spread outside to the ears of others. From the pilgrims standing in the lines to the other Clergymen doing their jobs.

Soon enough, Sylvester walked beside the Pope’s throne and gestured for Gabriel to sit down again. “It’s wrong to keep the pilgrims waiting.”

“Resume the Holy Court!” Gabriel ordered the herald and waited for the next pilgrim to enter.

As expected, as soon as the young man entered, he was confused about whom to look at. The man on the throne or the majestic man standing beside it?

“May the Holy Light enlighten us!” The young man took to his knees, hands clasped together in prayer. “Your H-Holiness, please bless me so I may receive the scholarship to study medicine.”

Gabriel frowned inside. Of all the pilgrims, those seeking monetary help were the ones he disliked the most. But he still had to put on a kind face. “Young one, one with talent never needs to ask for a scholarship. Have you applied to one before?”

“I have, Your Holiness. But they refuse, claiming I’m unworthy.”

Gabriel really frowned this time. The ideal thing to do was to throw the man out since there was nothing he could do.

Gabriel. But he heard Sylvester’s voice in his mind. He does have the talent, but he walks the wrong path. Tell him to study botany—the study of plants. He will one day excel in it and grow medicinal herbs of the finest quality.

You can see that?

Past, present, future—I see it all, Gab.

Gabriel sipped in a deep, cold breath and nodded. He expected his old friend to be insanely strong, but omniscient was beyond strong. “Young man, you are a goldsmith trying to do the work of a diamantaire. Your talents shall only shine in the field of botany, not medicine—you are blessed to grow medicine, not to concoct them.”

The young man’s face lit up momentarily. “I… My father grows herbs. But it’s a small plot of land. That’s all we have. I make medicine for travelers with it.”

Gabriel found a way to help right there. “Then bring the proof of your father’s capabilities to the Saint Wazir, and you shall be awarded ten acres of land to start a larger farm. If you do well, acres shall follow.”

“Yes! Yes… I’ll do that, Your Holiness! May the Holy Light enlighten us!”

Soon enough, a young woman entered asking to be blessed with a good husband. Gabriel just raised his hand towards her and sent her back. He was the fucking Pope, not a pimp.

Following that, a child came to plead to have his father whipped for drinking too much alcohol. In return, Gabriel wrote an order to the local healer of the place the kid came from. The order was to tell the alcoholic man that he’d die in one year if he didn’t go on pilgrimage and stop drinking. Fear was a great tool to set people straight.

A granny’s plea to receive special medicine for her cherished pet dog on the verge of dying. She got it right away.

An Archwizard’s plea to be accepted in the School of Dawn in the Holy Land. He was taken by the Inquisitors for having a criminal record instead.

An orphan warrior’s plea to receive a surname and establish his household. He was sent to Warrior School first to prove his abilities.

Sylvester watched everything and helped here and there. But for the most part, he didn’t even have to meddle. His good friend was a brilliant administrator with plenty of solutions at the tip of his tongue at all times. Gabriel, who had read every single book in the Holy Land’s library, was the most suitable mortal to be the Pope.

He may not have the might, but he did have the brain. Satisfied, Sylvester slowly retreated and left the Holy Court, and entered the back of the Pope’s Palace to find a place to sit down and wait for the whole thing to be over.

To his further delight, not a single Guardian, Sanctum Council member, or Clergyman left the Holy Court behind him to speak with him or embrace him. Duty above one’s feelings, he appreciated the sentiment.

“It seems I’m not needed here much, Chonky.” He caressed the furball on his lap. “What should we do now?”

“Umm! I know! Let’s make the Bard’s restaurant even bigger! It doesn’t taste as good as it used to, Maxy. I think they’re being lazy.”

“They messed up my recipe? You’re right then, it’s time to spread the cuisine to all.” Sylvester entertained Chonky. “I might also start building a new castle in the Holy Land. Brick by brick, with my own hands, without using any magic.”

“Really? Are we going to live in it?” Chonky excitedly asked.

“No, we won’t be for living, Chonky. It’ll be a mausoleum—”

“MAX!”

That sweet, motherly voice. Sylvester smiled and stood up. Before he could even turn to look, there was already a body pressed against his chest, her arms clenching him tight, her face smashed on his robes. Her sniffles were audible, but they were of love, delight, and a hint of anger.

Sylvester hugged her back. “I’m home, Mum.”

“After a DECADE!”

He chuckled. “It wasn’t an easy battle, Mum. I barely won.”

“What matters is that you did win.” Xavia eased back but didn’t leave his robes from her hold. “Was it painful?”

“A lot.”

Her eyes welled up. “I’m so sorr—”

“But I won.” He repeated and wiped her tears away. He already knew the years ahead were going to be far more painful than anything he had ever experienced. The faint little wrinkles on her face were a reminder to start preparing. “And I’m really hungry.”

“Me too!” Chonky meowed and climbed back on Sylvester’s shoulder. He patted Xavia’s head from there, consoling her. “There, there, Big Mum. Maxy is fine and dandy. He just needs some honey-baked cookies, bread, steak… with a banana smoothie, banan—”

Knock!

Sylvester grounded his knuckle on the cat’s head. “You greedy boy.”

Xavia just giggled seeing them like this again. Having almost forgotten how to smile, she finally felt whole again. But there was still some fear. “Max, will you be going somewhere again?”

“No, I’m home for good. I’m not leaving until my last breath,” he assured her.

That sealed the deal, and Xavia jumped in for another hug. Of course, she could sense Sylvester felt different. Other than growing up, the entire aura around him was different. As a healer, she couldn’t even feel any magic, his pulse, or his heartbeat anymore. But she chose to question that later.

“Then that calls for a feast.” Xavia declared and strode away, while constantly looking back to ensure she wasn’t dreaming.

Sylvester chuckled at her antics and finally looked at the rest of the Guardians, the Sanctum Council, and his close friends.

“So, ho—”

Thud!

Just one word, and Felix, Gabriel, Aurora, Xylena, and another young woman jumped on him to hug him. They held him so tight, as if they were trying to choke him. But he easily lifted them all up.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough. Don’t harass this war veteran, I’m old now,” he joked, actually being an old man at heart from the start. He looked at all their faces but lost himself at the third girl, her height almost six feet, incredibly beautiful, and with blonde hair that was cut short to her ears. “And you ar—”

Tears welled up in the girl’s eyes.

Sylvester chuckled, stepped over to her, and pulled her in a tight, warm hug. Of course, he knew who she was. Of course, he was incredibly proud of her. This was his adopted daughter, Ella, now a beautiful twenty-year-old girl.

“How can I forget my little Ella?”

He glanced at Xylena then, the girl who had been connected to his destiny from the beginning. Yet, despite all his omniscient powers, he didn’t have an answer for why and how. “Thank you for all the help, Xye.”

“I’m your daughter, too!” Xye pouted and jumped to hug him again beside Ella.

Sylvester took her in and finally glanced at Aurora, the woman like his elder sister. As pretty as he remembered, perhaps even more now.

“You look… old, my sister.”

“…”

Shhhhh!

Red frowning brows, a twitching lip. A sword was silently drawn.