I Became The Pope Now What Chapter 782

[ … words ]

[…It has been years since Sir Dolorem was martyred. But his presence still feels real. He didn’t have much to teach me, yet he guided me. My walking steps, without him, wouldn’t have been possible. I became the Pope, and something more. Yet even after being aware of everything at every moment in time, I can’t find the true origin of my existence. This cycle—there has to be a beginning to it.

I know everything, but this one question eludes me. And now, as I see those around me wrinkle, I feel why you never chased supreme might, Ser Dolorem. Why you found solace in your service.

I believe I will outlast all, this world, this time. But for those I cherish, it pains to see them wither. I can make them immortal, but I cannot—I am the rule, not the ruler.

I must fade from the present and become history. Or else, this world will never grow. I will see you soon, old man.]

Sylvester finished writing in the journal that Sir Dolorem had left behind. He looked up and out of the window as the train moved with an even speed. It’d been years since he’d introduced the world-changing invention, and by now, all of Sol was reachable by it.

It was a great boon for the people as the ability to haul immense freight revived dying cities and even expanded them. At the same time, paved roads were now the norm that led to all towns and cities not near the railway lines.

“Maxy, I’m hungry.”

He looked at Miraj, seated on Xavia’s lap in the seat in front of him. She was sleeping, probably tired from the journey. It’d been a year since he returned and started his travels across the world. He changed landscapes and created living environments for the demon species.

Sylvester waved his hand and out of nowhere, summoned a bowl full of cookies and handed it to Miraj. “Eat slowly. Don’t wake Mum up.”

“I’d never.”

Seeing her face with more wrinkles, Sylvester fought with himself every day not to play god. Altering one’s natural lifespan was like kickstarting a doomsday domino. So, he made her wrinkles disappear yet again.

And then, he focused on Miraj.

“They’re not all for you, Chonky.” Sylvester grabbed a fistful of cookies, as many as he could carry, emptying most of the bowl.

Miraj’s ears drooped instantly, his big eyes shocked at the audacity of his own son. “Y-You took them all.”

“Shhh… Don’t wake up Mum.” Sylvester grinned. Teasing and playing with Miraj was the best way to spend time. Being a god was too boring. He didn’t need to actively do anything to manage his existence.

Miraj lowered his voice and jumped on Sylvester’s shoulder. “Let’s do half-half.”

“Why? I bought them. I get more.”

Miraj sighed and patted Sylvester’s head. “Fine, since you’re my son, we’ll share forty-sixty.”

“You mean, you’ll take forty?”

Miraj frowned, his cat eyes shaking. “Why? The child gets the small one, doesn’t he?”

“Then what’s the point of changing the ratio if I’m getting less?” Sylvester gave him a single cookie. “That’s all you get.”

Miraj grumbled and pouted. “It’s not that tasty anyway.”

Hah! He can’t even lie well.

Munching, Sylvester watched out of the window at the passing scenery. It was comforting to travel like that. Horses were great and still in use. But traveling between what used to be large kingdoms in the past was now far easier.

Massive fields with crops growing. Men at work, farming, or constructing something. Small, beautiful villages and towns where the train made short stops. The faces of the people didn’t seem strained like they used to be.

Comparing the world to his childhood, Sylvester could see the drastic change. Ease of life and safety from financial ruin in case of crop destruction. Support from local administrations and the faith. He’d done it slowly, but the foundation was solid.

All they must do now is maintain what we’ve built.

####

Hours later, Sylvester and Xavia got off the train with two suitcases in their hands. He was dressed in common priest robes, nothing fancy, nor even a rank plate. His eyes had changed to black instead of golden. Xavia was also dressed in her Bright Mother garb. Miraj was once again made invisible.

Sylvester didn’t want to be recognized by the people. His name was already on the verge of being revered as a god. He wanted to avoid that at all costs.

“I don’t see any carriages?” Xavia muttered, eyeing the road outside the train station. It wasn’t a prominent one, so there wasn’t even anyone there to board the train. And they were the only ones to disembark.

“Expected that much, Mum. Goldstown is west of the Holy Road. Usually, carriages come towards the station, not go towards the town,” Sylvester said, picking up their suitcases, one in each hand. “Let’s walk.”

So, taking a left turn from the well-paved Holy Road, they walked onto a smaller road. It was summer, sunny, in the middle of the day. The breeze was gentle and vocal, and the birds and insects around were singing their music. The endless golden wheat on both sides of the road painted a beautiful picture.

It’s soothing.

His priest robes fluttered as he walked at a gentle pace with Xavia right beside him. Invisible Miraj sitting on his shoulder, randomly meowing at the birds in the sky.

“Why did you decide to go to Goldstown now, Max?” Xavia asked.

“Because that’s where I fought my first Bloodling when I was young. Sir Dolorem almost died that time, protecting me. Even I almost died, probably would have, if the Inquisitor High Lord hadn’t appeared and obliterated the entire mountain range with his fire—You’ll see soon. The mountains still look burned.”

Xavia frowned, reminiscing about those days. “I remember. You never failed to scare your mother.”

“But I’m still standing.” He cheekily replied. “Besides, I want to pay respect to Marigold Roger’s grave. He was the town’s chief back then. And his granddaughter is getting married, I believe—Doesn’t hurt to bless the young ones.”

“Young ones? Max, you are amongst the young ones.”

He smiled wryly, holding back the truth from her. “Don’t start wishing for grandkids again now, Mum. You know it, I can’t have any.”

“I know, I wasn’t going to. Amy, Xylena, and Ella are enough. They’re adorable and just the daughters I hoped to have. You even brought me a son—Zeke has been the sweetest.”

Dungface, that was once Zeke’s name. Half-witted, abused, and taken advantage of by the people of Pitfall once. Now a proud Diamond Knight.

Clop! Clop! Clop!

A distant sound of hooves came. Sylvester halted and moved to the side of the road, and looked behind. A cart pulled by a white bull was headed in their direction. The man steering it looked like an old farmer, dressed modestly with a straw hat on his head.

Soon, the cart neared them, and the old man deeply bowed his head towards Sylvester. “May the Holy Light enlighten us.”

Sylvester nodded, greeting him back. “May you be blessed, friend.”

Although he still had no beard, Sylvester didn’t look young anymore. His facial structure, his eyes, and his height made it impossible not to find him somewhat imposing for a priest. Hence, most normal people would right away consider him a wizard or a knight priest, rather than an ordinary one.

“Please, ride with me, sir Priest. I don’t know where you’re going, but I work in Count—Ah, Councillor Folksire’s land. I can take you to town.”

“Thank you, my friend.”

Sylvester put the suitcases in the back of the cart. But a man was already sitting there, thin, slightly feminine, with a clean-shaven face and deep auburn hair, holding a lute in his arms.

“The good folks of the Church.” The man greeted, shifting Sylvester’s suitcases to make space. “The journey just became more delightful.”

Sylvester and Xavia settled down. He sat beside the stranger while Xavia sat beside the suitcases.

“You’re a bard?” Sylvester asked.

Trrrring~

The man ran his finger through the strings of his lute. “The singer of celebrations, the rising voice of the South, Oscar Miles, at your service.”

Sylvester introduced themselves using alternate names. “I am Johnathan, and this is Bella, also my mother.”

“You don’t sound well,” Xavia commented suddenly. Being a healer, she saw things most don’t.

“Because I’m not, Bright Mother. I have been singing day and night on my journey to cover the entire Pope Sylvester circuit.”

Xavia eyed her son for a moment, feeling proud and overwhelmed that her son was such a highly revered figure. “What is ‘Pope Sylvester circuit’?”

“It’s a thing among us bards. To us, Pope Sylvester is nothing less than a deity. He made the occupation of a bard so respected and revered. We are among the highest-paid occupations, and wherever we go, we are received with love. So, we follow the footsteps of Pope Sylvester from his birth to his coronation. I’m headed to Goldstown now because that’s where he defeated his first Bloodling.”

Sylvester knew that. He knew everything. “Then let me heal you so you can continue singing.”

“You’re a healer too? What a day! Please, help me with my hoarse throat. I’m to sing at a wedding soon.”

Sylvester just raised his hand towards Oscar’s throat and, for visual confirmation, created a green light on his palm. Then he made the bard feel warm in his throat. Healing was instant, however. “It’s done.”

“Really?” The bard sat straight and rubbed his neck. “Lalalalala—laaaaaa—ooooooooo… HOLY SOLIS! It’s better than ever!”

Sylvester chuckled and relaxed back, knowing what was coming up next. The bard grabbed his lute and started playing it, singing a slow song, all focused on Pope Sylvester and Solis. Xavia was entranced, listening to the lyrics about her son.

♫He rose, he rose, beyond the silver star,

None matched his might, in peace or war afar.

Where’er he stepped, the barren bloomed anew,

His blade was justice, swift, and ever true.♫

Sylvester, meanwhile, looked in the distance ahead, the road stretching endlessly. So peaceful, and so beautiful. Once upon a time, nobody would have dared travel that road alone. Once upon a time, he was wanted dead by Riveria’s king.

“Are there any bandits around here?” Sylvester asked the old man steering the cart.

“Bandits? Hah! The last time one was caught was four years ago. There’s too many jobs and too few folks to work them. Who would choose banditry when real money is elsewhere? The Holyland sent teachers and taught us how to make the new farming machines—Good money in this, even in farming.”

Smiling, Sylvester eased back into his seat, arms crossed, invisible Miraj sleeping on his lap. It was the rule Miraj had made during their travels. Whenever in an inn or any safe place, he slept beside Xavia. Whenever outside, he slept with him, calling it ‘protecting his son.’

“What are you thinking?” Xavia asked him suddenly.

“It’s peaceful, Mum,” Sylvester said, within his cosmic mind, many images flashed. Facts of the future. “A society that trusts each other, where morals are high. It’ll last a long time… though not forever.”

Smiling, seemingly wanting to calm her son, Xavia held his arm. “Don’t worry. You’re still young; a long life lies ahead of you. I’m sure you’ll guide them well.”

But Sylvester knew the bitter truth. He shook his head and sighed, a mere habit of a mortal that he was no longer.

“But my work is done, Mum.”

In the end, Xavia was still a mother first and went with whatever he chose.

“I wouldn’t blame you for deciding that. You have bled enough. But what will you do now? Will you travel the world forever?”

“No, I won’t. But I haven’t decided what to do yet.” He said, expecting her response already.

Xavia’s eyes gleamed, and she proposed her idea. “In that case, why don’t we do something exciting? Something different? I always wanted to open my own infirmary. Let’s make one near the holy land.”

He cherished every moment with her. And getting to spend more time with her was the goal in the first place.

“Then let’s do that. Let’s go home after this.”