I Became The Pope, Now What?

'How long was I here?' He looked around in confusion, not knowing how it was suddenly nightfall.

But Archbishop Noah was there, sitting not too far behind him. The old man had a kind, grandfatherly smile on his face. "It's midnight. Others have gone back to Pope's Peninsula. Worry not, I have informed your mother."

p Sylvester nodded and looked around. The Soul Tree had spellbound him as it showed its true elegance at night. The golden mist that looked like chemicals in the day was now shining due to the many fireflies.

As he returned to his complete senses, he perceived weight on his lap. Looking down, he found Miraj sleeping on his lap, tucked into a small furball, possibly frightened by his prolonged frozen state. He caressed the furry boy to give reassurance.

"I saw a vision, mentor. Is that common under the warmth of the Soul Tree?" he asked.

The Archbishop moved to sit closer to Sylvester. "No. In fact, you are the only person in the last hundred years to have gone through this experience."

"Who was the last one?"

"Oh, he's a man of greatness, the First Sword of Light, Niel Gray, a Grand Wizard. Ah! You may not understand this way. Just know that Inquisitor High Lord, Crimson Fire, is the third sword of light."

'Great, another overly strong being I need to be careful of.'

He wondered if he should ask this old man about his vision. Was it worth telling him? Could he trust him even a little? The old man did look kind, but again, the Pope looked like a cool old grandpa too, but he turned out to be the opposite.

"Do these visions mean anything?" He asked.

The Archbishop took a long breath and looked at the sky. It was dark with shining stars and two moons. "Isn't it strange? The night sky looks so beautiful, yet it makes us weak. This Soul Tree is one of the only two things in the world that emit Solarium even at night after it absorbs them during the day.

"In a way, this Soul Tree makes us all stronger and gives us warmth. It is like a beacon of light against the dark unruly sea. So when it shows you something, I believe it does mean something. But visions can be unreliable, for we never know if they showed you tomorrow or just the moment before your demise. So heed my advice, Deacon Sylvester. Engrave this vision in your mind and forget about it, for when fate wills, it fulfills."

"Do you not want to know what it was?" Sylvester asked with genuine interest. He knew he'd want to know if he was the old man.

But Archbishop Noah laughed heartily, his big beard fluttering with each breath. "Haha, I do, but will that change the fate? I am nothing but a servant of Solis, and my vocation is to guide young souls like you to his embrace.

"I'm merely an Archwizard, young one. I am in the last stretch of life, and believe it or not, one learns to ignore all temptations at this phase. Your vision is yours, and your destiny is yours. But if you ever need my guidance, I will always be here—for however long I live."

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'What's this new taste? What does it mean? Calmness? Freshness?' Sylvester questioned himself as a new feeling hit his senses. The smell of Lavender and the feeling of freshness of mint on his tongue and nose were something he had never faced before.

The only respite was that Sylvester had noticed all negative emotions had some unpleasant or attention-grabbing feelings. In contrast, all the positive ones felt fresh and pleasant. This one was too pleasant.

He looked at the old man's face, wondering if he could ask a question he wanted an answer to. But he pondered if he would lose respect for it.

"You appear to have something to ask, child. Worry not. Ask as long as it's related to the faith."

Sylvester carefully worded his question. "Mentor, what is faith's official stance on sub-humans?"

"Ah, it's about what you witnessed in Pitfall Town?"

Archbishop noticed the amazement on Sylvester's face. "No need to be shocked. I learn about all my students before I start teaching. Now, coming back to your question, the faith only believes in erasing heathen activities, not the heathens themselves.

"What those Inquisitor Knights did to her was against what we stand for, for we believe that even the heathens live under the same light of Solis as we do. To end them is our duty, to punish them is the lord's duty. If I, Lord Inquisitor, or the Pope were there, we would have killed those Inquisitors immediately—and they did die at the hands of Shadow Knight."

Sylvester nodded as he felt at peace with that answer. What those knights did to the elf woman was the same as war crimes this meant.

"Why do they not accept the faith of Solis?" He inquired.

There was no definite answer at the Archbishop's disposal. "No one knows. Pope Jarl Desmond tried, and someone assassinated him for it. Maybe it's because they have their own gods as ancient as ours… perhaps not as powerful. Now, it's impossible that they will accept unless we defeat them and totally subjugate them. The scars of the long war are not easy to heal."

Sylvester agreed with that notion. 'Just like the USSR and USA in my world. Even after the end of the Cold War, the hostilities never ceased.'

The Archbishop continued. "I was once a young wizard for the Holy Army who fought against them. I had a wife and two children in a beautiful village on the coast. But then they attacked and burnt the village to the ground. By the time I got there, everything had turned into ashes.

"I lost everything instantly, and I was full of hatred. That was until I was among the knights responsible for raiding and burning their coastal village. I vividly remember that in that village of Beastkins, we slaughtered them all, whether male, female, or children.

"I was shocked and confused about which side was right. Then I went on the pilgrimage to search for answers and went to the villages where each Pope was born. Slowly, I learned and understood; with time, I calmed down, and now I teach you."

'Of course, everyone has a story in this world, often a sorrowful one. Can't expect much good when the whole continent suffered a thousand-year war.' Sylvester reckoned.

"Did you… find answers?"

The old man laughed. "Hahaha, that's the thing, I still have not, and that's why I agreed to teach your class. I, too, hope to get some answers—God's Favored."

'What?!'

Sylvester looked up at the man's wrinkly face in confusion. This time the 'god's favored' didn't sound plural. There was too much confidence in his voice.

"I believe you." Archbishop Noah blurted. "You are the one true God's Favored."

"..."

It left Sylvester speechless. He didn't see something like this coming from a man of high esteem like this one. "Why?"

"Because I read about your life. No other Deacon comes close to as many holy feats as you have shown. Your hymns, the abundance of light, your intelligence, and now your deep reasoning. These are the signs I cannot ignore, for this is what I was looking for.

"But I must remain impartial as your mentor until only you remain among your peers—lest foul things some malicious ears may hear."

Sylvester sensed no lies from the man. In fact, there was even a hint of worship. That was enough to assume that Archbishop Noah truly believed the idea.

'He's so rational despite supposedly being the most religious person among the crowds of the church. Or maybe it's his old age speaking.'

"Let's head back. You can sleep with your friends in the dorm tonight." The Archbishop stood up and guided him away from the tree. Sylvester looked back at the tree, wondering if the visions would explain themselves if he meditated more under it.

But he was too low-ranked to come close to the tree anytime soon. 'Let's hope that dream was not about me being reborn somewhere again.'

…

Arriving at the School of Dawn, Sylvester decided to reside in the dormitory with the other students for the first time. But he was late, and most had gone to sleep, except for his three friends.

They were waiting for him at the common dining hall. This was the only place where all Deacons of the first year sat together, be it from the Favored one's classroom or the normal ones. This was because there was no sunlight at dinner hours.

"I thought you'd be fast asleep."

Felix scoffed. "And I thought you died under that tree, can't say it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance again, swindler."

"That's not a kind thing to say, Felix." Gabriel, the kind religious boy, scolded.

This was a simple banter between Sylvester and Felix, as their friendship was the strongest among the four. Sylvester also kept the persona of being mindless goofy with the boy as it rhymed with the latter's personality the best.

Also, being undercover was all about matching the mental wavelength of the surrounding. So if he acted like an adult with them, he'd only come out as an edgy loner boy.

"I'm hungry, don't tell me you didn't keep some food for your friend." He asked, not ignoring the whisper of Miraj in his ear.

"It's in the room. Come with us." Markus guided along.

The four walked the ground floor corridors and soon arrived in a large dorm room. It had three beds and tables along with cupboards on the walls. There were also two windows, making it big enough to be called a hall.

"So this is what the dorms look like. I can't say I'm not blessed to have my own home to live in." He commented to make them feel jealous.

Felix didn't like that. "Markus, I feel hungry again for some reason. What do you say if we eat a little more?"

"Indeed, I feel hungry too."

Silvester noticed the metal box on the table and rushed to pick it up before them. "For a child to remain hungry in God's home is a sin, boys. So step aside and let me feed."

He opened the box and found a chicken stew and some bread loaves on the side. Then, with the convenient magic, he used elemental fire magic to heat the food while turning the conversation a little serious.

"I reckon some hearts were burning with jealousy once I sat down. Did anything happen… especially in Bishop Norman's class?"

Markus tiredly took a seat. He liked the company of Sylvester but sometimes felt he was sitting on a landmine. He didn't wish to fail in runes class. "Not much, but he was annoyed that you skipped a class, despite knowing why it happened. Romel was really jealous of you as well."

Felix barked at that. "Bloody heathen, even I was jealous of you. You had that bright halo behind your head the whole time. We all sat around you and waited for you to wake up, but you never did. So Archbishop Noah had to call guards to protect you from disturbance as we were brought back here."

"Language, Felix," Gabriel warned him.

Sylvester sighed and started eating while strategically feeding Miraj when the focus was on someone else talking.

"Why is Bishop Norman so against you? Do you know him?" Gabriel asked.

"No, but the reason is simple. Bishop is from the extended family of the Riveria royal family. Connect the dots, then. Also, I am supposed to be the best candidate in the class, even you too, Felix. Bishop Norman probably despises you too.

"So be careful now and focus on our studies. The yearly review for our class is about to happen. You know what will befall those who fail—elimination!"

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