I Became The Pope, Now What?
539 538. Battle of Popes I - A Divine Duel
Duel Under Faith was a sacred battle that could be invoked by any noble knight in the presence of the sun or a high-ranking Clergyman. The duel, also called the duel of fates—was a death match. The winner takes it all, and the loser loses it all.
With honor at stake, those who refused the duel would lose respect afterward. However, considering the seriousness of the duel, it was rarely invoked to begin with. However, when invoked, it caught the attention of even the distant folks.
Sylvester, a man who upheld his honor and word in the highest regard since his youth, could never say no to such a challenge. It was something his enemies knew all too well. However, by now, his strengths had been gauged by many who died under his foot—yet, Niel initiating the duel meant the false Pope was confident in winning.
"What is Niel's power?" Sylvester asked the Inquisitor High Lord and Lady Aurora while his small entourage headed toward the designated dueling site. The rest of the army was asked to return since their plan of staged massacres for propaganda had already been successfully executed.
Despite his best efforts, Sylvester felt nervous about the battle. He accepted the fact that Niel was very clever, but to what extent was beyond his grasp. For all he knew, the man could have predicted his moves even in hypothetical situations. In that case, there wasn't much room to plot.
"He's called the Silver Mist. So it likely has something to do with silver-colored mist?" Aurora speculated. "But I've never seen him fight on his own."
"Such guesses can be dangerous, Holy Bard." Inquisitor High Lord spoke from his chariot, as a single horse couldn't bear his weight. "Such mistakes you cannot afford. Even though I have never seen him fight, word of it has been spread. It is said his power is undefeatable and leaves all enemies in dread."
Sylvester chuckled self-depreciatingly. "Great, now I'm brimming with confidence."
"But fear not, for he must not be above a level ten Grand Wizard. For I don't remember any other golden rain that a Supreme wizardhood triggered." Lord Inquisitor added, trying to bolster his confidence.
Sylvester sighed and looked down, wondering how he should tackle the situation. After all, it wasn't just Niel he was worried about. 'If Saint Scepter decides to do something, I won't be able to react. But why has he remained silent all this time? He must be smart enough to know how to counter my propaganda—or why didn't he deal with me before if he disagreed with my rise?'
"Don't worry," Gabriel said. "Solis has blessed you. You're the strongest and the smartest man I've ever known. The moment we sense any hint of a scheme from him, we'll nullify the duel. We can always accuse them of cheating on our flyers."
Sylvester chuckled. 'Ah, I think I've found my future public relations expert.'
Indeed, Gabriel had done a great job over the past week in establishing the propaganda division. He knew what best to add to the posters and what not to. When to focus on Niel and when to share positive stories.
"I suppose… you're right." Sylvester calmed down and stayed silent, plotting his moves. He checked his spear, his armor, and Miraj on his shoulder as they finally reached the green desolate hill of the Imperial land. It was a land with pristine pastures, untouched since the Gracia royal family owned it and wanted to preserve it in case they wanted to build something new.
They proceeded to the middle, where nothing existed for a hundred miles in all directions. It was perfect for combat without harming anyone. But still, since it was a sunny clear day, one could see the faint shadow of the peaks of castles in the Holy Land to the East and Green City's royal castle to the West.
"There he is," Aurora exclaimed, pointing her finger toward a hilltop. "He didn't come alone."
Sylvester saw Sir Maximus and a few others standing a distance away from Niel. So he sped up his horse. "You should keep the same distance from me while I meet him."
"May the Holy Light enlighten us." Aurora prayed before he left.
"May your victory create history." Lord Inquisitor added.
Sylvester simply nodded and approached Niel. He dismounted near the hilltop and calmly walked towards the man as if taking a leisurely stroll. Though in reality, he micromanaged every muscle on his face, concealing any trace of emotion. At the same time, he tried to read the man.
'I only smell pride, jealousy, and doubt—why is there no hate or rage?' Sylvester knew he couldn't fully believe in the scents, but still, they helped him understand something about the man. 'No expressions, just like me.'
"May the Holy Light enlighten us." Sylvester greeted him.
"May he enlighten us." Niel replied stoically, his voice melodious and calm, as if chanting a ritual. "Do you accept the duel?"
Sylvester gazed at the sunrise on the horizon and then at the man. The only previous encounter he had with Niel was during his youth, as they passed each other in the Administration building. Since then, the animosity was apparent to him.
Tall, thin, yet well-built, Niel had gray eyes and long silver hair. But surprisingly, he bore no armor nor carried a sword or spear. He just wore white, high-collared robes with golden embroidery on them.
"In the presence of the light of the Lord, I accept the duel of faiths—let this be in his record." Sylvester officially accepted the challenge, face to face.
Niel remained silent and glanced behind at his subordinates. He gave a nod, and quickly, the tiny entourage retreated far back in the distance.
"When people of our rank battle, the aftereffects can leave many lives rattled. I suggest you allow your allies to retreat." Niel proposed.
'Still no expressions. But I smell admiration when he looked at Lord Inquisitor.' Sylvester noticed that much and gestured at his friends to retreat as well.
With that, as if nature itself recognized the tension in the air, everything calmed down. No sound of birds or insects came, and the breeze whispered gently. The sun rose above the horizon, casting long shadows across the battlefield. Sylvester, his golden eyes gleaming with determination, gripped his spear tightly as he faced Niel.
Niel, his flowing silver hair billowing in the wind, emanated an aura of icy coldness. Clad in white robes, he exuded an air of calculated power.
Anticipation crackled in the air as the two locked eyes, ready to react if one were to move.
Boom!
Sylvester acted first and extended his spear with a surge of Solarium. At the end of the spear contained a few fire runes that emitted bone-melting heat. The strike was to gauge his enemy's response.
As the spear whizzed through the air, Niel effortlessly tilted his head sideways and dodged the strike. But the silver-haired man wasted no time and reacted lightning fast, sending back a small orb of bright light toward Sylvester.
'He also has light magic?' Sylvester realized. 'Is this why he's called Silver Mist?'
Sylvester hesitated to test the strange orb and hit it with his spear's tip instead, maintaining a safe distance.
Pop!
'It vanished?'
BOOM!
A fraction of a second later, the vanished orb of light reappeared and grew rapidly outwards, swallowing anything in its path with burning hisses and destructive force. The ground was uprooted, and the moisture in the earth vaporized—the orb expanded a hundred meters wide before again exploding like a nuclear fury.
Shhh…!
The echoing sound and piercing light vanished in the distance, but the smoke cloud in the sky covered the sunlight, revealing the high stakes of the battle.
'Is that his full power?' Sylvester wondered, preparing to unleash one of his own primary attacks.
Placing one hand over his chest and extending the other towards the man, he sang a quick hymn under his breath and let out the Wrath of Heaven's beam at Niel. Since he was much more powerful now, the move had also grown with him.
A sonic boom echoed from his palm, and a grand, five-meter-wide beam of plasma light emerged. It raced forward with a thunderous roar, its heat so strong that the smoke and clouds in the sky vanished, carving a deep ravine in the ground along its path.
Sylvester reacted quickly, almost instantaneously, in response to Niel. On top of that, he kept his next move ready as well.
'It connected!'
Finally, he noticed Niel facing the beam head-on with his palm outstretched. Within his grasp was a black book. The impact sent shockwaves rippling through the ground, shattering nearby hills and causing the earth to tremble as the beam's energy leaked into the surroundings while Niel was pushed back.
Sylvester cursed under their breath and quickly sent out another similar beam to reinforce the previous one. "Haaaa…!"
Once again, it connected and enveloped Niel in the scorching light. This time Sylvester didn't stop. "Chonky, fly and see what he's doing."
'He's too strong if I fight conventionally. It's time to add some serious Elder Magic.' Sylvester mumbled under his breath and continued with his next move—Holyfire Purge.
Crack!
The ground beneath Sylvester's feet began to crack apart in all directions like a spider's web. Below his feet were also gigantic elder runes formed through the fractured ground itself—the lava erupting from the gaps formed the inscriptions of Elder Magic.
"Maxy! He's not hurt!" Miraj's call came from the sky.
"What?!" Sylvester exclaimed.
Woosh!
Abruptly, everything stopped—the beam of plasma light vanished, and the elder runes he created on the ground were desecrated. 'How?' Sylvester had no idea, but he felt a piercing pain in that very instant.
"Argh!"
His eyes opened wide in confusion. He glanced down and noticed his right shoulder hideously dislocated, the right arm twisted as if something had struck it at an incredible speed.
"Too slow, bard."
Sylvester hastily turned back, and there stood Niel, as calm and collected as before but just two meters away. The book in hand remained open as he watched Sylvester.
'How did he move past me so fast? Did he hit my shoulder… Wait… why isn't my shoulder healing?' Sylvester quickly looked down and found nothing. But then he looked at the sky and noticed a strange streak of light traveling in various directions. 'Is that a rune?'
"You could have become the Emperor of Masan, and yet you chose to return," Niel spoke. "You could have gone to Beastaria and lived like a Prince, yet you chose to stay. You're too confident in your abilities—"
Bam!
Niel vanished from his spot and instantly appeared before Sylvester, grabbing his left arm before it could cast magic.
'Teleportation?' Sylvester tried to guess, his defiant eyes never leaving Niel's face.
"Too slow, bard—for my eyes perceive the world slower than a turtle."
Sylvester began to chant, forming a halo behind his head, for he didn't need hands to cast all magic. "You may hold the light as I do mine. But only its master dictates its design—"
Boom!
"Too slow."
Thud!
Sylvester fell to the ground, his nose crushed flat, without even sensing or seeing the source of the impact. Niel was nowhere to be seen once again.
"You are strong, wise, and blessed, young bard, but the differences remain vast. Tell me, do you know how fast light can travel?"
Sylvester turned around once more, blood dripping down his face, and listened to the man.
Niel didn't spare a glance at Sylvester and read something from his book. "You may be able to create light with your 'tricks,'—But only I can be called the true personification of light. Now prepare to die—for death will come too swiftly for you to even cry."
"Haha." Sylvester suddenly smiled. His bloodied teeth and crushed nose looked hideous.
Niel seemed annoyed by it as he looked up. "And yet you smile like a fool."
"Why not? Being a fool can be one's greatest tool." Sylvester blurted and vanished from his spot abruptly, just as Niel had done before.
Niel, clearly shocked and confused, looked left and right to find him. "You can never be faster than lig—"
Shhh…!
Air brushed past Niel's nape, and he turned around at lightning speed. Only to hear the words he used to mock Sylvester some seconds ago.
"Too Slow."
BOOM!
____________________
[A/N: See Niel Grey]
Thank you for reading. GT votes are much appreciated.
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