I Became The Pope, Now What?

"Meow Meow?" Miraj was shocked to hear his name being called, not knowing how he could be helpful in this case. He was no dragon, after all.

Sylvester picked the furry boy and held him in front of his face. Both have been companions for more than a decade and trust each other. They looked into each other's eyes as if talking without speaking.

"Chonky, do you trust me?"

Miraj looked back at the castle in the distance, then turned back to Sylvester. "No."

"..."

Sylvester laughed wryly. "Atta boy, you're turning into a better spy every day. Alright, I'm going to throw you to that castle wall. You go and cut that fat lord's tendons."

"My sharp nails can't do that, Maxy," Miraj argued.

Sylvester quickly took out a small but sharp knife from his armor pocket and handed it to Miraj. "There you go, now you just go there and get him to step away from the Bright Mother. Then stay with them and listen to all their secret plans."

Miraj looked at the knife in his paws. He didn't like this feeling, for he knew he was no bird. He glanced again at the high wall but couldn't imagine climbing it easily. "I die if I go."

"Come on, Chonky. I have calculated everything. You are about 20 kilos, and the height of the wall is nearly 30 meters. I can throw you 35 meters in the air, so you will freefall for five meters at gravity. So… using the work-energy principle, I know your impact force will be 9800 Newtons. That's easily manageable for your strong stretchable body." Sylvester smartly argued, as he seriously had done the calculations before the idea of throwing Miraj came to his mind.

"Who is Newton?" Miraj asked curiously.

"A man who loved apples a bit too much."

"Apples? Not banana? I don't like this Newton." Miraj declared his most hated person.

Sylvester chuckled and prepared to throw him after glancing at the sky, which appeared cloudy, and birds flew low. 'Good.'

"Likewise, pal. Now, get ready to go and be my little Robinhood. One—two—go!"

"Oh nyooo…!!" Miraj's loud and echoing meow resounded in the air as he was launched like a missile.

Sylvester was precise with his aim as he had practiced countless times with his spear. One chubby cat was no different. But, now he was to move on with the plan, as his wish was to avoid battle altogether because the enemy had two Arch Wizards, and these folks could quickly turn the Inquisitor army into a gory paste of meat, bones, and blood.

"What happened?" Felix asked him in a rush. He was always restless, ready to use his arm before his brain.

"Just wait. We will have the Count brought to us soon."

…

Miraj was a cunning master of speed and agility. He was the best boy in the world, always helping his human kid.

His eyes remained focused on the target, for the game of death he had started. Then, swiftly, he darted towards the target and reached behind the fat Count of Ranthburg. He held the sharp knife in his mighty sharp jaws and went for it.

Slash!

Slash!

Like the wind, he made a deep cut on the tendons of the feet. In an instant, the Count cried in pain and fell back on his butt, losing power in his legs.

"Aargh!"

The Bright Mother found an opportunity and got away from the man. She looked down at the army of Inquisitors and contemplated jumping. But, she had no magic, and the Inquisitors were too far away.

However, Miraj was not done. "Chonky shall slit your wrists next!"

He jumped around and, with precision, made the cuts on the back of the hand—Slash!

"Aaa… What's happening? I can't move!" Count Ranthburg cried in pain and panic. He could not see anything around himself or hear anything other than strange cat noises. "Guards! Protect me!"

However, how were the guards supposed to protect him from an invisible foe?

Miraj aimed at the shoulders next and zoomed past like the wind to make another cut.

Slash!

"W-What is happening? Aah… bring the healer… take me to the healer!" Count Ranthburg started hyperventilating.

However, the real game was merely starting from Sylvester's side.

Suddenly, a voice boomed around the castle walls, reaching all.

"O'Lord, this man deserves no mercy, but why hurt the innocents? Do not show your wrath upon this land. Let the Count suffer alone."

Sylvester's voice echoed as if coming out of all directions. In reality, he was using air manipulation magic to amplify his voice. It was not easy but doable as long as there were walls around for the voice to collide.

All started to look around at the sky dumbly. There were dark clouds now, making it appear as if night had fallen, but it was still the middle of the, and the clouds in the distance didn't look common.

Boom!—Thunder burst all of a sudden. The storm Sylvester had predicted from bird behavior, changes in wind, and the temperature had come true. And he was going to use it to the fullest.

"The seniors of Ranthburg County, come out with the Bright Mother. So you do not have to face the wrath of the faith. You may win today, but can you assure me you will win when the ire of the Inquisitor High Lord reaches you? When his fire burn you?" He roared. "Look at your master. Even the gods are punishing him in mysterious ways."

His message was clearly for the mighty men and women inside the castle.

"No amount of fortune is worth it! In the end, if you accept this heathen money, your reward will be death too. And, if you protect this man, you will be seen as his accomplices." Sylvester added.

"Ah! My eyes!" Count Ranthburg suddenly screamed. Miraj had not yet stopped and was still strong with his strategic stabbing.

Sylvester took advantage and raised his hands towards the sky while producing light from his palms. "Hear the roar of nature. The sky is angered! Hear the wind clamor, for all the signs are there. One question is left now—are you aware?

"I shall give you one day. If you do not come out with the Bright Mother, or any other Bright Mother in your possession, safely, I will call forth the might of the Holy Land… One day! Remember that! "

As his announcement concluded, he turned around and nodded at Sir Arnold. Soon the latter made the calls to set up the camp, and the Inquisitors started to move around. By doing this, Sylvester was not only buying the Holy Army some time but also creating a possibility that the battle might not even happen.

Sylvester was the main commander at the moment, so they set his tent in the middle of the encirclement. This was the first time he was being shown such high honor, perks of his new temporary promotion.

But, none of them felt like sleeping and instead discussed what they should do next.

"Can we not infiltrate the castle?" Felix wondered.

"No, they have two arch wizards and many lower ranked knights and wizards. They likely have set runes to detect any trespassing. There are only two easy things that can go from here. " Sylvester started. "Either their powerhouses surrender to us, or we go for an all-out battle. Once the rest of the army arrives, we will have the upper hand."

"What about the Bright Mother?" Sir Arnold questioned.

'I can't save everyone.' Sylvester thought. But he could not say that out loud. "That's why you should hope the first situation happens. Now I suggest you all take some rest. Who knows what tomorrow will bring."

Indeed, hope was all they could do. Sylvester had read the various laws in order to become a Sanctum Inspector. One of the highest priorities an Inspector must ensure is that they, at all costs, avoid wars from happening. The Holy land didn't want any human resources to die before the next invasion by Beastaria.

"It's getting colder these days." He muttered as the night slowly arrived. The camp got engulfed with lanterns and brightened every part. The patrol guards made their rounds in shifts. The owls sang their menacing songs while wolves howled in the distance.

Meanwhile, those inside the Castle knew that Sylvester didn't foolishly set the camp there, as the second goal was to stop all supplies to the Castle and slowly starve everyone. This very common technique could be devastating for a castle located on a cliff.

'I need to focus on increasing my strength and my clergy rank. My plan to live a peaceful life away from the church is down the drains already. Even a blind man can see I have the best odds of being proclaimed the true God's Favored. There's no way they'll allow me to live.' Sylvester thought about his fate at the same time.

The only thing that scared him the most now was his own blood. He felt nervous, borderline scared of sleeping in the presence of anyone or living in the Holy Land, out of the possibility that someone would test his blood.

Not to mention, he still had one mystery to solve. 'Where is Markus?'

But out of all, nighttime was not his favorite part of life, for it leaves his mind open to thinking about his life's strife. Sixteen years, it had been so long since he took his first breath in this strange world—yet he felt his life was a mystery still tightly furled.

He often reckoned that he was so blessed yet so cursed. He thinks about reincarnation and how illusory it seems even now. But at the same time, he'd curse as death seemed better than this life—'I'm too old for this'—he'd say.

He lay on his back on the makeshift wool bed, arms crossed behind his head. He looked at the dark ceiling of the tent, emptiness apparent in his eyes—yet so profound.

"What are you thinking, Max?" Felix asked, resting on his wool bed a few feet beside Sylvester.

With a sigh, Sylvester shook his head. "Nothing. Just remembered someone important… someone—who died today."

"How important?" Felix pried more.

"Extremely."

"Who is i-"

PA!

Before Felix could ask further, the war trumpet resounded and woke up all. Sylvester quickly tied his long hair in the back and headed out, as he never removed the armor.

"Your eminence, it seems they have decided. The two Arch Wizards from the Castle are coming out with Bright Mother!" Sir Arnold chirped excitedly.

"That's gre-"

Sylvester swallowed his words back when all of a sudden, he felt the ground shake. It felt like déjà vu, and soon he heard loud voices, shouting in unison—singing!

A minute more, and he recognized the voice. "Why is there another Inquisitor unit from the Holy Land here?"

The singing voices only amplified with the echoing steps of the march—Thud! Thud!....

♫Let the marching of the lord

Spill the blood, spill the blood.

Let the justice of the lord.

Here's my sword, here's my sword.♫

♫Heathens made the light obscure.

Our blades are so pure—the blessed cure.

This tragic pain in mind of yours.

You shan't endure. You shan't endure.♫

♫We find the witches; we find the heathens.

Pure our minds; we're men on a mission.

Rain or snow, no matter the condition.

No tainted desires, our honor you can't question.

We are the mighty men of the Holy Inquisition!♫

In an orderly fashion, five armored wizards and knights on horses in the lead led the marching Inquisitors into the camp.

But the march did not stop until it neared Sylvester's tent. That was when one of the men from the horses got down and saluted Sylvester, for he was a Cardinal, even if temporary. "Cardinal Suprima, Sylvester Maximilian, orders from Saint Wazir."

Sylvester quickly took the sealed letter and tore it open. It was written in the formal format used by Sanctum Inspectors. And it was a command this time straight from the top.

'Fuck!' He could not curse louder, sadly. 'So this is going to be a cleanup job now.'

He faced the tall knight beside him and forwarded the orders. "Sir Arnold, initiate Article 66!"

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