I Became The Pope, Now What?



The plunge through the shadowy clouds persisted unceasingly. In that surreal void, Sylvester seized a moment to have Chonky conjure some clothes, ensuring they preserved some dignity. Yet the absence of their armory and weaponry weighed on them. Chonky possessed only the lesser-grade ones, prompting them to grudgingly settle for such equipment.

Yet, almost an hour had passed, and they were still plummeting through the dark clouds. It amazed them to think that the tower beside them was probably the same height. But at the same time, they couldn't even be certain if they were still in the same location. It was a truth that in this realm, everything was subject to the Elder God's whims.

"Keep your eyes open," Sylvester whispered and kept his gaze downward. "I have no idea what 'trial by heart' means."

Silence lingered for a long while as they felt the air roughly brushing against their faces. It was bewildering; falling so rapidly and for such a duration implied that the planet was incredibly massive, and its atmosphere extended to such altitudes.

Bam!

"Ouch…" Sylvester groaned in pain. Suddenly, his back collided with a hard surface. The same happened to Saint Scepter. It all came unexpected as they only focused on the looking downwards, not what was above them. And still, somehow, the land appeared above them, reversing the entire sense of gravity. 

'Always expect the unexpected—lesson learned.' Sylvester mentally noted as he tried to sit up, feeling a slight ache in his back. With a second glance, he realized they had arrived in a vividly illuminated world. The sky was blue with scattered clouds, and around them lay green grass and small, lush hills with some… goat-like creatures grazing. The only peculiar thing was that these goats were as large as cows, and they had green skin instead of the usual hue. 

He checked on Saint Scepter and was taken aback. "You're… red."

"You're blue," Saint Scepter retorted, pointing back.

Immediately, both of them created reflected puddles of water on the ground and examined themselves. Indeed, they had the same facial structure, but now their faces were colored red and blue, and their eyes shone yellow, akin to those of a cat.

Swiftly, Sylvester scanned the surroundings to assess where they were and what the test might entail. As far as he could observe, they seemed to have appeared near a village belonging to an unknown species. At that moment, they were likely disguised as the native inhabitants.

'Trial by heart? It can't be the literal word, or else it would have been trial by death instead,' Sylvester concluded and chose to follow the unpaved dirt road in the distance.

"What do you think, Saint Scepter? What is this trial about?" Sylvester asked the man for some second-hand advice. He despised him, but unfortunately, the enemy of an enemy was a friend, and at the moment, the Elder God was the enemy. "And don't mention fate."

Saint Scepter awkwardly glanced around. The absence of a cloth to conceal his exposed lower jaw bones was probably bothering him. "We can think, but ultimately, our fate can be changed in a blink. This is his domain; only what he wills shall remain—Perhaps a few words from those residing can be of assistance—as long as they don't see us and show resistance." 

"..."

Sylvester sighed and began walking. "You could have simply said, 'I agree with your plan, Sylvester,' instead of rhyming."

"..."

Saint Scepter wasn't accustomed to being spoken to like that. Usually, this would have angered him, but now, he oddly found it agreeable for some reason. It was akin to a reminder that he wasn't as flawless as everyone portrayed him.

The two strolled along the muddy road for a few minutes and eventually spotted smoke in the distance. It emanated from a house at the edge of what they presumed was a village. The shapes of humanoid figures also came into sight.

"Follow my lead." Sylvester led the charge ahead, considering that Saint Scepter was likely an ancient man without proper know-how of how to be a spy and assimilate among people. Sure, he may have had some stints, but the mind of a modern man was still leagues ahead. 

Luckily, they noticed that the villagers wore similar attire to them, and their skin tones matched the rest, displaying shades of blue and red. Though, with their armor, the two seemed somewhat out of place.

"Something feels amiss." Sylvester immediately alerted Saint Scepter, detecting a strong scent of sorrow among the people. "They're attempting to avoid us, almost appearing frightened."

The villagers, avoiding direct eye contact, went about their tasks. Every time someone caught sight of them, the villagers quickened their pace or simply retreated into their homes or shops.

'The village seems to have a sad history.' Sylvester began to formulate a vague hypothesis based on their reactions. 'Only one way to uncover it.'

"You!" Sylvester called a random passerby man. Thankfully, they knew the common tongue, perhaps a blessing for the Elder God. "Why are you running?"

"M-m-me?" The man, red-skinned, bald, dressed in peasant clothes, stammered. "I'm not running, sirs… I'm just walking really fast… How can I assist you?"

Sylvester couldn't make any mistakes and say something wrong, so he unsheathed his sword. "You think I'm a fool?" 

"N-no, sire… You're the almighty… Please don't take my children… I will give the tax to his lordships. Please just give me one more month to sell my harvest." The peasant almost cried while pleading.

Sylvester gathered some surface-level information from that. 'The ruling lord takes their children if taxes aren't paid? Am I supposed to help these people? Is this the trial by heart?'

Boom!

Boom!

"Hmm?" Sylvester looked eastward and noticed some fireworks in the daylight sky.

"Please! I beg you… Please tell his lordship I will pay the tax!" The peasant man knelt down and pleaded with Sylvester.

'Their lord is coming?' Sylvester realized and chose to hide away.

He freed his foot from the man and quickly walked away with Saint Scepter. Sylvester used light-bending magic that turned them invisible to secretly climb one of the larger buildings in the village so they could observe everything.

In no time, a long procession arrived. Surrounded by warriors on horses, some with red colors, some blue, and a few even green ones. Among them was an open, noble carriage pulled by creatures that seemed like horses but had lizard bodies.

Quickly after, the show began as the crowd of warriors herded the villagers before the tall, well-built, regally dressed, red-skinned lord. The villagers were all made to kneel, and soon enough, children were pulled out of hidden spots in homes and thrown into a prisoner transport cart. The children cried for their families, and the families cried for their dear little ones—But no mercy came from the lord. 

"Your village elder made a deal before dying, so now you must fulfill it. He promised extra tax in return for my knights protecting the village from thieves and such. It's not my fault the harvest is less than satisfactory—I never engage in a loss-making business—Never." The feudal lord of the land scornfully spoke, ignoring the wails of pleading.

From the distance, Saint Scepter and Sylvester heard everything. Slowly, it became clear what the trial by heart was supposed to be. But how they were to approach the matter was still in question. 

"I'm sure he took a piece of the stolen goods by thieves and such." Saint Scepter said with disdain. "I've seen this countless times—It's impossible for a peasant to escape from a cruel, corrupt noble's clutches." 

Sylvester agreed with him. "That's why he's the Lord. Seeking personal profit, regardless of which side wins or loses, is one of the main things that sets commoners apart from rulers. But this is simply wrong—taxation is one thing, but abducting children is unacceptable." 

"Then we shall attack and kill the lord. No matter where we are, such crimes can't be ignored." Saint Scepter immediately prepared for battle.

But Sylvester wasn't as enthusiastic. "After we kill the lord, what next? This village will face the lord's family's revenge once we're not here to protect them. By resorting to violence first, we're pushing the people further into trouble."

"Then what do you suggest, Sylvester Maximilian? Isn't that what you learned as a clergyman? Article Sixty-six?" Saint Scepter inquired, narrowing his eyes. 

'Is he also testing me? Trying to gauge my reactions?' Sylvester felt some suspicion. 

Sylvester sat down cross-legged. "The same Article Sixty-six you used to put the Shadow Knight behind me? No, I'm not so impulsive. The key to easing this village's issues is to change the lord's mindset. Just a few words spoken directly into his thoughts—and he shall fear the gods."

He attempted to use the Elder Magic that he had previously employed to communicate with the masses in Sol. He almost believed that the trial by heart wasn't supposed to be about being heroic but rather to see how they solved problems—issues that deeply touched their hearts, something that could easily enrage them.

With abundant solarium, Sylvester effortlessly navigated his way into the feudal lord's mind and spoke with a loud, resonating, and weighty voice that also reverberated. Since he had some control over the man's senses, he ensured his voice triggered fear, awe, and worship in the man.

'Years of sins shall not go unpunished. The price must be paid for destroying what others cherished. Hear my sermons, hear my curse—unless you atone, your life shall continue to get worse!' Sylvester was a master of hymns and projecting a majestic presence, after all. That's all he had done for most of his life. 'If with your hands, you haven't aided a million people, saved a million animals, or freed a million slaves—the unstoppable curse will come in waves. Loss of wealth, loss of family, and loss of life—choose with what your life shall be rife.'

Along with words, Sylvester sent such sensory overload into the feudal lord's brain that the man collapsed onto the ground right away. His eyes widened, and his body shivered with sweat. His words stammered as if he had just met god. 

"S-stop this at once!" The man roared. "Release the children—Release all the children… The tax is forgiven… r-retreat!"

Confusion spread among the troops and villagers alike. But the soldiers dared not question their lord and complied with his request. Before anyone could ask further, the procession assumed a formal stance and prepared to depart.

However, just before the feudal lord left, he glanced at a villager. "How many live in this village?"

"T-Two hundred and six, your lordship."

The noble lord frowned. "That's nothing, make more children… argh!"

A sudden headache made him clutch his forehead. With that, he left the village.

From the rooftop in the distance, Sylvester and Saint Scepter watched everything unfold. He explained what he had just done to the noble lord. 

"So it's a bluff? What if he realizes there is no curse?" Saint Scepter inquired, rightfully so.

But Sylvester shrugged. "Who said there is no curse? It's quite the opposite, actually. The lord will never be able to break the curse I've placed on him with Elder Magic. Even after he completes the task, he will die a miserable death—yes, I can be harsh with those I consider unworthy of my kindness."

Staring at the village, Saint Scepter bobbed his head. To a degree, he agreed with Sylvester, and since they avoided bloodshed, wasn't it the greatest victory? 

"The best revenge is to be unlike him who performed the injury." Saint Scepter said, admiring. "You didn't use the sword before utilizing the mind—an idea I stand behind."

"Thank y—" Sylvester stopped speaking and looked at the sky; he could almost sense the sudden increase in solarium. "It's coming."

With that, the voice reverberated again. "Trial by mind—begins!"

Thud!

Saint Scepter and Sylvester immediately dropped down onto the rooftop; even Chonky fell while tucked on the chest. All of them were lost in the labyrinth of mind—reliving what they hoped never to experience again.

…

Sylvester suddenly found himself in a memory he had thought was forgotten. However, instead of being the main character, he realized he was an invisible observer, watching it all unfold. The same chilly night in Moscow, the same airfield, and the screeching wheels of a car.

His former self rushed out of the car and assisted a pregnant Diana as they hurried to board the plane. Gunshots echoed from behind as a consequence of their blown cover.

"No…" Sylvester shuddered at the sight of Diana being shot in the back. Yet she ignored it and ran alongside his past self onto the plane. Only to perish moments later once they were airborne—leaving his old self with nothing to live for, yet determined not to give up on life with the vow she made him take. 

However, just a few moments later, Sylvester discovered the entire scenario reset, and his position changed. Once again, he began to see everything from a third-person perspective, unable to interact no matter what he tried.

But, the element of surprise only lasted for two instances, as the third time, he observed it while pondering deeply about his current situation. 'Trial by mind—what's being tested here? My control over emotions and thoughts?'

Bang!

Once more, he witnessed the bullet hitting Diana for the nth time. It saddened him but didn't elicit a reaction from him. 

'If this is a memory in my mind, then I must be its controller, not an outsider force.' Sylvester proceeded to utilize whatever knowledge he had about solarium and Elder magic to cut himself from any solarium that was entering his body. Since solarium was the basic unit of magic, without it connecting to his mind, there was no way of influencing him. 

However, before he could sever the connection, he felt his control over his mind returning, which meant he could alter what he was witnessing, much like a lucid dream.

Bang!

Once more, the gunshot echoed, but at Sylvester's will, the memory changed this time, and it was his past self who timely and precisely shot the man before the bullet aimed at Diana could be fired.

'Only if this had been the reality.' He sighed, recognizing this was merely wishful thinking.

So, he transformed the recurring memory into something he cherished the most. He saw his own birth as a third person. Seeing Xavia affectionately cradle him as his baby eyes opened and gazed at her for the first time, captivated by her charm.

'I thought it was a curse; who knew I'd value it so much.' He murmured, recalling his initial thoughts after reincarnation.

Soon, he altered the memory again to his first-ever encounter with Miraj.

"Little human kitten, mine now…"

The scene of Miraj embracing his little infant body was perhaps the most bewildering yet fortunate moment of his new life. Initially viewing Miraj solely as a tool, the furry cat had now become a cherished family.

"NO!" Sylvester exclaimed suddenly, rousing himself from the visions. "Chonky must be experiencing these nightmarish memories too!"

________________________

[A/N: The next one is the last trial.]

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