I Became The Pope, Now What?

Chapter 491: The Day Masan Fell

Pope Axel Tar Kreed knew he had considerably changed in the past few years. His anger was uncontrollable, and his patience was constantly waning. He wanted to ensure his legacy, at least, didn't go to waste as he lost the most trustworthy future Pope candidate.

His fury knew no bounds, and he never held back his strength anymore. No matter whom he battled, whether an army of minor soldiers or masters of Grand Wizard rank, he killed them in a single strike. Every time he raised his arm, mountains, and forests were uprooted.

One of the reasons behind it was his anxiety, for he could not remain patient and take any chances anymore. Knowing that even an ant can harm an elephant, he dared not underestimate anyone.

"Your Holiness, the Council awaits." The moment the Pope landed on the terrace of Pope Palace, he was greeted by Saint Wazir, who had stayed behind in the Holy Land to manage things.

The Pope didn't change his bloodied armor, nor did he clean his white beard with drops of enemy blood sprinkled on it. His eyes were bloodshot. He proceeded down the staircase and then to the underground area where the special session of the Council of Thirty-Two was being held.

"Your Holiness, they will wait. You can clean yourself if you wish to," Saint Wazir suggested meekly.

The Pope shook his head, and a grunting voice escaped his mouth. "While our men die on foreign land—while we exhaust every ounce of Solarium in our bodies to win battles… THESE LOWLIVES! They have the audacity to scheme."

Saint Wazir lowered his head in fear, as he had never seen the Pope that angry before. "The investigation has…"

"You can eat your investigation, Cardinal Ethias Lovecraft! I do not have time to engage in petty politics. As per the laws, during an emergency, I am the investigator, I am the judge, and executioner. They have already irreparably harmed the faith—if they had not rejected my plan for that young boy… he…" The Pope stopped midway. "It's futile to dwell on the dead."

Bam!

Finally, upon reaching the lower levels, he kicked the door open of the Arena. There, a large table had been set with chairs around it. They were all occupied by the most powerful Cardinals of the church. Old, conniving men with nothing better to do.

The Pope, however, did not take his seat. "I shall call the names of a few Cardinals. You are to come and stand before me. Cardinal Emos, Cardinal Leonel, Cardinal Yornwood, Cardinal Pinkton…"

One after another, the Pope spoke eight names. The eight men also responded by standing up and reporting to the Pope with salutes.

The Pope did not allow them to speak. "For harming the interests of the faith and compromising the integrity of the Holy Land, I invoke Article sixty-six against eight of you. Therefore, by the powers vested in me by the grace of the lord, you are to obediently present your necks to me and be executed immediately!"

"Your Hol—!"

Woosh!

Words left unspoken, the Pope didn't move an inch, yet a blade of air elemental magic appeared out of nowhere and struck the necks of all eight men. The eight heads flew in the air with a look of disbelief plastered on them.

The Pope didn't wait for their bodies to fall and proceeded to take a seat. "Cardinal Joseph, Cardinal Shanket, Cardinal Boris, Cardinal Moris…"

Once again, ten cardinals had their names called this time. With three of the council cardinals murdered long ago, and the recently killed one, there were only twenty-one left to begin with. With ten more, only eleven would be left, and if one were to count out the six Saint Cardinals, only five would be real council members.

"All of you are hereby demoted to the rank of Archpriest temporarily. As it is a time of emergency, your authority is in direct collision with mine. Therefore, all of you shall be sent to Beastaria to battle, and if you prove yourselves by returning alive, I will not only restore your rank as Cardinals but also grant you the title of Saint."

The ten Cardinals could do nothing but keep their heads low, for they cherished their lives too much. They dared not even glance at the furious Pope's face.

"What are you waiting for then? This council is for Cardinals only!" the Pope roared.

Like scared cats, the ten old men hurried out of the underground arena. They actually ran with all their might, even if their legs were on the verge of giving up.

Finally, with only a few Cardinals left, the Pope addressed them. "I am disappointed in you, my sons. From this day forth, I am appointing King Highland as a special administrator of the Holy Land. With his experience running a Kingdom and playing the game of politics, he shall be a good temporary substitute. He shall salvage whatever remains of this holy institute."

"Your Holiness, but he has a family!" Saint Wazir reminded. "Some may object."

"He won't be granted any clergy rank, Wazir. His sole responsibility will be to efficiently govern the Holy Land as a war machine. Eliminate any clergyman who dares to harm the interests of the faith—and at this moment, our interest is to turn those heathens of Beastaria into lifeless wraiths."

"Understood, Your Holiness. But what of the source of the troubles?" Saint Wazir inquired finally. "Nothing will end unless he quits."

"He will not quit…We will have to break him. By hook or by crook."

…

By hook or by crook. It was an ideology Sylvester had adopted thousands of kilometers away from the Holy Land.

The day was sunny, beaming with the lively warmth of Solarium. The Prince's entourage left the Hundred Castle City unhindered and entered the land of the impoverished. Their destination was the Monastery, where a meeting with commoners was supposed to take place.

As they proceeded, the roads appeared to be surrounded by people, held back by the large number of soldiers deployed there to maintain order.

Sylvester noticed the anger in the eyes of the people. Using a luxurious royal stagecoach for the ride was certainly not the best idea. A simple horse would have sufficed, but alas, royals were just like wealthy politicians of his past life—out of touch with reality.

Slowly, the procession reached the Monastery, and the Crown Prince walked out. He entered the Monastery's wide-open gates but didn't go all the way inside, as a wooden table and a softly cushioned chair awaited him there.

"Let's hear them." The Crown Prince declared.

Immediately, the five Grand Wizard guardians of the Prince, and then the Royal Knights, formed a semi-circle around the Prince's table, from wall to wall. With that, the crowds of commoners were allowed to come and gather before the Monastery.

Sylvester silently stood there as the main line of defense for the Prince. He and the other Royal Knights had their faces covered and looked highly menacing. Thanks to that, the commoners didn't dare come too close to them.

'The scent of hatred and madness surpasses everything else. All this crowd now needs is a simple push. With that, even the strongest foundation shall shake.'

Sylvester looked carefully and noticed Hozin in the crowd, as expected. Meanwhile, Lady Aurora had emerged from the Monastery in her armor, as she was the Saint Cardinal, the beloved lady of the people.

People respected Lady Aurora, so they listened to her instructions. Then, in no time, the first commoner was called over to stand before the Prince and relay his problems.

"My Prince, I am a poor man with a daughter and a son. My wife died while working in the glass factory. Buying food has become impossible these days. How will I feed my children? Please help me."

The Crown Prince nodded and waved at a knight on his left. The knight quickly brought out a small sack of grains.

"Have this and feel no worry, my friend. The royal family is keenly observing the situation. We will come up with a solution very soon."

The poor commoner glanced at the pitifully tiny bag of grains and returned with a sullen face. Of course, the Prince didn't even know how long that sack would serve a person and his family. So the help felt more like a mockery than a true gift.

One by one, names were called continuously. Then, once one hundred names were cleared, the Crown Prince stood up to leave. "We are done here."

It was, after all, a mere stunt to make him popular among the masses. Distributing free food was the easiest way. But he misjudged the people's anger. They no longer wanted gifts. They wanted solutions, and considering the crowd of tens of thousands that had gathered there, just talking with a hundred was unacceptable.

"Die, prince!" One shouted.

"Rot in hell!"

"Die with your family!"

"Off with the head! Off with the head!"

The people began to shout nonstop, cursing the royal family, the nobles, and the soldiers.

Sylvester looked at Hozin secretly and nodded his head. With that, the first plan was initiated. The rumors had already spread that the Prince had only come to silence them, not help them. In addition, rumors such as plans to increase taxes were also spread around, making everyone restless.

They wanted to ask questions, but the Prince didn't allow them. They wanted to speak about food and water, but they were instead pushed back by the soldiers.

Bam!

"You animals!" A commoner suddenly shouted and threw an egg at the Prince, which hit the Prince's armor.

"Down with Mirmasan! Death to Mirmasan!" The people began chanting against the name of the royal family.

The situation began to turn for the worse slowly. The crowd only increased as every second passed, and from the raised platform of the Monastery, only a sea of angry heads and faces could be seen. Finally, they all began to push forward to reach the Prince amidst the random flying eggs.

Sylvester smiled behind his mask. Once again, ever so secretly, his finger twitched. Magic did its wonder, and the human wall made by soldiers collapsed as one of the soldiers fainted. The dam broke, and the sea of people rushed ahead.

"DEATH TO MIRMASAN!"

"KILL HIM!"

Sylvester, being in the first line of the main defense against the dangers, rushed back to the Prince, shouting to protect him. "Take the Prince away!"

Bam!

The moment he shouted, a stone came and hit the Prince in the face. The five Grand Wizard bodyguards became enraged and shielded the Prince. However, when tens of thousands of people threw rocks and eggs, it felt like rain.

Woosh!

"Aaargh! Help!"

But just then, one of the soldiers near the crowd used his sword and openly beheaded one of the commoners. The head flew in the air and fell into the big crowd. Everyone saw it and felt terrified, but soon it only enraged them more than anything.

'Good Job, Hozin…now go back and watch the game.' Sylvester smiled. Of course, the soldier who beheaded the man was his guy.

The chain reaction began. The soldiers retaliated immediately, stabbing and slashing their swords at the unarmed people. But there was nowhere to go for the soldiers as the crowd surrounded the Monastery.

Bam!

Thud!

Stones continued to fall on the Prince, only a few touching. However, that was enough for Sylvester as he finally began to move all the metal he had fed the man the previous night.

'Let the revolution begin, Prince Zedd!'

The metal ball moved fast, damaging the Prince's stomach and then the heart, puncturing holes in organs. But, the damage was not enough to kill him immediately and only wound him so he would cough out blood.

"PRINCE!" Sylvester shouted and rushed over. Since the Grand Wizards were busy watching the crowd of more than a hundred thousand, they didn't notice the price falling from his seat in a pool of blood that came from his mouth.

"Death to Mirmasan!"

Tensions, violence, and uneasiness flared up. And with the Prince's downfall, their options were clear. They could not fly, so they had to make their way.

Sylvester hurried to act before anyone and picked the Prince into his arms. "Respected Wizards, please make way for us to return to the royal castle immediately! P-Prince…or else he won't survive!"

The five Grand Wizards had no time to think. They had to act, and they only knew one way to react.

Sylvester satisfyingly watched it all unfold behind his mask. 'Go on…kickstart the real revolution. Let their blood be the markings of your end. Use your mighty magic on the poor and weak who can't even defend.'

BOOM!

Five Grand Wizards against hundreds of thousands of commoners? The result: a mass massacre!

Tornadoes of fire, waves of icy shards, colossal gusts of air—elemental magic was wielded by the five Grand Wizards. It required no effort, and in a mere minute, sliced, battered, and scorched bodies littered the ground around the Monastery, resembling a hellish sea of the deceased.

A handful managed to survive, but they teetered on the brink of death, cursing and wailing. Children wept in front of their parents' headless or charred remains.

Sylvester, witnessing it all, paid no heed to the dead. What he did was something Solis wanted from him.

'Fulfill my purpose, no matter the price. Solis, for you, I hope this madness will suffice.' Sylvester walked between the dead bodies, blood splashing under his footsteps. Behind him were the rest of the Royal Knights, and before him were the five Grand Wizards, having no idea how much they had helped Sylvester.

'As the message of this massacre shall spread, the rest of Masan will feel nothing but dread—This execution is my solution, for the looming revolution.'

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