I Became The Pope, Now What? Chapter 8

BOOM!

The energy from Sylvester's palm increased as he finished singing the hymn a second time. Then it suddenly released itself from his palm and travelled as a beam of spectacular warm energy.

"AH!" Xavia suddenly cried in pain. Her body was thrown back to the tent wall so hard from the sudden recoil that she felt her bones reach the limit.

The small tent was engulfed in such a strong release of golden-white magical energy that nothing could be seen in the light. Sylvester appeared like a little laughing buddha with closed eyes, a halo behind his head, and the magic coming out of his right palm.

BOOM!—The tent blew open, burning away in golden ashes. The creature's cries resounded in the background as flesh wounds were inflicted with deeper gashes. It raged and pushed hard, but it stood no chance of fighting against this.

First its upper skin. Then, the muscles and then the organs. Layer by layer, all of it was blown away by the bright, warm magic.

Yet, the beam didn't stop and travelled fast. It decimated the tents in its path and soon hit the cliffside with a loud explosion. However, the little boy had no control over the magic and kept releasing, caving a wide tunnel on the cliffside.

Now, without the roof over them, they were open for all eyes to see. The soldiers and knights surrounding the tent realised they had already failed at their task. Not only that, the little child was saving their life instead.

The magic beam cast its warmth all around, acting as the bane to the creatures of the night. They screeched, they raged, but they couldn't fight. The army took advantage of the situation and dug their swords into the enemy's heads.

Then the Inquisitor High Lord tapped the staff to the ground and engulfed the bodies in bright, deadly crimson flames, ending the dreadful night.

Slowly, the sun-like bright magic from Sylvester subsided, and the uneasy darkness returned. The fight had ended, yet the men found themselves unable to move. They were in awe of the magic they had witnessed, as never in their lives had they seen a child achieve such a feat.

The Inquisitor High Lord walked to Xavia and took Sylvester in his arms. The boy had fallen unconscious for reasons understandable. He boomed in pure reverence, "To kill the filthy Desert Cannibals with such ease. There are no doubts left anymore. He is the true God's Favoured!"

The clanking sound of the armour spread instantly as the men started to salute with their arms crossed on the chest plate. They thumped their armour to bring forth the music of victory. To them, Sylvester Maximilian was not just a random child but already a legend.

"He is tired, Mother Xavia. Casting magic in the middle of the night even takes a toll on my body. Go and nurture him to health," said the Inquisitor High Lord while handing him back.

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But Xavia didn't like how thin and pale Sylvester looked. It was as if he suddenly lost some percentage of his body mass. She just swung him in her arms and moved to the large horse carriage to feed him because the tent was gone.

"Wait," the Inquisitor High Lord called from behind.

He faced his aide, Hans, and ordered, "Bring me a blank rank slate."

This order seemed to have caused murmurs among the soldiers. Hans didn't dare say anything either and quickly ran to the carriage's storage box. When he returned, he had a small golden plate with irregular edges.

The Inquisitor High Lord took it and walked to Xavia. Without asking, he placed the golden plate on Sylvester's chest and stepped back.

The whole army stared at the mother and son silently, all eyes focused on the golden plate. It showed no activity for a good few minutes, and the Lord Inquisitor's theory seemed to have failed.

"Ugh... mum mum... ma..."

The instant Sylvester's childish gibberish left his mouth, the golden plate started to shine in bright light. Then slowly, the smooth surface of the plate began to change, and at the centre, two empty rectangular slots appeared. Once they were clear, the slate stopped shining.

Hans felt as if his eyes would fall out any moment, "THIS... My Lord!"

Inquisitor High Lord's eyes shined red behind the visor. "MARVELLOUS! Merely two months old and already an Adept Wizard. Solis has blessed us! Truly blessed us! Men of Inquisition, clean the filthy land and sing the holy hymns. Prepare to move. We cannot afford to delay anymore. We must present the God's Favoured to the Holy Father in a month."

As he said this, he glanced at Xavia with a mind full of questions. She was worried and caressed Sylvester's face, not at all shocked by the changing pattern on the slate. The boy was fine, but a mother's care was something none could decline. It was her right. However, sometimes that right could be the reason the child strays from the Lord's light.

It was something the Lord Inquisitor needed to prevent... at all cost.

In the middle of the night, they were once again on the road. Xavia sat the whole way silently, not uttering a single word. In an instant, her life had changed so much, the chain of events was bizarre, and everything started from the day Sylvester was born.

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She did not complain, for he was her cherished son, but she did feel that he was too different. Being a helper of the village healer, she had seen many babies. But unfortunately, Sylvester shared nothing with them.

He rarely wet himself, and whenever he needed to poop, he made sounds to attract attention. Then the night she was attacked by Chief Deserte, her son screamed. She never taught him how to speak, so the hymns that followed were even more absurd. And now, he showed such magical feats that, on the surface, seemed nonsensical. The fanatics from the Church could easily dismiss it as heaven's grace, but not her.

She had her fair share of secrets in life, but Sylvester made her feel like there was more to him than what met the eye. Was he really God's Favoured or just something—else?

"BBa!" Sylvester made noise from her lap, waking up after a long 12-hour nap and recuperating the lost energy.

Xavia knew what this meant; he was hungry. So taking the thin blanket to cover her chest, she fed her son. Again, an activity she couldn't get used to due to how he behaved. He'd refuse to look and kept his eyes closed while drinking milk. He never made any noise or played. He simply drank until he felt full and tried to get away from her chest.

He was far too bright and behaved for his age. 'His eyes… They don't have that innocence and confusion like other babies.'

Yet, she kept these observations to herself because being alive right now was the highest priority. She had heard rumours about how ruthless the Church was, and making them enemies was the last thing she wanted.

Meanwhile, Sylvester had his own chain of thoughts vastly different from Xavia. What he did back then proved he had magical powers... a lot of it. The feeling when he used magic could only be described as ethereal soothing to the body, as if he released the frustration of a lifetime. Yes, it weakened him but also calmed his mind.

But the experience reaffirmed a few ideas. He could not rely just on Xavia for physical protection, as everything seemed to be going wrong since his birth. The only hands and abilities he could blindly rely on to survive were his own.

One thing he needed to increase his odds of surviving the early years was to gain knowledge. Knowledge about anything and everything about the world. What attacked him, the geography, the political landscape, the powerhouses and above all... Magic.

However, since he could not speak openly, he could only rely on the words being spoken around him to gain more information. So, he relaxed and closed his eyes, acting as if asleep. However, he was only trying to listen to the various knights close by, riding on their steeds.

"Argh… I will be reassigned to that wretched northern border again. Can't these dunces just not fight in the name of Solis? They are brother and sister, for God's sake," said a knight on a brown horse, his shining silver Knight's armour clanking with the movement.

Another Knight lifted his visor beside him, revealing blue eyes, brown hair and a scarred nose.

"It's not hard to comprehend. All these kingdoms came out of a handful of Empires. Now each wants to stay stronger. The War of Two Worlds is over, and the continent finally knows peace."

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"But why fight each other? They've got the bloody mountain hoards to defend against anyway. The Church sending us there is a waste of resources."

The blue-eyed Knight scoffed and pulled down his visor. "Why all the crying? Be happy we're in the Inquisitorial Army and not the regular ones. You just got to heal the possessed and burn the forsaken ones."

The Knight shuddered at the thought of it. "That is more nerve-wracking than fighting, my friend."

Sylvester felt his little brain hurt from all the talk. To make heads or tails out of different words, names and locations without knowing their meaning was like understanding a wife joke while being Will Smith. They just don't make sense to you.

But one thing that interested him incredibly was this 'War of Two Words.' What was it? The world was becoming more and more mysterious as the procession moved on the rugged road.

PA!—Loud trumpets resounded yet again, twice this time. A few moments later, Hans, the Knight in golden armour, came trotting from the front. He stopped by the window of the carriage and addressed, "Lord Inquisitor, we have entered the lands of Gracia Kingdom. We shall make camp here,"

"Do not stop. Go directly to the Royal Palace of the Queen. The child needs rest." He ordered and glanced at Sylvester on his lap, already innocently asleep with his head resting on the thick arm.

"Children, so naive that they do not know the darkness in this land. This innocence is what we fight for. I pray to Solis, may this blessed little child bring forth the holy light and solve this land's plight.

"Mother Xavia, we are arriving at the Gracia Kingdom. We shall dine with the royal family. You may don Bright Mother's robes to ensure no corrupt man has unholy opinions about you."

"I shall do that, my Lord." She bowed her head, something she had done from the start to avoid offending him.

The man then glanced at Sylvester on her lap, "And I wish for the God's Favoured to be tidied and given a change of clothes, one befitting of his standing."

"I will need to buy some clothes first, my Lord," said Xavia.

He nodded and faced the other man in Knight's armour who sat on Xavia's right. Only his face was visible. He was a bald, black man with a white stubble beard and striking blue eyes. "Mother Xavia, this man is Sir Adrik Dolorem, a fine talented Knight of the Silver rank. And also a wizard of the Adept rank—Same as Favoured One. He shall be his aide henceforth.

"Sir Dolorem, you are to ensure the safety of Mother Xavia and the child."

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The strange Wizard Knight clenched his metal gauntlet and affirmatively tapped on his breastplate.

Sylvester, however, only heard a few words. 'WAIT! I am an Adept rank?'

[A/N: Look at this chart in the para comment to see the universal ranks in this fictional world. Wizards and Knights on the same level don't mean they are similarly powerful. Wizards are inherently stronger.]

Chapter end

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