I Became The Pope, Now What?
chapter-475

[A/N: Time Skip]

'Time stopped for none, even for those who could halt time.

Slaves, commoners, nobles, and priests—from apprentices to Supreme Wizards, squires to Platinum Knights—Time never ceased. Youthful bodies aged, and lifeless ones decayed to return to the earth itself.

Destinies fulfilled, a few dreams killed—after destruction, there comes an era to rebuild. Years it may take, and many minds and bones it one may break, but with due time, even the dullest of minds are forced to be awake.'

"Waoh! Did you write that?"

The soothing breeze caressed his face, and the distant calls of the birds in the sky reverberated. Sitting beneath the hay storage in the heart of an expansive field, Sylvester gazed up at his exasperatingly loud companion.

"I never knew you could write, Jack." The loud man rambled uncontrollably. "Can you teach me too? I may be born a Slave, but my mother always said I'm a bright lad."

Sylvester, presently known as Jack, sighed and turned to another page. He sketched a few fruits and inscribed the letters used to pronounce each fruit. Then he handed him the page, all the while maintaining silence.

"You're my best friend. With this, I shall one day write poems and woo that beautiful Amilda…Ah, her smile brightens my day."

Sylvester sighed and laid down on the hay to sleep. "You do realize she serves as the master's bed warmer slave, right?"

The loud man turned gloomy instantly and laid down, curling into a ball to find warmth in himself. "I…I know. But that doesn't mean she can't have happiness or make a family. That old oaf, who can ever be happy with him…my mother never was."

"Go to sleep," Sylvester replied and closed his eyes. "The Royal Prince will be inspecting the land tomorrow. So we need to rise early."

"Good night, my bald friend."

"..."

Sylvester clenched his teeth, for the baldness had returned as prophesied. But this time, it was for work, rather than misfortune. He closed his eyes and simply awaited the sun's return the following day.

'Years have passed. Just a few more months before everything falls into place. Ugh... This darn overpowering physique, why can't I sleep?'

Sylvester, blessed with power, also cursed the side effects that came with the blessing. That was all he could do during the cold nights in Masan—A vast empire that extended from the icy and unforgiving mountains of the north to the desert-like lands of the northeast and the arid grasslands of the south.

Thankfully, that same monstrous body allowed him to remain comfortable even in that harsh cold. And amid a plethora of thoughts, the morning sun ascended to the sky swiftly.

It was the life of a slave that didn't allow them to stay asleep beyond sunrise. So quickly, Sylvester and his companion washed their faces, ate a watery stew with some bread, and headed to the fields to start working.

"It's been a year since you came." The loudmouth started yet again. "You never told me how you became a slave? From your scarred body, you were definitely not some lad in debt. What battle did you lose?"

Sylvester grunted and used the plow to prepare the land for cultivation. He disregarded his partner, a tall and robust individual with brown hair and tanned skin, assigned to tend to their designated plot of land.

"Come on, speak up sometimes. Working alongside you is too boring."

"Concentrate on the task, Keilib," Sylvester finally uttered. "We must clear this field before the inspection. If the Prince complains, the Master will starve us."

"To hell with that fat oaf!" Keilib barked. "T-That…I wish to someday kill him with my own hands. The bastard killed my father, made my mother his bed warmer, and when I was born, he even discarded me despite being his own blood! No matter how kind he treats me now, I will avenge my mother and father's deaths!"

Sylvester merely nodded. In the past year, he had heard Keilib utter those exact words nearly a thousand times. He believed it was more of Keilib's method to remind himself of his vendetta and maintain composure.

"I will pray to Solis for your vengeance," Sylvester commented, moving past him to work.

Keilib remained silent after the brief outburst, and both of them completed their work on time. Afterward, they hurriedly cleaned up and prepared themselves for the so-called inspection.

The Masan Empire had so many princes and princesses that just to keep them occupied, they were given jobs that didn't even exist usually. Farmland inspection was one of them, and all that the princes and princesses had to do was show their faces once a month. It kept them from scheming against each other and creating instability.

"Hey, Jack." Keilib voiced as they both walked to the main keep of the land's Master. In the Masan Empire, all landowners were referred to as masters. Only the Prince and Princesses, as well as the King and Queen, held special titles.

A Land Master's status was defined by the amount of wealth they kept. The Master they served, Garn Ke'l Mazak, was the equivalent of a Count in the East Sol. And similarly, he held a vast region of land beside the Primal River near the Iceking Lake.

"Do you think this world can run without slavery?" Keilib suddenly asked. "I often wondered what wrong did I commit to deserve this life? Do I not pray to Solis just like the Master or the Emperor?"

Sylvester glanced at the man with a depreciating smile. "Why? You want to abolish slavery?"

"I'd love to. But I can't even stand up to master, forget standing against all the lords and ladies. I'd be dead before uttering my first word. But what do you think? Will the world be free of slavery one day?"

Sylvester could sense the anguish in the man's voice. Especially after having lived as a slave himself, he could empathize with the experiences.

"The change has already begun. I heard a Kingdom in the East freed their slaves and granted them lands to cultivate in exchange for a portion of the harvest going to their lord or lady." Sylvester didn't explain serfdom in too much detail, as it was merely a stepping stone. "Perhaps, one day, it will spread to here as well."

Keilib beamed with joy upon hearing that. "Then, if Amilda and I were born in the East, could we have started a family? Ah, I envy those from the East. They have everything good with them—the Holy Land and no slavery."

"We have arrived." Sylvester interrupted as they reached the outer walls of their Master's medium-sized stronghold. Of course, as lowly slaves, they were not allowed to go inside as they'd make the place 'impure'.

They waited near the towering gates set into the high stone wall that encircled the stronghold. It was the only means of defense there, as moats were ineffective due to the lack of water in the area.

"JACK!" A feminine voice suddenly called out, and a young woman emerged from the stronghold's gates running towards them. She was slender, about five feet two inches tall, adorned in loose, lightweight garments suitable for the desert heat. She also wore clothing on her head, while her golden earrings accentuated her flawless brown skin and brown eyes.

She smiled and leaped onto Sylvester, embracing him. However, Sylvester didn't react and instead quickly stepped back once she released him, then knelt down on one knee.

"My Princess, how have you been?" Sylvester inquired, keeping his gaze lowered.

The woman pouted and tried to pull Sylvester up and make him stand. "Stop treating me like that. I'm just the third princess, not the Crown Prince. And aren't we friends?"

Sylvester nodded and stood up. "It's delightful to see you, Princess Fernis. Did you master the dagger?"

She radiated with a wide grin and drew a dagger from the scabbard fastened to her side. Then, with pride, she lifted it toward Sylvester. "What do you take me for? Of course, I have acquired the skill!"

'Scents of sweetness, roses, and sweat. Ever since I saved her from the assassins I sent and the following poems I wrote to her, her interest in me has only risen. Alas, it's time to put the final nail in the coffin and finally enter the Eternal Castle of the capital.'

Sylvester maintained his calm demeanor and accepted the dagger from her, examining its blade.

"The edges are worn," he observed. "I will sharpen it for you and return it later."

She nodded firmly. "I will come to check on it every day. I adore yo—err, I mean, I deeply cherish my dagger."

Cough!

Just then, a small entourage came from within the keep. At the forefront was a black-bearded, brown-skinned man adorned in regal attire from the West, wearing an exotic turban embellished with feathers. His stern expression was enough evidence of his disdain for Sylvester.

"My Prince," Sylvester knelt again, as this was the real inspector. The eighteenth Prince of the Empire, older than Fernis by a decade, as female heirs were a rarity in the royal family of Mirmasan.

"Tsk…I warned you to stand ten meters away from my keep's walls!" Just then, the Master of the land, a fat, almost balled old man, shouted. "Now go and bring the horses here, fucking useless slaves!"

Sylvester and Keilib hurried to the stables upon hearing the command.

"Not you, Keilib, my son!" The Master stopped them. "Let the bald fool do it. You stand beside me today."

Keilib clenched his fist in anger upon hearing those words. However, he did not rebel, as he noticed Amilda standing behind the fat Master, shaking her head while holding a jar of water. She was a fair-skinned woman with blonde hair, captured from the Eastern lands. Unfortunately, her appearance was deemed exquisite and sought after by the wealthy inhabitants of Masan as objects of sexual slaves and bed warmers.

Sylvester proceeded alone to the stables and fetched three horses. He took his time to ensure all his plans were in order and executed smoothly.

He ensured the fat Master could say everything Keilib, as he had planned. Having the Prince and Princess as witnesses was a crucial aspect, as no one would dare oppose what was about to unfold.

Upon returning, Sylvester aided the Prince and princess in mounting their horses first. Then, he moved to assist the corpulent ruler. The man was so obese that it took an entire day's worth of effort to hoist him onto the horse.

"Hold the horse still! You want to kill me?" The Master shouted at Sylvester.

Internally, Sylvester smiled. 'Indeed, I do.'

Suddenly, Sylvester began to subtly move the index finger of one hand. It was a slight motion that went unnoticed by all, but the ramifications of it were such that merely being aware of it would instill fear in many.

'Six years of training—let us see how refined my control has become.'

Being a man of science, Sylvester knew the components of the human body very well. Thus, with full knowledge that an average male body consisted of four grams of iron, a great possibility of fatal magic had kept him restless for years.

'What would happen if a ball of concentrated iron from one's own body was to travel to the heart?'

It was time to witness.

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