Miraj City,

Right after Sylvester left, within an hour, the city gates closed down in an emergency, and the bells across the city started to ring. The soldiers were armed with multiple Solarium-Light cannons, while the rest of the army took strategic positions in case of an invasion. The civilians were immediately ushered into various underground bunkers, enormous in size, with water and bathrooms readily available.

All the powerhouses residing in the city gathered at the city walls to find out who was attacking them. It was suicide since several Grand Wizards were gathered there. Dagorith, Duchess Bethany, King and Queen Highland, Lord Einarr, two Grand Wizards from Gracia Royal Family, and two more Grand Wizards from the Riveria Royal family. The city was meant to be impenetrable.

Thud! Thud!

The ground suddenly began to shake, making it evident that an army was on the other side of the walls. Gabriel, who saw it clearly, gritted his teeth in annoyance. “It’s the remaining Holy Army from the Holy Land. Who’s leading them?”

Woosh!

Suddenly, a single spear came flying from the enemy’s side while they were still a few kilometers away. The spear plunged right into the wall, right beside Gabriel’s head. He couldn’t even respond as it was so fast. If dwarves hadn’t made the walls, they would have collapsed already.

“Such strength!” King Highland muttered and noticed a piece of paper tied to the spear’s end. He took it and read it to everyone there, “Nobody has to die. You cannot win no matter how much you try. Just hand over Xavia Maximilian. You have until midnight—Your Pope, Axel Tar Kreed.”

Everyone’s heads turned to look at King Highland. Isabella was the first to snatch the letter and read it herself. Her brows creased together. Confusion was evident on her face, “The Pope is alive?! Why is he doing this?”

“The Pope and Saint Scepter have been childhood friends—like Sylvester and me, or Felix,” Gabriel said, knowing the smallest things in recorded history. “They planned this together… I don’t know why, but the Pope is no friend of ours.”

“But that’s the Pope…” Isabella exclaimed. “He should be helping us… Helping Sylvester. Why does he want Mother Xavia?”

“To get to Pope Sylvester, why else?” Queen Trinity Highland exclaimed. “Isn’t it clear by now? This is a war of Popes—they want something from him. Something he would only agree to if he had no other choice.”

“But you can’t be thinking of fighting the Pope,” a Grand Wizard from the Riveria interjected. “He’s a Supreme Wizard. We can’t win against him.”

Elyon, the Tiger Beastkin priest, glared at the Grand Wizard, “If you dare run away now, His Holiness Sylvester will find you and kill you no matter where you hide. Choose your poison—die fighting for what is right, or die shamefully after your flight.”

“I never said I’m running.” The man shrank his neck and silently waited for their decision.

Gabriel looked at King Highland. “Let’s relocate Mother Xavia somewhere more secure.”

“What happened?!” Sir Dolorem arrived in a rush. He was staying inside the Pope’s Palace, standing outside Xavia’s room, keeping it secure as per Sylvester’s request. “Who’s attacking?”

“Pope Axel,” Gabriel replied dejectedly. “He wants Mother Xavia.”

Sir Dolorem immediately unsheathed his sword and tensely looked at the various faces, not knowing what they were going to do when faced with such overwhelming power. “Sylvester always spoke privately that the Pope isn’t dead—the man is too powerful to perish without a trace. So, what did you all decide?”

King Highland firmly reassured Sir Dolorem, “We’re going to fight for what is right. Only in one Pope we have put our trust—No Axel, only Sylvester Maximilian.”

“Amen,” Dagorith responded, his regard for Sylvester having deepened through the duration of their exploits in Beastaria. “If he can stand against Saint Scepter, I’d be ashamed to falter now.”

With all doubts out of the way, King Highland took charge as he held the most experience in large-scale warfare. “Lord Gideon Gracia and Sir Bobby Gracia, please take the north edge of the east wall and defend it. “Lord Karlson and Lord Timothy of Riveria, take the south edge of the east wall. We need not fear invasion from the west, there is a cliff, and Duchess Bethany will stand there. Lord Einarr, I and my wife will remain here at the main gates.”

King Highland immediately ordered the Grand Wizards to ensure the city’s defenses. “This is my order only until five minutes until midnight.”

“What happens after?” Lord Einarr inquired—the time-stopping Grand Wizard from the Blackhart Kingdom. 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘭．𝑜𝘳𝘨

King Highland smiled, “My goal is to decrease the damage to the city as much as possible. If those Holy Army soldiers enter the city, a sacking will ensue—if they somehow find a way into the bunkers, unspeakable horrors await; mass murder, rape, and killing. Remember, all the good men of the faith have already joined Pope Sylvester’s side. Whatever is left, they are the lowest of the lowest scums.”

“They aren’t,” Gabriel refuted King Highland’s words. “They are faithful men to the Holy Land. They merely couldn’t distinguish which Pope to serve. However, in this case—stopping them should be our priority. But attacking under the cover of the night would breach the code of honorable warfare.”

King Highland scoffed, gazing into the distance. “He broke the code when he gave us until midnight. There are no gentlemen here anymore—only the faithful and heathens. Bishop Lazark, tell your little undead birds to alert the soldiers and keep the cannons ready. I’ll inform you of the trajectory later.”

“Understood.” Bishop Lazark took the order and used his necromancy to communicate with the undead birds that each cannon squad had.

Without delay, everyone got to work and manned their positions. Xavia was immediately taken underground to the treasury, which remained the most protected place in the entire palace as Sylvester personally placed the Elder Runes for its protection. Moreover, Ashra was there to protect her.

But the defense was still lacking, and when the hopelessness crept closer, a glimmer of faint hope emerged.

“I can help.” Kimino, the Moonwatcher girl, approached King Highland and spoke in a monotonous voice.

King Highland patted her head, “I appreciate the help, young one. But you must go to the bunker.”

“I’ll call forth Desert Snakes from Divine Desert. Each as strong as a Grand Wizard, master of Earth magic. They can’t stop the Pope but can stall him for you to attack.” Kimino tried to speak as clearly as possible and help.

“…”

King Highland stood frozen in shock, “You can do that?”

“His Holiness is a witness.” Hozin, Kimino’s father, assured.

“Then I will have to ask for your help, dear,” King Highland respectfully patted her shoulder. “But remain inside the palace. It’ll get very bloody here.”

Kimino nodded silently and left without saying a word. That was just her style, but her help was deeply appreciated by all.

At last, time passed slowly, and the Holy Army made their camp in the distance. The twin moons of the night cast their eerie light upon the vast plain fields beyond the city. From the high city walls, everything was visible.

“Give the order—adjust the angle at sixty-eight.” King Highland ordered Bishop Lazark.

Being a Grand Wizard, spending months at a stretch devoid of sleep, he had honed his mental clock enough to know precisely what time it was. He just stood at the edge of Miraj City’s walls with his arms crossed, his white beard and hair swaying in the gentle breeze.

In his heart, he wondered what was going on with Sylvester. If he was winning, or if they were already fighting a losing battle. Gabriel hadn’t received any messages yet, which worried them beyond tolerance. So many hours had passed, and nobody could survive fighting a Supreme Wizard that long.

But, he couldn’t show any hesitance, denying himself from being the straw that breaks the camel’s back. The city needed assurance, and he tried to provide it.

“These fine creations, let’s see how they defeat these heretic abominations—Aim!” declared King Highland.

King Highland looked toward the sky, accurately seeing how many minutes were left to midnight.

“Hold… Hold…” He counted down the final seconds in his mind. “…FIRE!”

Across the entire east wall of the city, nearly five hundred Solarium-Light cannons were fitted. Each squad leader activated the rune trigger that released the light crystals into the reflective chamber of the cannon. Immediately, powered by Solarium crystals, beams of scorching light materialized.

BOOM!

Simultaneously, all the cannons opened fire, shaking the foundation of the wall they stood on. Ears were rendered deaf, and eyes were momentarily blinded, as the sensory overload was too much for them.

Multiple bright white beams of light flew into the sky, covering it with radiance. They were charming, hiding their destructiveness from the awaiting audience.

In the camp of the Holy Army, soldiers came out of their tents and looked at the sky in awe and confusion. They watched as a radiant shower of shooting stars graced the heavens. Mesmerized and almost charmed, they forgot they had come for war, their commanders shouted for them to regain their focus, but the commands fell on deaf ears since the loud bangs of the cannons finally reached their camp—waking them from their stupor.

However, it was too late. With great precision, the first streak of light struck the rearmost section of the camp, and then the subsequent lines gradually fell, covering the entire camp from all sides.

Henries, Karlsons, Medisons, Benjamins, Harolds—thousands of bodies, now nameless, swiftly claimed by death. The luckiest were those who stood the closest to the point of impact as they withered into ashes before the light even struck the ground.

Still, for those further, death came quickly as well. Each time a projectile landed, it first vanished into the ground itself, and then came the unimaginable explosive wave of blazing fury—creating craters of fire. Within a wide radius, nothing remained intact.

Ten thousand came, but within three seconds, less than a thousand remained.

BOOM!

But again, perhaps delayed, death came quickly for them as well—A second spectacular wall of light engulfed the sky, ready to fall on them as if a death god’s spell.

A thousand were left, but now none remained.

In a single night, the landscape of warfare changed. Gone were the days of grand armies, swords, and spells to be exchanged. Seen by Grand Wizards from the world that night—having learned that Sylvester had a much greater weapon, they knew gone were their days to fight; no longer they held the supreme might.

“May the Lord embrace their souls.” King Highland coldly muttered to himself, taken aback by the destruction he had just witnessed. “The world shall know peace under his rule, Sylvester Maximilian; I cannot wait to see how this world you will fuel.”

Ding!

Ding!

Waking up from his temporary daze, King Highland heard the bells and looked down. Suddenly, a towering figure materialized not far from the city gates. With fine, priceless armor on his body, a red silky cape around his back—and a magnificent mitre on his head.

Not an ounce of benevolence was visible on the man who was loved by the world not long ago. With resolute eyes, ready to battle—there was no stopping the destruction anymore.

“Children of Solis!” Roared the man outside. “I—Your Pope, Axel Tar Kreed, orders you to lay down your weapons. Do not forget your holy lessons—enough blood has been shed, do not take the path of felons.”

Clank!

King Highland heard the sound from his left and turned his gaze. To his dismay, a cannon squad had placed their swords on the ground. “What are you doing? Your loyalty is to Pope Sylvester, not this heathen!”

Clank!

Yet, more noises came from his right. Veins popped on his forehead, and he looked down. “Did you plan this from the beginning? Axel Tar Kreed, the heathen of the Holy Land?”

Pope Axel gazed up, staring at King Highland. “They are the planners, Your Majesty—I’m a mere executioner.”

King Highland prepared himself for battle as he felt other Grand Wizards reaching his location. “They? Who are they?”

Pope Axel walked closer to the city gate and touched it with a single finger. In an instant, the gate melted away.

“They are the gods who need no prayers.”

…

Inside the Supreme Void,

‘With the key, follow me into the hidden tomb’s center—Open the door, and be the first to enter.’

Sylvester gritted his teeth as Saint Scepter strengthened his hold, crushing his ribs with ease. He tried to speak to the man mentally as well. ‘What’s inside it?’

‘A curse to those of this world, a boon to those into this realm, hurled. Decide now, to die or to make a vow.’ Saint Scepter turned serious, not giving any further chances as he cracked Sylvester’s ribs with each passing second.

Sylvester coughed up blood. His eyes glowed in a frenzied red hue. The wound on his armless shoulder bled profusely, and Solarium remained elusive for absorption. His pale complexion began turning deadly. Not much time had passed, but he felt days had gone by already.

‘What does he want? He fears ‘they,’ but why take me in there? Saving me?’ Sylvester questioned himself, but the pain finally started clouding his judgment. ‘Where is Chonky?’

Searching for healing potions, his gaze darted around. But Miraj was nowhere to be seen. It worried him to no limit, even scaring him.

“Hurry, Bard—your city has almost perished. If you’re not quick, nothing will be left to cherish.” Saint Scepter spoke vocally.

“DON’T!” Inquisitor High Lord roared from a distance away. His staff was destroyed, and his crushed hands were still bleeding. It was clear that their wounds were untreatable inside the Void. “The price is too high—you must defy!”

But Sylvester didn’t reply to the Lord Inquisitor with as much enthusiasm as before. “But too high are the stakes. If I don’t, nothing will be left; Sol will have unchecked, corrupted, evil human snakes. If I don’t, Mother dies, and with it shall die the dream of millions—Forgive me, Lord Inquisitor, if we live, we can oppose these villains!”

“Don’t submit!” Lord Inquisitor roared and dragged his body to strike Saint Scepter.

“I accept!” Sylvester accepted the contract. “Take the blood.”

Saint Scepter’s staff floated beside him and created a piece of paper out of thin air. Then he released Sylvester from his grip.

Sylvester tried to read it quickly, but to his surprise, it wasn’t the common language of the world. ‘This is Koine Greek!’

He still read the terms quickly and ensured they were what Saint Scepter spoke of. The key, the door, being the first to enter—it all was there. Without hesitation, he raised his left hand, touched the open wound on his right shoulder, and pressed his thumb onto the paper.

The contract glowed with white light, and thin chains of light came out of it, tying themselves around Saint Scepter and Sylvester’s hearts. Afterward, the paper vanished back into the staff.

“What have you done? From this, you can never run!” Inquisitor High Lord grieved, reaching close to them in hopes of attacking, but now lost the will to do so.

Sylvester showed no remorse for his decision, “I have no intention of running—Saint Scepter, please release us from the void and stop Pope Axel.”

Saint Scepter held his staff and gently tapped the floor. Ripples spread out, and darkness blinked before their eyes. In the next moment, they found themselves gazing at the softly illuminated sky. The moons were there, but on the horizon, the sun was also slowly rising high.

“Axel’s mind is an enigma; I cannot stop him anymore.” Saint Scepter spoke, sending chills of despair into Sylvester. “‘They’ command us, but his heart desires something else, something more. Return to your city; I’m sure his adopted grandson’s words he won’t ignore.”

_________________

A

/N: Sorry, longer chapter. Remember, if it costs more coins, it’s because it’s longer.

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