The moon, the sun, and the stars seemed to align in ways some considered to be the most fortunate, while some considered it the omen of the worst misfortune.
A new day began in the Eastern region of the Sol continent as word swept through the kingdoms. The reappearance of Sylvester Maximilian was not a matter of doubt but a certainty, as the diverse spies and clergy in the Western lands reached out to their counterparts in the East.
…
Highland Kingdom,
Ever since Sylvester's demise, everything had started to decline. The Church, the faith, the people, and the lands—all were struck by droughts and storms as if Solis was punishing the mortal realm.
Having considered Sylvester as their own son, King Highland was devastated during the initial two years, unable to fathom how such a calamity could arise unexpectedly. His anger erupted towards the Church for sending him alone and then towards Sandwall, but the County had already been decimated, for a man far mightier and more wrathful than him felt the same sorrow.
Consumed by anguish, he could only strive to maintain his kingdom and give a prosperous life to the people. For over five years, he dedicated himself to bolstering his realm—soldiers, food, and magic. He focused on all of them. Subsequently, he served as the Holy Land administrator for six months, where he detected the presence of a conspiracy. Before any harm could befall him, he returned home and began preparing Highland for the worst yet to come.
"Atrox!" Queen Trinity called her husband's name as she rushed into their bedchamber at night. "Word has arrived from the west—Sylvester lives!"
King Atrox remained despondent; his head hung low as he read the treasury reports. "Do not joke about such matters, Trinity."
"No! Look! It is a missive from Sir Dolorem bearing his seal, and our merchants in the West said the same words." She insisted and placed the letter before her husband. "He not only lives but has grown stronger than ever. He brought down the Masan Empire and shattered it into four kingdoms—It was the Shadow of Masan who slew him at Sandwall; the Count was blameless!"
Upon hearing such intricate details, he could not dismiss it as a mere rumor. Thus, he read the letter, and as the lines unfolded, his shoulders broadened, and his head lifted. The gloom in the room began to dissipate, replaced by a newfound sense of rejuvenation.
"...He killed all of Masan's Grand Wizards, the Emperor, and the Shadow of Masan... He's now on his way to the Holy Land to receive blessings of Pope Axel Tar Kreed..." King Atrox Highland murmured, his eyes almost welling up with tears. "Pope Axel? But he's... he's gone."
"Who saw his body?" Queen Trinity questioned. "There is something amiss, Atrox. Read Sir Dolorem's letter. It says we must remain prepared to lay siege to the Holy Land."
Thud!
"He's going for it then?!" King Atrox had a moment of realization. "He's going for the seat of the Pope!"
Both their hearts skipped a beat at the thought of Sylvester becoming the Pope.
"What do you wish to do?" Queen Trinity inquired.
King Atrox smiled widely. "My beautiful queen. After so long, I finally feel rejuvenated—as if I can finally breathe freely. You know what I want to do, my queen."
The queen smiled, and at the same time, both of them spoke.
"Attack!"
'Sexss-Sixty thousand soldiers! All of them are to be deployed. Yes, we attack!"
"..."
…
Meanwhile, in the Gracia Kingdom, Queen Isabella had assumed rulership of the Kingdom. Having worked from the sidelines, she had focused on everything Sylvester had told her. She utilized the expertise of Count Riveria, Baron Strongarm, Duchess Melina Iceling, and Duchess Bethany, along with the Tribal chief Koruk to fortify her kingdom and enhance industrial output.
Wealth, power, and connections were all she yearned to attain, leading her to forge a close friendship with King Highland and Lord Einarr of the Blackhart Kingdom (formerly Sorrow Kingdom).
With constant guidance from Sir Dolorem, she always found herself making the right decisions as if the ideas emanating from Sir Dolorem were in harmony with everything Sylvester had planned.
However, what devastated her the most was the loss of her beloved. Felix was yet to be found anywhere. Last seen in the Holy Land, no one knew if he was even alive, and that slim possibility and the flicker of hope that he remained alive ate away at her slowly.
Thankfully, at her side were Tempus Gracia and Olympus Gracia, her two uncles who always supported her. Then there was Gideon Gracia and Sir Bob, the only remaining Grand Wizard powerhouses of the Kingdom.
"What do you wish to do, Your Majesty? We cannot continue to give refuge to Bard's mother and risk being attacked by the Holy Land. Their army's first division is already upon us." Gideon Gracia attempted to offer counsel to Isabella.
She, clad in her white gown, remained seated on her throne. Her long blonde hair and pale face were as gorgeous as before, but her expressions were akin to the northern ice—never changing, frozen in time. Her gray eyes lacked any semblance of joy, for the world had stripped away from her everyone she ever loved.
"I will not betray Mother Xavia. She treated me like a true mother when I resided under her care. Gracia shall never kneel; we shall never engage in acts of betrayal. The Holy Land has fallen to heathens, evident enough by their demand to slay an innocent woman." Isabella replied coldly, her voice low yet brimming with regality.
Gideon Gracia, sadly, found himself without alternatives. "Then, we must prepare for war. I do not believe other kingdoms will aid us in this—it is a transgression against faith."
"Your Majesty!" Just then, Isabella's loyal personal guard, Sir Morphus, came running. "A letter from King Highland has arrived. It arrived on an undead bird!"
Isabella's eyes widened, and she rose from the throne. Ignoring the heavy gown, she descended the high stairs and snatched the letter, tearing it open and reading it.
'Sylvester lives! He's coming to take the Holy Land. I am assembling my army. You should do the same, young queen. — King Atrox Highland.'
A brief smile finally appeared on her face before she looked up. "Guardians! Ready the armies. The Highland stands with us! Sir Morphus, you are to protect Mother Xavia with your life. Don't let anyone near her…we now know why that heathen wanted her.
"Raise the banners of war! Let us greet them with our sharp blades—this is no longer just a war, this is a crusade!"
…
Blackhart Kingdom(Sorrow previously), was devastated by the catastrophic earthquake and the atrocities committed by the Grand Duke of the Patch. Six years ago, Sylvester killed the evil Duke and entrusted the Kingdom to the time-stopping Grand Wizard for reconstruction.
With a steady flow of funds even after Sylvester's demise, the Kingdom once again stood proudly, with thriving villages, towns, and cities. The people once again smiled and began to forget the horrors of the past.
With the assistance of alliances with Highland and Gracia, Blackhart never experienced hunger again. And above all, Lord Einarr eagerly awaited the arrival of the Princess—the new Queen Zylena.
"I knew you would return, Lord Bard. Solis can never abandon his own son—welcome back." Einarr murmured while sitting in the nearly empty throne room. However, he never dared to occupy the throne and instead sat in the small chair beside it.
"Assemble the army! It's time for the holy war!" He bellowed. "And tell me, what is happening in Riveria? Why is King Riveria so silent? Has he betrayed the one who placed him on the throne?"
…
While the Kingdoms and noble lords and ladies rallied to gather their soldiers, a lone tall man strolled along the dry trails in the forest surrounding Eden Mountain of Riveria. Bursting with lush greenery and natural beauty, he found solace away from the tense life of the past.
Pluck!
Being tall enough, he effortlessly plucked an apple from a tree and took a bite. Satisfied, he broke off a piece and offered it to friendly squirrels who had grown accustomed to the gentle giant dwelling among them.
The deer, the wolves, the tigers, and even the little rabbits, all respected him and held their ground against him no better than docile puppies.
A small, single-room shack made of branches, leaves, and other materials acted as his resting ground. Besides eating, all he did was meditate and pray in the name of the Solis, for he may have left the land of the lord, but he never abandoned his faith.
"Hmm..." A slight smile appeared on his kind face, evident for all animals to see. "At last, you return, my Young Bard—I almost feared my blade rusting in my yard. So the time has come for you to rise—at last, the true sun shall arise."
Before he slowly rose, his eyes opened from the meditative state, and a blazing crimson fire overcame them, making them shine bright as if a predator on the hunt.
"I will wait, no need for you to be rushed—No matter today or tomorrow, enemies of the faith are destined to have their skulls crushed!"
BOOM!
Fire erupted from his feet and spread around him, consuming the small shack, the humble place he called home for six years. Finally, a reason to live and fight had appeared, and it was his duty to stand, for his sole existence was to be feared.
He kicked the ground beneath him and retrieved a large chest. Opening it, he gazed at the garments for a moment and began to put them on.
Crimson red robes, the same colors as the armor, and the pointed helmet. He covered himself in red from head to toe, and even the eyes had the same color to show.
Thud!
Finally, a gentle tap from his heavy staff extinguished the red flames behind him, and he took a step forward.
"Pope Sylvester, your loyal Inquisitor—still lives!"
[A/N: I was initially going to write Sylvester's part as well. But decided to hold it as it would have ruined the vibe of the ending scene.]
[Fun Fact: Sylvester's title of Grand Crusader was never taken back from him.]
Thank you for reading. GT votes are much appreciated.
