Chapter 548

Chapter 170 (Part 1) In the Shadow Where the Holy Light Does Not Reach

When Pope Angel spoke these words, his tone was calm and his face wore a smile, as if he were merely discussing what to eat for tonight’s supper.

However, when these words reached Arista’s ears, they caused a great commotion in the young bishop’s heart.

His eyes widened, having thought that this was just an unfounded speculation on his part. But he had not expected the man before him, not yet thirty years old and having become pope for less than eight years, to actually dare make such a crazy decision.

Once the Gazette was released, the nature of things would completely change.

Unlike previous internal and external divisions, no matter how intense the struggle between both sides, and no matter how much they went back and forth, at least on the surface, everything seemed harmonious. To protect the Church’s reputation from being damaged, everyone’s actions were still somewhat restrained, leaving room for maneuver. It was impossible for them to truly fall out over this.

Many within the Church, the higher-ups, the neutral faction, could also turn a blind eye and pretend to know nothing, offending no one, or relying on their prestige to act as mediators with smiles— but once the Gazette was released, all of this would be different.

This young pope was going to stand against the largest power network within the Church, the Williams family which controlled the lifeline of money, Cardinal Saint George, and officially take a stand in opposition.

Moreover, there was no possibility of turning back.

And those neutral factions would also be forced to choose sides.

No one could escape.

The Pope intends to break the deadlock…

After a brief moment of shock, the young bishop’s heart began to race, and a look of unbridled joy appeared on his face.

This day was finally coming…

Although it was too sudden, and may not have been the most opportune time, it was coming…

In the barracks, candlelight illuminated the faces of two people, the flickering light reflecting in their pupils.

Pope Angel, dressed in loose, robe-like golden robes with intricate patterns printed on the smooth fabric, reflected a bright color, just like his eyes.

He looked at the excited young bishop before him, his tone slightly filled with emotion: “Sometimes, the power of the masses can be so great that even I find it unbelievable…”

“Most people in this world are usually blind and lack the ability to think independently. They follow the wind and rain, never truly recognizing their own mistakes from the depths of their hearts.”

Angel walked around the wooden table, went to the coatstand beside it, took down the gold-threaded liturgical cape hanging on it, and continued speaking: “There are many people who will easily believe in reasonable and hopeful things if they see them. Once they believe, they will, due to some pathological mentality or pitiful self-esteem, unconsciously shield themselves from any words or actions that are detrimental to them or beyond their understanding…”

Wrapping the liturgical cape around himself, he adjusted his robe: “Benefit over harm, completely emotional extremism, black and white thinking, unable to accept any new viewpoints, being dominated by ideologies, traditional customs, shallow understanding, and impulsive emotions, always making the easiest choice, the one most hoped for. This is human nature… or rather, the nature of ‘the masses.'”

“This era is too backward. Backward to the point where to resonate with the ‘masses,’ one must fabricate a fictitious, non-existent entity, a… god who allows them to seek forgiveness and achieve self-redemption. They feel this is the easiest way because prayer replaces thinking, allowing their simple minds to not have to exert any effort.”

After arranging the cassock so that it no longer looked so loose, Angel put on his tiara and picked up the scepter leaning against the corner.

“They understand nothing, know nothing, like a blank sheet of paper. You can paint whatever you want on it, but it cannot be too complex. The only thing you can tell them is limited to their scope of understanding; if you go beyond that, they will think you are insane, abnormal. Many people are like this.”

He started walking towards the door of the barracks: “They are all weak individuals who often believe they are powerful, enjoying being clever. In the eyes of most people, the world is actually no bigger than the tip of a needle… a few houses, a small town, distant mountains, streams flowing outside the town, and the people around them, nothing more…”

After taking a few steps, Pope Angel turned his head and looked at Archbishop Arista, who was still standing motionless at the table with his brows furrowed, and smiled slightly: “Alright, I know you don’t understand what I’m saying. Sometimes, even I don’t fully understand what I’m thinking about…”

“Aresta, you don’t need to think too much. Just understand one thing.”

He paused: “When countless individuals are incited by emotions, and when events reach a certain height, high enough to destroy the very foundations of life for many people, their mountains, towns, and lives, at that moment, who is right and who is wrong, the truth of the matter, becomes unimportant…”

Angel raised his hand and pushed forward: “All we need to do is give them a gentle push from behind…”

“They will disregard everything, turning words into swords and transforming anger into action.”

“That kind of force, capable of destroying…

Decay, irresistible. Whether it was a bricklayer from the countryside, or those powerful ancient families with wealth rivaling nations, or the old heroes who had long stood atop the peaks after cleaving the Abyss with their swords… the flood came, and no one could stop it… no one could stop it… That’s all you need to understand.”

The Pope slowly walked to the door.

“And the only way to control this force is not through any individual, nor any deity…”

He turned his back to Bishop Areesta and tapped the side of his temple.

“Only through thought.”

Creak— The old wooden door of the barracks opened, letting in the early autumn night.

The young Pope, dressed in a long golden-white robe, wearing an ornate crown, and holding a brilliant gold staff, stepped out. Outside the barracks, the sky was dim, and a cool wind blew, with hardly any stars twinkling in the night sky.

Eight monks, the elites of the Order of Faith, were already waiting outside, forming two rows at the entrance, bowing their heads and chanting in unison, “Your Holiness.”

The young Pope nodded slightly, “Let us go.”

He strode forward, his staff thudding heavily on the ground.

Areesta also emerged from the room, walking quickly to catch up with Angel, keeping half a step behind. Soon, the other monks followed, passing through the brightly lit camp. Nearby, the knights gathered around a bonfire drinking noticed them and rose to greet them. Angel continued walking, leading everyone towards the northern city wall.

Outside the camp, the dark masses of civilians from Yarthein City, who had gathered to hear the news, fell silent as Angel approached.

“Look…”

“Is that His Holiness?”

“It really is His Holiness…”

“His Holiness has come…”

“His Holiness is here! He’s really here!!!”

After a brief silence, a roar of cheers and shouts erupted like a flood breaking its dam.

“His Holiness—”

“You’ve come, it’s really you saving us, I can’t believe it, I can’t believe it…”

“His Holiness is with us, the Holy Church is with us, the great deities are with us…”

One by one, many people knelt under the night sky, some praying, others moved to tears.

“You saved me from the clutches of demons, you saved my family… How can I repay your kindness… How can I repay…”

“And my poor daughter, she survived, I brought her here, please look at us… We are bathed in your holy light, we all survived…”

“You saved Yarthein City, you saved countless suffering people in Silgaya… Your Holiness, your benevolence is unmatched, your greatness is unparalleled. Because of your arrival, even the terrible storm retreated. We are grateful to you, grateful for everything the Church has done…”

Amidst the voices, someone shouted angrily, “Those bloodsucking bankers don’t deserve your protection!”

“They deserve to die, they deserved it! His Holiness cut down those filthy vampires, those cowards! The great Church won’t tolerate such scoundrels!!”

As the young Pope made his way through the crowd, the ragged and dirty civilians automatically cleared a path for him. They gazed at Angel’s handsome face, their eyes filled with fervent adoration. Countless dirty hands reached out, yearning to touch the unreachable greatness.

“Great Pope, may you be with the deities, may the Church always protect us…”

“May you be with the deities, forever protect us…”

Under the night sky, amidst the throngs, Angel walked slowly, smiling and waving to the crowd. Sometimes he would grasp the dirty hands extended toward him, offering words of comfort. This young man, in his twenties, truly seemed like a savior at this moment.

Areesta followed closely behind, his heart surging. In that instant, he felt as if he were following the entire world.

…………

After a while, they passed through the crowd and exited the city, arriving at a vast field at the foot of the northern mountains.

Many monks were also waiting here.

In the distance, blackened bones still littered the hills, and the stench of decay grew more intense. Under the tranquil night sky, golden light flickered when Angel arrived. Several priests of the Order of Faith formed a small circle, softly chanting. Angel turned to look at Areesta, “Wait for me here.”

Then, he walked to the center of the circle and took out a fist-sized golden ball from his chest, closing his eyes.

Hum—

The sound of a miracle echoed, and golden light burst forth. The air around seemed to twist, as if a vortex akin to a black hole instantly sucked in the Pope’s figure along with the glowing light, vanishing without a trace.

When Angel opened his eyes again, he found himself in a dim underground prison chamber in the north.

“Damn, no matter how many times I use this thing, I can never get used to it…”

He pinched his forehead hard, raised his eyelids, and looked at the people who had been waiting in the stone chamber.

After a moment, he exhaled deeply, “Archbishop Ansheel, and Anaxeris, you have both arrived.”