Chapter 672 671. An Ant's Dream

Chapter 672 671. An Ant's Dream

"Your Holiness, you asked for me?" Soulbreaker promptly reported to Sylvester in the middle of the night.

Sylvester remained in his office and worked on evaluating various projects. It was the budding stage of many new technologies and concepts. He had to look after them to ensure everything went smoothly.

"Have a seat, Fourth Guardian. I have some questions regarding souls I wish to ask you," Sylvester invited him and got down to business. "What are the ways to protect your soul from a foreign control, and what are the ways to kill one's soul in case it becomes evident that peril is upon you."

Donning his usual robes and visor that terrified even the strongest of hearts, Soulbreaker raised his palm and created a green mist from strange energy. "What you see is a projection of my own soul, Your Holiness. It appears like a glowing orb of varying color, depending on the person. Most beings, unless they have an affinity to Soul Magic, are not even aware of their own soul. They cannot sense anything within their physical husk. Some even refuse to believe something such as a soul exists."

Sylvester carefully observed it. Thankfully, he was at least aware he had a soul due to the entire reincarnation ordeal. "How do you protect it or kill it?"

"Killing it is effortless. You merely need to corrupt the soul until it ceases to exist in the same form as before. It is painful, however. As the body does not quickly realize what has occurred. Slowly, over the next few days, it rots and loses vitality," Soulbreaker explained while wondering why the Pope needed to ask that.

"As for protecting it, there is not a lot one can do. For example, if you were to attack my soul, I would not be able to protect myself, no matter how much mastery I have over this magic. Because, in your base soul, you are a more powerful, elevated being than me—the superiority of the soul is akin to the ranks of magic casters."

'So trying to protect my soul from Nehilius is not an option?' Sylvester realized, disappointed but not disheartened as he already believed that much.

"Then, is there any way to place a self-destruct magic on your soul? In case someone tries to probe and take over without you realizing?" Sylvester asked further. "You must know that the knowledge I possess can be misused if it falls into the wrong hands."

"But..." Soulbreaker measured his words. "Who in this world can even think of harming you?"

"Not in this world," Sylvester replied promptly, gesturing in a direction.

Hidden behind the visor, Soulbreaker's eyes widened in shock. He didn't take Sylvester's words lightly and, at the same time, didn't want to ask him what exactly he was talking about. Demons? Or something else?

"There is no way to place automatic self-destruction on a soul. But, once you start the decay, it cannot be stopped. No matter how powerful the being, once a soul is lost, it cannot be brought back."

'Unless it's the Primordial Gods or whoever brought me into this world.'

"Then, will you teach me this technique? I must know it in case something occurs," he implored.

Although a bit hesitant, Soulbreaker had no grounds to deny it since the Pope demanded it. "Your order is my duty, Your Holiness. When should we start?"

"Right away."

...

When the East slept, the West woke up to work. The sun shone on the warm land of the West, and a particular crowd gathered in the Lowhide City of Sorland Kingdom, the southernmost kingdom that was carved out of the Masan Empire.

The people listened carefully as one man stood on the city wall and shouted. His words rang in the hearts of all the men there, giving them the courage to do what the man demanded.

"Remember! Nobody will ever come to save you. No one has an obligation to come and help us. The chains that shackle us cannot be broken but only be transferred. If you do not wish to be trampled on, you must be prepared to trample others—follow me if you want to be the rulers of your destiny, stay here if you wish to be slaves of the so-called fate."

With no arms, blades, or armor, the man marched towards the Grand Monastery of the city. Behind him also marched six thousand men with various healing flesh wounds, their faces full of seriousness and desperation.

But not a single one of them attacked the monastery and only shouted toward it in unison, making sure the entire city heard them as they took over the city with their own hands.

"Cardinal, surrender your authority!"

"We mean no harm!"

"We shall rule our kingdom on our own!" n-)o-/V(/e-)1)(b()1..n

"Surrender, or we will stop all supplies from entering the monastery. All of you will starve—Do not think you have a lot in your storage either, for we took care of it beforehand," The leading man shouted resolutely, emotionless in his expression.

Of course, how could the Cardinal surrender? He was the temporary King of the kingdom ever since the Pope executed the Kings of Sorland and Marcia for waging war against each other.

And so, the blockade of the monastery started. Water and food were stopped from entering the monastery. But knowing how fanatically the Church protects the Bright Mothers and to not earn the Pope's direct ire, the Bright Mothers were allowed to come out and move to a smaller monastery.

The rest of the hundreds of Clergymen were left to starve to death if they wished to. A week passed, then a month passed, and the Clergymen inside suffered greatly but never gave up.

Eventually, the Cardinal came forward on the monastery's balcony and pleaded for the other Clergymen to be released and not allow the needless torture of good men.

The leader of the mob agreed since killing the Clergymen was not their goal.

After that, the Cardinal alone remained in the building, starving himself. Slowly, days passed, and all responses stopped coming from inside. The mob shouted again and again, but no reaction came.

"March behind me, my brothers. But do not plunder, for this remains a house of God. We are not heathens."

Proud and disciplined, the men entered the building and soon found the dead body of the Cardinal. Thin, dry, and with the sigil of the faith of Soli resting on his hands over his chest.

"Cardinal Morison did his duty until the very end. He was not our enemy but a mere man who did not betray his orders even when his life came in danger. With complete honor, he shall be burned on the pyre."

"Found it!" Just then, the second-in-command found a crown in the Cardinal's desk. "Take it, General Leyon!"

Leyon held the crowd, a puny worthless thing in his eyes, and placed it atop his head without a second thought. All the men around him just watched him silently, awaiting his second command.

"King Leyon, what should we do—"

Leyone raised his hand and silenced everyone. "Not long ago, I was a mere footsoldier, and then you made me your General. I am honored but not satisfied, for the evil shackles still hold us and suffocate us. No more—No King—I am Emperor Leyon. Prepare yourselves. We head north in the morning and take Marcia Kingdom by storm!"

'To be free of the uncertain future, I will carve myself a shackle that sits above all.'

"Emperor Leyon!"

"Emperor Leyon!"

Watching the men shout his name, he slowly came to understand how easy it was to make people cheer for him. With just a little hope, they willingly accepted him despite knowing how the Masan Empire ruled not too long ago.

'Marcia, Masan Norland and then Warsong. When the time is right, and we stand strong, I'll go where I belong—We shall meet again, Pope Sylvester.'

...

lightsnοvεl Aware but uncaring that another ant was attempting to become a dragon in the West, Sylvester remained busy with his work. He trained diligently to become somewhat knowledgeable about Soul Magic.

It wasn't easy since he didn't have an affinity with it. But, with Elder Magic, controlling the solarium itself to mimic real Soul Magic was possible. Yet, it took him a while to learn it.

Once again, he woke up early to head to work. There were no holidays for him, and he also needed to hold the Holy Courts.

"Mum, I might go somewhere for a few da—"

He fell silent once he entered Xavia's room. He noticed the redheaded woman was carefully and slowly getting out of bed. It was all to make sure Ella didn't wake up as she still slept beside Xavia.

"Shhhhh..." Xavia gestured for him to stay silent.

'She sure is enjoying being a grandma.'

Soon, she came out of the room and closed the door behind her. After taking a sigh of relief, she smiled at Sylvester, "I will make breakfast for you."

"No need; I'll eat at the palace. I just came to tell you I might stay at the Pope's Palace for a week. I'm leaving Chonky behind, so feed him from time to time," he informed her and gave her a quick hug. "Take care of yourself, and don't worry too much."

Xavia sensed there was something wrong. She was his mother, after all. "Are you lying to me?"

"Yes."

"Can't you tell me?"

"Not right now—not until I'm sure of my doubts, Mum. There are some conspiracies that are too grand to accept, even for me."

Xavia sighed and embraced him tighter, patting his back, "Be careful, Max."

With that, he quickly left the house. He didn't inform Miraj what he was actually going to do, knowing the furball would want to come along. Going to Nehilius' realm was a boring task for Miraj, after all.

"Your Holiness," Gabriel greeted him at the steps of the Pope's Palace. There was an exquisite-looking wooden box in his hands. "This came for you early this morning. I went to receive it at the port myself."

"What is it?"

Gabriel had the same confused expression, "I don't know, but a heart-shaped parchment was stuck on it. Why would the Queen of the Elves send you something? Did something happen between you two?"

"..."

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