Xyrin Empire

Our original plan was to appear right above Pope City with a dozen or so Imperial Battleships, making an extremely grand entrance amid the roar of engines and myriad trails of dawn light. Bingdisi would take on the role of overall director during this process. As a professional Goddess who had started deceiving as a scammer millions of years ago, she had an astonishing talent that could turn two pieces of toilet paper into an effect akin to the Dead Sea Scrolls. I had no doubt she could craft an atmosphere reminiscent of Genesis for this meticulously directed return of the Holy Sage. However, while we were waiting above Pope City, Sandora and I looked into the story of this so-called Holy Pope and suddenly became interested in him.

A guy who emerged out of nowhere three hundred years ago, leading twelve humanoid war chariots to sweep across the whole world, his name, origins, Race—all mysteries. Not to mention the names of the Twelve Knights were top secrets of the Canglan Church, let alone the Pope's own name. In fact, for three hundred years now, everyone only knew him by the title "Holy Pope." This could definitely be described as a total scammer, a master at the arts of deception and trickery, even more professional than myself.

So we decided to make contact with this mysterious figure before the fleet revealed itself. It was meaningless, just out of curiosity—mostly Qianqian's curiosity.

The doors to the Vatican were tightly shut, surrounded by various anti-invader devices based on Xyrin Technology, as well as countless Church Knights. But all of this was as good as non-existent for a bunch of Imperial Leaders. Bubbles yawned and disabled the entire security system of the Vatican, and then Sandora, Qianqian, and I were teleported into its largest room.

Space before our eyes twisted for a moment, and then, appearing before us was an old man with a face full of shock and white hair. Looking at the lavish decor inside, mimicking the style of Xyrin, I knew this had to be the Pope's room. Therefore, the skinny old man in front of us, dressed in a black robe and with a face resembling Jesus Christ, must be none other than the Pope himself.

Nothing special, though.

Looking at the astonished old man before us, I shrugged my shoulders somewhat disappointedly and then composed my expression, preparing to make a gloriously dazzling entrance as planned. Just as Qianqian managed to summon a solemn expression and I was about to speak, the old man preempted us.

Truly worthy of being the legendary Holy Pope, seizing the initiative even in a state of shock, he pointed at us and shouted loudly, "Ah!"

And then he just lay there, motionless.

Sandora and I exchanged puzzled glances, and she shook her head repeatedly, "Don't look at me! I definitely didn't unleash any Spiritual Shock or anything!"

"It wasn't me either!" Qianqian quickly waved her hands, "Ah Jun, you told us not to play pranks on people!"

Therefore, we all found the old man's collapse quite baffling: Could this be one of the Holy Pope's secretive special techniques?

But I quickly dismissed this notion, because the old man before us clearly passed out. We exchanged helpless looks among ourselves, not expecting the "Holy Pope" to have such a low threshold. The urgent task at hand was to wake him up; otherwise, it would be too awkward for us three. So the three national leaders sprang into action, pinching his acupuncture points, tickling his armpits, pulling his beard, pouring cold water on him, blasting "Above the Moon" in his ear at high decibels. If there had been a tiger bench here, I would probably have used it too. Finally, just as Qianqian was starting to pull out her Meteor Hammer, the old man slowly came to—only to faint again at the sight of Qianqian's Meteor Hammer.

The second revival attempt was a bit easier, and the unlucky old master woke up again, realizing that if he fainted once more, he probably wouldn't need to wake up. Thus, he looked at us—a bunch of extremely fierce individuals—with renewed vigor, tremblingly asking, "What... what do you want?"

Clearly, Qianqian had a dominant thought and she blurted out, "We're here to check the water meter!"

The old man paused, then pulled out a notebook from his bosom, "I remember paying the water bill this month..."

Me: "..."

I was in disarray for a bit, then snatched the old man's notebook and loudly asked, "Are you the Pope?"

The old man blinked: "Huh? How could that be! I'm just here to deliver a report!"

Under immense psychological pressure, I knocked the old man out again—what if he came to his senses and started shouting later?—then raised my head to ask a pressing question: "Sandora, what did you say the Pope looks like?"

Sandora blinked: "Like the Twelve Knights, they all wear round, sleek masks that seem to be fused to their skin, never taking them off. The probe that infiltrated here lay in wait for three days and found that they always wore those things."

Now I'm really curious if the Pope has gone years without washing his face.

The so-called Holy Pope always wears a smooth mask on his face, which wasn't a secret in this world. At first, I thought this old man was the Pope, finally unveiling his masked visage, but that was a misunderstanding. But on second thought, why do all these slightly mysterious characters love to put a shell over their faces? Lulu Xiu is like this, so is Kruzer, Batman, Spiderman, Louis XIV! Are these all people who will die if they show their faces?

I had barely mumbled this when Sandora at my side pinched her arm: "Ah Jun, don't let Ola find out, she'll lose her mind."

Me: "..."

Just then, the room's door slid open quietly. All three of us stiffened, turning our heads toward the sound: a tall man wearing a sleek mask stood at the door, silently meeting our gazes.

This time checking for water usage won't work.

Here's the situation: I'm bent over, holding the pose that took down the old man just now; Sandora is at my side, clutching my arm; Qianqian is writing 'I was here' on a near wall, and in a very post-modern fashion, the three of us have barged into the Pope City, with our current behavior deeply baffling the masked man opposite us. The solemn mood and dignity I had been brewing vanished within a minute of the old man appearing. It turns out, Qianqian and I possess an unparalleled talent for dragging everything into the ditch, while Sandora, who should be commanding respect from all, ends up being dragged down by us.

"Invaders." After several seconds of silence, the masked man at the door started to speak with a buzzing voice, raspy and deep with a hint of reverb, showing no sign of panic—as if he was merely stating a fact. This made me unsure whether he had known about our arrival all along or if he'd just found us in his room when he opened the door, "State your purpose."

Before I could speak up, Qianqian had already bounced over: "Nothing much, just curious about you, I came to play."

I truly adore this girl, have you seen her do a single serious thing since she arrived?!

The Pope moved slowly into the room, with no attendants following behind. I couldn't tell what expression was on his face behind the mask, whether he truly was as composed as his current demeanor suggested. The figure simply sat down in a large, elegant chair beside a desk, picking up a crystal plate that emitted a faint glow, presumably reading something. The raspy voice came from beneath the mask again: "Is that so, a tedious reason."

Then he fell silent, focused on the crystal plate in front of him. All three of us, including Sandora, remained caught in a disheveled silence, standing still with a windswept look. Qianqian lightly nudged my arm: "Ah Jun, Ah Jun, is this... is this person a relative of Silvia or something?"

Considering Qianqian's state of mind, I decided to disregard her comment, but the masked man's strange reaction did indeed leave me somewhat at a loss—and more importantly, left us in a passive position.

"You seem rather calm," Sandora was the only one who could maintain her composure and speak calmly in such a situation—a skill honed through countless encounters with all manner of bizarre creatures over millions of years.

The "Holy Pope" finally put down the crystal plate he had been holding, and his mask tilted ever so slightly towards us, "I don't need to know how you got in here, just that you can't get out. This is a multiple-choice question, and there's no need to talk with you."

This was a blatant provocation—at least, that's how Sandora saw it, but Her Majesty the Queen remained serene, curiously sizing up the man behind the mask, "You're not interested in our identities?"

The "Holy Pope" stood up, appearing to scrutinize us, who seemed unarmed, "There's no need. I have more important matters to ponder. Perhaps you possess some form of special power—not an uncommon thing. Others have slipped past those inept guards outside to confront me as well, but they stopped right where you stand now. Those experiences made me realize one thing—"

The masked man spoke calmly, his voice carrying a slight hint of disdain.

"Normal life comes with inevitable flaws, their myopia prevents them from understanding the significance of my work to civilization as a whole. So, I grew tired of explaining. I am the Pope, the inheritor of an ancient legacy. The Holy Sages have already laid the path for every generation of mortals to come; I am merely a chosen guide."

It was clear that the other party had misunderstood something, and being in the position of Pope for too long, with power far beyond the ordinary, had led him to truly believe he had transcended humanity. Well, a lifespan of over three hundred years, without someone like Sandora to guide me, would be a disservice if he didn't develop some mental quirks after all that buildup!

The "Holy Pope" in front of us seemed to mistake us for self-righteous ones who had come to Vatican in these turbulent times to attempt a rebellion—judging by his three centuries of experience, such an assessment was quite reasonable. Moreover, he seemed to assume he possessed ample power to deal with any form of invader. The man prided himself on being a heir of the Sages and had hypnotized himself into believing the Sages had personally chosen him. It just goes to show that once raised to an unsuitable height and left there too long, most are prone to delusions of grandeur—it's not the age that matters for a 'chuunibyou' or the mindlessness of the number—it seems that this one was not so feeble-minded after all.

Looking at this somewhat arrogant masked man, I almost laughed out loud; such is the difference in perspective when individuals of varying levels assess the same thing. To someone who knows nothing of the truth, the actions of this Holy Pope might seem like a juvenile delusion, at most a bit neurotic. To the rebels he had eliminated previously, he'd seem unbearably arrogant and beyond reproach. Yet to the common folks of Mobra who revere the Sages, such a Pope would appear with a pride and dignity befitting his status. To us, however, he just seemed rather ridiculous. In the end, no one was wrong; this was simply the awkward result of an asymmetry of information.

Of course, as ridiculous as he may have been, one cannot deny that such a deluded man had led Mobra to its current grand status.

Perhaps my mocking expression was too apparent, as the masked man seemed embarrassed for a moment—fortunately, his mask shielded his face. He turned his back to us, facing the window, "I will grant you some more time to ponder the meaning behind this rash action of yours. The Sages have already charted the path ahead for us. Regardless of their purpose here, all we need to do is embrace fate with gratitude. Any act of rebellion is futile, across the square, I sense many gazes, those of mortals who hope to change their destiny. Perhaps you are among them?"

"Do you enjoy talking to yourself?" Sandora frowned and interrupted him, "Wild speculations in the absence of basic information."

"You don't understand," the Pope said, pointing at his own head, "The Sages blessed me with eternal life and wisdom, granting me incredible judgment which has never been wrong."

At this point, we finally confirmed that the man before us had been brainwashed by some force of the Xyrin Relics. His fervent worship had robbed him of even basic humility; he trusted only in the power granted by the Sages. Therefore, although he was in some respects a follower of the Empire, he was decidedly unpopular—of course, his irreverent attitude played a part. Qianqian made a face, her patience wearing thin as ever, particularly in the presence of a rambling fanatic—even if the person in question worshipped her, it wouldn't stop her from yawning, "Ah Jun, he's too boring, let's go."

The "Holy Pope" seemed to have heard something amusing, chuckling as he turned to us, "Don't you understand? The moment you made this mistake—"

He was cut off mid-sentence, as the door was pushed open from the other side, and Big Sister appeared at the doorway, "Oh, you're here—I came to see what the Pope looks like, is this the guy with the mask?"

The Pope just stood there, frozen with two fingers outstretched, staring in disbelief as the fourth intruder appeared in his Vatican as casually as if paying a social visit. According to him, there had indeed been people who managed to bypass the guards and confront him, because apart from those Twelve Knights, other Church Knights were merely ordinary people. But after three invaders had already shown up, to have a fourth stroll in so easily was something quite unprecedented.

In this unprecedentedly awkward situation, the Holy Pope stared blankly at the four of us for a while, and then with a tremble of his fingers, continued resolutely, "Perhaps you do not understand, that in the face of a legacy left by the Holy Sages, numerical advantage is meaningless. This has been proven with their lives by someone three hundred years ago..."

"Big brother, big brother! I've come down to find you too!" A crisp voice interrupted the Pope's speech, and Visca came running in from the door, dashing over to rub up against me. Laughing, I handed the little girl a lollipop and made sure Pandora trailing behind her got one too.

"Er... it seems the defense capability here..." The Pope once again extended a finger toward us, and a strange sound came from underneath his mask, showing that after four adults appeared, the arrival of two more Little Lolies had begun to make him doubt whether the level of protection here had stooped to that of a backstreet market. Then, as everyone loved to see, before the other party could even finish a sentence, he was interrupted again: his windows were suddenly smashed open by Bingdisi, with Monina and her brother swiftly bouncing into the room, almost knocking the Pope over with Yelsen's trailing cape.

"Aha, Chen, I was so bored up there and I was quite curious about what this Pope is all about—And who's this egghead over here?"

By now, the poor Pope was rendered speechless. The situation had far exceeded his expectations; infiltration into the Vatican had occurred before, but such a group infiltration was truly unheard of. This figure, who had always deemed himself God's Agent, felt lost for the first time, lowering his arm and looking around in confusion, then he raised his finger again, only for Lilina to sway her head out from the nearby wardrobe.

"I know you have many questions." I said, looking sternly at the Pope, who immediately took a defensive stance—only to maintain it as he fell back onto the floor: Lin had popped up from under the floor.

Luckily, the Pope had instinctively dodged, or by now he might have been nailed to the ceiling by this bizarrely strong woman.

Next was Bubbles, who popped out from behind the couch, taking a photo of the Pope who had become petrified. There was also Uncle Kenser, who emerged from the wall like Odin himself, muttering "Very good, very good." Then there was Moriya, who made a hole in the ceiling to jump down—inexplicably there. Sal and Sylvanas also led a group of Azeroth heroes to take a look around, but upon seeing there was no room left for their entourage, they shook their heads and left. Throughout this process, His Holiness the Pope remained impressively calm, sitting motionless in his chair, and through the mask, I couldn't tell if he was observing with a cold eye or had fainted.

Looking at the raucous crowd in the room, I felt somewhat at a loss, wondering if they had all agreed to come and raise a ruckus together. Although I wasn't fond of this Pope who prided himself on the Imperial Heritage, I had no intention of attacking his worldview. Then I understood when I saw Bingdisi grinning mischievously, pulling Sandora aside for a casual chat: Can you really expect things to go normally when this Female Hooligan is involved?

The Pope sat there, collapsed for quite a while, probably trying to make sense of what he was seeing, doubtlessly questioning the security level of his own Vatican since the situation had escalated to invaders practically moving in en masse with their families, maintaining the same attitude to infiltrating what was supposed to be Mobra's top-security zone as one might have when stepping out two hundred meters to buy soy sauce.

For an "Agent" accustomed to easily managing the whole world, this was indeed a disaster. I couldn't bear it and went forward to shake his hand, "Well, about half of these people don't take orders from me; this was an unexpected situation."

"Who exactly are you?" The Pope's voice still somehow sounded calm, while I felt strange energy fluctuations spreading all around us. Sandora gave a soft hum not far away and the Pope shuddered violently on one side, the weird energy fluctuations vanishing.

"And you're only asking this now? What were you doing just before?" I quirked my mouth, conflicted about how to feel toward the Pope before me: somewhat amused, due to his ridiculous Holy Sage theories, a bit disgusted, since he had the gall to declare himself Divine Son with the Imperial Heritage, and a touch disappointed, for he was the most unpleasant heir of the Imperial Heritage I had ever met!

I wasn't sure if it was centuries of living as a "Divine Son" that turned him into this disagreeable character, but both Sandora and I found him distasteful.

I didn't answer his question, because a voice spoke up before I could: "They are the masters you've worshiped all your life. Ah, I knew it would come to this..."

I looked around in surprise: Zaku! (To be continued. If you like this work, you are welcome to cast your recommendation tickets and monthly votes at Qidian.com. Your support is my greatest motivation.)