"Prepare fifty large ships. I'll be heading to Beastaria immediately after reaching the Holy Land, together with the non-human slaves," Sylvester spoke to Gabriel through the Solarium Web while sitting on the tower's top floor and working. "I'll be taking Soulbreaker and Bloodrain with me, as their magic affects all species equally."

"But King Rathagun doesn't seem excited about it," Gabriel replied, reading the reply from the elven king. "He says, 'I will be delighted to welcome you, and I'm sure all the elders will feel the same.' Your Holiness, I don't think they're very keen on having you."

'He's being pressured?' Sylvester wondered what was going on in Alfia.

"In any case, I have to send all these slaves back home, so I have to go there no matter what. Our arrogance and pride have caused countless casualties for a thousand years. If I must be the one to take the first step, I will," Sylvester stated and moved on with work. "Anything else?"

"Yes, Marcia and Sorland Kingdoms' relations have soured, and threats of war are being thrown around by the Kings you placed. The melting point was a massive gold vein found in the middle of the border of the two kingdoms. Now, both sides are claiming extra land in each other's territory to get more gold," Gabriel explained the issue briefly. "What should I do? Send someone to mediate?"

Sylvester groaned, rubbing his head as he knew this would happen eventually. Unless they share too many common interests, kingdoms would always go to war. "Yes, send some arbitrators and try to bring back peace. Holy Land is the issuer of money now, so even if they gain some gold, it must go through us."

"Understood, Your Holiness. I've sent the important documents that need your personal approval, and they should be arriving soon. I'll prepare the ships in the meantime," Gabriel finished his report.

But Sylvester only let out a sigh as he ended the connection. He wasn't a big admirer of paperwork, but it was a part of his job. Since he was a Supreme Wizard and could stay awake for a long time, he was also expected to work more hours now. However, he didn't complain too much since the goals were too high and required sleepless work.

Knock! Knock!

Right away, the door opened, and an Inquisitor commander walked in. Behind him, a few more Inquisitors came, pushing in many large trolley tables.

"Your Holiness, these arrived from the Holy Land."

"..."

Sylvester stared at the massive stacks of paper and files, "All of this?"

"Yes, Your Holiness. This contains the index of everything," the Inquisitor Commander replied.

"..."

"That's the index? It took a whole single trolley!" Sylvester stood up and walked over to see what it even was.

But soon enough, he calmed down, as he understood this was his own burden to bear. This was the review he needed to do as it was related to the experimental technologies he had suggested. 'I could've given this work to Felix as the Viceman, but he's not smart enough for this… nobody is.'

"Leave them beside the table." Sylvester returned to his seat and started working right away. From checking the designs and experiment results of the dam he had suggested, to the results of the wireless communication device that was being produced. Evaluation of the new Green City's designs, to various strategic canal projects to bring water deep inside the regions of Blackhart Kingdom.

There was no war to fight anymore, and he had to win only through his intellect. Most problems faced by people now tend to relate to society, economy, or technological backwardness.

'Food security remains unpredictable,' Sylvester mumbled while looking at the reports from the Highland Kingdom, where he was conducting the largest agricultural experiment. 'We need to enter a surplus on every harvest to keep the population well-fed. It seems like I'll need to think of a way to make growing food more effective and profitable for farmers; Fertilizer subsidies, perhaps?

'As far as I remember, energy, agriculture, and transportation were the most subsidized industries in the world back on Earth—With my almost dictatorial powers, I can keep it under control and away from becoming a monopoly.'

Sylvester contemplated a lot, but he didn't make a decision there unilaterally, as the idea was too big and would cost gold to kingdoms.

Knock! Knock!

"I have returned, Your Holiness." The Inquisitor High Lord entered the room just then. "As per your desire, the Elder Witch has made what you require. These are the five blood idols, prepared for your righteous trials."

Sylvester enthusiastically took the five cloth dolls. They looked ordinary and in no shape or form represented the real images of the people. But they were still tied through Dark Magic.

"Great timing, Lord Inquisitor. I needed something to keep myself occupied while dealing with these reports. Please place them on my table," Sylvester requested the old man and scooted down a little from his chair to take something out. "Found it!"

Soon, Sylvester held a hammer in one hand and a box of sharp, small nails in the other. He placed the five dolls on the side of the table and struck down.

Bam!

One nail in each doll, right where the right-hand palm was supposed to be. He nailed the dolls to his table and got to work immediately after, uncaring what the effects on the real bodies were since he knew this was merely the beginning.

"What happened to the Elder Witch?"

"She won't be missed, as she no longer exists." Lord Inquisitor replied and asked for another task. "You have fulfilled one of my dreams, for I hated this place with fervor. How else may I be of service further?"

"Arrange for as many carriages as you can. I shall take the non-humans who desire to return to Beastaria to the Holy Land. Those who wish to remain will be settled in Happy Village," Sylvester ordered and drowned himself in the papers.

Silently, Inquisitor High Lord's eyes shone red. He saluted and left the hall.

"Meow! Meow…"

Hearing Miraj's voice, Sylvester looked to the side and almost choked on his saliva. The fur ball was in the middle of playing with the nailed dolls, scratching them, pressing down on them, and sitting on them.

'I do wonder what those five must be feeling.'

…

Hell!

The five Slave Gods suddenly found themselves suffering through hell. Minerva was in the pigsty, and when she screamed from the sudden pain in her hand, the pigs got agitated and began stomping her, biting her. She was so fat she couldn't even roll over or push the pigs away.

At the same time, outside the Tower of Godless, a good distance away on the Desert Road leading down south, Ma'kalinga Zofis traveled in black robes and an oversized hood on his head. His noticeable white runic tattoos did very little to hide him.

"Argh!"

But he suddenly fell down with immense pain in his right hand, as if it was pierced by something. Yet, there was no wound on him.

"Gah… I can't breathe!" He began kicking his feet in desperation, feeling as if something had smothered his face and blocked his airways. I think you should take a look at

"Gold?!"

To Ma'kalinga Zofis's bad luck, the people he was traveling with around him saw something fall out of the bag on his back. Rather than helping him, they rushed over and checked, only to find a lot of gold.

Within a few seconds, it was all taken away. Ma'kalinga Zofis was left alone on the Desert Road to groan and rot. In pain and broke.

The experiences of the other Slave Gods varied a little but were primarily similar. Some even fainted because a sudden, powerful punch of air landed on their chests, instantly breaking their rib cage. Meanwhile, others had their entire body carved with deep gashes for no reason.

Confusion overwhelmed their minds. They had no clue what was going on—it felt like hell, their worst nightmares becoming a reality.

…

Beastaria, Alfia of the elves.

"How can we allow our greatest enemy to set foot on our blessed lands?!"

"Do you hear yourself, Rathagun?! You may be a King, but we do not accept dictators!"

"Agreed—many have tried and failed!" In the massive hall of the elven royal castle, covered with green vines all around and fragrant flowers, the Elder Council sat together and discussed the matters at hand. Of course, like any court, there were groups that supported the king and those that opposed him. Sadly, the opposition was led by the Queen's father.

Sitting on his throne and listening to the elders seated before him, Rathagun watched with annoyance as they bickered while he had already made up his mind and sent a reply. No matter what, he simply wanted to show his son the Kingdom of Elves at least once.

"Enough!" Rathagun bellowed to silence them. With his voice, the plants in the vicinity shivered and curled back. "For a thousand years, countless elves have died. If establishing peace with Sol allows us to end the senseless war, then what is the harm? Goddess Remira would never want to see her children die for nothing but our inflated pride."

"Haha!" The Queen's father abruptly laughed. With his blonde hair, green eyes, and tall and slim frame, he looked quite young despite being a millennia old. "Pride? Ah, the thing you placed at that arrogant boy's feet when you knelt. Rathagun, you betrayed the trust of this council! Without consulting us, you chose to be weak—you lack the spine that befits a ruler of elves! Your forefathers must be utterly disappointed in you, son… utterly devastated."

Rathagun's deep gray eyes showed a hint of anger as he rose from his throne, "Ellitran, don't carry the notion that I am silent because you're my wife's father. Tell me, what stopped the plague? That arrogant boy did! Tell me, who is taking the biggest step to end the thousand-year struggle with no end in sight? That—arrogant—boy!

"He is twenty-six years old and a Supreme Wizard—that golden rain was because of him! Now tell me who is the one showing true humility in taking the step forward and coming to a land he knows will surely despise him."

"His Majesty is correct," the First Elder, the right-hand man of the king, spoke. "If the animosity with Sol can be ended, perhaps we can place more of our focus on increasing our numbers. The price we have paid in the war and the plague has been grave."

"We should kill him!" Ellitran Dalor Malgath proposed. "If he's this young and so powerful, perhaps one day he will ascend beyond the Supreme—Let us strike now; let this be Remira's blessing!"

Thud!

"A curse!" Rathagun roared, kicking his foot on the ground to show some of his might as a Supreme Wizard. "For a man a millennia-old, you lack the wisdom, 'father.' Do you honestly believe the human who defeated two Supreme Wizards to become the Pope would not predict the possibility of our attack? Let me remind this council—too much pride can lead to arrogance, and too much arrogance leads to mistakes—mistakes that the human Pope has never made.

"In his entire life, every time someone has gone against him, they have suffered tremendously. So I propose that we be patient and allow him to arrive—let us see what he has to offer, and if we do not like it, we can use him to rid the Divider Swamp of the vile demon."

Rathagun's chest rose and fell as he finished his small, passionate speech, which was a hidden plea to allow Sylvester one visit.

"Agreed!"

"Patience is our virtue."

"As elves, it is against our nature to be impatient."

"Let us see what this human has planned."

Slowly, the council members discussed with each other and agreed on the point of at least welcoming the Pope into Alfia. It was unknown whether they genuinely thought that or felt scared of angering their king too much.

However, Ellitran remained unmoved. There was a hint of scheming and disgust in his eyes, something Rathagun noticed very well since he was once a proud student of the same man.

"If an attack not sanctioned by me occurs on the human Pope while he is in Alfia, I will consider it treason—I will not show kindness then, I swear by Mother Remira."

The entire council knew to whom those words were directed. Wanting not to meddle in their feud, the elders promptly left the hall. Ellitran also left, having nothing but contempt in every move he made.

"That was entertaining."

Just when Rathagun took a sigh of relief, he heard Avanss' voice from behind his throne, unsure of when he got there in the first place.

"Frustration is the word, little brother."

"Haha!" Avanss laughed teasingly. "You should be happy. The overachiever of the family is coming here. I'm quite excited to see what he has planned after seeing how he dealt with you—so ruthless."

Pa!

Rathagun slapped his forehead and rubbed his face, "That is what I fear the most, Avanss. He's too… eccentric."

"Meticulous is the word, Brother," Avanss replied and stood beside the throne and overlooking the room.

"Only time will tell what he has in mind," Rathagun wearily replied and stood up to return to work. "If he desires peace, then so do I… But if he desires war, I will die fighting for my kingdom."

"Oh? I thought you had forgotten your loyalties."

"I had…" Rathagun left the chamber. "But he reminded me… when he made me kneel."

_________________

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