Free Web NovelChapter 17: Chapter 17: It’s ME
Faith had its own power. A pillar where people could lean, a shoulder to cry on, a beacon of hope in the midst of despair. Humans, with all their glory and inventions, had the capability to rule the earth, the sky, and the water, but still couldn’t live without it.
It was not weakness in any manner. Amon himself thought of it as his source of strength. When everything fell, he stood up with the help of faith. In his collar there should have been a cross, but no more. There was only a ring. Her ring.
His faith was no longer in the house he was walking into, a house which in name belonged to him, the one and only Creator. The Vatican.
"You said you were in trading now. I guess you are still holding onto the red cap." Amon muttered, walking behind Claude, who wore nothing but red and white, with a cross belonging only to one of the known Cardinals.
Claude kept walking. "Well, if it wasn’t clear before, I already left the church and its duties. I only wore this because of you."
Amon walked beside him. "I know. I know very well how much you hate this place. You once told me you would rather beg on the streets than come back here."
"True. This house no longer belongs to him." He replied, looking down a bit. "I can’t even feel his presence here, only on you." He said, turning to Amon.
Amon smiled, a forced one at that. He hadn’t told Claude the full story, his full plan and goal. He had only asked for help, and Claude had agreed, no matter the consequences.
Everyone’s eyes were on them, mostly on Claude. It should have been on Amon, but for reasons only Claude knew, the many bishops present whispered only his name.
Claude, the unnamed pope.
Amon, having the space to breathe, was finally not the center of attention for once. Encased in whispers, they both passed through the main hall, past where signs of restriction were posted everywhere, eventually reaching the office of the pope.
Claude paused before the door, his breathing becoming heavy. He looked at Amon, his brown eyes asking a silent question. Amon looked back and only nodded. Those golden eyes looked cold for a second, making Claude’s heart shiver slightly, but he knocked on the door nonetheless, not knowing what would come after.
Knock! Knoc—!
"The bishop who never was..." a voice echoed from inside. "And the golden immortal... you both may come in."
Amon and Claude looked at each other, slightly surprised. The door opened, and the holy energy they had only sensed before now amplified, as though encased in every atom in the air.
And there he was, wearing the silver and white cap, the gold and white robe, and the cross of the Almighty, the only cross connected to the very heavens.
"Your Holy Grace." Claude muttered, with a bow.
Amon said nothing, walking inside and sitting right down on a chair, his heavy frame settling into it, staring at the pope with his lifeless golden eyes. Claude sat too, without permission no less.
The old man wearing the sigil smiled slightly. "Consider me surprised. Who would have thought I would be able to see the golden sword of the Creator before I die. And Claude, you’re finally back, my succes—"
"I don’t want it." Claude interrupted. "You know that, Your Holiness. Please, don’t make me repeat the same quarrel we’ve had before."
The pope only smiled further. "I see... you have not changed. Thank the heavens."
His attention turned to the golden one. His mere presence was magnetic, a familiar sensation, the same he felt whenever messengers of heaven visited him, visited the Vatican.
"I sense..." he said, trying to hold eye contact with the man. "...grief in you, oh golden one. What could make the one who was there since the birth of all things feel such sorrow?"
Amon leaned back. "I too am human, Pope. But the question is, are you still?"
"Ho ho. I feel like you didn’t just come here for a visit. So why did you come?"
"I will get straight to the point. Give me the key that was entrusted to the Vatican."
There was a pause. The old man couldn’t help but look up at the painting of the holy war engraved above, then back to the man who had ended it.
"It is true then..." the pope said, not with the kind words from before, but with a quiet assurance laced with bitterness.
Amon glanced at Claude with a slight suspicion, but Claude shook his head aggressively, signaling he had not said anything to the church or to anyone. Meaning someone else had informed the pope.
"They already reached you..."
"So they were right!" the pope bellowed, standing up. "You have sided with the demons."
"No!" Claude interjected. "Holy Father, this is preposterous. Who said those vile words? This is the golden immortal. The guardian."
"Yes, he is the guardian, but more than save and protect, he has destroyed." He said. "You want to know who told me? Do you think they lied?"
"Who! Who dared—"
"Archangel Raphael himself."
Boom!
A sudden enchantment spread all around the room, then down the hallway, then throughout all of Vatican Palace, an overwhelming amount of divinity spreading with it. Amon gradually stood up, feeling the presence, his presence. Amon knew exactly what kind of enchantment this was.
So they finally made their move.
He had already been expecting them, or to be more precise, expecting him.
Claude turned to Amon, his eyes bound with fearful urgency. "Amon, you shouldn’t bother with these idiots. Let’s go."
"We can’t. Your Holy Father there just locked us in and called someone."
"...Who?"
Amon said nothing, looking upward, where the concentration of divinity was gathering.
"ME." A voice came from above.
Claude looked up as the pope immediately bowed down. A golden light shimmered like the sun, so intensely that he couldn’t even look at the entity directly.
Amon smiled instead. "So he sent you... Raphael."
"Indeed."
