God Descends

"Your Holiness, the Maze Lock has been constructed," Archbishop Bolton reminded him in a low voice. "We can begin."

Pope Pella IV nodded and cast a sidelong glance at his attendant.

The latter hurried over to his side and held up the crown in both hands.

Pella took the ceremonial crown and slowly placed it upon his head, then headed for the cathedral doors.

"His Holiness the Pope has arrived--------"

Amid the blare of trumpets, the cathedral's great doors swung open. Dazzling sunlight poured into the hall, while thunderous cheers erupted from the square outside.

All eyes instantly converged on this renowned ruler.

Surrounded by numerous attendants, the Pope walked out of the cathedral at an unhurried pace and ascended the prepared platform step by step. Tens of thousands of believers in the square lowered their heads to him in the highest respect. Yet he knew that in places beyond his sight—streets and taverns outside the Ecclesiastical District, even other territories across the Holy Wing Islands—many people were also waiting like believers, hoping that he would bring new light to The Church.

He was already one hundred and thirty-six years old.

For over forty years on the throne, he had diligently cultivated The Church's soil, pushing the Dragonborn's strength to new heights. During his reign over the kingdom, the war between the Holy Wing Islands and Natating had come to a halt; the Langis Oceanic Republic and Sandboat Republic had retreated before the Dragonborn; domestic financial conglomerates had grown ever more powerful; and factories had sprung up like bamboo shoots after rain. Everything, it could be said, had been moving in a better direction.

Unfortunately, Pella IV had always carried one lingering regret in his heart.

His time in power lacked a truly earthshaking accomplishment.

For example, the previous Pope