The Emperor's Death (2)

A full hundred handsome Highland Warhorses slowly pulled a carriage draped in golden gauze curtains, its canopy stretching over ten meters wide, out of the Imperial Capital. It traveled down the road between Light Cultists on both sides. When Columbus III saw the Grand Cathedral of Light enveloped in golden divine radiance, he was overwhelmed with excitement.

This day had finally arrived. His authority would reach the pinnacle of the entire world today.

He was the Emperor, and he would also be the Pope.

At that thought, Columbus III felt as though the heavens and earth before him had broadened. Everyone looked like a good person, and every face seemed friendly.

He was like a god walking among mortals. Everything concerning mortals was no more than drifting clouds and smoke to him. What was there worth caring about?

Columbus III smiled, but the expression quickly faded.

He had seen the Pope of Dawn.

The Pope of Dawn was the only one still qualified to stand against him needle for needle, the only person who could still make the Emperor lose his composure. And he was here today.

But Columbus III soon smiled again. The Pope of Dawn had not come here willingly; he was here because he had lost.

The Empire's victory over The Church. Even the Pope of Dawn would submit before him, the Emperor and Grand Pope. His presence would be the most magnificent backdrop for today.

"Tell the painters to paint me properly."

Columbus III gave the quiet order to those around him. He had become a legend by becoming Emperor, but few of those present today were ordinary people. The Emperor's voice made the attendants nod, yet it also clearly reached the ears of the surrounding nobles, clergy, and His Holiness the Pope.

Those who had