Volume 1 Chapter 660

Chapter 660: A Wish

Gazing at the elder who had removed his crown, Lolth abruptly comprehended…

The figure before her, addressed as "Pope," now resembled more a man standing on the brink of life’s end than the spiritual leader she’d envisioned. Stripped of his ceremonial headpiece, the sagging robes hung about his emaciated frame, making him appear almost fragile – a far cry from the embodiment of divine radiance people imagined when picturing the God of Light’s earthly representative.

Though vestiges of benevolence remained in his features, he’d become indistinguishable from any aging neighbor one might greet in a village lane. Most telling was the unveiled exhaustion etched in his visage; even without sensing the fading magic within him, Lolth understood this ancient soul approached his final twilight.

No… truth be told, this pontiff should have met his natural demise years prior. Only through subterranean seclusion had he prolonged his flickering existence, awaiting both her arrival and this pivotal moment.

"How… profoundly burdensome," Lolth murmured, her sigh carrying the weight of unshed tears. The elder’s serene acceptance contrasted sharply with the leaden responsibility settling upon her shoulders.

"Merely the spent life of one who should have died seasons past," the Pope countered, his voice light as autumn chaff. "Why burden your heart with it?"

"Deciding fates… this ill becomes me," Lolth fretted, fingers tangling in her hair. "Pray, name your own hour."

The elder’s eyes crinkled with paternal warmth. "The road ahead bears greater trials, child. Best grow accustomed to making hard choices." His hand, translucent as parchment, gestured gently. "Haven’t you crossed that threshold before? Taken lives with your own blade?"

"Different circumstances entirely!" Lolth’s protest rang clear. "Those who raised arms against me, served dark powers, wallowed in sin – their choices bore consequences. Whether comprehending or blind, they sealed their fates through action. But this…" Her voice faltered, gesturing at the waiting elder. "You place your life in my palms like a sacrificial lamb. The weight… it suffocates."

Silence pooled between them like spilled ink. Then, sudden as spring thunder, the Pope’s laughter echoed – rich, genuine, tinged with wistfulness. "Remarkable perspective," he finally managed, wiping mirthful tears. "Were seasons kinder to these bones, we’d debate this till dawn’s light. Yet now… I understand completely."

"But… Lord Lolth, are you truly prepared to reshape the entire world through divine means with the End of Days as your goal? That burden is far weightier than this…"

"Truth be told, the mere power, rank, and responsibilities of a demi-god often leave me gasping for breath," the elderly man confessed with startling candor, making no effort to conceal the weariness in his voice.

"I never imagined the Pope would complain," came the retort.

"First and foremost, I remain human – simply one who couldn’t voice complaints before. It’s truly an arduous duty," he replied, massaging his temple with thinning white locks, and chuckled. "Though rest assured, I’ve never regretted this path…"

"I don’t question your integrity, but I must caution you… This undertaking carries more gravity than my very life."

As these words lingered, Lolth’s face twisted into a pained expression. "Ah, venerable one, must you dampen my resolve? I was already nursing second thoughts…" She made a dismissive gesture, the movement belying her casual tone.

In the subterranean chamber beneath the central cathedral, the elderly man and youthful woman exchanged glances before simultaneous laughter broke the tension.

"A mere jest… Decisions made shall not be regretted," Lolth declared, her mirth giving way to solemn conviction. "Though my nature compels me to seek the easiest path, there are… shall we say… certain matters I’ve pondered thoroughly."

Settling into a cross-legged position facing the pontiff, she continued: "So tell me – any personal regrets? Not as Pope, but as a man. Unvisited lands perhaps? My spatial magic could whisk us away."

The aged leader fell into deep contemplation before finally shaking his head. "In truth, no destination calls to me. The concept of final wishes… feels foreign after lifetimes devoted to church and faith."

Lolth’s subsequent silence stretched long before she sighed. "This is why I disdain organized religion – apologies for saying so to your face. No matter its reforms, there’s always…"

"Some inherent flaw? I won’t dispute that," the Pope interjected calmly. "Yet remember – centuries past, when our Lord slumbered less deeply, the Church truly nurtured this plane’s people."

Though Lolth offered no rebuttal, she recognized the unspoken admission – the current Church of Light’s corrosive influence on the mainland plane. Such deathbed confessions left little room for response.

"You digress into solemn matters again, old man. Your remaining sands should flow for yourself."

Nodding pensively, the pontiff’s clouded eyes gleamed with sudden vitality. "There is… something from aeons past." His voice gained unexpected vigor. "Lord Lolth, have you encountered Saint Cardea Stew? A northern delicacy of the Holy Lieto Empire, famed four centuries gone…"

The lines on his face softened with remembrance. "Should I possess any final desire… to taste that forgotten flavor once more."