A story told to the one and only part 1

Malphas, taken aback by Pope John's newfound strength, faltered for a moment, allowing the pontiff to strike back with a vengeance. Pope John drew upon his years of training and the blessings of Exaldera, channeling his inner warrior. He swung his sword with blinding speed, each strike precise and calculated, aiming for the weak spots in Malphas' armor of darkness. The clash of steel echoed through the city, as Pope John's sword clashed against Malphas' wicked claws, creating sparks that lit up the night sky.

Malphas, sensing his own defeat, unleashed a torrent of dark magic, sending waves of shadows toward Pope John. But the pontiff stood his ground, raising his shield to ward off the dark onslaught. The shield crackled and groaned under the immense pressure, but Pope John refused to yield. With a mighty roar, he pushed back against the shadows, dispersing them with bursts of holy light.

As the battle raged on, the ground beneath them cracked and split, buildings crumbled, and the skies blazed with otherworldly energies. The sheer spectacle of their battle drew the attention of all who remained in the city, who watched in awe and terror at the cataclysmic clash of titanic powers.

With a final, desperate surge of power, Malphas unleashed a devastating blast of dark energy, aiming to obliterate Pope John once and for all. But Pope John, fueled by Exaldera's blessing from death and his own unyielding faith, gathered all his strength for one last, mighty strike. His sword glowed with blinding light as he swung it with all his might, cleaving through Malphas' dark blast and striking the demon lord with a fatal blow.

Just beside Pope John and Malphas's battle, another battle raged on against the apostles and Malphas' female companions, and had ended with the clash of swords and the eruption of magic filling the air with a cacophony of chaos. The sheer scale of the conflict was awe-inspiring, with the forces of darkness and light locked in a titanic struggle for supremacy. The 13 Apostles came out as the Victors of the Pope.

As Pope John stood victorious over the fallen form of Malphas, his armor in tatters, his body battered and bruised, he gazed around at the aftermath of the epic battle. The once mighty city now lay in ruins, with buildings reduced to rubble and the ground scorched by the immense powers unleashed in the conflict. The air crackled with residual magic, creating an otherworldly aura that hung over the battlefield.

Pope John's fellow apostles emerged from their own battles, their weapons dripping with the blood of defeated foes. They looked upon their leader with awe and reverence, as he stood there, a beacon of divine power and unwavering faith. Exaldera, the god who had granted Pope John his powers, appeared before him, a majestic figure wreathed in divine light.

"My son, you have proven yourself worthy of my blessings," Exaldera said in a booming voice that echoed across the battlefield. "Your unwavering faith, indomitable spirit, and unparalleled courage have brought victory to the forces of light."

Pope John nodded, his eyes filled with gratitude and humility. He knew that he could not have emerged victorious without the support of his comrades and the blessings of Exaldera. Together, they had overcome insurmountable odds and vanquished the forces of darkness.

The surviving demons and their female companions fled in terror, their once-mighty leader defeated. The ground trembled as Malphas' dark energy dissipated, leaving only a lingering sense of awe and wonder at the magnitude of the battle that had taken place.

The people of the city, who had been cowering in fear during the battle, now emerged from their hiding places, their faces filled with awe and admiration for Pope John and his apostles. They hailed their pontiff as a hero, a savior who had protected them from the forces of evil and restored hope to their shattered city.

Pope John, though weary and wounded, smiled with gratitude as he addressed his people, his voice carrying across the battlefield. He thanked them for their faith and support, and promised to rebuild their city and restore it to its former glory. The people cheered, their spirits lifted by the pontiff's words of reassurance.

And so, the tale of Pope John's epic battle against Malphas and the forces of darkness spread far and wide, becoming a legend.

**Five years later**

The moon shone brightly through the window of the grand castle chamber, where the young child, Lord John, listened with rapt attention to his nanny, Ms. Margaret, as she regaled him with the epic tale of his parents' heroic deeds.

"And that, my young master, is the story of how your mother and father, the valiant Ms. Diana and the mighty Pope John, vanquished a demon with unimaginable strength, capable of altering the very fabric of the world as we know it," Ms. Margaret said, her voice filled with awe and admiration.

The young child's eyes sparkled with excitement as he hung onto every word of the tale. He could hardly contain his giggles of delight as he imagined his parents fearlessly facing down a formidable foe.

"They were so strong and brave," he said with admiration, his young heart swelling with pride. "I always love hearing about them."

"And I always love telling you the story, my lord," Ms. Margaret replied with a warm smile, her eyes shining with affection for the young child she had cared for since he was a baby.

As the night grew late, Ms. Margaret gently tucked Lord John into his bed, tucking the covers snugly around him. The child's mind was abuzz with images of his parents' courage and valor, and he felt a deep sense of determination to follow in their footsteps one day.

"Goodnight, my lord," Ms. Margaret said softly, planting a gentle kiss on his forehead. "May your dreams be filled with adventures and triumphs, just like your parents'."

Lord John nodded, his imagination already whisking him away to a world of heroic quests and daring exploits. With a contented smile on his face, he closed his eyes, feeling inspired by the legacy of his illustrious parents, as he drifted off into a peaceful slumber, eagerly anticipating the day when he would be able to continue their noble legacy.

The child closed his eyes he fell asleep, thinking back on the story told to him about his mother, Diana, the only woman ever to conceive a child. Told him so much it began to play back in vivid imagery.

The child's imagination ran wild with the story of his mother's encounter with the high angel Azariel. He could almost see the celestial being appearing before her, his radiant presence illuminating the room with an otherworldly glow. The child could picture Azariel tapping her head gently, imparting a prophecy of a great man who would come to her village.

In his mind's eye, the child could see his mother, clad in armor and wielding a magnificent sword, a gift from the angel. She stood tall and resolute, ready to face any challenge that would come her way. The child could almost feel the weight of the sword in his own hands as he imagined his mother's strength and courage.

The child's imagination painted a vivid picture of the man who would father him, the mighty and legendary Pope John. He could see this man, once a ruler who united most of Europe under his rule, standing before his mother with awe-inspiring authority. His father exuded power and greatness, commanding respect with every step he took.

The child's mind conjured images of his mother and father, side by side, as they embarked on their epic battle against the formidable demon Malphas. He could see them, their swords clashing against Malphas' wicked claws, sparks flying as their weapons met with blinding speed. The child could hear the deafening clash of steel and the roars of dark magic, as his parents fought with unwavering determination.

In his imagination, the child saw his mother and father pushing back against the forces of darkness, their strength and bravery shining through. He could see them standing victorious over the fallen form of Malphas, their armor in tatters, their bodies battered and bruised, but triumphant. The child felt a surge of pride as he envisioned his parents as true heroes, revered and admired by all.

The child's imagination painted a vivid picture of his mother's pregnancy, the only woman to have conceived a child. He could see her, radiant and glowing with the divine blessing of carrying the first and only child of Pope John. He could almost hear the whispers and awe of the villagers as they marveled at the miraculous event, before her death.

The following morning, as the sun rose over the castle, a message arrived, bearing the solemn news that King Lambert had passed away during his expedition and his party would be returning to the capital city in a week's time. The news spread like wildfire, and soon an announcement echoed across the nation of Juniper.

**"A month from now, we will be holding another Kings Tournament in search of a new king!"**