When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

#300 - Lord, you couldn't forgive me.



#300 - Lord, you couldn't forgive me.

April 1st, Holy See City.

"How is Grandiva? Still in the Frankish capital?" The old Pope's weak voice echoed in the ornate, gold-decorated room.

"I heard he's met a new lover and is in the throes of passion. He's not willing to leave."

"Scoundrel! Unrestrained lustful demon! Libertine!" The Pope gasped as he cursed.

Shelly stood silently to the side, not saying a word.

"Is there any wine left?"

Seemingly exhausted from cursing, John VIII's eyelids drooped constantly, his voice like a murmur in a dream.

Shelly shook his head: "The last cask of wine is finished. It doesn't keep for very long.

Given the situation in Thousand River Valley, the next batch of newly made wine probably won't be available until winter."

Blinking hard, John VIII chased away the sleepiness: "Then bring the wine from the Flesh King's Court."

Shelly stood up straight, not immediately carrying out John VIII's order.

John VIII asked impatiently, "What are you dawdling about?"

"Your Holiness, that wine is too strong. It was fine when you drank it a few years ago.

After drinking Thousand River Valley wine for so long, drinking that again will be too harmful to your body."

"Shelly, oh Shelly," John VIII sighed, "You must understand that hundreds of important northern nobles will attend the upcoming Mass.

I must prove to them that I am still healthy and can still bring them benefits. This will determine the fate of the Church.

Otherwise, what meaning would everything we've done in Lyea have? Do you understand what I mean?"

Shelly was silent for a few seconds, then silently turned and left the room. About five minutes later, he returned with a small glass of wine.

"Your Holiness, you must drink it slowly..."

Snatching the wine from Shelly's hand, John VIII drank it all in one gulp before Shelly could stop him.

"Your Holiness!" Shelly was shocked. He quickly placed his palm on John's heart.

However, to Shelly's surprise, John VIII's heartbeat was still normal, as if he hadn't been affected at all.

"Don't worry, as long as I wear the Triple Crown, even the strongest poison won't have much effect on me.

I just need to wait a day and a night to excrete the toxins, then take off the crown."

John VIII coughed and pushed Shelly's hand away.

Seeing that John VIII was unharmed, Shelly sincerely made the sign of the cross on his chest: "Praise the greatness of the Lord."

"Alright, help me change. It's time for us to do Mass."

............

Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, scattering colorful light on the flagstone floor of the cathedral.

Pope John VIII, the long-lived Pope who had reigned for a full 52 years, stood before the altar full of flowers.

He wore a sacred robe woven with gold thread, the Triple Crown symbolizing power on his head, and held the Book of Gospels and a scepter.

"Oh, our Lord..."

The sound echoed in the empty church. John VIII had deliberately chosen the most impassioned passage.

His voice was loud and clear, more energetic than a young man, solemn and sacred.

The Frankish bishops sitting below looked at each other, some even cursing in their hearts, 'If he doesn't die soon, I'm going to die.'

As for the northern Lyean nobles, they lowered their heads in surprise or piety, listening to the Mass, which was no different from when they were young.

"Hallelujah!"

Singing an entire hymn in one breath, John VIII took two breaths without making a sound.

Then he once again shouted enthusiastically in a chanting tone: "Hallelujah!"

"Hallelujah!"

The people below echoed, holding their hands in front of their chests, praying piously.

Announcing the end of the Mass, two attendant monks quickly stepped forward and took the heavy scepter and Gospel Book from John VIII's hands.

"Your Holiness, would you like to rest?" Shelly looked at

"No need, go arrange the dinner and everyday clothes."

"Understood." Shelly helped John VIII take off his sacred robe while whispering, "If you feel any discomfort, you must tell me."

John VIII nodded imperceptibly, then squeezed out a kind and amiable smile and walked along the steps towards the standing crowd.

Shelly breathed a sigh of relief, picked up the sacred robe, and walked towards the back hall.

John VIII immediately recognized the great noble of the Thorn Garden, Archduke Omes Auberex Osla.

The great noble's family's hereditary prognathism was hard to miss.

Having chosen his target, the Pope walked straight towards Duke Omes without resting.

Huh?

John VIII suddenly felt something was wrong when he took his second step, as if he was stepping on cotton candy.

The next second, he heard screams and the sound of wind.

After stepping on the air, the old Pope's body leaned forward. He tried to maintain his balance, but to no avail.

The colorful light of the stained-glass windows seemed to press heavily on the Pope's back, falling to the ground with the Pope.

Like a dismantled wooden puppet, John VIII collapsed with a crash.

Too much comfort had made him unable to extend his weak hands to support the ground.

His head drooped, the Triple Crown slipped off, and the old Pope's forehead hit the marble floor with a dull thud.

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"Clang--"

"Thud--"

Shelly, who was about to walk to the door of the back hall, heard a sound that made his blood run cold.

The prayers and conversations of the nobles and believers stopped abruptly, and the agile movements of the attendant monks seemed so slow.

They rushed over, but were unable to catch the old Pope who had fallen so suddenly.

"Your Holiness, Your Holiness!" Shelly frantically dropped the sacred robe in his hand and ran to John VIII.

Kneeling in front of the Pope, Shelly took the Pope's hand and turned over his body.

Having lost the Triple Crown on his head, John VIII visibly faded, and his face showed a faint purple color.

The face shrouded in holy light was so clear, so old, and so fragile at this moment.

The nobles surrounded him, looking at the face that seemed unfamiliar, and a ominous premonition rose in their hearts.

Shelly supported the back of the old Pope's head and placed the Triple Crown on his head, and John VIII, who had been foaming at the mouth, improved slightly.

"It's too late..." John VIII stopped Shelly before he could call a doctor, "Messiah is calling me, I should go to serve that supreme Lord."

"You, you just need to rest..."

"Wearing this hat is useless." For some reason, John VIII, who had been ambitious in the morning, suddenly became decadent.

A Frankish bishop clenched the corner of his mouth: "Your Holiness, don't talk nonsense."

John VIII didn't even look at him and arched his back hard.

Shelly knew that the Pope wanted to talk to him, so he quickly put his ear over.

As for those Frankish bishops, they shamelessly stretched their ears over.

"My will is in the second drawer of the desk, you know which desk..."

Before John VIII could finish speaking, several cardinals immediately jumped up and ran towards the Pope's study, chasing each other.

A Frankish bishop was even tripped over by a Lyean bishop.

"Shelly, good boy, go get it quickly, don't let them get it." Coughing, John VIII looked at the magnificent dome, "Lord, you still haven't forgiven me after all..."

Placing his ear on John VIII's chest, Shelly listened for a full minute under everyone's tense gaze.

He slowly raised his head, tears slowly flowing down: "Your Holiness, Your Holiness... has gone to the Land of Ultimate Bliss..."

Shelly's voice was too small, and the surrounding nobles didn't hear him.

A Frankish cardinal pinched his thigh, trying not to reveal his "grief":

"I have some unfortunate news~ to tell you all—our dear Pope, His Holiness John VIII, has been summoned by the Lord, wuwuwuwu kukuku..."

"Wuwuwu--"

Crying immediately rang out in the cathedral. Everyone was crying, but some cried well and some cried badly.

In the crying, John VIII's robe spread out as his body fell.

The golden threads shimmered in the sunlight with their last light, like a blooming marigold.

The corpse lay quietly in front of the altar, with a hint of helpless smile on his face.

It was like relief, and like he had already seen the future world after his death.


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