I impersonated God in America

He spent most of his life between the Pontifical Archives and the Congregation for Sacraments, where his main job was to review applications for sacred sites submitted from various regions.

Throughout his life, he has handled at least eight hundred to a thousand applications.

Many people consider certain unusual phenomena to be miracles.

For example, the image of the Virgin Mary with tears in her eyes.

Unfortunately, each time he investigated, he found that these were all fake.

At this point, he will sign the last page of the report.

They ruled it as "lacking in supernatural evidence".

[Half my life has been spent adjudicating that miracles don't exist.]

But the heat of the gun in his hand seemed to be telling him something.

Different.

Before he stepped off the plane from the College of Cardinals, one thing was on his mind.

In fact, there have always been two types of people within the church.

The first category consists of priests who dedicate their lives to pastoral care, often spending their entire lives in rural areas or churches.

They are not interested in Papal States politics.

Their lives were dedicated to pure faith.

The second category is political bishops.

They move between various departments of the Holy See, and their presence can be seen on almost every committee, from the State Council to the Covenant of Peoples.

These individuals are typically fluent in Latin and French and extremely knowledgeable about their work.

They know how to draft documents beautifully and how to make budget sheets flawless.

He was also familiar with every detail of the Pope's receptions to the outside world.

To them, everything was merely a tool of rhetoric used by the church to contend with secular regimes.

The two sides are constantly vying for the position of Pope.

Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west of the river.

For example, the new pope elected this time was the result of a compromise between the two sides.

After all, the newly appointed pope not only has experience in the suburbs of Milan, but also has experience in diplomatic positions.

Most importantly, the other party is quite honest.

However, both factions were taken aback by the actions of the other side after taking power.

Giovanni still remembers the night he was summoned to the Pope's private study.

The Pope asked him to sit down and handed him a glass of water.

Then tell them everything about Sibyl.

"But we cannot guarantee the correctness of the ritual."

You can refuse.

The Pope's voice was calm, but Giovanni didn't listen at all.

He heard a different voice.

Deep within his chest, like a seed buried for countless years, the first sprout was emerging from a crack in the rock.

God is real.

All of this is real.

He didn't dare to raise his head.

He was shaking.

More than half a century of waiting, countless rejection reports.

These heavy burdens were lifted off his shoulders in an instant.

God allowed him to pass through a long night of seventy-three years without response.

Today, he used this holy lance to instantly reawaken a certain belief that had withered away in his youth.

“This ceremony is different from the usual ones; it is extremely risky, and you could very well die on the spot.”

“Even if you don’t die, a failed ritual will be recorded as a negative example in church history.”

"Even in death, one is not a martyr."

Giovanni looked up at him; he had planned everything before he came.

"I don't care."

He stood up.

"I'm going."

"Because the Lord is there."

"After I die, let the church history write it however it wants, as long as it allows me to witness my faith."

Even if there's only one chance.

------------

On the sandy ground at the entrance of the cave.

He could feel the Holy Lance heating up in his hand.

He cast all memories aside, his heart surging with the same intensity as the Holy Lance.

There's only one thing he needs to do now.

That is to shout.

"My lord is here!!!"

The next moment, gold pierced through the depths of the rust.

Light!

Push it out round and round!

The soldiers who were previously petrified.

Desperate residents along the highway.

Gray stone chips were torn away layer by layer on the surface of everything.

------------

Wenban squatted behind the Fiat's door.

[If I'm not mistaken, my finger just turned gray?]

He stared intently at the little finger of his left hand.

The petrochemical situation is now visibly declining.

"Did you all see that?! My hand just turned to stone?!?"

"Thank God, I really recovered!!!"

The barrage of comments exploded instantly.

[God has appeared!!]

Is it related to the Mass we just saw?

You know what, it really is—it's definitely that holy light!

Wen Ban removed the camera from his finger and, panting heavily, scanned both sides of the coastal highway.

The middle-aged woman, who had been kneeling and looking up in the direction of the snake, was now wiping her recovered fingers across her face.

She was crying.

I don't know if it's faith or gratitude for the continuation of life?

Both are possible; that's the answer.

The three petrified C group soldiers pushed themselves up from the ground.

I took off my protective mask and took a deep breath of the Sardinian air in the early morning.

"Whew, I'm still alive?!"

Wenban slowly turned the phone camera toward Giovanni, who was still standing on the sandy ground, holding his long gun high.

The dark golden halo continued to push outwards in wave after wave.

Giovanni's white hair was tinged with a pale gold in the light.

Two sacred lamps burned brightly on either side of him.

Wen Ban forgot he was live-streaming.

He stared at the coastline in his phone's viewfinder, which was being constantly ripped apart by a dark golden halo.

A philosophy of life interwoven with beliefs that have coalesced into a powerful force to this day.

Overwhelmed with emotion, his eyes welled up with tears so much that he could barely see through the viewfinder.

God.

The comments section was still flooded with messages, all repeating the same sentence in unison.

Hallelujah.

Is God watching us right now?

God, what would you think if you saw this?

--------

"The pineapple pizza tastes really good."

[Gained a small amount of special individual willpower points +14.1]

[Gained a small amount of special individual willpower points +22.4]

[Gained a large amount of Individual Willpower Points +114.6]

[Gained a large amount of Individual Willpower Points +214.1]

Seeing the system notifications popping up everywhere, Lynn narrowed his eyes and put down the pizza in his hand.

This one wave alone doubled the previous investment.

[Hey, hey, hey, things have come to this point, so what we need to do next is pretty self-explanatory, right?]

Lynn opened his eyes and continued to channel his wish power.

Followed by.

The power of will on the system once again flowed into the void like a flood!

【All in!】

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Sighs

Rome, Ministry of Defense Crisis Command Center.

On the big screen, the halo of Saint Longino's spear was still centered on the white-haired cardinal, and it was constantly radiating outward from him.

General Cavalli picked up the pen that had fallen to the ground earlier.

I couldn't help but stare at that light.

At this moment, the soldiers and the civilians who had been turned into stone statues have returned to normal.

Accompanied by the cheers of resurgence.

In the audio stream of the command center, the sounds were already drowned out by the distant explosions and alarms.