I impersonated God in America

The greatsword was easily torn apart.

Boom!

The torrent of light instantly engulfed the giant.

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"What?!!"

At the Papal Palace, everyone stood up from their chairs at the same time.

The Secretary of State, Cardinal Giovanni, stared intently at the sword in Giovanni's hand in the center of the screen.

How is that possible?! Wasn't that sword missing a long time ago?!

A magnificent one-handed sword, blood on the blade, and that tooth...

"There's no mistake! This is definitely the Holy Sword Durandal!"

Chapter Fifty-Three: The Holy Knight

Ministry of National Defense Command Center.

The moment the beam of light shattered the flaming giant sword, everyone in the command room jumped up from their chairs.

"Great job, we finally got rid of that monster."

"As expected of the Church's trump card! A professional enemy needs a professional!"

"Someone, quickly bring out the champagne!"

"Holy crap! Penang!!!"

Some people got so excited that they threw their headphones onto the control panel.

The giant, fiery sword that had just reached the heavens was shattered layer by layer from the blade by the torrent of light.

Lava fragments were ejected in all directions.

The black smoke was also dispersed directly from the middle by the beam of light.

it's over!

We are the champions!!!

Kavali stood in front of the main screen.

He stared at the old priest in the center of the screen, who was still holding the holy sword high. Although the priest looked exhausted from the intense exertion, he had not put the sword down.

[After this sword strike, his strength should have been depleted.]

He recalled the last words Giovanni had left in the encrypted channel.

There is no greater love than that of a person who would give their life for a friend.

Just now, the old man used a large amount of gathered faith energy to unleash that attack against that terrifying giant sword of flame.

Cavalli gently placed the pen he was holding on the table.

Perhaps I will never forget you, old priest.

An assistant walked over from the side, carrying a bottle of champagne.

The condensation on the bottle hadn't been wiped dry yet.

Cavalli reached out and pressed his hand against the bottle opening, then shook his head.

"That's fine then."

He was about to turn around and arrange the aftermath.

Suddenly, another angry roar echoed through the air.

"I can still fight!"

What?! This guy's still alive?!

Cavalli suddenly turned his head.

He stared wide-eyed at the screen as his elbow knocked over the bottle of champagne that had been placed on the corner of the table.

Champagne slid off the table.

patter

It fell directly to the ground and shattered into pieces.

But nobody cared at that moment.

Boom!

On the screen, the giant who had been knocked down by the torrent of light was seen rising again from the crater.

A very deep crack was visible to the naked eye on his chest.

In addition, the outer layer of rock on the opponent's arm is constantly peeling off.

The dark red flames below were not as bright as before.

The other person was clearly not in good condition either, and their body was already worn out.

But it still stood up!!!

Cavalli's fingers gripped the edge of the table tightly.

Because of excessive force, blood seeped from under the fingernails.

He didn't even have time to feel the pain.

【How is this possible?!】

[That sword strike just now gathered so much power of faith! And it still couldn't kill it?! F*** you!!]

The difference is a bit too big!

"Couldn't he just die like this?!"

The giant raised his hand again.

The second flaming greatsword coalesced again in his hand, with black smoke still spreading out and swirling around it.

Its power was in no way inferior to the previous sword strike.

Like the Sword of Damocles!

A second flaming greatsword hovered above everyone's heads.

Everyone turned their attention to the old priest.

Please!

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

Giovanni knelt on one knee, panting heavily.

He could feel the stigmata acting as a conduit, continuously channeling some kind of warm power into his body.

Lynn: Actually, this is called the power of will.

He sensed it...

These warm currents seem to come from those who are not on the scene, or those who are on the scene, all those who are still praying for this battle.

Unfortunately, this force is dwindling and seems to be drying up completely.

Although the Stigmata continue to accumulate them, it's already a drop in the ocean.

Moreover, with the little strength I have left, I'm afraid I can no longer unleash a sword strike like that.

His knees pressed against the cracked basalt.

Volcanic ash was still falling, accumulating on his body.

He looked at the flaming greatsword that was reforming and felt an unprecedented sense of powerlessness.

The sky looks so familiar, a leaden gray.

Suddenly, looking at the sky, he couldn't help but think of the time when he was still in the rural pond area.

Just like the cumulonimbus clouds I saw on a rainy night.

At the time, he had just become a priest, and his first job was assigned to a mountain village church where water resources were scarce.

He would get up at four o'clock every morning to clean the altar with well water, and at night he would copy the contents of the Bible by the light of an oil lamp.

Although it was tough, it was very fulfilling.

Later, he caught the attention of those above him and was transferred to the Roman Apostolic Archives.

The next task was to review the reports of sacred sites submitted from various regions.

He has always believed in the existence of God.

He carefully reviewed every application he received, only to be disappointed time and time again when he rejected them.

For decades, it has remained unchanged.

It wasn't until that night, in that small study, that Urban IX told him in person that everything was true.

My whole life has been spent following in the footsteps of the Lord.

But Lord, please forgive me for acting on my own initiative twice in my life.

The first time was a few years ago when he had just become a priest, kneeling under the dome of St. Peter's Basilica and saying it to himself.

"Lord, I place my life into your hands."

The second time... is now!

His complexion was somewhat different from the gentleness he had always maintained throughout his life.

It carried a hint of ruthlessness that made it unfamiliar to acquaintances.

Boom boom boom!

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

Although the power transmitted from the stigmata was almost exhausted in his perception.

But it was never a question of whether he could continue fighting; it was that he had to stand here.

Lord, let me swing my sword one more time.

He used his last bit of strength to slowly raise the sword.

The sword tip moved upwards slightly.

His wrist began to tremble violently, and then the sword moved upwards a few more inches.

The old woman, who had already escaped to the shelter, raised the cross higher with both hands.

The elderly woman, whom Giovanni had helped up, placed her hands on her chest and began to pray.

Everyone was watching as the old man, his hands trembling, slowly raised the holy sword inch by inch.

However, everyone saw it.

Giovanni's power was ultimately insufficient; the holy sword was only lifted halfway.

Is this the end?

"Leave the rest to me."

A hand clad in ancient arm armor reached out from the side and rested on the hilt of the holy sword.

Giovanni instinctively turned his head away.

The person in front of him was the knight who had been seen off from the mural earlier, but he didn't know when the other person had come to his side.

At this moment, countless believers are here to witness.

Listen here.

"Perhaps this is fate."

The knight took the holy sword from the shocked Giovanni's hands.