Kant's question did not incite fear in the pope.
Perhaps he had no fear to begin with.
Standing quietly at the top of the temple, the pope only had indifference in his eyes. There was no sadness, no joy, and no fear, he only calmly replied, "The lowly humans stole the authority of the gods. They speak of their own power, slander the glory of the gods, and blaspheme the glory of the gods. Yet, they enjoy the peace and tranquility brought by the gods."
"Hehe." Kant chuckled. He lifted his head and looked at the old pope. With an indifferent gaze, he pulled out half of the king's sword from his waist. "I can give you one more chance to reorganize your words."
"Lowly and disgusting human noble."
The pope spoke indifferently, propping up his scepter. "I should have disappeared into the long river of history, but because of the power of my God, I have remained eternally. Now is the time to protect the glory of my God. I will not back down."
