"Which room?!" Sylvester asked.
"Next door."
Sylvester rushed out and looked left and right. Seeing only one room on his right, he quickly barged in. There was nobody in the room other than Sir Dolorem's fully bandaged body, silently lying on the bed, eyes closed, and breathing so slow that his chest almost didn't seem to move.
"Sir Dolorem." Sylvester walked beside the bed and called his name. "You're not supposed to be sleeping when I'm about to take the throne. I did it… we did it…"
Sadly, no response came from Sir Dolorem. The man, as if lifeless, just lay there with his body covered in wounds. At that moment, Sylvester felt some anger toward Pope Axel. The man had no need to start the battle; he could have personally come to him if he only wanted to die. In his heart, Sylvester knew he couldn't forgive the man, even if he saved him a few times.
