Cameraman Never Dies-Chapter 200: The Pope’s -Step Escape Plan (He Only Made It to Step 1)

The possibility of his underlings who went to check on the exit being ambushed never even crossed the pope's mind.

Well, actually, maybe it did — just for a fleeting moment, like a whisper of common sense brushing against his hope-driven brain before being swatted away by his overwhelming desire for self-preservation. The instinct to save his own skin had jumbled his otherwise sharp, calculating mind, turning it into a malfunctioning abacus of denial.

He put his cup of tea down carefully, as if it were the most delicate and crucial task of his entire existence. For a man who claimed to have unwavering faith in the divine, he certainly treated his porcelain more reverently than his followers.

Why was he even drinking tea at a time like this? Was this some old-age-induced crisis? Did he think a well-steeped beverage would provide clarity? He frowned at the cup as if it had personally betrayed him. Perhaps growing old did more damage to his mind than his now-fragile body—first, he misplaced his faith, and now he was misplacing his priorities.

Shaking off his thoughts (and silently vowing to reassess his mind if he survived), he straightened his posture and took a deep breath. It was time to make his exit. He was the pope! A powerful figure! A man of influence! A leader of —

BOOM!

His resolve was immediately tested by a massive explosion. His soul nearly left his body. If he had any hair left, it would have turned white. His hands flew up instinctively, as if expecting divine intervention to personally shield him.

Yet, somehow, this only solidified his decision. His fear worked like a catapult, flinging him toward the exit with newfound determination. He was definitely leaving. Staying meant certain doom, and he was not about that life.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the distance — someone else sipped on some tea.

"He's going," Lucifer observed, rising to his feet with the slow grace of a man who had all the time in the world."Record the fight, Isadora. I will follow him." His voice carried a sense of grandiosity, as if he were about to engage in an epic battle rather than… well, what was likely to be a very short-lived chase.

Isadora, however, was thoroughly unimpressed. She let out a sigh so dry it could have withered crops.

"Well, whatever you say," she replied, her tone drenched in the enthusiasm of someone being asked to manually count grains of sand.

"Now," Lucifer mused, now speaking to himself instead of Isadora, "How do I make this more interesting?"He could simply chase the pope down, corner him, and call it a day. That was the efficient, logical approach. But where was the flair in that? The drama? The artistry?

What could he do to make the recording a bit more entertaining? A chase? Too basic. A dramatic confrontation? Too cliché. An elaborate riddle the pope must solve to escape? Tempting, but the man barely survived choosing between tea or running for his life.

No, this called for something… special.

Lucifer drummed his fingers against his chin, deep in thought. Should he make his footsteps echo ominously, letting the pope know he was being pursued? No, too subtle. Should he cast a shadow over the exit, sending a cold chill down the old man's spine? Hmm, cliché. Should he appear in front of him out of nowhere with a slow, menacing clap? Now we're talking.

Meanwhile, the pope was in full panic mode. He was speed-walking like a guilty nobleman who just realized he left his tax records in plain sight. Every fiber of his being screamed leave, leave, LEAVE! but his old legs were more shuffle, shuffle, gasp for air.

He reached a hallway, his heart pounding faster than a bard trying to impress a noblewoman. That explosion had rattled him. If it weren't for his years of religious discipline, he might have started reciting emergency prayers like an intern cleric during their first exorcism.

And then, the lights flickered.

A low hum filled the hallway. The air grew heavy. And suddenly—Circus music started playing.

The pope skidded to a stop, his breath caught somewhere between his throat and his now-lost dignity.

"What… what in the name of all that is holy—"

Before he could finish, a massive, glowing exit sign appeared at the end of the corridor, flashing like a carnival attraction. Below it, the words GRAND ESCAPE ROUTE flickered in neon. The doors beneath it slowly creaked open, as if beckoning him toward salvation.

The pope hesitated.

It was too easy. Too obvious. It reeked of a setup.

Yet, the ground was shaking, the explosions were getting closer, and, most importantly—his tea was long gone. His survival instincts screamed louder than his logic.

He bolted for the exit.

Just as he reached the next door—the music stopped and the exit sign vanished. Slow, deliberate clapping filled the corridor.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

The pope froze. His spine stiffened. His soul considered an early departure."Bravo," came a smooth, amused voice. "Truly, an inspiring escape attempt. You moved with all the speed and agility of a heavily burdened tortoise."The pope turned slowly, already regretting it. And there he was. Lucifer. Standing a few feet away, arms crossed, an easy smirk on his face like a cat that had just cornered an exceptionally slow mouse.

Lucifer took a step forward, tilting his head. "Tell me, Your Holiness, do you think you can outrun me?"

The pope, having long abandoned his dignity, decided that words were pointless. With a sudden burst of elderly adrenaline, he turned and bolted—or at least, power-walked with great urgency. freewebnøvel.coɱ

Lucifer sighed. "Oh, fantastic. We're doing this the hard way."He gestured, and the shadows along the corridor moved. They curled and twisted, racing ahead of the pope like overexcited theater curtains about to unveil the final act.

The old man skidded to a stop, wheezing. The exit was right there, just a few steps away! But the shadows—oh, the shadows—had beaten him to it.

Lucifer chuckled, stepping forward leisurely. "You know, I was going to give you a fair chase, but I must say, you really don't make it fun."The pope turned, desperate. "H-have mercy!"Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "Mercy? Oh, I do have mercy." He held up a single finger. "For those who amuse me."The pope's face paled. He was not amusing. He was absolutely not amusing.

Lucifer sighed, stretching his arms. "Alright, let's wrap this up before my lord states I've used the studio enough."