The last surviving quasi–Divine Cleric glanced back.
The fading specks of soul-light from his fallen companion tightened around his throat like a noose of terror.
But he did not stop.
His companion's sacrifice had won him the chance to reach their target!
Peak of the Firmament
High atop the ancient observatory, Cecilke, the cult leader, stood motionless.
His cold gaze pierced across impossible distance toward the direction of the Oblivion Wastes.
He had expected there to be a guardian.
But he had not expected a guardian at the Divine Cleric rank.
"Elder Zoltin, take the Sky Shadows unit and go immediately. Assist our guardian in securing the divine sword. We need its power."
He had to obtain that key—before that imperial god-slayer intervened and overturned the battlefield.
Oblivion Wastes – Battlefield
"Chiusen! By opposing the cult, you oppose Order itself! You will suffer divine punishment!"
Clint roared under the relentless hurricane of Chiusen's sword strikes.
