Pastor Andre knelt on the ground. His mana had long since run dry, and the Divine Cross had gone dim. He looked at Macron's back, then farther away at Roderick, who was bleeding from every orifice yet still roaring at the sky. Andre trembled all over.
It was fear, but also an excitement he could not put into words.
He remembered what had first drawn him to his faith. He remembered the scriptures he had recited in church and the tales of saints who had performed the deeds of gods in mortal bodies.
Were they about to witness the birth of a saint today?
The wild thought had barely surfaced before he forced it back down.
Just then, Scott moved too. The Archer had always been the most pragmatic among them, and moments ago he had still been weighing whether to retreat.
Without a moment's hesitation, he threw away his weapon, strode toward Roderick, and dropped heavily to his knees behind him!
"God! Answer us!"
His voice rang louder than Macron's, with even greater resolve!
One, two, three...
The players who were still conscious, who had not been completely broken by the wailing—Roderick's earliest followers—saw what Scott had done and hesitated no longer.
As if their dormant courage had awakened, they rose one by one, discarded their weapons, and stumbled toward the kneeling figure.
"God! Answer us!"
"God! Answer us!"
The prayers grew from scattered cries into a chorus, from faint voices into a roar, until they became a torrent that broke through the waves of wailing!
Kevin sat collapsed in the distance, staring blankly at the scene.
He watched those people, their bodies on the verge of giving out and their minds on the brink of collapse, spend the last of their strength to kneel and offer one final