"Ah! Yes! The Saint! The Saint should be welcomed back! He should receive the worship and faith of all the people! He will guide us through our confusion!"
Marian fell to his knees before the sleeper, pleading with the prophesied Saint for guidance.
But Omar did not seem nearly as fervent. He took several steps back and shrank into the shadows, coldly watching the so-called "Child of Prophecy."
Real or fake? As an Inquisitor, he had to doubt everything rather than place complete trust in it simply because it matched the prophecy. If his years of hardship had taught him anything, it was not to believe in prophecies.
But Saint Lakuras's influence in this sector was simply too great. One hundred and fifty years ago, he had saved countless people, bringing together hearts on the verge of collapse amid the savage raids of the greenskins and Aeldari pirates.
Even before Omar had been recruited by his mentor into a branch of the Inquisition, he had grown up hearing stories of Saint Lakuras. Otherwise, he would not have been able to recite those words as perfectly as Bishop Mariel.
"We must take the Child of Prophecy with us! Bring him to the cathedral to receive the worship of all the people! We shall follow the Saint to the very end!"
Omar watched as Bishop Marian and his excited subordinates gently lifted the Child of Prophecy. The crusaders placed their shields behind them and bent low. Though packed tightly together, they remained steady and balanced as they solemnly carried the Child of Prophecy out of the bunker.
The Sisters and priests stood on either side, protecting the Saint as he passed between them. The soldiers watched them carry the thing they had failed to destroy despite wasting vast amounts of ammunition and