Chapter Content
In a matter of minutes, the "Bountiful" cultists were scattered by the fanatical onslaught of the Battle-Priests. Kian Voss sprinted to the Canon-Preceptor, who was still standing over a pile of meat, his brass staff dripping with ichor and grey matter.
"Lord Canon! Call them back! We need to hit the objective before the 'aggro' resets!"
The Canon-Preceptor blinked, snapping out of his divine trance. He looked down at the gore-stained metal book atop his staff. "Ah... quite right, Sergeant. Forgive our zeal. Brothers! Recalibrate! Cleanse your blades and follow the light!"
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