As Zhang Ge prepared to speak, another force emerged at the end of the road.
The matte-black livery, flickering torches, and gleaming golden adornments unmistakably marked a Sisters of Battle contingent. Leading the procession was an Immolator flametank, followed by a Castigator battle tank, four Rhino transports, two Repressor armored vehicles, and two Paragon Warsuits flanking the convoy.
Zhang Ge fell silent, glancing at Amilia with an unspoken question in his eyes: Didn't you say there were only about twenty left?
Meeting his gaze, Amilia gave a reassuring nod:
"These reinforcements were summoned when we separated at the school."
Her original plan had been to use this convoy for evacuation if even the Titan failed to contain the threat. Now that the crisis had been averted, redirecting them as transport for the Ecclesiarchy mission seemed prudent.
Observing the procession, Zhang Ge proposed:
"Let the Sisters form the core convoy. Your forces can handle perimeter defense."
"Agreed," the nobleman replied calmly, having regained his composure upon learning the rejuvenation elixirs were secure. "Xenos artifacts should be escorted by specialists."
The noble harbored no fear of Ecclesiarchal scrutiny. The elixirs bore no detectable corruption—his caste had subjected them to exhaustive analysis. The Worm Cult's design wasn't overt subversion, but a patient, millennial-scale infiltration masked as petty opportunism.
Three minds calculated silently at the crossroads. The noble scrutinized his companions' inscrutable expressions, his wariness deepening.
The Tech-Priest seethed internally: When will these unmodified primates leave? My Titan requires post-battle rites.
Zhang Ge's thoughts ran simpler: This windbag needs to shut up already.
The convoy approached swiftly. Amilia returned in a light armored vehicle, taking the passenger seat beside Zhang Ge. At the junction, a Paragon Warsuit from the Sisters' contingent strode toward them, its three-meter frame thundering against the pavement. The golden fleur-de-lys on its helm identified its pilot as a Celestian—veteran guardians of sacred relics.
The Warsuit's vox-grille resonated:
"Palatine Amilia, awaiting orders."
"Escort this vehicle to the Spire Cathedral," she commanded.
As the armored car merged with the turning convoy, PDF forces withdrew from the cordon, leaving only essential patrols. Mid-journey, Zhang Ge suddenly recalled:
"Have a cherub inform the recruitment office—my men should bring the enlistment rolls to the cathedral after processing."
A servo-skirted cherub launched from the window. The path remained undisturbed, even the usual hive-gang clamor subdued under the military procession. Through two elevator ascents, they reached the spire's apex, where carapace-armored elites now formed the outer defense cordon—nobles being unexpectedly invested in preventing jostling damage to their precious cargo.
Bypassing the ring fortress, the convoy traversed opulent spire districts until reaching the cathedral complex. Pilgrims knelt in endless procession while crusaders and flagellants moved through the crowds, occasionally accompanied by bishops marshaling armed devotees.
As the convoy arrived, great bronze bells pealed from the cathedral's heights, their vibrations resonating through the spire's metallic bones.