The sprawling black glass greenhouses buzzed with agricultural drones and laborers.
He located her near the edge of the mutated super-grain fields. She was recording harvest yields on a slate. Elian stopped moving. He stood behind a heavy stack of alchemical fertilizer crates, watching her from a distance.
His hyper-dense muscles felt entirely useless. He gripped the Star-Iron holy symbol attached to his belt.
"Sovereign," Elian muttered under his breath. "Grant me the courage of the Vanguard. Let her see my worth. Let her finally accept my harvest."
Far above the physical realm, Red leaned against his obsidian throne. He watched the live feed on his secondary monitor.
The audio picked up Elian's whispered prayer perfectly.
Red stared at the Prophet hiding behind the fertilizer crates. He let out a quiet scoff.
"I was far more pathetic than you," Red muttered to the empty sanctuary.
