The soldiers and Penthesilea swiftly retreated from the vast space into the tunnel, their lives at stake as Envy's shell unleashed violent magic, shaking the underground space. Penthesilea exerted her full strength, running with all her might, while the soldiers diverted their power armor's energy to their legs, entering Super Intensity mode to dash through the crumbling tunnel.
On Ragnar's side, Envy's shell began a transformative process fueled by forbidden magic. Ragnar readied himself to use a forbidden spell in response, but then a familiar voice sounded from behind him.
"Old man, do you need my help?" A rather arrogant woman's voice cut through, causing Ragnar to cancel his spell preparation and turn around, finding Pride standing there.
"Oh? Okay, please take me above ground," Ragnar replied politely, a knowing smile playing on his lips, akin to an adult dealing with a troublesome child.
"Yes, you're polite enough, old man. But somehow, I feel like you're treating me like a child," Pride remarked, eyeing Ragnar suspiciously.
"Sigh... It doesn't matter; I'll help you," Pride sighed and approached Ragnar, placing a hand on his back. In a flash of light, they both vanished.
Back on the surface, near the mobile HQ, a shimmering sphere materialized. Ragnar and Pride stepped out as the light faded. The ground trembled violently, throwing the forward base into emergency mode. Soldiers and personnel scrambled to secure equipment and fortify tents, desperately preventing a collapse.
Ragnar studied Pride, surprised by her lack of fatigue. "You seem stronger," he remarked. "I remember you couldn't teleport another person without resorting to blood magic,"
Pride, caught off guard by the unexpected compliment, puffed out her chest with a forced laugh. "Huh? Uh... yeah! Of course! Who do you think I am?
Hahahaha!" Her voice betrayed a hint of awkwardness.
Closing her eyes, Pride focused, extending her senses. Her brow furrowed in confusion. There was no trace of Envy within that horrifying creature. "No," she muttered, a tremor in her voice. "It's not her... then what is it?"
Ragnar, his gaze fixed on the monstrous spectacle, spoke. "Just a hunch, but I believe I have an idea. That... monstrosity might be the Eisenhart family's prized magical research - the Terror Construct."
Pride's surprise was evident. "Eisenhart?! Those grumpy old mages?"
Ragnar chuckled, a hint of amusement flickering across his face. "Indeed," he confirmed, unintentionally agreeing with her assessment.
Shifting his focus, Ragnar addressed Pride. "We need to get the soldiers out of here. I have no doubt that creature will target this location."
A booming, monstrous laugh erupted from the creature, a chilling sound that seemed to originate from the human woman's torso.
"Is this the power of a mages! AMAZING!!!" it roared, inspecting its massive hand with a warped sense of wonder.
Then, it spotted Penthesilea's group fleeing in the distance. The Astral PMC soldiers appeared like mere ants from its elevated perspective. With a fraction of its power, it could crush them all.
Alexander Vance, now a twisted part of this monstrosity, harbored a deep-seated hatred for Astral Tech, particularly the PMC troops. Their advanced power armor had revolutionized warfare, rendering Vance Armory's weapons obsolete and plunging his life's work into ruin.
He blamed Astral Tech for his woes, conveniently ignoring his own disastrous decision to sell weapons to the Confederacy.
"If not for you! if it's not for you" Vance's voice boomed within the creature, laced with maniacal rage. "If it's not for you!! I would be the President of the US! DIE Astral TECH!!!" It channeled its immense strength into a single arm, slamming its fist down with earth-shattering force.