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The hail of gunfire flared to life, but the bullets met a very strong mana shield—an intense blood-red barrier that surrounded the large mound. Meanwhile, the rate of blood consumption from the pipe connected to the mound significantly increased.

It became apparent that low-caliber weapons were ineffective against the shield; only high-caliber bullets, such as those from autocannons, could make it crack. However, even when cracked, the shield quickly mended itself. The troops, realizing this, swiftly switched to more powerful weapons, notably rocket launchers armed with supercharged magic explosive warheads.

"Take aim!" shouted a squad leader among the troops.

Soldiers held their rocket launchers in unison, aiming at the same spot.

"Fire!" came the commanding order, and the soldiers launched their rockets in perfect synchronization.

Tens of rockets streaked across the air and struck their target, causing a massive blue sphere of explosion. This sphere was the magic explosive warhead designed to eliminate heavy-armored targets, capable of corroding both material and immaterial objects and causing significant damage within its radius.

The mana shield was corroded and burnt away, leaving a huge hole. Seizing the opportunity, Ragnar hurled several of his charged rune stones at the mound, triggering more explosions upon impact.

Splash!

The mound erupted in a violent explosion, splattering flesh, blood, and gore everywhere. However, despite being weakened, the pulsating mound remained alive.

At that moment, the mound beat violently as it absorbed all of the blood, flesh, and even itself, shrinking and drying as if all of its vitality had been drained.

Splash!

Another spurt of blood and flesh splashed, leaving only red smoke shrouding the area as the mound's dried remains scattered. Within this eerie haze, a dark silhouette emerged, slowly floating from the ground.

"Impossible!" Ragnar gasped in disbelief at the figure within the smoke, mirroring Penthesilea, who covered her mouth in shock.

"What in the world!" Pride exclaimed, swearing as she saw the silhouette through the soldiers' helmet camera feeds.

The owner of the silhouette was none other than Envy—the Witch of Envy, the current strongest witch, and the most powerful mage on the entire planet.

Emerging from the crimson haze, Envy stood floating in the air. Her attire mirrored that of a high-ranking World War I soldier, a meticulously tailored suit exuding authority and prestige. Deep navy wool accentuated with gold braiding adorned the coat's collar and cuffs, signifying her prestigious status.

Gleaming brass buttons marched down the front, while a row of medals and ribbons proudly displayed valor, service, and battlefield achievements across her chest.

Matching trousers, flawlessly tailored with subtle piping along the seams, flowed down to polished leather boots that gleamed with meticulous care. A peaked cap, mirroring the navy and gold theme, sat atop her head, its rank insignia clearly visible.

Ragnar's mind drifted back to a distant time, when he was still a young lad. He recalled a moment on the battlefield, encountering Envy, a High Ranking Officer in the British army. Despite her rank as a special field marshal, she held little sway in the chain of command, lacking the authority to even command a lowly private.

However, her true power stemmed from her incredible strength and unique identity as the Witch of Envy, coupled with her ties to the British Royal family. Especially the strength part, This strength was evident in a particular event Ragnar remembered well—a single spell from Envy that decimated an entire battalion of Ottoman troops.

Artificial meteors rained down, transforming the battlefield into a landscape of destruction, filled with craters and charred remains.

The aftermath was haunting, with burnt corpses and pieces of flesh scattered across the field, punctuated by the anguished cries of surviving soldiers. Envy's raw power left an indelible mark on young Ragnar's memory, a testament to her overwhelming might.

Now, faced with this entity claiming to be Envy, Ragnar grappled with questions. What had led to Envy's betrayal of Daniel? Was this truly Envy, or a mere imitation of her former self? The uncertainty weighed heavily on Ragnar as he prepared to confront this formidable foe.

"Ah, Ragnar, are you trembling before this captivating beauty?" Envy taunted, gazing upon herself. However, Ragnar knew better than to be deceived by appearances; whatever inhabited Envy now was not her true self but likely a homunculus or a fabricated likeness of her.

"Who are you?" Ragnar demanded, his stance alert for any sudden assault.

A surge of magical energy erupted from Envy's hand, but Ragnar was quick to raise his buckler, dispersing the beam harmlessly.

"Is this your doing, Alexander Vance? I didn't realize you wanted to be a transgender which you loath so much. oh or maybe because of it that's why you…" Ragnar remarked with disdain.

"Shut up! Ragnar Stenmark," Alexander roared at Ragnar furiously.

"You don't even know whose body you've taken over? Now I'm curious to see the consequences once she discovers," Ragnar mused.

"I don't care who it is. As long as you fear this form, she should possess the power that intimidates you!" Alexander, embodying Envy, bellowed. With a swift wave of his hand, another powerful beam attack surged forth. This time, Ragnar opted to dodge rather than block, recognizing the heightened danger.

Ragnar's focus sharpened as he evaded the beam, swiftly retaliating with a throwing axe. Yet, his attack was thwarted by the mana shield enveloping Alexander.

Alexander then floating even higher then accessed one of the magic that registered within this flesh construct. The power of several forbidden spells.

"Oh...? What's this?" Alexander spoke with amusement before activating one of the forbidden spells. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

A crimson magic circle expanded from Alexander's body, engulfing the Envy facade. The intricate runes and magical symbols jolted Ragnar's memory.

"Damn it!" he swore, whirling towards the soldiers still frozen in stunned silence. "Retreat! All of you, fall back!" His roar cut through the air, a desperate command directed at the Astral PMC troops and Penthesilea.

Penthesilea wasted no time. With a sharp order, she barked commands to the soldiers, herding them towards the exit in a controlled retreat.