"Evil... Evil... before us..." The Man on the Moon watched as the waves floated in such low gravity, walls of magma that never comes down, slowly rinsing itself out and leaving the cavernous crevices hot and open. Cupid was quick on patting the Alien's shoulder, easing such tensity, letting it see through the magma what Callkin's was doing. How his body was handling such shock and damage, his pain visible on his face whenever he tries to move an arm or a leg to pilot the machine. How he'd make sure Yaveh is in a comfortable position while he rests, letting him be prepared to eject out should the Mantis be damaged. How he'd raise the machine's arms to block when more hands erupted and barraged, coupled with more Grape Shots to wear down the metal and make such reflections be forced to carry over a singular style, letting the latter take advantage of the former and break it down slower. How he'd retreat back as he'd see the Gold from Midas began to spread out again, now directed under Axel, to flank Callkin's at his side.
"And yet he refuses to let it stay idle. His body is in tatters, his mind damaged and blood deficient. Yet even still, he fights on." Cupid's words, at first, felt aft to the Man on the Moon. That wouldn't make any sense. If the Human Body is in such ruin, what gives them the reason to keep going? Shouldn't he choose to recover instead of throwing himself at another death trap? Such questions rang at the Alien's head, slowly choosing to regress such a shape, his skull more cubical as it thought. That was, however, until Sargent Calkins began to chant, one that echoed freely from his machine that was heard not just by them, but by the Rangers as well. His throat was hoarse, blood audibly heard spilling from his mouth and pooling down, yet he kept chanting.
"YOU DON'T WANT TO GO INTO WAR WITH THE SOLDIERS!!"
"YOU DON'T WANT TO GO INTO WAR WITH THE SOLDIERS!!"
"YOU DON'T WANT TO GO INTO WAR WITH THE SOLDIERS!!"
"YOU DON'T WANT TO GO INTO WAR WITH THE SOLDIERS!!"
Guns were being raised through the magma, a miracle, they thought. A chance for them to come back out unscathed. In truth, however, the lava that pools over were giving shape. It wasn't the soldiers anymore, not the original ones. Rather, new ones that were born from the previous, re-used and taking on human shape, whilst the remaining magma act as their steps. They marched, their feet glued down, held into the parting walls, as Carta began to shift again, from Maxwell to Haihah, from regulating heat to permanent frost, freezing over the lava in hopes they don't march any further, as well as blasting down a wave of cold to further damage and fracture Callkin's skin through the fixtures. His men surrounded once more, compact and keeping him away from such dangers, his chant still echoing as the soldiers kept marching, his units steadfast.
They still burn that red-hot flame, even as they cooled and broke over by the frost. "They're moving still...! You boys better do something before we get obliterated!!" Johanne shouted, prompting Axel to hurry his Gold over, before seeing the Mantis parry the metal over, letting it be infected and quickly race over to its internal structure. Even still, he remained strong, his chant audible, as he'd cast his energy down once more.
"YOU DON'T WANT TO GO INTO WAR WITH THE SOLDIERS!!"
"YOU DON'T WANT TO GO INTO WAR WITH THE SOLDIERS!!"
"YOU DON'T WANT TO GO INTO WAR WITH THE SOLDIERS!!"
"YOU DON'T WANT TO GO INTO WAR WITH THE SOLDIERS!!"
The Gold that was blitzing through the Mech became met with smaller units, firing on all sides, mowing down and cutting off such parts akin to how Solomon severed his own arm off. Everyone watched as the pieces began to be ripped, then repaired back to normal. It was starting to be evident how his Army Magic functions, especially as his body began to flare up, slowly countering and recovering his system back from the vacuum, such color in his eyes and body returning, such muscles and skin healing. Army Magic isn't simply to create soldiers, but to embody them. To have the soul of a Soldier, a warrior that knows they will die, no matter what. To that end, that Soldier takes root in both casting and form, as both the Caster and the Spell take on such resilience, allowing them to survive near-lethal odds, so long as that magic keeps flowing. He'd shift his head a bit as he'd allow the soldiers to take aim, with Carta striking down at the Moon's rubble, freezing over it in layers, slowly creating a massive wall of ice. It spreads out just enough to use existing craters and their walls to support the defense, yet the chant still echoed, as they began to fire back.
"YOU DON'T WANT TO GO INTO WAR WITH THE SOLDIERS!!"
"YOU DON'T WANT TO GO INTO WAR WITH THE SOLDIERS!!"
"YOU DON'T WANT TO GO INTO WAR WITH THE SOLDIERS!!"
"YOU DON'T WANT TO GO INTO WAR WITH THE SOLDIERS!!"
Each Shot fired started to take a piece of Callkin, his vessels burning up, his organs flaring, his heart trying to slow down and take it easy. Deep breaths were taken as he watched his vision blur. By sacrificing his own body, he'd allow the construction of his men be forged from the lake of hell made by Atlantis. By taking such pain after recovering so much, he is willing to let them lead on and act as his shield and sword. The bullets fly through the wall, melting it down layer by layer, piercing through and nearly scraping across the construct. Theia would take over and create such layers around itself, using Atlantis and Haihah respectively to create that atmosphere, blocking off any and all attempts.
That being said... it still began to rain fire before Team Shroud, as they watched such a Soldier push on, with no further regards to his own soul. The couple looked at each other in fear, further added by Bronx's and Axel's commentary.
"Yeah, I can't shoot that. You're on your own."
"FINALLY! Took God long enough to try and kill me!"