The Third Truthseeker, in his rage, reached out and grasped every shred of aura he could. This was of course the aura that was the closest to him, as he had already begun refining it in preparation to take it into himself. It amounted to a little less than half of the rapidly-decaying maelstrom's volume.
In an instant, the maelstrom's slowly scattering mass was turned into two distinct masses. The inner mass, under Third's control, imploded into him, surrounding him in a spherical bubble. The shockwave of this act, conversely, caused the remainder to scatter even more violently, a spiraling flood of weeping, directionless revenants.
Zero had, at this point, spun down. Its movements had grown slower, less violent, and it walked the earth once more. The machine, for lack of a better term, was tired. It wasn't out of fuel yet, but it couldn't sustain its peak level of output, dropping to about 50% above the normal combat baseline while retaining the quasi-transcendent abilities of its Delimit Pilot Fusion state. Strake was part of the reason for this drop. He, as the core organic component and sole source of Zero's aura, was a limiting factor to how long peak output could be sustained.
Zelsys and Zefaris weren't much better for wear. Zefaris had finally caved by closing her eye, and Zelsys could feel the crash rapidly approaching. Her construct-lungs wouldn't hold out much longer. Maybe not even a minute. But that would be enough. It had to be enough.
As for what to do next... Zelsys didn't know. She gathered her True Fangs back together and reformed Carnifex into its proper shape, but she wasn't sure how to proceed with dealing with whatever Third's ball formation was. It looked dense. Surpassingly so. A solid ball of crimson with Third's elongated figure as the only dark spot in its centre. Her first guess had been that it might be a bomb, but it didn't feel that way to her gut instinct. It felt more like an egg. Its surface rippled and writhed as the disruptor array adjusted its beams towards the ball, but one after the next, the pylons shattered and their rubble came raining from on high.
For the moment, she was busy protecting herself and Zefaris from the few loose revenants that were mad or feral enough to try attacking them. Carnifex ripped them apart without issue, and, after summoning Chrome Skull Viper, the territorial construct greedily devoured any that got near. The aura was filthy, and Zelsys was utterly certain that she would have to painstakingly rid herself of its impurity later, but it was necessary replenishment. She really didn't look forward to puking up congealed impurity like that time with the Necrobeast Serum. Perhaps Metabolic Alkahest and the Truth of Fangs would suffice to obliterate it altogether. Hopefully.
From where she stood, Zel clearly saw Victor doing something, something she didn't fully understand. He was building a giant servitor, that much was clear, and he was also, somehow, purifying stray sacrificial aura. It was obviously something to do with Itrian Shrine Guardian arts, but what, she couldn't hazard a guess. She was familiar with his cultivation and his techniques, but this wasn't anything he had ever practiced or talked about in the past. It vaguely resembled his ill-fated attempts at combining his servitors, sure, but the scale of it was far beyond that. If she didn't know better, she would think he was trying to build a miniature Teutobochus.
In short, the redhead was the least drained between the four of them. Zelsys decided to send out an aetherwave pulse; a call to anyone who would listen, and anyone who would dare. Only a few tense moments passed, and she already heard the thumping steps of Third and Second-model tank suits. They weren't anywhere near the totality of the Newman Sect's forces, of course. No, these Hellhounds were the brave, or perhaps suicidal, souls who had pushed deep into the city and then decided to stick around after the ritual had begun.
Among them, utterly unsurprisingly, were also most of the Newman Sect's members who had come along. Mata Gano, Old One-arm, and Vaceran. One-arm looked to be doing substantially better than the younger two, and somehow, his dungeontech arm had become twice as large and now had an under-arm nozzle dripping liquid flame. She supposed it was to be expected of blackstone with the limiters removed. It was inevitable that the construct would adjust itself to best suit the user.
The reinforcements didn't ask any questions; there wasn't time for such things. Zel's call had included the basic situation briefing, and she frankly didn't think she could explain much more in a reasonable timespan. The command was simple: Suppress the Third Truthseeker when he showed any sign vulnerability, but don't try to go against him directly. Several Gundream Third-models had hunkered down and anchored their feet, their twin cannons settling on their shoulders. The Hellhounds took mortars from the Gundreams' backs, setting them up in an encirclement around the cathedral's wrecked remnants, above which Third hovered. They had slug rounds for their shotguns, but Zel frankly didn't think they would do much of anything at these ranged. The barrels on those things weren't more than thirty centimeters, and they weren't engineered for at-range precision like Tempesta. A tiny, tiny handful set down man-portable Type-Z rifles - three in total. The Hellhounds were terrified. Zelsys could feel it from them. But they did what they thought was necessary nonetheless, and did it with resolve. That was what made them worthy of their tank suits.
Zel understood their worry.
It wasn't every day you witnessed a congealed ball of unholy power suddenly turn into a fifteen-meter-tall ghostly suit of screaming armour. There was no transformation, no gradual change. It was a violent, instantaneous snap, and with it came a shockwave that sent even Zelsys stumbling back slightly. It threw the Hellhounds off their feet altogether. A few of them were, for some unknown reason, thrown back into nearby walls. The reason behind the uneven spread of force escaped her. Thankfully the mortars were easily put back into the upright positions.
Third was still visible inside the aura construct as a dark silhouette. A pair of burning-white eyes opened upon its faceless countenance. They immediately fell upon Zelsys, and from within them burned Third's own hatred. She readily met his gaze, and smugly found him averting his eyes, trying to mask the sign of weakness by turning the giant construct and sweeping its stare across the desolate surroundings. It briefly lingered on Victor's giant puppet, but continued its circle soon thereafter.
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