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The Vannie generals--the ones that weren't already smoldering on the ground, at least--were trying to interfere again. He knew they were just going to utilize hit-and-run tactics against him while leaving the real bulk of the fighting to Lamont and Jackson, but unfortunately, they were still at a level of power such that he couldn't simply ignore them.

If the generals' attacks landed at just the wrong moment, or if they devoted all of their power into a single blow, then they might be able to damage him significantly--which would then set the marshals up for a truly life-threatening attack.

Even for him, that was a lot to keep track of, which was where his modest army of Roberts was meant to come in.

Somehow, though, he'd almost forgotten that he didn't just have the Roberts at his disposal. He had a few kiddies on his side, too, didn't he?

The Man of Crows had slipped into the fleet of Roberts so stealthily that Morgunov barely even noticed. When had he even arrived? What a sneaky boy, eheh. He felt a surge of pride in the lad.

The result, in any case, was chaos.

Glorious, glorious chaos.

The Vannies and the Roberts crashed into one another in midair, destroying what little sense of rank and order had remained. The desert immediately below them was already unrecognizable. Jackson's attack had melted it; Morgunov's counter had turned it into a bubbling cauldron; and now, the countless explosions, lasers, lightning strikes, blasts of radiation, and more were only compounding the matter further.

Not to mention, the soul-infusion making every attack more potent.

A black haze was beginning to form, a ruinous smoke that threatened to fill the area if not for the constant barrage of attacks pushing it around.