3188/He Who Would Bring Ruin to the Heavens - Finale

He Who Would Bring Ruin to the Heavens - Finale
Date of Scene:	11 October 2015
Location:	Great Painting of Ariamis <PoA>
Synopsis:	What was begun millenia ago finally comes full circle, as even in absence of the Lord Gwyn, his greatest nemesis, save the Dark itself, is finally slain.
Cast of Characters:	Tomoe, Staren, Priscilla, 168, 183, 253, 347, 395, 560, 570, Lezard Valeth, Reiji Arisu, 707

---

Priscilla has posed:
    For a place that was once quite literally beyond time, and still retains much of that nature, the Kiln of the First Flame no longer feels like it. Not today. Though superficially the endless expanse of rolling incineration, shifting ash and smouldering clouds remains the same as it ever was, the only traces of the order it had once created that are left have been transfigured in ways that, though subtle, bespeak the air of a soldier in the front trench, waiting for the first shell to be fired, easily recognized by simply glancing at the tower's silhouette from the distance. Machines have been rolled into position. Magic circles have been primed. Reinforcements have been summoned and complex spells have been cast. No more preparation will make this place any more ready to receive its 'guest' than what has been done now. The crater below overflows with writhing, utterly silent mist, pooling up to the tops of the nearest hills.

    Any phantom summonings have taken place long beforehand. Priscilla has to open the gates after all, and draw the dragon's attention. All going to plan, she'll be rejoining the party very shortly, but not before the flicker of distant screams reaches them first, and the dull, crackling thump of black wings in the burning air, framing a single, trailing point of angry orange light, like the trail of a shooting star through the sky.

Xiaomu (707) has posed:
It's kind of a relief to Xiaomu that she only 'needs' to be here in phantom form; her body is still pretty tuckered out from the fights with Scion. Her mind and soul are too, but they bounced back more easily than her corporeal form. As usual, she's carrying her full array of weapons - three handguns tucked away inside her vest, a couple of fire-elemental grenades, a carrypack with extra ammo, grenades, and other supplies, and her staff held securely in one hand.

Ready? Time will tell, but she's as ready as she can expect to be; Reiji's the one who was arranging most of their surprises for this outing.

Reiji Arisu has posed:
    All is ready and all is well. The last symbol carved, the last offering placed. The air is stagnant now with the dread promise of impending danger, but from where Reiji Arisu is standing, overlooking the gate and the kiln and the crater around it, everything seems to have been cast into an eerie calm. Even the choking, stale, strangulating air of this place is not so oppressive as it once felt; perhaps he's just used to it, perhaps it's because of what he has done.

Whatever the case, he's prepared for whatever may come.

    Reiji stands in flesh and blood, feeling the heat of this place on his own skin rather than through a spiritual proxy. He'll need every ounce of strength for what they must do here today. Wasting this opportunity by brining a mere soul-body would risk snatching defeat from the jaws of victory.

Considering that the biggest jaws he'll be seeing today belong to a massive dragon of calamity, he'd really rather not take that risk.

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    Up until only a few hours previously, Kimiko had still been preparing. Now, she is sitting, hands on her knees, heels under her, armored in plate from the waist down, with chain above it. She's sweating, here in the still heat and her padded armor, but her expression is still that unchanged look of calm, almost apathetic neutrality. The focus of her eyes on each other figure, as well as to various points about the kiln, is the only way in which she looks fully awake.

    Contrary in appearance to her previous forays, near all of them, here she is not gold, but silver. Nor is she a phantom at all--the girl is here, in the flesh, with all the vulnerability that entails.

    What preparations she has made remain invisible.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Rare is it that Mizuki has been present for the grand culmination of a tale she has seen so much of; it's in keeping with her standards of operation to simply glimpse in here or there, or otherwise to be present solely for the close of the curtains. Not so this time: Mizuki has become attached to this world. She has felt it bleed history. It has tainted her, in a way, and so she has steadily become a part of it -- become a part of it just as Priscilla herself has begun to.

    So what is there to say, in the end? The beginning? The purgatory between phases? Nothing. Epochs last for centuries, but are born in instants. Such was the way of things here when Gwyn struck down the dragons, and so will it be now: another time period given birth through the death of a wyrm. His carcass will overspread the world, and from it, new life will bloom.

    ... so much would she like to believe that there is any beauty in this. So very desperately.

    There is little Mizuki intends to do today besides watching. She will intervene if she believes it is necessary, but the fact that it will not be... is predestined. It is the privilege of the strong, or those on the side of the strong, to give mercy. And so that is what she does. She prays for Kalameet as she does for the survival of her compatriots, that he may find some lasting peace in this. That, in becoming one with the cycle of life and death more completely, he may... he may again glimpse that holistic aperture of the world he so seeks.

Psyber (253) has posed:
    When last he met Kalameet, Psyber swore to the dragon that for hurting Priscilla he would teach the being the meanings of both mortality and fear. That he would show Kalameet the fury of a true hunter. He intends to make good on that promise today.

    So he won't let his form be held back by a phantom that stifles his conceptual template regeneration. And he won't be smothered under a form that holdsback his true power. He has arrived in person, but is only carrying one thing with him. Across his back is a massive bundle, wrapped in tattered and dusty cloth to conceal its form.

    With an emotionless expression on his face and the half-lidded look of those ruby eyes of his, he shuffles forward and slowly takes the weapon off his back. Slowly, he unwraps it, pulling off layer after layer of the cloth that covers the weapon. When it's revealed, it only vaguely resembles the sword it once was.

    Nearly as tall as Psyber, the black blade of the weapon runs with currents and the occasional swirl of occult energy. He grips it by the handle and says blandly, "Sun-Slayer Greatsword. It is time to see your power."

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    Amid the group, the unicorn stands, silent and sullen. Amalthea is here, of course, as she had given her word. She had promised Kalameet he would hear her voice if she was pushed to speak in her own way, in her true language. And so she is here, not glowing glorious and golden, grossly incandescent, however.
    Amalthea has not come in her phantom form, trading in her summon sign and sun-like resplendancy, for the more simple polished steel and mithril of her armor and true form. It is the heaviest suit of armor within Amalthea's armory, that she has dug out for this venture, layer upon layer upon layer of super heavy plating, ablative surfaces, padding and chain. And still in all that heavy armor she is silent and graceful, Wishblade held casually in hand, her beloved and trusted sword Faith at rest in the scabbard. As she waits. Unmoving and silent like a statue, staring off into the horizon- or perhaps through it.

Lezard Valeth has posed:
Lezard is present, not as a Phantom but in his actual physical form. Perhaps he believes that it will be necessary for whatever is to come. The Necromancer of Midgard stands behind the defensive lines, his cape flaring behind him on mild currents and eddies of Power, the Manus Catalyst gripped in his hand and prepared for what is to come.

Before him, in the valley proper, the runes have been laid out and prepared, etchings of forbidden lore and power that will allow him to begin the plan that he laid out so long ago.

Everyone is ready. "What does not grow falls into decay. Today is your time, Calamity." Lezard states with relish. Not to the uncaring beings that may remain around him, but to himself. Perhaps he is psyching himself up... Or if he has rebuilt in some measure that pride that was shattered in their last meeting.

Staren has posed:
    Staren is not a phantom today. He came early, through the warpgate, with golems carrying bits and pieces of machinery of varying sizes, which he took up to the roof of the First Flame tower and began assembling at the edge facing the way they came. Anyone else here early could see that the parts look like a mix of electronics, structure, and some kind of tech that incorporates lots of clear crystals into its parts. The machine has taken shape, and while /exactly/ what it does may be something only Staren knows, from its form it is clear that it is some kind of turret-mounted energy cannon, as wide as he is tall and a few times again as long, with Staren standing on a platform at the rear of the weapon to work complex-looking controls, the entire assembly swiveling to aim (he tests that part early). He also hid a few tablets around the tower, and a few more further away, for some reason.

    Staren is wearing the armor that would be too heavy and cumbersome if he weren't a robot, and one of the last steps in getting the cannon ready is opening a panel in the front and plugging a thick, crystal-studded cable into a large port on his chest. The crystals light up, as do lights on the machine, with a hum and a whine in a way that conveys clearly that it is powered on now, and a sudden burst of wind blows some of the ash on the tower away from him.

    Now he waits for his chance.

    Except he doesn't /just/ wait, exactly. Even as Kalameet approaches in the distance, Staren keeps looking down at the controls, making adjustments, and muttering to himself.

Nathan Hall (168) has posed:
    Nathan Hall is here.

    Like before, he's come loaded. His ice-armor bracer is already active, covering his body in an opaque set of icy armor. Even his face is covered in a flat faceplate, only the glare of his glasses barely visible through it. He's got his fancy Scholar robes on, his hefty book of Eidolons, and his folded-up mechanical wing-pack all ready. His many pockets overflow with freshly brewed alchemical substances. And yet despite having what is as close to his Game Face on as possible, he is abjectly terrified. In an abstract sense, of course, even if he's not here in person he isn't eager to have a repeat of that time he died.

    Nathan awaits at the entrance of the Kiln. The others are scattered at their defenses, but Nathan simply stands, arms crossed, cloak failing to flutter in the lack of wind of the Kiln, though perhaps the wingbeats of a dragon will correct that shortly. Nathan has charged the upper "atmosphere" of the Kiln with his storm magic, he has given all the tactical advice he can about coordinating the knights of Gwyn with his own allies. He has his Eidolons primed for summoning. For now, he remains seemingly harmless, intending to meet Kalameet face to face. It's clearly an invitation for Kalameet to come down to the surface of the Kiln.

    Nathan will speak to him, if he takes the invitation. No matter how he lands, Nathan's reaction will be just as unflappable as ever. "You claimed you would take a seed. You may do so. But please. Do not touch the heart of our mechanism, or any of its parts." There's a lengthy pause after he says that. "I am quite aware of your power, and quite aware of your desire. I will not try to intimidate you, and I doubt I can. But I will appeal to whatever nature you share with humanity. Please. Do what is right here." That is all he'll have to say to Kalameet. He hopes, maybe a bit pointlessly, that the dragon will not do what so many others claim he will do. He said all he wanted was the seed, and seemed to think it wouldn't harm their designs. He hopes, once again maybe a bit pointlessly, that the dragon will not turn on his word, and launch an attack, but allow himself to be peacefully guided to his destination, where their exchange can be determined in detail.

    But he is ready to give the order to attack at a moment's notice. He knows that eye, and its many, many betrayals.

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe is here she knows it's time she's quiet, if she could come for real and be of use she might just do so but the Iron Lily stands in the place. She's armed she's ready and all six foot plus ofg her seems tense as she's now making ready to fight. She's got the Dawn Breaker out and the mourning wall is ready with names ever fading in and out on it's surface.

"Well this is ... it isn't it?"

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    Finally, the fall of Kalameet... or the disastrous failing of everything they've been fighting for. Fail, and it's very likely that Lordran will be doomed - and worse, every other nation. Every human will face the Age of Dark if the First Flame falters. What will happen to them? All undead? All... monsters?

    The real form of Shirou shudders. But he's found a perch atop a high place - some of the vantage points used by the great archers. He's been waiting quite a while.

    He's had a lot of time to ponder over just how and why his previous attempt to harm Kalameet failed so mighty. If the dragon was truly unassailable then it couldn't be helped. But if it was some fault in his design, in his nature, then that's something he can improve.

    The art of Projection involves making things real that should not be. Can it be that a Phantom's illusion woud be less stable, less intact... less REAL than the phantasm he'd bind together in reality?

    Risking everything he is, everything he wants to accomplish, everyone he needs to protect on this one shot seems foolhardy. It goes against much of what he has been learning from his time in Dun Realtai.

    But a part of Shirou's soul has rebelled against the safe plan of coming as a Phantom this time. As though, if he were to put his own safety and the future of a few in place of the many living in the lands bordering Lordran above them, he'd lose something important.

    Forever.

    So the fiery haired, amber eyed young man has taken his post in the ramparts, a projected copy of a dragonslayer greatbow laying before him next to a projected black bow of Japanese design, made of futuristic synthetic materials.

    He has only two options that he thinks could deal serious damage to Kalameet, IF he can get through his defenses...

    Will they be enough?

    whilst clamping down his terror, the boy stands, waiting and thinking.

Priscilla has posed:
    There's no way anyone can miss it. In this endless expanse of nothing, in the sprue of the world formed twice over, the only thing that moves against the backdrop of the inexorable passage of time is naturally what draws attention. The whispering cries that fill the dull, rumbling silence are impossible to miss, even beneath the ever growing sound of beating wings, still too quiet for the force of what should be required to keep such a monster in the air. Though Priscilla is still inbound, the two Knight of Astora, both the legitimate and the cover, stand ready at the second highest level of the tower, the latter at a melted outcropping of fused metal, overlooking the grand hordes assembled before him across the tower's many spires at struts.

    The reverse, however, is also true. As impossible as it is for anyone to fail to see the shadow in the sky, so too is it impossible for him not to notice the warzone that now encircles his destination. The dragon's wings snap open, flaring wide to either side as he comes to an abrupt, jarring stop in midair, now oriented vertically in a strangely near-humanoid fashion. Even at far too great of a distance to be shot at with any usual firearm, the creature's 'voice' is diminished to no degree. For a brief, horrible instant, the rolling cacophony of psychic noise sounds almost like it might be laughing.

    " . . . do you think me a fool . . . or are you simply inept as the betrayer rather than the betrayed . . . what reason have I to believe the words of such a sad creature . . . that came to me as a coward . . . demanded my acquiescence . . . fell to my hands . . . and then ran again as a coward with its tail between its legs . . . only to prepare such transparent vengeance . . . to salvage the shreds of its dignity . . . I lived to see the greatest traitor in all of existence turn upon the rest of his kind . . . with the help of the gods you now gather up the scraps of . . . what makes you believe I would be so blind as to stumble into the transparent jaws of a newborn . . . that has never once managed to successfully turn upon even his fellow man . . . and yet still cannot meet their eyes . . . "

    The air reverberates with the keening wail of causality being torn asunder. A cruciform flash of molten light flickers from the malevolent eye, and the foremost support tower at the edge of the lattice is shorn to pieces, spraying like the shrapnel of a grenade, carrying with it the siege machines and their crew emplaced there, still well out of range of being able to fire.

Reiji Arisu has posed:
    Nathan tries diplomacy. It works out about as well as one would have expected. One does not simply try to speak to a spirit of this magnitude, especially one that would much rather have you dead than speaking.

A tower explodes nearby. Reiji's brow furrows, his lips draw into a thin line.

    "Xiaomu, get ready," he says to his nearby partner. "Once that thing is in range, we keep it occupied until we've immobolized it." And then...

Well. And then then they tighten the noose.

Xiaomu (707) has posed:
Yeah, Xiaomu didn't expect that to work either - but she can't fault anyone for being optimistic about diplomacy. Sometimes the easy solution really DOES work.

"Ready as I can be," the sage fox replies to Reiji, keeping a tight grip on her staff. She almost feels out of place being a Phantom here rather than having come in corporeal form ... but given how people were getting offed left and right last time, she'd sooner lose a bit of relative power and have that safety net.

In the meantime, she keeps an eye on Kalameet, estimating her attack range with both handguns and magic against the Calamity's current distance.

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    In continuing contrast to her usual tactics, Kimiko does nothing to attract Kalameet's attention. She simply sits where she is, at a place near the center of the kiln, if sufficiently removed that she is 'not at the center.' A circular slab of titanite is below her, with a smaller portion of it that seems positioned as if crafted by intent for her to kneel and wait upon it.

    She still sweats, but it's not just the heat. There's some effort in maintaining her magic for hours at a time, even if what she's maintaining is kept still. There is further effort in maintaining her summoned armor hundreds of yards from her person. Without days of preparation, this would likely have been impossible. If not impossible, it would have drained her to the point of being barely able to fight. As is, she is ready.

    Ready, but unable. Her admission to Amalthea was due to her inability to leave this spot, if she is to enact her plan. Kalameet must be dimly aware of the trap--if nothing else, it is a natural suspicion that traps exist. Until the dragon is within her range, she must hold. To even defend would undo every advantage.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Mizuki hangs suspended in the air above the kiln, form translucent, arms tied behind her, eyes fixed on Kalameet. There is little she can do from this range besides watch, though she is still curious about a good number of things. Kalameet is an object of some fascination for her, and if she lives to see tomorrow, he will be dead. Either way, this will be her last opportunity to attempt to glean anything from him directly. That said, an odd sphere that twists the atmosphere around her expands from her body... before thinning itself into a slender, snaking line. This reality-bending 'tendril' of sorts tries to bridge the distance between herself and Kalameet, painlessly linking itself to his head if he allows it to. This line -is- an incorporeal entity, but it's likely that such a multifaceted foe would easily be capable of rending it anyway if he should like to.

    All this really does if it makes contact, though, is to establish a telepathic link between him and Mizuki -- interestingly enough, one that can selectively be closed from either side. If she's allowed to make this link, she simply says, "Share it with me. That peace that you've lost, that thing that you're fighting to retrieve. The thing that humans can never possess, and that sets you apart from them."

    "Share it with me."

    This is her oblique way of 'asking' Kalameet whether he's willing to share with her the raw feeling of his memory of before the humans attacked; his memory of how he thought and felt in the Before Time. Naturally, this is something that she would be interested in.

Psyber (253) has posed:
    Psyber takes a few steps forward, slinging his sword up and across his shoulder as he waits for Kalameet to arrival. He raises a hand up and puts it on her shoulder. He hadn't seen her since last week, when she'd witnessed him at the worst moment of his life. And he felt that, at this moment, he had to address something with her. So he looks her dead in the eye and says five words in a tone of voice that sounds perfectly believable.

    "I'm going to be fine."

    And then he continues, "So don't fret over me this fight. Everything's going to be fine."

    The half-angel grips the sword in his hand and he watches Kalameet arrive. He wanted to believe in Nathan, believe that he could talk this one to peace. but it doesn't happen, and as a tower explodes, Psyber moves to take a few steps forward. With the lack of equipment besides his sword, he lacks ranged options at that moment. So he's forced to simply shield his face and wait for someone to bring Kalameet to ground so he can rush in.

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe is ready as she can be for this, but then again this would be conidered utter madness or fiction before her world unified. It was time to face the music here and carry out what they'd planned to do. She listens to the Dragon and makes sure to keep an idea just on what it might be up to then again? Given how alien this thing was she wasn't sure and she knows she got to get in close too. A moment later her red translucent wings come into existance out of her back it's about time to get to work. she's making ready to move into her spot for when the time comes, she waits tensing clearly ready but waiting for the order.

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    He comes.
    It is now, Amalthea stirs, just a slight shift of her head, turning her good eye to better regard the baleful presence that is Kalameet, looming in the skies with all his threat and menace. A single step is all she takes, setting her footing and bracing for the battle to come- even with the great ancient wyrm so distant. An action wholly intended to steel her nerves and keep her resolve as unbending as steel, more than anything else. Only one thing takes her gaze off of Kalameet.
    Psyber.
    That lone eye turns to regard the half-angel from the corner of her gaze, the stare he gets is much different than the one reserved for the dragon, there are many a wordless emotion buried deep within that endlessly blue eye. Concern being the chiefmost among them, before her gaze hardens. Determination, then.
    "... Alright." She takes Psyber at his word, giving her one less weight of worry to bear upon her shoulders. "... Alright."
    She grips her spear, the ancient lance, Wishblade gleaming as she readies herself as much as she ever will be.

Nathan Hall (168) has posed:
    Nathan allows the laser to lance over him. He didn't visibly react to the psychic maelstrom, and he doesn't visibly react to this. He looks down, his eyes still shadowed by those glasses. Kalameet knows about his history, with betrayal? Despite the obvious stoicism, what just happened has freshly wounded his mentality again. When he speaks, his monotone breaks, very briefly. The others are mostly too far to hear it in the brief moment he does. The monotone breaks into hateful bitterness. It's not particularly overwhelming. But for a very brief moment, the monotone is broken completely.

    "Another traitor. Fine. Come take what you deserve."

    "Midgardsormr. Persona." Both summons react immediately. The massive snake blasts out of the ground, launching into the air. Its body is made of stone and earth, its teeth are jagged rocks. It immediately rushes to wrap around Kalameet's body. And alongside it, a gray-skinned woman in odd form-fitting attire, with a cylindrical headpiece reaching from her shoulders above her head, rushes from behind him, wielding a set of shears. Atropos, his Persona, darts in, in sync with Midgardsormr. The latter tries to wrap around his body with a vicious mid-air interception, while the former attempts to plant her shear square into the flesh of one wing, spreading it wide for a split second... Intended to give Staren an opening on that cannonfire. He wants the wing torn off or torn to shreds. "Put him down in the ash where he belongs."

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    There he is. The great destroyer of all, the angry dragon... the enemy. Shirou flinches at the barrage of psionic, haughty braggartry. The dialogue sparks a fury of fiery opposition in his gut. "Dragon, you're the only thing getting in the way of a world that can stand on its own! If you think yourself so indomitable and mighty, then stay right there... I'll surpass those scales of yours and strip them with the 'mere' illusions of your worst nightmares!" His shout is thunderous and defiant, straight from a hot-blooded heart that's been set ablaze in this place of lost flames.

    The boy bends down... and, clasping the Dragonslayer Greatbow he projected tightly, he anchors it to the ramparts with a mighty *WHUNK.*

    There's no sign of an arrow yet, but if looks could kill...

    Well, Shirou probably wouldn't need one yet. Kalameet would just be set ablaze already or something.

    Once there's an opening... what will he do?

    For now, Shirou simply watches the others, and waits for that perfect opportunity...

Lezard Valeth has posed:
Lezard tenses as Kalameet makes his appearance, a smile creasing his face for a moment. Energy surges around him as he prepares a strike... But then he scowls, releasing the power harmlessly as Nathan attempts to follow his nature and enter negotiations with Kalameet.

But Lezard has always believed in a singular truth: You can never trust a dragon. Kalameet simply continues to prove that point, as he chastises Nathan and mocks the preparations of those present to begin blowing things up.

NOW he can act. With a surge of power, Lezard raises his arms, and a magic circle appears below him as he channels his power. "ENOUGH! Accursed being, foul and outcast! You believe that your previous act will afford you the right? Behold as you face the truth of your place and the wrath arrayed before you! NOW BOW DOWN BEFORE US!"

There is an eruption of ash and light as six concealed obelisks explode out of the ground, incised deeply with large, seething runes of power. "BY THE GOLDEN CHAINS OF FENRIR, I CALL UPON THEE!"

Lezard twists power through the air, feeding the spires as the ritual begins. Space shudders and twists in the unreal space, tightening around Kalameet he begins to feel an inexorable pull.

Staren has posed:
    Staren wants Kalameet /dead/. Although, his rage is dulled by tiredness -- the long time spent hunting Slaughterhouse Nine clones and designing this weapon and dealing with Scion has worn at him mentally, and right now there is no blood pumping through his body, no adrenaline to keep him going. Just tireless electricity.

    Still, he supposes if /anyone/ can talk down Kalameet, it's Nathan. Is it worth a try? Everyone seems to think so. He's too tired to object. He will follow the plan.

    Kalameet does not want to talk.

    The crystals glow slightly brighter.

    Staren tenses up, one hand on the aiming joystick, ready for a fight. He has a vision in his head of how this will go: Kalameet will charge in, wreak incredible destruction, allies will fight it, and he'll ask someone to help get him an opening to take the shot.

    Instead, Kalameet is just staying way the heck over /there/, raining down destruction on their knights.

    He's not even evading. But then, maybe he doesn't have to. Maybe he can just burn the javelins.

    Staren doesn't have to ask his friends to make an opening -- Kalameet's /giving/ it to him!

    At this realization, the crystal components of the machine flash brighter again.

    Should he take the shot now? Staren hesitates for a second -- Kalameet breathes upon the knights. Allies with plans to get to long range prepare to move. If anything's going to make Kalameet move, it's /them/! Fortunately, he didn't build a limited range into this thing, because he did expect that the fight might not be happening close to the flame.

    READY

    As Staren's intent to fire solidifies, the crystals glow. The wind picks up again. Staren focuses on the readouts on his HUD and the control panel in front of him. Part of making this work was that he /couldn't/ defer the task of monitoring and controlling the energy reactions inside the machine to a computer. He has to do it himself. Being a computer helps, but it still takes part of his attention, and it will take more as the device prepares to fire. One slip-up, and all this preparation will be for naught as the machine breaks.

    AIM

    The massive cannon turns. Aiming is trivial, especially with a still target. Staren flips open a molly-guard and flips a switch. More parts begin to glow, some even crackling with power, the humming gets louder as more power visibly flows from his body's micro-fusion reactor into the machine and secondary power sources inside are drained. This is not a surprise weapon, it is an obvious, telegraphed weapon.

    And Staren doesn't know /exactly/ what it will do, and he's excited to find out. It has been some time since he got to do something new with Abstractum tech, and even longer since he was able to put that knowledge to use in such a useful way. This is an experiment, knowledge being put to trial by fire. The resonance cannons were able to target a weakness. This weapon has no weakness to target, and has been developed for pure /power/. Will it be enough to truly hurt Kalameet? This is a true test, a new development in the newly-created field of Conceptual Engineering!

    Everything is stable so far. Kalameet is in position. The weapon is aimed and charged. This is it!

    FIIIIIIIIIIIIRE!

Abstractum.Net (347) has posed:
    The weapon will be draining to Staren, pushing his power supply into lower ranges for the rest of the fight. The focus required to manage both the firing sequence and the weapon's cooldown sequence is intense, and will keep Staren's attention for some time. It shines a brilliant red beam where it's about to lance through as well, no wider than, say, a fist, but profoundly intense. And while it took several hours to set up, it's likely to fall apart as soon as the cooldown sequence is complete. Its tremendous size means there's no chance to move it into more convenient positioning.

    All of these factors are force multipliers of a sort. Adding flaws to the weapon functions in a way that multiplies its effect. Its effect is simple: Projecting the concept of harm and damage directly at Kalameet himself. While Kalameet may have a great deal of conceptual defense as well, this is quite a well-made maelstrom of conceptual multiplication, and threatens to punch through many defenses it might find.

Abstractum.Net (347) has posed:
    When it fires, the beam is small, compact, compressed. Staren didn't add unnecessary things like extreme width to the blast. The pure blue light is about as big around as a human's arm. It hits like something that was fired from orbit. Where the beam connects, it doesn't split particles or anything like that. They existed once, and now they don't, exploding in a brilliant shining light of blue resonance. The Core Matrix of the weapon is immediately mechanically ejected, like ejecting a shell from some sort of horrible tremendous gun. It emits smoke, and is nearly impossible to touch. The remaining Form of the device is still charged with so much unusable resonance that it's gushing blue fire erratically, crackling with arcs of blue light all along its length. The weapon itself is overheated as well, forcing it to fall apart; much of the duty Staren will have now is disassembling it to manage the brutal backlash of heat and Resonance.

    Anything nearby that wasn't braced, attached to the ground very stongly, or otherwise held in place, will likely have fallen over from the shockwave of wind that the weapon caused.

Priscilla has posed:
    What transpires between Kalameet and Mizuki is impossible to know, even for the Author herself, as mired in the ocean of conceptual understanding as she is. Perhaps Kalameet has said nothing at all. Perhaps it's simply so beyond her for the time being that she didn't even sense it. Perhaps it was purposefully communicated in some other way. What she does notice however, is that should the dragon's eye orb be on her person, it flashes red hot for an instant and then slowly cools, like the barrel of a fired cannon, and should it not, the next time she lays eyes upon it, she will not find it the same neutral, silvery grey, but a bright, vivid orange; the slitted pupil of which now seems to focus in upon /something/, rather than gazing off into nowhere.

    " . . . pride offended . . . he calls upon more of his unwitting slaves . . . to lay down their lives for the sake of his martyr's tempers . . . " The dragon continues as if Mizuki had never said anything, remarking at the first offensive move taken, uncharacteristically by Nathan. " . . . and his followers think themselves as martyrs too . . . or perhaps as heroes . . . championing the cause of a world they believe they know . . . for having heard what they believe to be its secrets . . . and yet still they follow another . . . "

    The dragon must regard both summons as little more than nuisances, or else intends to ignore them as much as possible simply as a show of force, because the midnight silhouette against the fading fire of the endless 'sky' refuses to move even as the giant serpent and its Persona ally approach. Midgardsormr matches Kalameet for size, coiling around him like an anaconda around the body of a crocodile it intends to devour, and yet the fortress crushing strength only immobilize the dragon rather than wounding it. Atropos likewise encounters no resistance, until the blade of her shears punctures into the stony membrane of his dark mantle. Kalameet's response is deliberately delayed, brutal, and intended to appear effortless. The eye is surrounded by a scintillating halo of energy rather than its brief flickers of before, and shortly after the shears shatter, so does everything else, both summons being flayed apart, piece by fundamental, magical piece as if they had had suddenly been cast into the oversized turbine of a monolithic jet engine, giving Nathan scarce instants to unsummon them before they become completely irrecoverable.

    Kalameet turns his baleful gaze upon the monoliths that heed Lezard's conjuring, regarding the sorcery of men, even unfamiliar ones, as little better. Delayed by Nathan's gambit however, before that glare flares hot enough to undo those preparations however, Staren is ready to fire. The dragon only even notices the targeting laser at the last spare moment, having never before known any reason to fear anything that it couldn't even feel. Resultingly, he has only just turned his stare in time to briefly bear witness to the lance of conceptual light that catches him just off side of one shoulder, without even the time to blink, even if he could.

    Against a foe with no accessible weaknesses to strike, an attack that doesn't even attempt to seems to work all the better. Previously near-impervious to Staren's heavy ordnance, the carefully prepared formula of the cannon suddenly rips through his core being like dynamite through stone, cracking it with raw, overwhelming force and unfailing precision. One of the two wings that has carried him aloft for thousands of years is suddenly turn away in a heartbeat as the shot scores a direct hit on the skeletal structure itself, annihilating the sky beside him as he is engulfed in the overwash of blue, resonance fire.

Priscilla has posed:
    The blast wave can be seen rumbling over the dunes of ash by the visible wall of dust before it rattles against the tower, after which the black dragon plunges from the fireball, angling into a steep, predatory dive, like the lunge of a peregrine falcon, trailing smoke in its wake. Kalameet is unfamiliar, but not stupid. With one wing reduced to a charred sliver, the other will only keep him aloft for so long, and so the dragon presses the attack while he still has the altitude to reach the top of the tower. The surge of skin-searing anger that bubbles up from the titanite walkways is even worse than before, only a prelude to the way the resonance cannon dramatically explodes in a towering cross of destruction as Kalameet instantly eliminates what he perceives to be the greatest threat. After all, he doesn't know it can't be fired again.

Psyber (253) has posed:
    Staren takes the opening move. A smart call, ultimately, as a weapon as massive as his would be best used to either begin or end the fight. Beginning it by searing a wing off the dragon is a suitable opening to their execution of Kalameet for Psyber. The half-angel covers his eyes with a hand in the wake of the explosion.

    Psyber takes that moment to surge forward into the battlefield proper. Kalameet may not be grounded yet, but he's lost one wing and the half-angel knows he can't keep up in the air for long. He looks to Amalthea, makes a quick hand gesture to follow back and to his side, and then he points forward.

    Gripping the newly-christened Sun-Slayer Greatsword in one hand, Psyber rushes forward into the Kiln proper and covers incredible distances at a fairly impressive speed. A testament to the Apex Predator nature of his actual power as a Hunter. When he reaches the area under Kalameet, he doesn't actually stop moving. Instead, he starts to move in a wide circle under Kalameet, looking up at the wounded dragon.

    The expression on Psyber's face is not unlike that of a wolf or a hunting dog that is waiting for an injured piece of prey to come down from a tree.

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    Kimiko's brow creases as Kalameet speaks. Unpleasant. Not unknown, but unpleasant still. Within her, so deeply that it still cannot reach outside, burns a desire not to avenge herself, nor her fellows, friends and allies, nor even to save this world, but simply to cleanse it of a monster. Kalameet is that monster, her enemy, and so named, she will give her all to his destruction. It is a pure and simple feeling, and with this hostility she maintains a, perhaps contradictory, feeling of calm.

    Staren's beam fires. The wing is shorn off. As planned, Kalameet is drawn inward. Still, she holds. Even if her current tactic is so unusual that she would never have considered it before this day, that she is fundamentally reactive has not changed. The opportunity is there, yes--but she holds.

    Lower. Bring it lower.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    It's precisely because she does not know that she had to try, and for that same reason, she has most certainly come equipped with the orb today. After seeing it glow, even if Kalameet's meaning is lost on her in the present, she can still have hope for the future. Certainly, even if she can't make sense of it now, perhaps it... perhaps it stored something, something that she'll one day parse into concept that she can understand. Or otherwise, given the fixation of its 'pupil', perhaps it will lead her to something. She shall have to be careful in case this is Kalameet's 'contingency plan' - some way of allowing his will to live after death, perhaps; she should never discount the possibility - but her curiosity will inevitably urge her on. Once she has had her time to appraise the orb and its color has again begun to fade, she puts it away again, looking again to the dragon himself.

    One thing she has begun to understand about Kalameet is that he is likely not too fond of being made to 'speak' through human words; to a being whose existence is a bit more 'broad' in many respects, it might seem restrictive. That said, she does not exert any great effort to the purpose of communicating her feelings of ambivalence to the great wyrm -- instead, she trusts that he can feel them from her by the mere fact of the tether's existence. She offers him a nod, her final thoughts to him being directed at whatever traces of Kalameet - the 'old' Kalameet' - may remain: a creature that could be content with sameness for eternity. A creature that could be still for eons without ever having need to budge. A creature that never would have acted so desperately, so violently, so conspiratorially, if only because he never could have thought to be anything other than still.

    Truly, some creatures take far better to humanity than others.

    But with that incline of her head and a quick swipe of two fingers across the air, the tether falls away. Her arms rejoin behind her, and her thoughts travel to Priscilla. What might it have been like if she had had the opportunity to look upon both aspects of her character favorably? What if, rather than a brutal father and an apathetic mother, she had had caring parents to teach her all the good and the bad of both facets of her lineage? ... she can only muse. Muse and hope that, with some luck, she may help her friend to do just that. Much as it may be selfish on her part, Mizuki can't help feeling that it would be beneficial to Priscilla, too, if she, and her world, could finally have someone to bridge the gap between dragons and humans. If such a thing is even possible, alas...

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    For all Amalthea readies herself, she learns something of her flesh and blood form that her Phantom form had helped her forget in this bleak world of ash and fading light. The sound of her own heart beating a steady drum rythm inside her ears. She watches on as Staren unleashes the true might of science upon Kalameet- an impressive sight worthy of praise and perhaps a level of respect and admiration she had not previously considered for the young scientist. But she has no time to give such words, Psyber has called to her, and that sets her into motion, armor rattling heavily with each hustled step as soon as that hand signal catches her eye, smoothly sliding into position on Psyber's left, following the Hunter into the jaws of hell if she must. It's when he starts to circle one way that she breaks off, her own boots carrying her to match Psyber pace for pace in an opposing path, like two focused members of a well coordinated pack, her own expression placid and serene as that lone eye gleams with the thirst to teach Kalameet what she had meant when she said her language was one of action.

Staren has posed:
    Staren cannot help but stare behind his visor, just :D at how well that /actually worked/. He was hoping for a superweapon to use against Kalameet, and he /got/ one! Then he prepares to monitor the weapon's cooldown sequence... a possibly fatal distraction, if Eureka didn't warn him about Kalameet's incoming attack! Staren yanks the cable out -- he actually tries to just rip it out, finds his superstrength missing, and has to turn it /then/ pull it, and he tries to book it -- with his reactor too drained for super-speed or providing much thrust, he has to activate his wings -- but they, too, are sluggish. He doesn't bother trying to retrieve the core matrix.

    Not that there's time to try. The machine detonates in one of those crosses, and Staren's sent flying through the air, wings only partially able to try to slow him, until he hits the ground some distance away and tumbles through the ash until he smacks into one of the other towers. The armor and skin on his back is mostly burned away, baring charred metal with fake 'blood' around the edges of the wound, amd even the rest of his armor is partly charred and warped.

    At least he can't feel pain right now. That looks like it would have really hurt.

Xiaomu (707) has posed:
Normally, when Xiaomu draws down on an enemy, she produces Silver and Platinum as her weapons of choice - and to be sure, she HAS both of those handguns on her, loaded with the most potent anti-spirit rounds Shinra R&D could make to order.

But as the command to attack goes out, Xiaomu instead draws Platinum in one hand, and the Roc's Icebrand in the other. With her staff stuck through the strap of her carrypack, she charges alongside Reiji, starting to fire at the draconic Calamity as soon as she's close enough for her bullets to hit. Physically, her guns may not do much - but it's not always about the physical, especially with a monster on THIS scale.

Instead, she intends for her anti-spirit bullets to carve away at Kalameet's supernatural form, and for the icy rounds from the other gun to start chilling the dragon's form. Whether ice accumulates to hinder Kalameet's movements, or the gradually deepening cold actually makes his scales more brittle ... well, she didn't plan THAT far ahead. She's just trying to hurt the Calamity before he does worse to her.

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    Many here have wondrous powers and seemingly no limits to the depths they can draw upon them from... but Shirou, this is not the case. He is a mere mortal, he must work within mortal limits to bring down that which no mortal should be able to scratch. It's a tall order. There's a lump in his throat, but the boy's commitment and bravery cannot be questioned.

    Staren's HARM CANNON nearly blows him over, but the boy holds tight to his anchored greatbow and avoids getting thrown free. Lezard's insane sorcery sends tingles up his spine and the dragon's presence has him trembling inside... but he cannot falter here. He is not allowed to falter!

    He needs an arrow.

    Not any of the Noble Phantasms he's come to respect. They are too easily broken, and none of them, wielded by insignificant him, could cut into this dragon. Nothing short of Excalibur could pierce those scales... and he cannot make a sword of THAT nature... just paper mache mockups that happen to glow and maybe energize a little, and break in two hits.

    No, to pierce that dragon's hide he needs more than power. He needs skill. Skills that he doesn't have.

    Or does he?

    "Trace... ON!"

    Judge the needs behind the design. Conceive of the basic structure. Duplicate composition materials. Imitate the artisan's technique. Execute construction methods. Fill the construct with a spirit matching its years of faithful service... then... accelerate every manufacturing process with exacting precision!

    An image is in Shirou's mind. The image of a glorious golden spear held by a faithful knight of Lordran. A weapon of fine make, used to slay dragons and heralded as one of the best of its kind in all the land.

    Shirou's consciousness mind nearly scorches itself clean with the effort. The boy screams deep and true as the power flows from his hands and the weapon's image is bound together in a rush of prana. The DRAGONSLAYER SPEAR OF ORNSTEIN is brought up to the Dragonslayer Greatbow and Shirou lets the two weapons guide him.

    Action without thought, a perfect achievement of Kyudo, guides his reinforced arm to draw back the string and take aim. With teeth grit and arm muscles aching, he angles the massive bow just ever so slightly...

    And releases the string.

    *WHUNK!*

    So simple a sound, but there's a flare of bright golden light and a mighty shockwave in the wake of the 'arrow' that now flies for Kalameet! The projetile glows from within, sizzling with lethal lightning and on a course surer than can be.

    A course guided by the bow and Ornstein's dragonslaying experience, however degraded it may be.

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe is still not used to what some people cna do in the multiverse witht he fury of sTarne's attack she can only guess just what the effect on him was going to be. she's force to brace herself in place. she now makes ready as Nathan calls out a persona upon the dragon she is now making ready for her own attack even as Lezard makes his powerful magical strike. His power is honesly somerhing that would be quire scary to face down on her own. She now keeps moving in making ready to strike on Kalamett as well for all the good her meager powers will do.

Reiji Arisu has posed:
    Staren fires. Reiji is both mildly impressed and somewhat relieved that it didn't explode prematurely and destroy half the kiln. He sort of needs this place at least relatively intact. His eyes flicker down towards the monoliths emerging at Lezard's beckoning. It's begun- the only hitch in the plan...

Kalameet is still far too high up.

But then, that's why they were stationed up here.

    "Xiaomu," the exorcist calls, suddenly breaking into a brisk sprint along the uppermost rung of the kiln, "We need to drive him down. Force him off the ledge." For that, Reiji chooses his tools wisely. In one hand, his hand-cannon, Gold. In the other, an inoccuous wakizashi that yet blazes with arcs of lightning and trembles with concussive shockwaves.

Kalameet may be enormous, but Reiji is hoping that the flow of Earth and Metal can push him over the edge.

    "Dragon of Calamity," Reiji murmurs as he draws near, his legs pumping at speeds faster than most men could manage, "Perhaps we are being strung along, but this must be done. This world is dying, and we hold the means to prevent its passing."

    He surges in, ducking under claw and tooth and tail to strike with his booming blade. Roars of thunder and arcs of lightning dance around the exorcist as he swings it once, twice, thrice in quick succession. Electricity twists around his limbs as he leaps back and levels Gold--

    Arcs pour across its brilliant shell. A single slug erupts from its barrel, its inherent essence supercharged by the raw earth-essence suffusing the air. When it fires, it does so with a tremendous echo of concussive force.

    Force that, as it blasts into Kalameet, floods into the accumulating beachheads of frost established by his partner. After all, while EARTH contains METAL within it, so too does METAL carry and fortify WATER.

Lezard Valeth has posed:
The opening salvo is magnificent. Lezard can appreciate the level of firepower being brought to bear, as the brilliant, gleaming beam fires. He smiles in the reflection of the light, and nods to himself. Excellent.

He doesn't approve so much that he moves to help Staren get out of his situation with Kalameet, however. Maybe he believes that Staren is fine on his own. Or maybe not.

But he cannot allow himself to be distracted. As much as he wants to spit more defiance at Kalameet, he has a ritual to complete.

Runes, invoking the essence of impossible objects, the craft-arts of the ancient Dwarves who created a chain which bound their own great devourer of worlds, pulse as he continues to incant. Filaments of golden light, thin as gossamer stream out and upwars into the air, forged not of weak physical matter but creases and twists of space itself as they loop around Kalemeet, striking to limit his mobility and remove directions as they draw the great dragon inexorably towards the ashen earth.

"YIELD UNTO THE GENTLE EMBRACE OF FINALITY, AND LET THE JAWS OF CATACLYSM BE HELD FAST!"

There is a sudden surge as the obelisks shudder, and radiate sorcerous energy, drawing their bindings right to bring Kalameet down and hold him as bound as possible amidst the obelisks, arrayed around like stakes holding a man about to be drawn and quartered.

"BINDING OF GLEIPNIR!"

Nathan Hall (168) has posed:
    Nathan quickly unsummons his tremendous earthen Eidolon before something terrible happens. Kalameet's words are getting to him. It's not obvious in any way, of course, with his stoicism and his blank-faced helmet, but it's driving him to more bitter hatred. "They wanted to fight you from the start. I insisted you get a chance that you squandered. I have no obligation to justify myself to you. Turn back now or I will have my allies will do whatever is possible to have you join the rest of your kind." Hateful though he may be, he is still scared. In fact, he's /profoundly/ frightened, which is a large part of why he's not being stupid right now. He's dashing, quickly, to cover at the Kiln.

    "Byakhee." He mutters, calling for a very foreign Eidolon that he procured from the master of the cult he pledged membership to. The awful winged eldritch creature blasts out of the ground under him, looking like a much smaller, more twisted, decayed, wasplike dragon of his own, featuring horrible stalks on its head and disgusting leathery skin. While fleeing on the back of this creature, it twists its beaked head back impossibly, and fires a horrible cloud of some awful toxic aerosolized chemical.

    For most targets, it would be an attempt to utterly wipe them out, turning the flesh of everyone in the area into a chemical slurry. But the most it could possibly do to Kalameet right now is force him to close that eye, at best, a light stun or stagger. That's all Nathan wants. A light vision impairment, just when he might strike back against Lezard's binding, or avoid that massive spear fired by Shirou.

Priscilla has posed:
    As big of a deal as Psyber is, even in phantom form, Kalameet isn't about to divert his attention to a single man dashing over the ground far beneath him, equipped with nothing but a sword. Whether that be hubris, or merely the knowledge that reaching the top of the tower will give him an unassailable position from which to use his breath weapon; perhaps even both; is difficult to say, but the result is that the half-angel is safe to watch and wait for the time being. Even as his number doubles with the addition of Amalthea, swift despite her massively heavy armour, there appears to be no real danger.

    Conversely, Kimiko, sat at near the same vantage point, is both potentially more threatening, and very much in his space. He doesn't exactly have a lot of maneuvering ability with only one wing, and so the dragon simply ploughs through the icy sting of bullets lashing upward from Xiaomu, and the concussive blast of Reiji's hand cannon that jars his form, allowing the elemental damage to steadily build with each shot in exchange for the chance to eliminate the magical girl and annihilate the rest with one blow. It's obvious enough why he'd choose to do so. Even without the Primordial Crystal, Kalameet is covered in scales of immortality, though soaked in Humanity as they are. The sliver of bone that is his right wing smokes all on its own, starting to regrow at an alarming pace. It's a high tier of regeneration, but the sheer amount of mass it has to recover is hindering it. Kalameet is very large, the cannon had taken off a whole wing, and a wing isn't even half useful until the entire thing is replaced.

    The ground around Kimiko takes on that subtle, molten hue it does moments before it erupts in terror under the black dragon's gaze, but it swiftly fades as the Byakhee gets in the way, momentarily forcing eye contact away, and distracting the dragon for as long as it takes to try and snap the creature between its jaws like some unholy, monolithic viper. Even that only buys her, and by extension everyone else, seconds, but that appears to be all the time Lezard needs to complete the ritual of Gleipnir.

    Again, without choice to divert his course, Kalameet is stuck with the option of allowing the sorceror's spell to strike. Expecting some bolt of thunder or fire that could be weathered and recovered from however, the dragon is taken off guard as uncountable threads of utterly laughable size stream around him, at first seeming to do absolutely nothing, until he finds his forward progress steadily slowed, and then arrested completely. The sensation of contempt becoming disbelief is palpable for miles with that psychic presence as the dragon realizes it can't simply snap those threads with brute strength, and worse, being equally unable to incinerate them with a mere look. After all, one cannot destroy the concept of space itself. At least not this one.

Priscilla has posed:
    It's the perfect setup for Shirou. As much as he might mistrust, or even perhaps hate Lezard, he can't possibly deny after today that Lezard can coordinate effectively when he so deigns to. The spear he conjures is not the mightiest weapon to have ever graced the face of Lordran, but it has history, and that counts for just as much with the power of the Unlimited Blade Works. Though even the inhuman armies of Lord Gwyn had lost scores of knights for every one dragon slain in battle, a handful amongst them had, by sheer skill, courage and fortitude, survived them all to attain the rank of captain; and yet even amongst them, created solely for the purpose of war upon dragonkind, one one was deemed deserving of the title 'Dragonslayer'. Even though Kalameet remains the one dragon that Ornstein was never able to best, here on this battlefield, it feels to the young magus as if this is his second chance; the gift of one more opportunity to make that right. It's as if he's faced this enemy a thousand times before; as if he knows the timing of every wingbeat and the range of every claw. Even as an arrow, the release couldn't feel any more natural, and as if it were predestined to be, the flying spear strikes the frailest joint in the remaining wing, and blows it asunder with a resounding crack of divine lighting.

    The black dragon begins to plummet, twisting end over end as it falls, only to catch hold of one of the standing lattice towards, crunching through multiple storeys of metal before arresting its fall, climbing back on top with unnervingly feline motions and resuming its forward charge over the perilous web of bridges.

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    Danger. Flight? Too little time--but Nathan, in one of those twists of fate, defends Kimiko, this time. Her position remains vulnerable, but it is necessary that she remain for a moment longer. She cannot waste energy to defend herself, though Koishin is on her arm, and she holds trust in her Abstractum.

    Her eyes unfocus, but her awareness races, 'feeling' the ground beneath her armor. Godmetal and ash. With ash, she can do nothing--but with titanite, pure or alloyed, she has already laid her groundwork. Beneath those ashen remains, carefully hidden even beneath the ground, a thick web of her summoned steel extends out from her in every direction, radial spokes branching and connecting, and all along that network she 'feels' the battlefield she spent these weeks walking.

    The moment arrives. Across the Kiln, broken pillars twist for a moment, shedding molten metal as they adopt the patterns of her thought, guided by the magic of a Puella Magi's soul. The worn and blasted constructions are gone in a moment, leaving behind bladed chains with links several feet across, looking as if they were forged just today--and but for the lack of fire, they have been. The arrowhead-shaped blades that tip them gleam, but remain just above the ground, holding wherever the constructions they were formed of had been standing. This holds true for that moments of cleansing transformation, and then they begin to fire.

    Where Lezard used a mystical binding, Kimiko's are as physical as the Kiln itself. Four at a time, the chains break free and fly as fast as her magic can propel them, trailing yet longer chains as they eat up the titanite laid all across the Kiln's surface. They curve in the air, both for the constantly changing position of their anchor and for an uncanny, midflight re-aiming, surrounding her target in the carefully orchestrated chaos of melee, and even the very supports upon which the dragon stands are as like to betray it.

    The first may miss, but more will fire up as they fall. Gravity does not hold them long; adjusted, reoriented, each continues to snake through the air. They draw from below, loop from the side, and descend from above.

    Many may be destroyed, but this hurts the magical girl not at all, so long as she has yet more remaining--and across this expanse of blasted landscape, her supply is not short. Ash and godmetal, everywhere, and every part of this defended circle has felt her hand, and all she touched transformed into this one, all-encompassing trap. Destruction of one chain merely spares her attention to cause yet more to rise, firing into the sky in an attack that is seemingly without end, each one arcing and coming back to ground with vicious force.

    Kalameet is the target, yes, but not directly. The blades all aim to miss the dragon, but the chains aim at every point around him. Only one need complete the loop over wing, leg, tail, horn, or back. Even as it wraps around, more and more will take every opportunity to bind and pull, then fuse together. The first mistake is all that matters.

    Unconsciously, Kimiko has raised a hand before her, palm down. She looks, eyes wide open, but she only truly sees a full moment later. She no longer feels the battlefield, now, but only her hand upon the dragon. It comes down, with a harsh, chopping motion, touched by an anger she feels only rarely in the execution of her duty. In its disregard for all life, save possibly itself, this ancient, twisted being has angered her. This moment is her response.

    "Fall."

    The chains rush downward, their anchors sinking.

Psyber (253) has posed:
    The half-angel is fine waiting for Kalameet on the ground and being ignored. As he moves in wide circles, like a wolf circling a wounded animal, he lets his sword drag along the ground behind him occasionally. Where it does, it scours the ground and leaves burning Occult embers behind. He's patient, though. Almost scarily patient.

    Kalameet's heavy-handed arrogance had sealed the dragon's fate and Psyber merely wanted to wait for his moment to strike. He watches the multitude of attacks that are meant to ground the monster begin to slam into it. The satisfaction he feels at watching it de-winged is not even remotely betrayed on his face. A flightless dragon is just a lizard.

    He believes he might get his moment when he starts to plummet, but he grabs ahold of the latticework and begins to climb. There's a snarl on Psyber's face and he keeps pacing, moving back and forth underneath Kalameet's climbing form like a bloodhound. He could fly up, but the time wasn't ready yet. He hadn't been called yet and he wasn't ready to do his damage.

    So instead, the Hunter continues pacing in a methodical fashion as Kimiko sets up to anchor the dragon down. He grins a hungry grin on his face.

Abstractum.Net (347) has posed:
    Koishin springs into action. Kalameet was just about to attack Kimiko, and there's a good chance he'll do it again. A burning red light errupts from the bracer. Shining spellcircle barriers suddenly surround Kimiko, heavily centered on the vector between the dragon and the User. Kimiko may be the weak point in this gesture, but Koishin won't let that be a /vulnerable point. "I've got more than enough Barriers to keep you going, you can focus on piling it on!" Koishin says, encouragingly! It seems quite eager to show how reliable it is right now, and to be fair, it's being pretty damn reliable. That barrier must be layered dozens of times over!

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe watche as peple far greater than her confront the dragon and she waits hunting hoping to know the right moment or her attack the others are making reayd and she's thinking for a moment even Pysber could use a distracted and that's when she breaks off to get enough distance for him to do what she's planning to do.

She starts chanting runmdes dance about her body freely now as she makes her spell ready. Her Norse is pretty bad though but from what she's chanting it's something to do with light?! It doesn't take very long as the bolts of light start to form about her and rain down upon the dragon, she doesn't think such an attack will do much but it should keep the thing's attention.

"Your time is over."

Reiji Arisu has posed:
    The spear of the Dragonslayer sings through the air, as much of an Anti-Dragon conceptual weapon that might exist in this world. Reiji sees as it strikes Kalameet's remaining wing, shattering the thing at the root. The dragon of calamity falls, smashing into the kiln below.

It's time.

    The exorcist nods his head at Xiaomu and makes his way towards his designated place atop the kiln's highest rung. There, the great spell he has woven reaches a confluence. Arcs of inactive magical potential lead to and away from this locus, a patterned mirrored by an equal but opposite location on the opposite side of the kiln.

    Reiji stares down into the ashen land below, and the great pillars that bind the dragon. He looks to his compatriots fighting so far beneath him. His eyes lift to stare across the divide, hoping to find his partner at her own place opposite to him.

    Only once she's there does he take a deep breath of the stale air of this place. He lowers himself, crossing his legs in a meditative stance. Reiji reaches out, his will expanding into the enormous array that fills the kiln. "Tenchi Banbutsu--" all things in heaven and earth-- "Give me the strength to encompass the world."

There's a deep thrum. Something stirs in the air. Everything seems just a little less...

Stagnant.

Staren has posed:
    Staren checks the gauntlet on his left arm in concern. Eureka's form is partly warped and blackened like the rest of his armor, and the blue crystal is slightly chipped and cracked. When it responds, he sighs in relief, then sits up to look for Kalameet. Ah, the battle continues. It's approaching more what he expected. Everyone else wields impressive power. Staren rises to his feet. Did Lezard summon chains that can actually /bind/ Kalameet? Kalameet isn't blasting them, and the only possible reason for that is he /can't/. Staren wonders how that works... And there's a thrown spear, one of Shirou's weapons, striking Kalameet in what looks like a painful place. This actually seems to be going better than he expected all around! But it's not over till it's over. And... Staren frowns. "Is he /regenerating/?? Okay, next time we make a superweapon to blast a world-destroying super-monster, maybe we should see if we can put a 'can't be regenerated' concept in... Maybe Theo has a card we can get the concept from..." Although, if things keep going this well, maybe they can finish him off before the wing is usable again, Staren hopes.

    Staren trudges through the ash back towards the battle. His bag's strap was burnt off, but the armored case was only partially damaged. He reaches in and pulls out his rocket launcher, only to find he can't lift it as easily as he expected. He manages to get it back in so he can resume walking towards the battlefield. He might still have some small additional contribution to make. A well-timed missile might be able to provide a distraction, like that dragon monster someone summoned. He will watch, and wait, and see.

Nathan Hall (168) has posed:
    Getting away from that bite wasn't easy. Nathan had to scramble onto his feet on the creature, leaping forward and diving off of it while Kalameet's jaws slammed around it. He de-summoned it in time, at least, but now he needs to fly under his own power. But, at least, now he has that. "Stay in the ash where you belong." Nathan says, still venomous but at least he's keeping his monotone now. Then he gets to see Kimiko's well-crafted trap immobilize the dragon further... Hopefully, at least.

    He manages an uneasy hover. Once more, his actual offensive output is minimal compared to the others; all he can do is throw a tremendous variety of different powers at Kalameet and hope that it sticks and can support the others. He makes use of his STORMS IN FALL ability now. There's no shortage of ash in the Kiln, and by raising it high, high up, chilling it with his storm abilities, and condensing water he's generated around it, he has crafted an array of what essentially amounts to sky needles, smaller versions of those pillars that are familiar to anyone who saw the burning of the Drasillum and the bombing of Damcyan.

    He goes right for the links in the chains. By slamming the ice needles onto Kalameet from above, he can crush their form into his immortal scales. It won't pierce them by any means, but they'll lodge inconveniently, fastening the chains directly to his body. More needles can reinforce it. Maybe it'll only manage a tiny bit of extra efficiency to the attack, but that's enough. Leave nothing to chance. Cripple him in every way possible. Start with chains, end with dismemberment.

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    Swift as she may be even in heavy plate, there is little Amalthea can do against an opponent vastly larger than she, that... Disregards ger entirely. And for all the frustration this would usually cause her, there is no snarl from the unicorn. No curse nor guttural growl of irritation.
    She can be patient.
    For she too like Kalameet is a creature not bound by the fetters of time, and it is perhaps in this moment Amalthea's unhurried turn proves that like any other immortal, she does not rush.
    She may move swiftly, yes, but that is not the same as rushing.
    It is perhaps, for Lezard and Kimiko that she had waited to act. the binds of the realms both physical and immaterially mystical, as Emiya Shirou cripples the beast... By the rules and laws of nature, this would be the time to strike, the time at which a predator would bear down on fallen maimed prey. But Kalameet is no beast of prey. Even if he were thrice bound and thrice maimed the endless dragon is every bit as much a predator even yet. More than a predator, in fact, for no predator can face down a living force of nature.
    She still yet follows, and she is still yet swift; keeping pace and position to follow Psyber's lead, lance at the ready.
    She can wait for it.

Xiaomu (707) has posed:
"Feh ... final bosses always cheat, don't they?" Xiaomu snarks quietly as she scrambles away from Kalameet again - not staying by Reiji's side, but heading towards a spot across the Kiln from her partner. She needed to reload anyway, but something else is going to have to come first. Kalameet's regenerating too aggressively for them to keep many dents in its health, especially like this. But Staren already demonstrated that the really big guns DO have an impact, and between Lezard and Kimiko, Kalameet's mobility should be heavily restricted.

Time to capitalize on the advantage while it's there. Xiaomu reaches her position, directly across from Reiji, and draws her staff from its spot on her back; she slams its butt down against the rock, rings jangling loudly enough that it can't possibly be just a PHYSICAL ringing.

It resonates with Reiji's will, with the power he's calling up from the ancient stone and structures, and the very air rings as the sage fox's power doesn't merely amplify Reiji's, but harmonizes with it, like filling in the notes in a chord.

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    the beast is crippled, bound, and dragged to the gound where those more capable can engage him. Shirou exhales, his body returning to its resting position in the natural followthrough... and his consciousness properly returning. There's no need to verify that the shot struck true. there is now, only, thoughts of what to do next

    The moment is frozen in his mind, surreally drawn out in a confounding way. The threat is gone. For just one moment, a part of him feels like they already have achieved victory and there's no need to press further.

    In truth though, that moment is about 0.3 seconds long.

    "What in the--" It's not enough to just trap Kalameet in space. shirou gapes as kimiko STRANGLES HIM FROM THE SKY with far, FAR too many chains.

    Whoah.

    And down the dragon goes, into the waiting jaws of the others.

    Shirou feels neither satisfaction at this job well done or contempt for the Dragon. A slight bit of pity, maybe, but that won't last long. he earned the beatdown he's hopefully now in for.

    only a few seconds later does the trut TERROR of that creature settle back in. de-winged and flightless he might be, but Kalameet still has that all-destroying eye and his incredibly endurance. "This is why I wish Gwyn had joined the effort... we could have used the help." His gaze falls across PSyber's new sword. He's been wondering what that package had been, and now he knows. But looking upon it too much gives him a bit of a headache.

    Should he even bother to rain more destruction down? nothing will match that previous shot. Not without endangering everyone down there. And yet..

    "My body... is made of swords!"

    Shirou raises his hand anyways. Above him, forged from bolts of prana, a dozen wondrous blades form... and rocket down at the grounded dragon's backside!

Priscilla has posed:
    Such is the folly of shock and awe. In obliterating all present in a fit of rage the last and only time they had met, Kalameet knows almost nothing about the extent of their powers. They have faced this foe before, and have had plenty of time to research, prepare, train, simulate, build, marshal, rig and cast, but his familiarity with their ways of war is limited to the few seconds they had to evade him before destruction. He had been right in assuming Kimiko's perch conspicuous, but no idea of the scope of what she had prepared in all of this time. Though it's anyone's guess if this creature even /can/ feel fear, there is contempt no longer in the voices that echo from every crunch of its talons, even as it looks upon such plain and ordinary blades.

    Of course, now he is forced to defend himself, and thus the attack no longer has the benefit of being ignored. Despite his utterly gargantuan size, Kalameet lunges from pillar to pillar more like a jaguar than a lizard, rearing and smashing aside titanic chains with earth shattering lashes of his tail and blows of his claws, rending and tearing them with his horns and teeth, and blasting them aside with wild flashes of his eldritch eye. The air around him quickly becomes a storm of twisting, veering, shredding and flying metal, echoing like an avalanche of tumbling broken glass, but sooner or later, one chain finds its hold, and like falling dominoes, the rest follow suit, intercepted in steadily fewer and fewer numbers, until finally the Puella Magi utters that single decree, and the great enemy is sent streaking ground like a meteor, cratering with all the vindictive force of her resolution.

    Having been present for the entire preparation of this girl's particular plan, Solaire takes his cue. Even over the sky-quaking roar of rage that resounds from the jagged peaks below, the newly re-annointed demigod of war's call to battle can be heard like a clarion, and on Kimiko's signal, he throws his arm forward and countless hundreds of lances fill the air, converging into a buzzing swarm of steel, interspersed with the deafening whipcrack of firing siege bows and mangonels adding their heavy shots to the barrage. The Knight's backhand flashes with a peal of thunder, and is filled not with a bolt of flickering lightning, but a coruscating spear of incandescent sunlight, followed by a second volley of godly lightning from the knights, Tomoe's nordic spellcasting, Shirou's traced blades and Nathan's icy needles as it is hurled from his grasp.

    The edge of the tower explodes right next to Kimiko as Kalameet briefly gains and then loses sight of her, narrowly absorbed by her Abstractum's barrier drivers, but under the thundering fusillade of Gwyn's and the accompanying army, it's all the dragon can do to fight free of the chains, one painstaking link at a time as they are fastened to its scales over and over again; the pillar of ash and smoke kicked by by the never ending impacts and its own regeneration obscuring it completely from sight, flashing from within quite literally like a thundercloud.

    By the time the last link is broken, Kalameet emerges from the wreck in a state that can only be described as shredded. Having abandoned the use of wings to focus his regeneration on the countless impalements and blasted craters that riddle his body, it's clear the number of wounds he's taken would have already bled a true, living, breathing dragon to death ten times over by now, but those assembled have no such mercy as being tasked to fight a gold hoarding reptile.

Priscilla has posed:
    The second roar reaches a volume that is actually damaging to human hearing, rattling loose stones free of ledges. Falling short of the king of the hill, the dragon settles on crashing through with blind fury, smashing the structure's supports from beneath. Tower after tower explodes into cruciform waves of fire, knight archers, fortifications and siege weapons consumed in turn. Those knights that storm to the ground with swords and axes, thundering forth at incredible speed and throwing themselves deftly into the fray with fearless abandon, are slaughtered through in a whirlwind of obsidian teeth and talons for ever blow they land with their superhuman strength and skill, seemingly as if they know that only by sacrificing their comrades will they gain any purchase. No longer focusing on any one enemy, the ground around Amalthea detonates, then Psyber, and then the air around Lezard and the tower around Shirou and Tomoe, flashing off like striking missiles. Every enemy at every range is now a target.

Psyber (253) has posed:
    He's on the ground.

    In an instant, Psyber surges forward, letting lose like a dog off the leash. He charges in towards Kalameet with a newfound sense of purpose. Trailing Amalthea at his heels, more likely than not, the half-angel pushes forward to open up his assault.

    He's waited long enough and he wants a piece of the action that others have gotten to participate in. He lunges forward with his blade in hand, making no mention of its special power yet. That surprise, in particular, will be for later.

    He says nothing to Kalameet, instead seeking to making his intent clear with swooping heavy strikes of the greatsword. He's probing for angles of attack rather than damage, making his initial approach to find where the scales are strongest so he knows where not to hit.

Lezard Valeth has posed:
Lezard seems to be intent on maintaining the binding, allowing others to savage Kalameet while he continues to feed power to the obelisks for the ritual. It's the only power source in this area he can depend on, so that's what he's using.

It's when the air explodes when Kalameet tries to desperately escape his binding that Lezard is forced on the defensive. There is a sudden flare of light as the detonation impacts a magical barrier around the Sorceror, moments before it breaks and hurls him off of the edge of the Kiln. He grunts as he hits one of the spiked parapets, flesh scraping on ash-coated Titanite as he gets a grip and pulls himself back up onto the perch. Slightly less dignified, but no less intent, Lezard wipes some blood from his brow as he scowls. "Thrash and scream all you wish, Kalameet! Remember our names as you are cast into the eternal darkness! It shall be engraved upon your very soul! AHAHAHAHAHA!"

The momentarily reduced flow of power surges back, hot and angry as Lezard pours energy into it as if he can cause the beast harm simply by willing it hard enough.

Well, he could but this isn't the right kind of spell for it. He's holding so people can hit the bastard where it hurts.

So he's a vindictive jerk. How is this news to anyone?

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    ... but that's enough time spent mourning. Though Mizuki does not blame Kalameet, and indeed, may be more 'sympathetic' to him than any others here, there's no sense in letting this continue on any longer than it has to. This battle seems far from done, and she had assumed the group would've had him in his death throes by now -- cue enough for her to start adding what she can to the fight. Even the General has been doing so, steadily, whether out of his attention to strategy or his rage (or both, for she is not sure if logic and anger are even so cleanly separated for him), so she has very little excuse. That said, she finally moves closer to the battlefield now, her form becoming more solid as she approaches the group. She draws her sword just in case, wielding her shield in the opposite hand. At long last, she's ready.

    She glares at Kalameet. Earlier she had said that mercy is the luxury of the strong, but so too is kindness the luxury of the satisfied. If one does not have food to eat, they will not have the mental capacity to decide right and wrong. They will not have the privilege of philosophical quandary. It is so easy for her to overlook this being who she is, what she is, but so, too, is it easy for other humans to do the same. Are surety and control 'needs' for Kalameet as food and water are for people? ... if so, is it really her place to judge him against a moral metric? Can a moral metric even be applied to a creature who predates such conepts entirely? These questions wrack her minds, but they do not stay her hand: with each argument and juxtaposition, a new sphere of diluted reality gathers around her.

    As before, the sphere thins into tendrils, but these tendrils snake toward Kimiko, Amalthea, Psyber, and all other frontline fighters in the group. Assuming they do not do something to prevent this, the strands will form a literal 'conceptual barding' around them -- armor that does not exist in reality but that shows very clearly on their bodies. It does nothing to hinder their movement, but should give them all the enhanced defense of lead. At the same time, she loads yet more energy into her sword, allowing her focus to distribute hastening effects to each person impacted by the tendrils.

    This all looks much more impressive than it really is. All it's intended to do is to bolster the defenses of all those it comes into contact with whilst speeding up their movements and attacks at the same time. Hopefully it will do more good than her hacking away at Kalameet more directly would.

Nathan Hall (168) has posed:
    Nathan dives down low. Nathan and Psyber are a well-synchronized, utterly in-tune team. Before there was tension, there was friction. For a little while, things might not have worked together so well. But right now, things will work just fine. Nathan is very effective at two things, when it comes to using his Hastur magic, which has been left unused tonight. One of them is altering terrain, and the other is creating constructs in very close proximity to him.

    He doesn't try to participate in the offensive here, not really. No, instead he works to function in tandem with Psyber. Kimiko is already drained enough after that powerful attack, most likely. So Nathan moves in to provide some cover. He winds up just behind Psyber, keeping Psyber between himself and any counterattacks with swift movements back and forth, but also summoning simple pillars between swiping claws or vicious teeth and his ally. Whenever the ground shows that lava-like discoloration that makes it seem like there'll be an eye-based counterattack, Nathan intends to summon just such a pillar under Psyber himself, to let him leap up and out of the way most easily.

    He'll also do this as soon as Reiji and Xiaomu initiate their... Particular technique. Give Psyber an extra boost that can let him have a few more seconds to scope out his objective.

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    There is no joy in her success, only determination to see her task through to its completion. Another near-miss, this time barely blocked off by Koishin, could have killed her--but does not, and a grounded dragon will have much more difficulty finding a vantage point from which to hit Kimiko cleanly, if for no other reason than that it grounded by Psyber and Amalthea.

    The chains break, one after another, and the process overall was taxing in the extreme. Never has she attempted such far-reaching control, but never had she a stage upon which to try. Countless bits of unusable wreckage remain of her painstakingly-created trap, used up in moments after so much preparation. However, not all is gone, and she can feel that there is yet more she can do--even if it means needing purification afterward, even after using the chips Sayuri always (quite rightly) insisted she carry with her.

    The damage to her position has cut off part of her network. There are failsafes, alternate paths, but many of those have also been destroyed in Kalameet's struggle. With Reiji ordering motion, and her uncertain as to how far is safe, Kimiko has yet another cause for picking herself up and relocating as quickly as possible. Her leaps across the struts are quick and accurate, showing no concern for the weight of her armor in the process. She's swift enough, with Mizuki's assitance, that it won't take her too long to reach another nexus of her trap's network. Once there, the yet unused, undamaged godmetal will flow along the ground toward the wounded Dragon of Calamity. The sluggishness of its flow betrays both her caution and her otherwise unseen exhaustion.

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe would take hearing damage if she was there in person even via her avatar it's painful and the dampers don't doo much to halt the entirely of the pain she can only guess what it would be like otherwise. Her spell seems to have done some help but it's not enough at all to stop this thing. How do you stop something like this? The ritual is starting and she gets the warning. she knows she's just meat but that's enough they needed. She now chants again as she dances back enchanting her blade with light then comes Mizuki's buff spell and that's going to be something she can make use of.

She now starts hitting and running against the dragon using Dawn Breaker as she tries to get it's attention.

Reiji Arisu has posed:
    Kalameet is bound. He is where he must be, and so Reiji begins, his eyelids falling shut. "Anyone who is still in the Kiln," he calls into the radio, "Evacuate immediately."

    Reaching out into the myriad threads that link him to the spell, he sets the gears into motion. "O' Four Symbols that stand vigil over the world. O' guardian gods of this plane," his voice intones, reverberating across the channels that weave through the kiln, "Answer my call."

    All across the titanite framework that wreathes the Kiln, a great network of mystical symbols flare and activate, cycling across the cardinal directions. Black in the north fades to blue in the east, which brightens to a warm, burnt red in the south before fading to a pale white in the west. It comes back around, darkening, blackening, in the far north. Enormous glyphs blaze at the far points of the compass rose. A Wolf in the North, a Hawk in the East, Wasp in the South, and a Lion in the West.

    They thrum with power. Energy floods through the remainder of the array. Reiji presses his hands together as if in prayer, "Bachi-Ro Shu-Chi." Wasp and Wolf Encircle the Earth. And following perfectly from Reiji's initial call, Xiaomu's voice rings out, "Taka-Shi-Ten-Shou!!" (similarly translated by the Multiverse, "Hawk and Lion Ascend into Heaven") as the sorcerous pattern flares into life, glowing from the Kiln's rocky floor. And then the incantation continues... "Awaken now the power of all creation."

    As Xiaomu completes the invocation, Reiji's eyes fly open, burning with inner light. "I invoke the Supreme Ultimate, the Two Forms, the Four Phenomenon," he bellows as the sigil etched itself into the earth awakens, a great, enormous array of glowing symbols and signs blazes to life. "The EIGHT TRIGRAMS."

    At the very center of the kiln a great circle emerges, divided into two flowing teardrops, one black, one white, each carrying part of the other within itself. Beyond that, a series of eight blocks consisting of three lines each, each broken or whole, each holding the significance of one of nature's great aspects.

Reiji Arisu has posed:
    "KEN," Reiji begins. One of the sigils blazes-- HEAVEN blazes. "DA," Lake, Xiaomu continues as that trigram shines. Heat builds. The wind BLOWS. The stagnant, choking atmosphere that had choked this place for so long suddenly begins to move again.

RI - SHIN - SON - KAN - GON

Fire. Thunder. Wind. Water. Mountain.

    With each intonation, the inside of the kiln begins to brighten. Each trigram flares to life in sequence as the onmyoji and his vulpine partner weave their magical skills and power into the tapestry of forces. The great Taiji begins to turn, drawing the dragon into the air just over the center of the kiln. Power floods into the array, drawing upon the very nature of this place as the genesis of an entire world to complete the ritual. A single spark of power winks into existence, blazing bright- IMPOSSIBLY bright, but it's not merely light. It's a nascent mote of creation, infinite and impossible and infinitely unlikely, but defiant and self-evident none-the-less. And with the final word, one final KON delivered by an ancient spirit in her own right, EARTH blazes to life and array is complete, the invoked forces converging in a cage of raw elemental force. At its core, the spark reaches completion as well.

"Ignite!" Reiji thunders. "Shijin Shinka Hakke Jin!"

And expands to fill the world--

    Except, no. The forge is limited. All the power of a newly born universe is arrested as the great guardian-ring, the array of the Four Symbols suddenly leaps from its titanite prison and surrounds the growing sphere. It draws in, forcing the power of a universe's genesis into an orb that is so infinitely small by comparison that it is beyond even comprehension.

    At its center- at the center of this Eight Trigram Furnace, reinforced by the power of the closest this world has to the Four Great Symbols-- Kalameet would find itself subject to the power of Genesis. The might of the kiln, filtered through the lens of this ancient sorcery, is turned to producing a forge capable of reducing all things to fundamental fragments of matter and energy.

Truly, a Kiln of Creation.

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    one moment shirou's just standing there. The next there's an EXPLOSION nearby, hot wind ripping at his lungs, and the ground... oh dear.

    "wha--AAAWUGHH--" DOWN Shirou goes, forced to LEAP off the precipice instead of deal with the ground falling to pieces beneath him. The trouble is... now he's in freefall, high in the sky. No way he'll survive if he hits the ground...

    But he has a plan at least, even if he did come up with it about two seconds after committing to it. "Darn it, this is nuts!"

    PAnicked, Shirou projects the only thing he CAN in this situation. Vruasa Telash's AERODYNAMIC ROCKET SHOCKSPEAR! Which...

    Which he sort of just HOLDS ON TO from below when the thing ignites. Jets of flame periodically scorch across his back from all the momentum and swinging around but at least Shirou's using this method to gain some CONTrol over his fall, now forced into this weird clumsy spiraling manuever!

    But shirou wrenches his direction around, haphazardly aiming his plummet down towards the battlegrounds! Another image is forming in his mind... but the question is... should he risk it? That... truly is a monster.

    But as Reiji starts unleashing one hell of an assault that boggles the boy's mind... he veers away with a yell.

    Yeah, maybe staying away is better for the moment!

Staren has posed:
    Staren is already away. He's not back to the forge yet... and he doesn't think he can really contribute to Reiji and Xiaomu's plan. So for the moment, he stays away.

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    Amalthea really did have the right idea for the day in wearing her heaviest armor. Still chasing at Psyber's heels, as the ground suddenly erupts all around her.
    Amalthea- for all her weight and bulk, is soundly hoisted into the air, landing in the dust and ash, armor near molten, and dented terribly. She rides- a plate of ablative steel shears off, revealing the next layer beneath as she staggers to her feet, expression still calm and serene...
    Though Mizuki grants her the boons of speed and endurance, Amalthea still does not move in to make an attack, a clear look of weighty consideration wrought upon her face.

Priscilla has posed:
    In this state, there isn't anyone or anything that Kalameet will not attack. Even if it was planned, as the battle descends into cacophonous chaos, and the battlefield into a hellstorm of fire and light, steel and ash, blood and stone, his fury only seems to grow, as if the conceptual nature of the fight becoming calamitous in of itself somehow empowers him. The front third of the Kiln's defensive network has been caved in entirely, reduced to so much rubble in the wake of his rampage, as hundreds of slain knights lay scattered around like toys. The main tower itself is becoming riddled with holes as blast after blast hammers through it, making it structurally unsound on multiple levels. The center of it all is a swirling maelstrom of souls as Kalameet carves through enemy after enemy, encircling him in a whirlpool of spiritual energy. Antagonized by Lezard and unable to further tolerate his binds, the magical obelisks are next, each blown sky high in rattling sequence so that the dragon may turn his overflowing ire upon the sorcerer directly.

    Psyber presents himself as a problem before he can, as does the previously harmless Mizuki. The former demands his attention for being in position to cause substantial harm, and so with a great sweep of his tail as he whirls about, Kalameet sends the knights before him leaping backwards to avoid it. It isn't clear whether he perceives the half-angel as a greater threat, or simply hates him more, but Psyber is getting no free test shots. Though he lands shallow blows here and there, more commonly around the back of the legs, inner stomach and mid-neck, the dragon is more than happy to retaliate with flurries of furious strikes of its own, attempting to simply crush and overpower swings of the sword with perpendicular applications of force. Every time it looks as if he might have a clear, fatal shot on the Hunter himself, Nathan pulls it out from under him, and so subsequently, one last strike is aimed directly for the Librarian himself, hitting with the same kind of locomotive force that had slain Amalthea before. Before he can even go further than that, Tomoe is upon him as well, and receives the same level of staggering violence in return; even the motions of the non-weapon parts of his body being forceful enough to kill. It handily distracts him from both Kimiko's escape and her regathering of power, but Tomoe, and even Psyber, aren't likely to win in a direct confrontation fighting like this.

    Or perhaps, all they need to do is buy time. Hearing Reiji's signal, Solaire cries the order again across the battlements, and the knights begin to withdraw, a quarter of their forces destroyed, but having given as good as they've gotten; the only army that has dared stand against the Black Dragon of Calamity until now. So consumed by bloodlust is he, that it isn't until the last foe has left the reach of his claws that Kalameet even becomes capable of noticing the trap he has become the lynchpin in. The flash of light glitters towards Reiji and Xiaomu, but the screech that should follow a split second later is already cut off by the world-shattering boom.

    Invoking the four Knights of Gwyn had been a work of special arcane art, compiled through weeks of research into Lordran's history and recombination of existing magic. While here, especially within the Kiln, the four directions and their associated elements hold little sway, the names of those that embody some of their tenets have been carved deeply into the earth, and their deeds and natures even deeper into the very conceptual bones of this conflict. At the throne of Gwyn's power, with his legions of Knights, his own son, and against their hated nemesis, at the behest of heroes finally matched in the old Lord of the gods' singular goal of wiping out this one, final enemy, the invocation is at the peak of its power, and the energies latent in the kiln of all creation only multiply it.

Priscilla has posed:
    None present have the scarcest ability to perceive what goes on within that chain reaction, so thoroughly does it blind and deafen every sense before its incomprehensible might. The dunes of ash all across the mountains rocket into the air as the shockwave passes through them, old towers crumbling on the spot and jagged rocks rupturing into pieces. Even the sky itself seems to flicker, the hazy light of the permanently obscured 'sun' seeming to brighten for just a few seconds. The dragon makes no dramatic, malevolent entry from the smoke and ruins this time. The dust has almost settled by the time it is visible again, charred halfway down to a glossy, obsidian skeleton, like living crystal etched with maddening designs.

    Before the assembled's eyes, the layers of muscle, skin and scales begin to reform over the almost annihilated beast, slowly but surely piecing its physical form back together from its template of immortality. " . . . go on . . . fight tooth and claw and nail . . . scrabble and thrash and bleed . . . swing your blades until they shatter . . . fire your bows until the last arrow leaves your quivers . . . and cast your spells until your souls are consumed . . . cry before your gods . . . decree your justice and your passion and your dreams of the future you see . . . and die as every one of them before you . . . broken puppets in service to the ego of a coward . . . loosed as bolts from the string of ancient impotent vengeance . . . and consumed in ignorance of the true design . . . just as the knights . . . just as the Lords . . . and just as the Undead . . . "

    No further explanation will be provided, not in the least because this is the moment at which Oscar finally arrives. It would be easy to pin his suicidal bravery as one who knows that this is his last battle as an immortal, but then he's never been without it. Out through a window he goes, over scores of crumbling ledges, past a jungle of melted pillars, and straight onto the dragon's back, plunging the enchanted sword as deep into the scales as it will go. Leaping and tumbling to and fro, warding the beast's mad thrashing off with his shield and laying about with his blade of simple steel, the gesture seems inspiring but futile until Kalameet freezes, and then in an attempt to roar, lets loose a slurry of dark, black blood from his jaws. Priscilla appears at his side, at her full, towering size, still diminutive next to the dragon, but large enough to drive her scythe upward into his flank, and instantly halt all of his regeneration as the Lifehunt strips away all definitions of what it means to be immortal. A blurring flash of claws hurls her aside, shredding through her hair and the bandages still covering her face, fluttering to the ground where they burn up on contact, but the deed is done.

    Oscar slashes one more time into the base of the dragon's neck and dismounts. Priscilla vanishes into the aether with a single cry of "Go!". Kalameet rears back on his hind legs, devours the lingering energy of creation with a single, monstrous inhalation, and then the mountainside is consumed with golden black fire, spilling down the peaks and slopes and multiplying like an avalanche, growing higher, hotter and fiercer, until the encroaching wall of self-annihilating Dark and Fire threatens to wipe out the whole group at once.

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe is upon the Dragon for what it's worth after all when he seems to have been able to score a few hits for what it's worth she's finging the attacks some of the most brutal she's ever found. This is why she's just hitting and running to try and tank it normally? Hell she's not even sure if she's safe from this thing's power behind her avatar. Which really makes her wonder but the ritual is starting she knows it's under way.

"Even then we'll throw the bow at you. There's a tale on my world of the last dragon and the knight who felled it."

She hears the thing's word or is it more she feels it? She does not know about this alien being but she understands the message.

She sees the hell that's about to be unleasherd she does not know what it's going to do to her she does not know, but she charge with the mourning wall. Thoughts go through her mind she's just a fake a mimicary that has some substance yes but she's not what anyone else here facing this beast. She doesn't care at this point she launches herself and makes use of every ability she has which can reduce the damage she takes as she moves trying to intercvept hte Dragon's mind boggling attack and she interposes herself direcly in it's way.

"YOUR NOT GETTING THEM LIZARD!"

But for the effect on Tomoe who knows the impact is brutal and she vanishes from sight, did she go down? Did it somehow feedback and fry her actual form?

Amalthea (395) has posed:
    Amalthea has thus far been patient. She has waited. She has not struck, nor dealt a single blow, despite the literal titanic force brought to bear against Kalameet by her allies- a force that he takes and takes and takes and still comes.
    She has made her decision. The time to wait is over. She shall act now.
    The unicorn stops... No longer physically giving chase. No longer moving, but simply staring at the massive dragon with that lone eye, endless and blue, the very color of the sea.
    Wishblade is dropped. The ancient and most revered lance of Tellius, once wielded by the hero Levail, clatters to the ground. Amid the chaos of Kalameet's fury, her allies and the knights facing off against it... Amalthea lowers to her knees, beginning to shrug off her armor. Unclasping buckles, letting her cloak fly off on the wind, that eye closes as she strips herself of armor and weapon, even gently setting her cherished sword Faith to the ground, ignoring the blazing heat all about her.
    There is nothing she can do in the face of this raging force of nature set against them.
    And it is because there is nothing she can do... That she can hope.
    Hope is not a grandiose thing. It is not a blazing beacon of what is right and just, no. Hope is little more than a spark. Nothing greater than the faint flickering light of a candle guttering defiantly against a hurricane. Hope is a fragile, cherished, thing that when borne in the most righteous heart, cannot be killed.
    Once again that eye opens, but when it does, the resounding pulse of a heartbeat begins, a palpable thrum, gentle and calm, but strong and full of life, every beat of her heart gathers that fragile, almost pathetic desire for this one moment of simply praying to hold off the endless tide of Kalameet's rage, as she gives of herself something she has not let another have for a very, very, long time.
    "Psyber. I give of myself to you, something that I do not relinquish triflingly... I entrust you with the most precious thing I could give any man, mortal or greater. If there is but anything your heart truly desires in this one moment, state it now before I may yet change my mind."

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    It's not a matter of Kimiko catching her breath, so much as it is one of her being drained of a finite resource, that limit on how much impurity she can take without death. And yet, her duty is incomplete. Therefore, she continues.

    As her vision returns following the blinding flash of Kalameet meeting all the energy of a world's gensis, a thing only partially blocked by the opaque steel of the helmet she wasn't wearing a moment ago, the trail of seemingly-living metal continues to flow, quickening now in her haste to reach the target in time, knowing how little can truly be given, and how swiftly some of her allies may reenter close combat, with the dragon yet standing.

    Worse, there comes the fire, and her armor will not defend against it.

    Beneath Kimiko, the ground--that which should be hard, solid, still-cooled titanite--swells and lifts her up, riding the flat side of the chain's blade-end as it moves forward. She cannot hope to recreate her trap, nor to move it into position, nor to drag the dragon to meet it. Instead, again kneeling to better her concentration, she now rushes in on her own, yet dragging as much of the structures she passes with her as she can, wreckage included, feeding it into her charge before the fire can claim it from her.

    The height will let her survive a little longer. The few bladed-chains she is able to still contribute launch forth as if to bind, but truly only to distract, obstructing Kalameet's vision if not turning the dragon's face, all to provide protection for those--herself included--who are closest to the Calamity's wrath.

Xiaomu (707) has posed:
Xiaomu leans heavily on her staff after the triggering of the Shijin Shinka Hakke Jin, and looks down at the results. It seems terribly appropriate to her, at every level, that the Dragon of Calamity should be burned in the Kiln of Creation. And even in her Phantom form, that took a lot out of her. She watches the fires ...

And sees Kalameet beginning to regenerate, even from that. "Oh, wow, are you kidding us?" she grumbles, then looks across the Kiln at Reiji. Psyber's getting ready to do his thing, but the weaker Kalameet is, the better ... and the sage-fox of Shinra may be weary but she's not totally tapped out yet.

"Right. Time to revoke this lizard's IM privileges. HWA-CHAAAAAAA!!!"

She leaps from her ledge, falling down all the tiers to alight just above Kalameet's charred not-quite-remnants, then thrusts her right hand out at the roasted dragon. "Senko Youjutsu: Kimon Fuuji!!" Sage Fox Sorcery: Demon Gate Seal ...

"XIAOMU .... WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAVE!!!!"

Magical power flares in her extended palm, and a fresh eight-trigrams formation flares into being beneath Kalameet - nowhere near as massive as the array she and Reiji unleashed, but powerful enough to contain Kalameet in his weakened state, and to let her allies lash out at him with a reduced fear of reprisals. Especially, although not remotely limited to, Reiji's usual elemental combination ...

Reiji Arisu has posed:
    Reiji and Xiaomu unleash the full power of creation itself. But as the dust clears, it becomes abundantly obvious that even that was not enough. The dragons of this world are truly monstrous. Immortal beyond all measure. Reiji's lips form a thin line as he stands and retrieves his array of weapons--

    --Only to see, out of the corner of his eye, something that should not occur. The Dragon of Calamity, taking in the lingering motes of creation's power, twisting it to his own end.

    The world fills with the castigating flames of disaster. Reiji hisses in pain as it crests to the top of the kiln. His body, flesh and bone rather than mere spirit, screams in agony as the fire scorches his form-- and bites even deeper than that.

Against the tremendous power of calamity, the spirital might of the Arisu bloodline is put to the test.

    There's only one recourse now. Their actions bought the others precious time-- gave them the opportunity to do what must be done. Now, Shinra must give its aid one more time.

"Xiaomu," Reiji bellows through the flame, "Let's move! This thing..."

    The exorcist growls as he leaps from his perch, Karin exploding from its sheath and swallowing the dragon's own fire as it cuts a fiery crescent through the air, "This creature is not the only one who can harness the power of creation!"

    Reiji waits for the signal-- waits for Xiaomu to begin the attack. The pits of his eyes suddenly throb with inner power as the dregs of the Eight Trigram Furnace's power flows in with each breath. He tosses his weapons out from their sheathes, letting them tumble through the air alongside him. Only once he's dangerously close to the ash does his hand snatch out for one amongst them.

Hollywood.

This could only mean one thing.

    "WOOD--," Reiji thunders as he pulls his shotgun's trigger. Clouds of expanding, enchanted shrapnel bloom through the air, directed at the great, half-regenerated dragon. Each shot slows his fall and allows him to line up the next strike. Karin, the red blade swathed in dragonflame and elemental fire comes next, hewing a blow down at Kalameet's freshly healed wounds, "--Feeds FIRE!"

    The others move in. Reiji gives room for Psyber to do what he must as he rolls through the ash, the remaining energy of his fall dispersing into the kiln's blasted earth. "FIRE--" he bellows, swinging one last time with the burning blade before allowing it to fall into the ash, snatching the smaller sword out of the air to replace it, "--Returns all to the EARTH!" Chirai unleashes a terrible shockwave of force, arcs of lightning leaping from the blade's edge as Reiji rakes it over and over into the Dragon's form, his burnt muscles and blasted nerves screaming desperately for him to stop. He does not.

He yells.

    "EARTH--" Chirai, too, its fury exhausted, is left to fall away. Reiji reaches around his back, snatching Gold from his hips. He kneels in the ash at an oblique angle from the dragon's jaw and pulls the trigger. "--BEARS METAL!" Bolt after bolt, slug after slug erupts from the handgun, until at last the clip is spent, but...

"XIAOMU," Reijis roars into the sky, "GO!"

Xiaomu (707) has posed:
Xiaomu stops channeling her ward, but it'll hold a few seconds longer - and she's got one more thing to do. She leaps, drawing her sword from her staff as she finishes, "And METAL channels WATER!!" Suiren slices through Kalameet's charred and regenerating flesh, adding a mass of sorcerous ice along the way before Xiaomu leaps clear, sheathing her sword.

"Shinra ..." The hilt clicks home. "... BANSHOU!!"

And the five elements' force *ERUPTS*, eating away further into Kalameet's existence with the weaponized power of All Things Under Heaven.

Lezard Valeth has posed:
The detonation of the Kiln and opening of the Eight Trigrams is very impressive... Even to Lezard, who has a certain... bias in his sorcery. Thankfully, he had teleported himself away from the Kiln before the ritual completed, preventing him from being caught in the conflagaration.

He makes a mental note: Don't let them set up if he ever has to fight them.

Besides that, however, Kalameet obliterates the obelisks he was using as a ritual focus, and his own bindings upon Kalameet vanish. "This is why I told them to priotize the Eye..." Lezard grates. However, this /does/ free him up to engage in alternative pursuits. "It is far too late for you, Dragon!" Lezard calls out as he reappears on the opposite end of the Kiln. He prepares to strike, but the flare of Amalthea's own power stays his hand, causing him to flinch back for a moment. "Ggh... Well then..." He says, staying back well out of the way of what Amalthea and Psyber are about to do.

He has a feeling he wants to have /absolutely none/ of what's about to happen to that dragon.

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    Shirou again changes course once the beatdown has again commenced. Inspired by Oscar's display, he is determined to get in one more good shot at Kalameet and settle this once and for all. he will NOT hang back like a coward just because he's ten times more frail than the others here.

    How can he try to be a hero... and do that?

    So as he swoops in above the dragon, he angles himself perfectly... and commits everything he's got to a strike from above! Releasing his grasp on the Rocketspear, the boy plummets dangerously... but his hand's outstretched. "UuuuuuuuuaaaaaaaGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHH!!" Power flares WILDLY from his two outstretched hands for ONE MORE PROJECTION. This one... is huge.

    An enormous slab of rock carved into a shape vaguely caught between a sword and a club, the whole thing is, in fact, larger than Shirou's whole body. Yet the boy has lots of prana available and has been training hard, over and again. he has one single method left to use and it depends on this HUGE SWORD.

    Prana sizzles through his skin, muscle, bone, and tone, every ligament and every fiber. The weak, human arm that should not be capable of making that weapon move... raises it high as he falls.

    And in the moment he nears Kalameet's head...

    The image of nine revolver hammers cock back in his mind... and fire at once.The strength of Heracles, drawn from an analysis of the weapon's history, is his for one brief moment.

    And he uses that moment once. "Set... NINE LIVES BLADE WORKS!"

    The rock-sword's brough forth like a screaming drill in a smashing arc, its passage mighty enough that a shockwave of wind kicks up the ground. But it's not one strike. The motion is a nearly invisible blur of cascading strikes, seemingly overlapping and executed in almost the same instant. No human arm should be capable of such motion!

    But the impact force is unmistakable. It's the power to crack a mountain, bowl over a freight train!

    And the backlash is enough to send SHirou FLYING away should it hit in a rather ugly fashion towards a pile of ash.

Nathan Hall (168) has posed:
    Nathan can support Psyber, but he unfortunately can't take a hit himself. One attack from Kalameet and Nathan would be a smear. Psyber is how he handles that sort of situation. That's why he's expecting Psyber to shield him. In fact, it's his default state. Things are better now. Trust is restored, they are in sync. And so, when an attack comes swinging around at Nathan, he backs off, with the assumption that there will be someone between him and that attack. It's the natural way of things.

    And he will evacuate himself from the area. The central area of the Kiln is not somewhere to be when that furnace is active. He has to get out. And while he's done a great deal of support so far... Yeah, this seems like it's getting a little too hot for him to handle, especially when, on his way out, he's only barely saved by Tomoe! He's going to make a break for the upper reaches of the central structure's exterior, letting the Genesis forces take hold... He listens to the skeletal voice's words. Something flickers in the glare of his glasses. "...Who are you talking about?" He mutters, his monotone breaking only one more time, this time briefly distressed. It doesn't last. His resolve pushes forward. His bitterness resurfaces.

    "Psyber. Dismember everything. Decapitate. Do not stop. I want the traitor rendered down to dust." He says, knowing that Psyber will hear this part, at least.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Mizuki almost diverts all her energy from the shields and the hastening spells to Psyber, but in the end, Amalthea has it handled. When she sees the two of them down there together, her Authorial Sense tells her that this is likely the end regardless of what she does. So she's going to do something that she's done once before: she's going to attempt to soothe the enemy. She did this with Gwyn once before, so perhaps it's ironic that she's trying to do the same thing with one of his sworn enemies, but that's neither here nor there to her. Mizuki is... she is one of those who overlooks the station between life and death, isn't she? One of those who ferries souls, whose occupation it is to soothe the departed. Once, many lifetimes ago, that's likely how she fancied herself. But now...

    ... now she's only just beginning to understand how fanciful and ridiculous that notion is. Reversing a lifetime of longing and regret with a few subtle words, a few placating gestures? It's impossible; humans are not so simple, nor are any other forms of life in Creation. Still, it had worked for Gwyn -- it had worked for Gwyn, but at least with the Lord of the Flame she had had something to work off of. 'They would carry his torch,' is the aphorism she had defaulted to. What does she have to go on here? 'Prithee, have faith as we stamp you and all that you represent out of existence?' Somehow, that does not sound anywhere near so appetizing to her. Though, perhaps, her awareness of that fact will make her ever so slightly more capable in the endeavor.

    So again, she sends her metaphysical tether to what yet remains of the world-eater. If it connects, she will try to channel the same thoughts as before: those thoughts of when he was in control, when he knew all there was to know, when he did not know how to feel fury. She will try to make his last few moments peaceful ones with what little she understands of his priorities. After all, what would it matter if she added fire to the furance? ... nothing, she does not believe. Psyber and Amalthea have this well in hand.

    ... Mizuki smiles a small smile to herself. It's quite pathetic, really, her obsession with 'happy endings'. It's quite juvenile how she thinks her concern will make the least bit of difference. Does she do this just to contrary? On, and on, and on her thoughts go, her teeth clenching deep.

Psyber (253) has posed:
    Having his synchronicity back with Nathan is like opening up a whole different side of Psyber. He moves in perfect tandem with the librarian staying behind him, each cleaving sword strike also moving his body in time to shield Nathan where necessary and occasionally gently nudge him out of the way in particularly gentle fashions. It's when flame comes down over the entire mountain that Psyber gets more aggressive, "NATE GET BEHIND ME."

    He slams the sword into the ground, standing right in front of Nathan to part the flames around the two of them and absorb all of the damage. This very moment, and that very instant, are why Psyber brought his actual body. Because flame washes over him, peeling and scorching at vast swaths of flesh as he shields the spirit form of Nathan. And the half-angel stands as firm as a boulder in the river despite it.

    It's when the flames subside that he looks over to Amalthea. For a moment, Psyber just gives her a gentle nod. He's acknowleding the gift she has granted him, but it will play into his plan later. For now, he begins marching towards the dragon, "Watch... Nathan..." He says to her quietly. That Wish will come up later.

    "Do you... remember... what I said when we were alone?" Psyber asks as he marches forward, dragging his sword behind him, staring at Kalameet, "How you'd see me again... how I would teach you mortality... how I would show you what a true monster is? Do you remember that, Calamity?" Psyber asks with a spiteful and bitter hatred to his voice. He's marching through whatever Kalameet is throwing at him and just sponging the damage like he did to Manus.

    "I said I would put you in check. I said the next time we met would be your last. You have existed for so long as the top of your food chain, but do you know... have you figured it out?" Psyber asks as he stares at the dragon. He marches forward, step after step, letting the others make their finale, "What I am... who I am? See... you're not the only immortal on this mountain. Not the only... being from a template that pre-dates time."

    "The difference is, you used your countless aeons to figure out how to be the best killer. How to refine what you were. You swelled with hatred, bloathed with power. I... I've been practicing something else. And I got GOOD at it. I became... the BEST at it. Do you know what... that was? What I learned?"

    He hoists up his sword and points it. He's deliberately paced himself to arrive just as Reiji and Xiaomu's attack is winding down and reaching its aftermath. The speech, though, happened all throughout their maneuver. A hollow and determined march, "I learned... to kill monsters. To be the BEST at killing monsters. To ENJOY killing monsters. I was a HUNTER. With bow and blade and gun and trap, I set out to bring down the worst creations existence could muster. I was a LEGEND."

    He stops and stares, "I was who the goddamn BOOGEYMAN was afraid might be under the bed."

    "But then I stopped. I retired. I became a detective. Because I thought all monsters might not deserve that. That they should be allowed their chance at lives and love. Because I realized that my war couldn't solve all of it," He admits, letting out a slow sigh, "But you... I can hunt you."

    He grins.

Psyber (253) has posed:
    Psyber lunges forward all at once, moving with all the power and speed his body can muster. His shirt has long since been burned away, he brings his sword up. In an instant, he runs past and through Kalameet, dragging the eldritch blade down one side of the creature in a deliberately shallow and painful cut. It's not meant to be remotely lethal, but to be INCREDIBLY painful. It's a hamstringing cut meant to hit the most sensitive parts of the leg and side.

    It's a slow, deliberate, and butchering cut that only a being with centuries of experience hunting massive draconic monsters would know to make. A blade stroke that pins his opponent for the longer butchering session that he and Kalameet having between the two of them. He grins a bit as he skids to a stop, stopping a hand to the ground with an almost predatory grin.

    "Do you... do you remember when you killed my best friend? Because he wanted to talk to you? To reason with you? And you just vaporized him. Well... see that guy? That guy was the one that keeps me from killing you. And you betrayed him. And he now wants you dead. He was the carrot. I'm the stick."

23%

    He darts forward again, moving like a wolf would. Circling his prey and finding the weak points, waiting for that moment of lowered guard. That weakened stumble by the prey. This is what he looks like as an actual Apex Predator, the unchained Psyber that lacks the flair or the panache, but replaces it all with a frightening level of raw efficiency. A honed and practiced killer with centuries of hunting.

    His next set of strikes are as excruciating as the last. They're aimed at his tail, the source of balance and steadiness for any such monster. Deep cuts that try to pierce to the bone in cleaving strikes. They're trying to paralyze the tail after the hamstringing cuts to the side and legs. Psyber wants this being off balance and immobilized. Helpless, in fact. He knows Kalameet can regen, but Priscilla slowed that for him and he's working meticulously.

    "You actually hurt a lot of people important to me. A family member. Some employees. No one actually died, but you sure did traumatize them. And for someone like me... a guardian angel? Well, that just made your fate... your path... clear."

52%

    He hops back and then in again. His legs propel him upwards and onto Kalameet's back where the real work can begin. Heaving the sword up over his head, Psyber begins the deliberate act of butchering the dragon alive. Cleaving and powerful downward strikes that try to carve and peel and rend at the flesh and scales, exacerbating the damage that everyone else has done.

    He has no pithy comment or unhinged statement, this time, instead wanting to simply work. By the time he hops off, he's done a lion's share of damage to the beast, scoring up and down his back and haunches with cleaving, rending strikes from that blade. The buildup of what he's doing should be near completion by that point as he walks down its back and hops off its head, flipping to land in front of it.

99%

Psyber (253) has posed:
    The half-angel smiles as he lands in front of Kalameet. Hopefully the strikes did, if he calculated, enough spinal damage to try to immobilize his opponent for the end of his speech, "But the worst thing you did was to hurt her. Oh that was when it all changed. That was when I could really stop holding back. When you committed an act so monstrous that I could show you what a Hunter can really do."

    He looks at Kalameet. He still has a Wish left from someone he considers a sister. And he stares into Kalameet's eye unflinchingly, "So. A Wish. Well, I can only think of one wish I could possibly ask for." Psyber says in a hollow tone.

    "Amalthea!" Psyber calls out, loud enough to echo in the Kiln, "Hear me! My wish is thus! I wish that this monster from outside time, devoid of emotion and empathy. I wish it could, for this one instant left in its life, feel the pain and misery it bestowed upon everyone. In this single instant, I want it to feel the centuries of pain, agony, sorrow and despair. The weight of every action. The fear, the terror. I want it to feel all of them!" He cries out, invoking a wish upon Kalameet.

    The half-angel gives Kalameet about twenty solid seconds to feel these emotions. To wallow in Psyber fulfilling his promise to deliver such emotions onto the Dragon from the start. And then he lifts up the sword again.

    With a single, powerful slash, he seeks to drag the sword right across Kalameet's one remaining eye with a powerful blow.

100%
LIFEHUNT ACTIVATE

Priscilla has posed:
    Against all odds, the wave of fire splits before the Mourning Wall; or perhaps that's exactly how it should be. As strange as it is, a videogame avatar is not constrained as much by realism as much as hard numbers. If the values align, the feat is possible, and these systems are usually grossly simplified. A pure tank is meant to absorb as much damage as possible over a long period of time, but a max level one popping all of their procs at the same time, though grossly inefficient and automatic kick-bait in a dungeon, can technically survive an absolutely absurd amount at once, and such is the case when Tomoe's defense, resistances and damage reduction skyrocket into the stratosphere. What should obliterate her instantly, as it did before, is filtered through so many multiplicative layers of mitigation that for the brief span of the shortest proc, the damage is reduced to a fractional trickle of what it should be. A trickle that is still easily enough to quickly shred through Tomoe's HP, leeching it away from the green, into the yellow, and then down into the red over the course of seconds, setting off warning alarms in her HUD as her avatar sizzles and pops with heat, but just as she sinks to a terrifying four hit points, the fire abates; its breather having no knowledge of a cooldown time, and so assuming the attack ineffective. A wide angled wedge of land behind her is thus spared, including most of her allies inside of it, though it'll be a miracle if the last sliver of HP isn't eaten just by the environmental hazards left behind.

    The chains dictate Kalameet's next course of action. Momentarily forgotten, or perhaps assumed dead, the Puella Magi from earlier still has more than enough of the dragon's hatred from the humiliation suffered at her hands. Fewer in number now, he takes his time intercepting each one with extreme prejudice before lunging to give chase, but that proves to be the entire point. One thunderous step and he is already within Xiaomu's personal bindings, individually no greater affair than what he had broken free of before, but buying just enough time for the next links in the endless chain of all-out attacks to land. With his scales mostly blasted and ripped away, both physically and metaphysically, he is far less able to shrug off the slugs and shrapnel of metal and wood, and arcs of fire, lightning and ice that flow from the Shinra Agents' flawless combination, spilling the dragon's almost superfluous blood into the ash, dying it an ominous red-black, nor is he able to so effortlessly ward off the literally herculean efforts of Shirou's complex at full bore, shattering chunks of inorganic flesh where each blow lands and sending the dragon sliding backward. The tail that streaks out to catch Shirou as he recoils glances narrowly off the angled bulwark of Oscars' worn and chipped shield as he interposes himself between the dragon and the boy, placing Shirou firmly in his shadow as he retaliates with flashes of his familial sword.

    Unfortunately Psyber is not so lucky as to be given the benefits of these actions aside from the time he needs to assess, strategize and prepare; which in the end, are possibly the most important things to a Hunter. The sword of the Great Lord Gwyn, once wreathed in the First Flame's power and forged twice now by both god and lifehunter, has the strength to withstand the flames, albeit barely. The man shielded behind would not even then, had he not made the seemingly insane choice of attending this battle in person. As the fires subside and Psyber finds the dragon locked in seemingly inexhaustible combat, firing blast and breath and swinging tooth at every Elite still maddeningly left alive, there is nothing between him and his quarry any longer. For the lack of any remaining semblance of anything living, even the visual appearance of what was termed a 'dragon' for convenience's sake now resembles nothing that should belong in this world.

Priscilla has posed:
    It should be unsurprising that a monster of such calibre would have no desire to engage in banter and barbs, but that isn't the point is it? Psyber isn't trying to get under Kalameet's skin, he's making a point. Performing a demonstration. Sending a message. As the newly christened Sun-Slayer Greatsword burns to life, wreathed in burning embers of the old older, the death of all things, and the hope for another life, the dragon returns in kind, focusing wholly on the single greatest opponent of the moment. Had this been a stand up fight, man to man from start to finish, the outcome would be uncertain even until the end. Kalameet matches Psyber for brute strength and for unnerving speed, as well as pure killing instinct, but two things make the difference as the fighters exchange flashes of sword and talon. One, Kalameet has been thoroughly dismantled by almost a dozen other top grade Elites, including a number of conceptual attacks specifically tailored to work against him. Two, this is Psyber's arena of expertise, not his opponent's. He's had all this time to track his prey, memorize its movements, and plan and rehearse his attack, and millennia of experience doing so, whereas his foe has spent the same amount of time slaughtering anything capable of wielding a sword en-masse with overwhelming firepower and ambush cunning, not finesse or strategy.

    Even as tendons, muscles and joints are cut, severed and smashed, it seems as if he could go on for a while longer beyond that, as if the very notion of a blade were meaningless to him. As Psyber stops completely, Kalameet rears back, aiming the same strike that had nearly killed Priscilla for the other halfbreed's torso, and though he strikes with all the speed of a hellish snake, he is stopped a foot short by the execution of Amalthea's wish.

    An Everlasting dragon, even stained so deeply and darkly with the nature of Humanity, is not something that rolls and trashes on the ground, howling in recognizable agony. What takes place instead is far more dramatic, and far less desirable; the black dragon's psychic aura bubbling over from a constant, echoing boil to a hissing, screaming eruption of pure, agonizing 'noise'. The ash literally begins to melt and fuse as the heat bleeds over from the imagined to the real, tendrils of glass snaking away from the dragon's feet, transfixed in place as the mental chorus of terrified screams that follows his every words rises past the point of unearthly screeching and becomes horrifying, brain-scrambling static; finally, mercifully cut off by the last blow.

    Mere instants before the Sun-Slayer Greatsword strikes, a spark of orange light flickers between the pupil of that ungodly eye and the edge of the blade, blossoming into a fiery cross that hurls the half-angel several meters back, but ultimately accomplishes little. No real notion of defense has ever fully stopped the Lifehunt once it begins its work, and Psyber has laid all the preparations up to the last screw. The dragon collapses instantly as every rent in its hide simultaneously erupts into traumatic fountains of gore, every wound exacerbated physically and translated philosophically to the immortal's core being. The effect is scarily abrupt and unnervingly subdued, matching the swift and efficient cruelty with which the half-angel had acted.

Priscilla has posed:
    Unable to even move, with scarce moments left to live, the Winged Death gazes once more at the Hunter across from it, and its baleful eye flickers once more with the stuttering whine of one last curse of destructive hatred; one last magic bullet in the gun; a thoroughly spiteful, and potentially lethal farewell. No sooner has the air turned the colour of fire however, than does the blade of a familiar scythe plunge into the base of Kalameet's skull. Standing quiet and resolute against the scorching winds of the last echoes of battle, stark white against the endless grey and black, the scarring across her face and throat visible from the last time they had met, Priscilla does exactly as she had sworn. She plunges her hand into the hemorrhaging wound, curls her finger around the eye, and rips it free with a vehement spurt of blood, thus putting the stamp on Psyber's finished work.

    The dragon's corpse shimmers as if caught in a mirage, as the bodies of all great beings do when they die here, its flesh drifting away as motes of white light on a breeze nobody will ever see, leaving only the glassy black skeleton behind.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    As she sees Psyber's blade blaze along, beside, across, and through Kalameet's scales, she suddenly remembers why it was that she initially took a shine to him: it wasn't his perceived archetype after all, but his dedication to his iteration of justice. Once, she would've done the same thing to reality. She would have cleaved it for being callous, thrust humanity into it just so it could have its emotions torn apart.

    Would she do that now? Would she have a month ago, a year ago? ... only a day ago, in some moodswing? Only as she witnesses the death of something that felled Gods, by the hand of a man who made himself to fell injustice, does she begin to comprehend the inconsistency, the fickleness of her own beliefs. Truly, that is more than enough to make her feel hollow.

    Still, she's glad. It's a peculiar dichotomy between a sinking sensation of nausea and a euphoria at knowing that things may finally have come to a conclusion here. She does not feel remorse over Kalameet's passing in spite of all her sanctimony before, so she really must begin to ask herself why. Why? Why had she bothered to try to soothe him? ... perhaps it was because she saw something of herself in him. And then she remembers, of course, that that is simply the way it is with humans. It is easier for them to comprehend that which expresses as they do, feels as they do, lives as they do. Perhaps it was easier to condemn Kalameet as a monster because he thought differently, or simply because he was reptilian rather than mammalian? Whatever the case, she wonders if, in some way or another, another dragon might've considered him a 'hero', too.

    ... but before she gets too far on that tangent, she shakes her head 'no'. That's enough for one night, and she does not want to burden anyone else with her nonsense. It's a dangerous thing, 'humanizing' creatures to which no human traits should be applicable, but in a fashion this is her way of attempting to understand her own ultimate foe. How does one come to understand the thought process of an inanimate thing? How does one profess to know the heart of a universe that fathomed its methods and patterns without any feeling? She cannot say. All she knows now is that these thoughts - these useless, contemptible musings - kept her from fighting back against, nor even being the least bit angry with a creature that very nearly killed one of her closest friends. What has become of her? Perhaps she isn't that much better than Kalameet herself. Perhaps that is why she feels so afraid, and why she has been so reluctant.

    It's a careful balance, treading the line between life and natural law. It's a careful balance, and on nights like this, it very nearly drives her insane. Not that she wants, nor deserves, any sympathy for this self-destruction, least of all from those who were at the least decisive enough to act this evening.

    Nor does she want for any. She just wants to see Priscilla. She just wants to see her alive and well, and know that she is so. She just wants to see Oscar and Solaire, content herself with the state of things, perhaps pay a visit to Quelaag and her sister. That's all she wants. These thoughts make her distant from all of that, and she wants no part of them anym... for now. She wants no part of them for now.

    That's all.

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    Kimiko was willing to take her chances on her own mobility and armor this time, but is just as content to let Xiaomu's magic save her from further risk. It gives her a moment to see what Amalthea is doing, and even in a battlefield, it's an act that makes her want to stop and stare. By the time Psyber has really begun to work, that is about all she is capable of doing, having expended all she had prepared and could bring to bear, and finally escaping with no more than what will prove a series of painful but nonlethal burns. Dispersing her armor, leaving the cloth of her magical girl outfit behind, saves her from the ignoble fate of being cooked alive. What is left is merely pain, and the exhaustion she feels deeper down doesn't prevent her from walking forward when she finally comes to ground.

    First, Kalameet. In her eyes, a monster. Herself, a slayer of monsters. Her duty in this is accomplished. She would have no need for the additional suffering inflicted upon it, but...

    Psyber, who sought to, and succeeded in, torturing that opponent. She could feel--everyone could likely feel--that psychic resonance, that bleed-over of terror and suffering. And yet, Kimiko does not begrudge the Hunter for this additional act, for...

    Priscilla. Wounded yet again, but without her, could they have succeeded? It's she that Kimiko finally walks up to, but it's not as if the girl will say anything.

Nathan Hall (168) has posed:
    Nathan is hit by that scream. His wing-pack falters, and slowly, gradually, he descends. But it's a good pain. It's the kind of pain that hits his bitterness and dysfunction. Hearing his traitor scream in agony fills him with determination, restores his resolve. It is satisfying.

    He descends roughly, slamming into the ground at the base of the Kiln structure where Kalameet has died with a heavy impact, stumbling and staggering. Soon he gets his footing, though. Soon he wanders to the corpse as it disintegrates. He seems absolutely satisfied. He's done everything he needed to. And the problem, at last, is solved. As far as Nathan is concerned, this is complete. Over a year of arduous work on this world has come to fruition. His ice armor comes apart, popping and crackling as it flakes off of his body in a misty puff.

    "What you deserve." He says, staring into the sockets of the draconic skull. There's something about it that resonates with him. There are certain people among the group who will notice something unusual about that skull, when Nathan looks at it, but it won't be clear for now. It probably won't be clear for a short while.

Reiji Arisu has posed:
    Exhausted, burnt and with every muscle in his body demanding that he finally give up the ghost. Reiji Arisu is made of stronger stuff than that. As Shinra Bansho clears, the Exorcist lunges away, sliding another clip into his spent gun. He kneels, arms trembling with fatigue as he levels Gold at what grotesquerie remains of Kalameet.

And then Psyber happens.

And then Amalthea.

    A wave of psychic pressure smashes into Reiji's mind. This, more than anything else, illicits a pained yell from the exorcist as he goes to clutch at his skull. It feels as though there is a giant clawed hand raking against the chalkboard that is his brain.

But then, at last, Psyber finishes his work. Reiji lifts his eyes just in time to see Priscilla land the final blow.

    For a long, long time, Reiji is silent, his breaths ragged and tired, before he finally allows himself to slump forward, falling now to both knees. "It's--" he murmurs, staring up at the dissolving beast, "It's finally over, huh?"

Not quite.

There's still some work to be done.

Xiaomu (707) has posed:
What are monsters afraid of?

Psyber has just put himself at the top of the list, in Xiaomu's experienced estimation. It's not so much the speech he delivers, or even the way in which he delivers it to Kalameet; to be fair, Xiaomu's kind of distracted for a significant chunk of it, but she's still aware of it, and it's hard to ignore anyway.

It's not the brutally pragmatic viciousness with which Psyber carves up Kalameet like a festival roast, although as much as she knows about the arts and sciences of violence, Xiaomu's comprehension of Psyber's skill ranks him up quite a few notches as a warrior. Which is entirely different from fearing him.

If anything, it's the demeanor Psyber displays throughout the combined assault with words and weapon. He could rave and shout and bluster and intimidate; he doesn't. He states facts, facts which Kalameet already knows, facts which are undeniable in their straightforward nature. He administers slash after slash after slash to the Black Dragon of Calamity, sundering tendons and muscles and possibly even bones. And he capitalizes on each and every strength that his allies provide for him to bring to bear, up to and including a simple but potent wish bestowed by Amalthea.

He makes Kalameet *SCREAM*, or as close to it as such a monster ever can.

And Xiaomu, sage fox, agent of Shinra, decides that she NEVER wants to be one of Psyber's enemies. She may be one of humanity's allies, but Xiaomu is still a youkai, a beast of the supernatural ... she is, in point of fact, a monster. And she's comfortably certain that Psyber, guardian angel, top dog of Heaven or Hell, completely and utterly terrifies her, above and beyond any other creature that walks upon the earth, or flies in the heavens, or swims in the waters of the world.

As Kalameet's roaring ends along with his life, Xiaomu slips back out of her hiding place, striding over to Reiji and offering him a small bottle of aspirin from her carrypack. Phantom painkillers might not help Reiji a lot when he's here in the flesh, but it's better than nothing at all.

Lezard Valeth has posed:
Lezard witnesses the death of a terror that not even the Gods of Lordran could compensate for, only propitiate.

The thought is... satisfying. However, he does not smile as he observes the operations that are undertaken by Psyber. No... Lezard knew this was over the moment the combined power of Psyber and Amalthea were unleashed. He is concerned about something else.

"Weapons that reject the concept of immortality..." Lezard mutters to himself. "This is going to be something of a pickle."

As he watches the Dragon of Calamity fall, the Necromancer of Midgard does not cheer or gloat, his cape flaring in the air of the ravaged Kiln, where a battle as great as any in the history of Lordran was waged.

No, now his mind races for the next time, the next confrontation.

It will be only a matter of time. He will need to prepare some kind of defenses against such tactics.

Reiji Arisu has posed:
Oh, that's aspirin.

    Reiji takes the box of spirit-aspirin, somehow making the bottle tangible as he receives it, and pops not one, not two, but three pills. "Thanks," he says, glancing up to the Sage Fox's spirit at his side. He hands the bottle back when he's done, and then lets himself sink into the ash just slightly.

"Damn," he sighs, rubbing his forehead, "That was a fight."

Tomoe has posed:
Tomoe is in pain she's in so much pain even with the pain dampers and her boy salls to the ground she's not moving again like that she dopesn't move she's not dead but she's in a world of pain as the alarms are still going off in her ear she'll be out of it for the moment she's making groggy noises and moving a bit but the feed back with the pain dampers up has left her like this...

Psyber (253) has posed:
    Psyber doesn't flinch as the head snaps towards him. Not out of a lack of fear, but out of a trust for Amalthea's power. She has never failed to come through for him when he needed it, and as Kalameet's jaw approaches she does once more. He lets out a slow breath as he watches the dragon die before him.

    As it finishes, as Priscilla removes the eye of the monster and it dies, Psyber calmly lifts the sword up and fastens it to his back in a deliberate gesture. And then his hands come down from the fighting position. He wipes blood (both his own and the dragons) from his face and hands, cleaning them on his pants. He pulls a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket and puts one in his mouth.

    "Good riddance to a rotten stain on reality," Psyber comments as he lights the cigarette with a zippo and puts it away. He then lets out a tired sigh. Not the emotional kind of tired, but a physical tired. He stands up a bit more and pops his back.

    "How was that, Nate? Good enough?"

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
    The impossible force Shirou had put behind an impossible strike would be enough to shatter the bones in his legs were he braced against the ground, such is the backlash. In the air, that momentum is instead transferred right into his trajectory! So as the tail snakes towards him... he's already been hurled horizontally with considerable force. Speeds that, uncannily, Kalameet seems able to match! But there is Oscar just in time to batter away the tail, and fill Shirou with a moment's relief.

    Except, well, he's still going to hit the ground really hard. Oops.

    KABOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

    The boy hits the ash-covered ground like a meteor. It just barely softens the impact. In about ten seconds he's straggling to his feet... but one arm dangles limply, bending in ways that are EXTREMELY NAUSEATING to look at. Instead of arm, it flops more like a wet noodle.

    The bone isn't just fractured, it might as well just not exist. It might be nothing more than powder, and the arm's profuesely dripping blood. INdeed, the shoulder and some of Shirou's connective tissue tehre also seems ripped, strained and torn, such that his shirt is stained deeply with blood. AGONY is all over his face, and it gets WORSE when the sizzling HEAT of Kalameet's outrage sends the temperature of the ground skyrocketing enough to boil his flesh. But the boy endures, screaming through it all. His mind's already on the fritz, and Kalameet's psionic outburst just blanks it out almost completely. The boy's gaze goes unfocused and he topples forward into the freakishly hot ash... only to spring up again with a cry of pain and go scrambling over the ground to find shelterin a clumsy, half-drunk-seeming fashion.

Staren has posed:
    Some may feel sorry for Kalameet. But Staren does not care if Kalameet 'needs' control, as other beings need food and water. When a starving tiger threatens to kill people to feed itself and its cubs, you put it down. The same principle applies to tiger, dragon, faerie, or god. This is the principle the people of the Shroud denied even as their children breathed smoke and ash, and so Staren could not help them. But Kalameet has no devoted followers, in fact there is only one man who cared to give him a chance to live -- a man who is now willing to let him die as well.

    Kalameet has shown that he cannot coexist with the future they want to create -- and so he must be eliminated. As far as Staren's concerned, Kalameet is not like a man who might be swayed with the right words to help forge a better future. No, Kalameet is like the meteor you destroy to save a city, or the very rules of reality itself that they are now destroying, replacing, and rewriting. The meteor, the old rules, they could not be swayed by words to work /with/ the elites, to forge some /even better/ future. So is it with Kalameet.

    Kalameet must be destroyed.

    Staren's contributed as much to that goal as he's going to, it seems. A trap of chains is sprung and enhanced with ice, Priscilla blocks regeneration, and Reiji and Xiaomu weaponize the forge itself! Such cleverness and power on display as they have today pleases Staren.

    So bright... as with Kalameet's roar, Staren isn't /hurt/, just temporarily blinded. When he can see again... Oh, /shoot/. The blood would drain from his face if he had any -- Kalameet is turning the forge on /them/! A wave of annihilating fire comes forth. Amalthea prepares to just take it, unarmored. She must know what she's doing, right? Staren leaps several feet into the air, wings buzzing, thrusters firing, but it's not enough. Other ways to move /up/... "Eureka, if you've developed any kind of Dash Drivers, now's the time to use them!"

    Staren reaches into his bag and pulls out two tools: His grapple tag gun, and the flying broom Belldandy gave him. Using one to lessen his weight and the other to pull himself up the nearest tower. Hopefully it will get him high enough to avoid the flame. He may have another life, but Eureka does not.

%tMaybe they make it up, maybe they're saved by Tomoe.

--

    It's over. Psyber shows what he can do when he gets serious, and all of Staren's earlier doubts of what he could do are not just assuaged but hunted down, cornered, and brutally slain.

    Staren does not want Psyber as an enemy. And if he ever does have Psyber as an enemy, must not face him in physical-- Staren cuts off that train of thought. It's not important, now.

    At the end of that assault, Psyber makes a wish, and it truly shocks Staren. "No!" It is pointlessly cruel, to wish that on the tiger or the meteor. But he can't interfere, only wince at the dragon's last cry. And then... Priscilla finished it. It's dead.

    Staren just stands there, sort of mentally catching his breath. Two worlds saved in as many days, after two weeks of working for it near-constantly. Life can finally go back to /normal/, at least, such as it is in the Multiverse.

    Victory, at last.

Priscilla has posed:
    Oscar is quick to grab Shirou, strong, gauntleted fingers curling into the scruff of his shirt, before hauling him upright. "You aren't going scrambling off like that are you?" he asks the boy he had just protected, tired, but almost . . . resoundingly happy. He knows the magus is going to walk it off eventually. Besides, Solaire is a sun god now. Miracles have been known to heal. He'll carry him if necessary.

    "Those are . . . certainly words, yes." is Priscilla's unbelievably fatigued reply. It seems the victory high will have to wait until the shock and exhaustion wear off. After all, she had the unenviable job of outfoxing and luring in the dragon offscreen as well as joining the battle in the latter stages. Her scythe slips from her hand, thunking into the ash where its massive weight anchors it place, haft raised into the air, allowing her to brush some of her windswept hair out of her face. An appreciative glance goes sidelong to Kimiko silently and resolutely at her side, and then to Psyber and Nathan over her shoulder, pleased to see the two working together again. That viridian eye tracks over the others gathered in turn. Staren, who had set his mind to this task without reservation, and been wholeheartedly successful. Lezard, who had briefly been united with them in his hatred of what their enemy stood for. Reiji and Xiaomu, incorrigible partners in crime even now. Tomoe, who had shed the typecasting of wallflower and thrown herself into the oncoming train. Shirou, whose suicidal bravery she couldn't even admonish this time. Amalthea, who had opened her heart to a Wish once more. Mizuki, who had tried, and perhaps succeeded, in understanding what no-one else did.

    Almost completely hidden from sight, the first somewhat convincing smile Priscilla has ever made graces her lips. She tilts her head back to stare at the endless sky of smoldering ash, only a few days more in this world, clenches her true form's fingers around the dripping orange sphere of crystal in her hand, and then taking a deep breath, presses it against the left side of her face.

    For a brief, gut dropping instant, the presence returns. The psychic weight on the subconscious mind, filling the forebrain with irrational thoughts and sounds. These are not the howls of terror, anguish and rage that once echoed Kalameet however. They are strange, bittersweet whispers, unnerving and yet soft, almost songlike in their eerie, melancholy beauty. The sensation fades swiftly as Priscilla turns back around, presenting a flawlessly healed visage, save for a single mismatched eye, the colour of fire rather than her usual deep green-gold.

    Almost undetectable is the flicker of something else that crosses her face as she lays eyes on one person in particular. A brief, unsteady moment of alarm and uncertainty, swiftly suppressed with the bliss of rationalization, and finally, replaced with a peacefully weary sigh. "Let us be on then. This chapter is over."

Nathan Hall (168) has posed:
    Nathan turns back to Psyber. There's something terribly off about the atmosphere, but it's not clear what that is. Nathan seems content, though. For a moment, he's much, much less agitated. Much less unsettled. "Yes." Nathan says, to Psyber. "He received what he deserved. Thank you." That's to Psyber and to Amalthea. It's concise, but not because he's leaving something out, but because it says all he needs to say.

    Nathan goes back to staring at the one-eyed skull. Just sort of sitting there and watching it, as if it would do something. He seems to be exhausted, but in a way far different from the exhaustion of others. It's an atmospheric sort, an aura of exhaustion. But, he is content.

Mizuki (183) has posed:
    Mizuki grips her forehead. She has no thoughts left, and no words. She'll speak to Priscilla again when her friend is less exhausted and when she is not fretting over nothing.

    She should be celebrating. She should be as satisfied as Nathan is, but she is not. All the more reason to leave quickly so that her ambivalence doesn't rub off on anyone else.

    Mizuki slowly floats behind the kiln where, with as much swiftness and discretion as possible, she opens a portal for herself and retreats to her home.

    This is one time when she couldn't fool her mind into thinking this was a conclusion to anything. There is still so much work to be done in Lordran. Best that she recognizes it now, she supposes, though she does lament the loss of her exuberance.

    And her composure.

Kimiko Shinobu (570) has posed:
    Kimiko looks not so much unsettled as concerned when Priscilla applies the dragon's eye to her face. There is some additional staring involved, even if Nathan is distracting her a bit for reasons she can't pin down.

    Eventually, she nods, and goes to see the knights, and check on Shirou in the process.