Archer

Adjusting to the counterattack, Archer leapt back from the dragon. Obviously, it was smart enough to adjust for a head on attack--and by the look of it, too stubborn to realise when it was better off getting out of here. Nobody had seriously hurt it yet, but the berserk martial artist had opened up a weak point and it clearly couldn't cope with all the fire being flung its way.

Moving after Saber, so that it was occupied dealing with Excalibur's heavy blows, the Knight in Red targeted the exposed scales, opting for small, darting attacks; the technique Archer was employing with Ascalon was actually far more reminiscent of the frenzied rain of strikes employed by Cu Chulainn. It lacked the impossible speed the inexplicably-dressed man could use, but the technique was the same. Rather than going for a single damaging strike, Archer was counting on lots of small ones, concentrated in one area, weakening it so it could be finished off.

As the dragon retaliated, Sorin defended himself by swinging the Parasite Blade around him in a wide arc. The mana-eating sword absorbed the miasma, sucking it away. The dragon having been apparently revitalized by eating one of his summons disconcerted Sorin; he'd have to avoid that tactic, lest he supply the dragon with endless tasty snacks.

With the dragon already having an exposed weak point, Sorin didn't see the need in tey to run up to it and carve some scales off, himself. There were more than enough of his allies to harass the beast without Sorin putting himself in reach of its jaws. Not to say that he was going to sit idly by.

He sent his undead dragon forth to attack the living one, and meanwhile began to conjure more mana. This time, though, he dipped into White mana as well as, black. He cast a wide-reaching aura over his allies, strengthening their blows and sharpening their blades. As well, he piut something of a vampiric spell over their weapons; whatever harm they inflicted upon the legendary dragon would heal their own wounds in equal increments.

Despite the immense value he placed on preventing the dragon from causing any more deaths, Vash couldn’t help but be a little distracted when Sorin summoned a small army of vampires to aid him in the fight, his facial expression shifting into one of shock and astonishment as he watched them appear. And to astound him even more, Sorin seemed to treat the whole ordeal rather casually, only laughing at Vash’s decision to fight.

“I never said I didn’t value my life, or anyone else’s.” Vash shot back angrily. “And what are those things?!” he demanded to know, gesturing at the newly-summoned vampires.

Pulling his attention back towards more important matters, though, Vash cringed at the sounds of Ranma’s pained screams as the explosion engulfed her. He didn’t expect that she would survive, and so, he was thoroughly shocked to see her get up and continue fighting, especially in her horrible state. Vash called to her from a distance, urging her to pull out before she got herself killed, but it quickly became apparent that his words wouldn’t get through to her in such a state. As he ran towards her, though, he stopped at the sight of one of Sorin’s vampires being brought to a swift end by the wyvern’s jaw. He flinched slightly, pulling an arm out in front of him to block the blood splatter from his face, not even knowing what to feel for the poor creature’s death as he wasn’t certain just how alive it was to begin with. Suddenly, Vash’s black-and-white philosophy was facing gray areas that he had never even imagined. He didn’t have much time to contemplate such things, though, as Ranma met her fate almost immediately thereafter. And despite her feat from earlier, Vash was certain this time that she could not have survived.

With a fury of emotion, the Humanoid Typhoon fired several more shots at the underside of the beast’s wings — the only non-armored spot he could count on to deal any damage. Sure, the dragon’s underbelly had been exposed, and if he were fighting a human opponent, Vash would probably be able to determine where any vital areas were and manage to avoid delivering a lethal shot to the abdomen. But he wasn’t facing a human opponent, and, for fear of killing the thing, he only aimed at the wings. There wasn’t much strategy to aiming for that area anymore, but, it was all he could think of to do to weaken the creature; all he could manage in a desperate attempt to stop the killing.

Firing, Ba'al was witness to the abilities of those in the group he was with as they fought back, even Vash getting in on the fight with his weaponry. And slowly they were wearing the thing down, like ants against an elephant. Well, they were a bit better armed than ants, and hopefully they could avoid the sort of casualties incurred by ants in fighting an elephant. And this thing was definitely more dangerous than that.

Still, they were getting in their hits, battering away at wings and scales, even prying open a few areas that would allow them to hit it's body directly. Blasts of music, storms of slashes and strikes, lances, magic, it was all very impressive as they fought, not with any real sort of coordinated teamwork, but they weren't trying to kill each other yet. A pity, from Ba'al's perspective, since such a chaotic battle would be the perfect opportunity to off one of the Competitors without being noticed. Sadly, he couldn't be sure of his Zat's effectiveness with these other Players, and it wouldn't look like the dragon had done it if he tried.

Then he was suddenly busy again. The cat girl was sent flying, the dragon regained some energy by eating one of Sorin's vampires, and then it let out an eardrum splitting roar which, as one might have guessed, ruptured eardrums, causing Ba'al to wince in pain. Just a little. Honest. Thank god he was a Goa'uld, so that would heal faster, but for the moment his hearing was slightly impaired, to say the least. And the miasma surged, assaulting his senses once more.

"Ugh, God," he groaned, pinching his nose. "What I wouldn't give for a Sarcophagus right about now." Still a tad dazed and roughed up, hardly helped by Sorin's buff since he wasn't a physical fire, he added his Zat blasts to the mix, firing at open areas that weren't currently being assaulted, though if one of his allies got in the way of a shot, then that was just their fault for not being aware of the battlefield.

Okay, this was a problem. As long as he was protecting Whitney, Felt couldn't fight properly, which would put bot himself and the others in danger. But if he would get cose enough to actually hurt the dragon instead of just scratching it, he wouldn't be able to help the girl, who compared to everyone else was quite helpless. To make matters worse, the ongoing battle seemed to drive the dragon into a rage, spewing dark mist everywhere with an ear-splitting scream, the latter part of which staggered Felt all by itself. No... This dragon needed to be taken down before it could harm anyone else, which would require everyone's combined effort. As much as he hated it, he simply couldn't hang back in order to block stray attacks aimed at Whitney.

It was roughly at this point that the black man with the strange weapons called out to Felt, beaking him out of his mental problems and saying something about strengthening his blade. Would that even work though? In between the fact that the Azoth was quite a legendary blade and sort of had anti-magic properties, Felt wasn't exactly sure if Sazh's efforts would have any effect. ...Well, it's not like it can do any harm, the alchemist figured. And seeing as right now they all had a common goal, it really wouldn't make sense for the man to attack him. As such, the young swordsman complied to the instructions of his temporary partner.
As it turned out, Felt's worries were in vain, seeing as Sazh's fire-y enhancing whatever-it-was spell affected the Azoth without any problems. "Thanks!," the alchemist nodded at his helper, then turned back at his target. "Okay, let's do this, Azoth," he said, focusing some of his own mana into the blade. The red glow surrounding the Azoth was joined by a mild blue one, creating the illusion of a purple shine. Not wasting any time this time, Felt leapt forward with an aerial slash aimed at what seemed to be the weak point and common focus point of the attack; the wings. In his specific case, Felt tried to strike right at the base of the wings, figuring that even a relatively small wound theire would cripple the entire appendage.

The impalpable power of the dragon interested Kane to no end. What exactly was this darkness spewing around the battlefield, blessing his ruined flesh with its touch? If he could somehow harness this ability for himself, it would surly give an upper hand in the contest. Maybe not enough of an increase in power to destroy Sorin; no, he was a clear stand out amongst the others. Resurrecting creatures and summoning others to do his bidding, and dark arts magic? The man held a significantly different air about him compared to the others, that was for sure.

With everyone else launching their attacks, the masked man took the opportunity to get a better observation on the fight by circling around to the side of the dragon. By the looks of it, their combined efforts began to show wear on the dark thing. He could continue to hit it with blasts of fire, but random bursts of heat would only do so much. If only he could concentrate his attacks on specific points… And then Kane saw it, Sazh imbedding Felt’s sword with fire. Kane quickly walked over to the African Gunman, already fiddling with his electrolarynx before reaching the man. “My hand. Set it on fire like you did the others sword. Don’t worry about hurting me, I’ve already been scarred.”

Evahld rushed forward, preparing to unleash a rain of punches with his four arms. While this would normally be a bad idea, the concept of Punishing Stance would turn it around- by making himself more vulnerable to attacks, the adrenaline rush would make his punches harder and faster. Combined with the Mountain Hammer technique... Well, this was certainly going to hurt SOMETHING, given that he'd once punched clean through a tree with this combination. Finally having psyched himself up, he charged even faster, already swinging the two spectral arms and their sharp claws.

"I AM EVAHLD, SON OF NIEL! AND KNOW THIS, WYVERN- YOUR HEAD SHALL DECORATE MY LODGE!"

The one thing Twitch hated about surprises was that they were always unexpected. Ambush had taken his life tens of times, and that count only numbered the successful attempts. The muscular paw arced through the stone underneath him, took his light form under the belly along with a heap of crushed stone, knocked his legs away from under him with excellent aim. A bolt flew to tear a hole in the dragon's sweeping wing as Twitch struggled against the mess of scale and claw that had become the only ground he was standing on. Pulling its hand away to swipe again, the retracting talon slid a gash against the rat's ribs, tossing him into the air to twist and fall. Twitch curled, bounced and squeaked as he skidded along the stone, shards of mountain abrading cruelly against his wound. It SAW me! Quiet as a mouse, eyeless no less, and it saw me! Pain dissolved into fury.

Light was flaring all around from blades (Gut it like a cheap fish!) and guns (Shoot for the belly, redcoat, shoot it!) and angelic song (Shut up!) and all of it inflamed Twitch's temper. Most of the effort was focusing the dragon's wings, oddly distant now (The thing ditched me like a faithless boyfriend, I'll give it that before it dies). The necromancer was keeping his distance, but his hand remained in the battle. As the zombie ran, Twitch erupted from the black fog to drag himself on its back, every movement in his upper body reminding him why he hungered after blood. The beast's back was well above the mist and the melee. "Do you see me NOW, smokestacks‽" shrieked Twitch as his bow flung a bolt at the thing's lower neck. The familiar sensation of life-steal itched in his wound as he strung another. The bolt leapt forth as the beast closed in and Twitch fell backwards, letting the slope of its back carry him out of the dragon's vicinity before the monsters collided. Fragile, hairless skin was knitting at the edge of his wound as he ran, leaving the zombie to cover him.

The Gore Magala, dread hunter of half-forgotten myths and Black Eclipse Wyvern, was not having a good day it seemed. The fleshy naked apes it was hunting was turning out to be more of a handful than the great beast had thought, and therefore that much more of a threat. They were surviving its attacks and more of the things always kept it away from totally killing any singular ape that it had almost done in. The predator was not amused and was actually in more pain than it had thought possible. Somehow, fire and other substances harmful to its very existence were being flung about without impunity, and the things were like a pack of wyverns, ganging up on the singular deadly predator with teamwork and persistence. The thing's day was just about to get that much worse though.

A rapid hail of projectiles were raining forth upon its wings, battering it with their relentless assault. Had these been regular Hunters, then it would not have done much. These beings however, were consummate professionals, achieving skills far higher than any regular sniper in this world. The hail eventually dented enough to pierce through, and metal projectiles were now lodged at the base of its wings, rendering moving the great limbs a most painful task and throwing off the beast's balance. Then the melee arrived. Anti dragon weapon poked repeatedly through the weakened underbelly, flaming alchemic sword lopping deep enough through the base of the wing to cripple it, and fairy forged blade forcibly tearing a gash through the beast's side. More barehanded attacks slammed into the chassis, and alien technology fired rays upon rays of concentrated electrical energies upon the thing gave it no pause either, the thing flailing about wildly in an attempt to back off and retreat to lick its wounds. And then a giant undead wolf dragon slammed into its similarly sized opponent, the two careening into the side of a cliff as the behemoths began a battle for domination.

Though the Zinogre was a deadly force when alive, its undead state made it lose quite a bit of mass and effectively stripped it of the ability to summon Lightning Bugs to punish the enemy with high powered volts. This in conjunction with it being in close quarters to a beast who specialized in hunting and fighting undead creatures was a recipe for disaster. As soon as the Gore Magala recovered from the blow, it repeatedly blasted explosive miasma into the rotting and already weakened lupine and corroded it to the point of becoming semi solid slush and bone. Then it began the gruesome task of eating the unexpected meal, strong jaws crunching on softened bone and gristle as it eagerly and voraciously tore into its repast. The weakened creature grew stronger with every snap and tear, the grotesque sounds of its feasting echoing in the landscape as darkness began to coalesce about the creature, cloaking it from view until a roiling mass of miasma was boiling where it stood. Yes, this was sufficient enough to jumpstart its evolution into adulthood...



Then, night turned into day as the black dragon was reborn to the world, stepping out from its shadowy cocoon. Stepping forth in its place was something that could only be described as the opposite of what the group had been previously fighting. Black plates the color of ebony were now shed to reveal scales of lustrous gold that gleamed in the sun's ray, as much as the metal it was reminiscent of. Where before there was no eyes, now there orbs gleaming with the sharp intelligence of a true predator and king. It held itself with a prideful air, stalking about in a half circuit as it regarded the group with what looked like calm inquisitiveness, as though it had forgotten exactly how much damage was dealt to it by the Challengers.

This was not an assassin anymore, skulking about in the shadows so as to take down its prey. Its very coloration was spitting in the face of such a thing, loudly decrying any need of ambushing its prey from the shadows. Now, it was a creature that would boldly face down any and all that dared to challenge it and relentlessly hunt down any and every prey that it sees. A quiet but feral strength was apparent in its very movements as it lithely continued its investigation with its new eyes, staring with unwavering intensity at those that put it in such a state. It stood tall and ready, previous wounds somewhat mitigated from the food it consumed. Now, they looked like war scars as opposed to raw open wounds and burns, lines and burn marks colored silver all across its body. Even its wings seemed to have healed from the assault, now sporting a new membrane that was reminiscent of stiff ivory feathers. Though languidand composed, the now fully matured Shagaru Magara was still a tyrant, but now wearing a saintly mask. Its very eyes was full of intense bloodlust and killing intent was literally roiling off of the beast along with much thicker miasma. Where before the stream of shadow stuff could be described as a steady stream, it was now a roaring river as the thing pumped the surroundings so full of its foul properties that the very floor was hidden underneath a roiling carpet of dark substance.

"Where the hell am I now..." A much suffering groan emanated from the crater as a very roughed up redhead dredged herself out on her hands and knees, looking ready to tilt over at the hint of a stiff breeze. She was beyond battered and bruised, she looked like she had came out of a warzone and had barely survived the escape in the first place. It seemed that she was now capable of cognizant thought at the cost of her health. The sad thing was that she had survived worse than this, namely having mountains exploding around her upon her or being scorched by a lunatic Phoenix King capable of destroying entire mountain tops. Or every big fight/kidnapping attempt that occurred every other month in the Nerima district of Japan, when the local nutjobs came out in force and dogpiled on her in a massive property destroying all out brawl. Just another Tuesday to a very irate girl who was the favorite chew toy of Fate.

Naturally it was her continued survival that annoyed the dragon enough to provoke an attempt on her life. The beast actually snarled, its facade breaking entirely as it became incensed enough by the still living ape that it had thought died so wonderfully under its claws. Then, it inhaled and spat out a concentrated ball of roiling and explosive toxins as it had before at the girl- though this time at five times the size. "...Figures..." The half-girl said blandly as she saw the thing heading her way, still too weak to defend or dodge the attack. Muttering under her breath, the girl closed her eyes and hoped for the best, though even she knew that the very thought of surviving was pushing it with her ki so weak at the moment.

Archer was, in a word, surprised by the beast's sudden regeneration into something that could actually be considered as worthy of the lofty title it had attempted to claim. The regeneration undid everything that they had so far worked towards, which made this fight substantially harder than it should have been, but at least they had escaped the initial conflict unscathed, aside from the one girl who had chosen to punch the girl to death.

It was this redhead that the dragon chose to target; it picked a weakened foe to try and remove them from the equation entirely; it was a tactical choice but one that was unlikely to succeed with the assembled force. For one thing, Ascalon interposed itself between breath and target; the anti-dragon spear shattering but hopefully preventing Ranma from being peppered. It was an annoying loss with the weapon's previous success, but not an insurmountable one.

With practised ease, the counter guardian traced a familiar pair of swords... and jumped. His aim was to land upon the dragon's back; if he could split its attention between e everyone else and a target it could barely reach, then winning this fight would be trivial. The two swords were better than one for resisting any unearthly attack, too.

Saber

"What?!"

The creature had survived? It had devoured the undead creature... another reason that forcing the dragon to obey afters its demise had been a terrible decision, though this one for practical reasons rather then her previous moral objections. Through doing so, it had knitted its damaged flesh and repaired its body, and evolved... become a golden beast far more likely to be thought of as a dragon. But there was little time for shock and surprise. The air was choked with the foul black mist, and surely it was hazardous to the others... The light around her invisible blade faded, leaving the weapon's indiscernible shape to remain. In this state, it could be anything. It could even be a club. However... there was no need to hide Excalibur any longer. Invisible Air could serve a much more immediate purpose then a cloak to hide her sword.

Saber's eyes narrowed, and she raised the hazy form. Acting quickly, this was what was necessary. A tremor rose through the misty shape, and then suddenly the cloak around it erupted outwards. There was a vast rushing of air, tossing Saber's dress and hair about in the wind, and blowing the thick black miasma away, clearing the immediate area! And, so released, Invisible Air no longer hid the form of the blonde knight's weapon.

It was one of few swords befitting of such a figure. One had broken, long ago... and as such, this was what remained. Yes, there was a sword inseparable from King Arthur, the King of Knights. For this was none other than Excalibur, the Sword of Promised Victory. The silvery blade gleamed even without the aid of sunlight. It was a divine sword, a peerless weapon forged by fairies. Saber's armored hands tightened on the hilt, and she swung it back, the blade gleaming as it pointed behind her. Speed, speed was of the essence. Speed and power. The dragon was not focused on her... it had to be stopped.

Golden light bathed the blade of Excalibur, swathing it once more in prana that burned like fire. However, the purpose this time was not simply to enhance damage dealt by the sword. The brilliant light flared up dramatically, and suddenly the small knight was lifted off her feet! Saber burst forward, rushing lower over the ground as the prana served as a rocket, helping to keep the dark mist away with the current of air rushing around her. Within inches of the golden dragon, Saber gave a strong swing upwards with Excalibur, the magical energies surging and flaring around it!

---

Jakuzure Nonon

... Oh what the hell?!

Why was this thing still alive?! Whoever brought that disgusting undead thing was to blame, it'd eaten it and gotten all... all... well at least it looked more like a dragon now. But that really, really wasn't a good thing. Nonon stuck her tongue out in disgust. It was coming closer, too, heading right for the redhead who'd gotten slammed down so hard... Why did the idiot have to try and hit the thing with her fists? She didn't look like she had some kind of enhancement, though Nonon guessed she had something if she hurt the dragon like she did. Before it turned all golden and stuff. Damn it, things had just gotten so much worse now. Well... this thing was just gilded, wasn't it?! That wasn't real glamour and fanciness! It had been a horrible dark thing up until now, and that's what it was on the inside!

"Your performance is overstaying its welcome!" she snapped, producing her baton and twirling it once before pointing it at the golden dragon. "So how about we just KILL YOU YOU GAUDY PIECE OF SHIT!"

With the start of Fur Elise, two pink laser hearts erupted from Nonon's shoulder cannons, before slamming together in front of her, meeting in a single giant laser heart. Pastel blue musical notes swirled around the giant heart as it fired in a single, heart-shaped beam, tearing towards the dragon!

So they fought, and they fought, and a Viking dropped from the sky again after having vanished off the face of the world, and it was all well and good. Ba'al would admit that the thing had sheer stamina going for it, but not much else by all appearances. After all, he was the most important person here (Excepting perhaps King Arthur over there), and he was relatively unharmed. Showed what that dragon knew, didn't it. Of course, he conveniently neglected to consider the fact that he was fighting at long range, and not actually doing that much damage, but what did you expect from an egotistical bastard?

And then things went to hell as the undead dragon attacked the thing, which went fine until the thing recovered, ripped it apart, engulfed itself in a cocoon of that miasma stuff, and emerged ass a blindingly radiant dragon, pretty much all their damage undone, and it treating them like worms. Wonderful.

"Very impressive," he called out to Sorin sarcastically. "I can see why they consider you a master sorcerer." The floor was covered with miasma now, and he recoiled reflexively, glad that his symbiote couldn't smell this directly. It was disgusting. Still, he had to be in it, and it was obvious now that the dragon intended as much to kill them, if draconic expressions were anything to go by.

Still, just as it stepped up it's game, so too did his competitors, Saber revealing Excalibur to light from it's invisibility, the annoying flying girl shooting a...heart powered laser of some kind at it and the taller man materializing more swords from nothingness. Now that was a useful trick if anything, Ba'al admitted. Once more he wished for his own blade, or a staff weapon, hell, even a regular gun! This Zat was useful, but it hadn't been the pinnacle of effectiveness against enemies thus far.

So while they fought, he did the smart thing and hid, eager to avoid drawing it's attention, letting him competitors do what they could, and waiting for an opening. His weapon wouldn't be able to do any damage if it couldn't hit the dragon directly, and while he could shoot for the eyes or the mouth, as far as he could tell it would just be a waste of power. it wasn't like the thing could breathe fire or such. So until he knew he could do something, he'd stay safely out of harms way, and think of the long game, as he usually did.

"Come on, get some!" Sazh cried out in mocking of the shadowy creature as the group rained hell upon it. To the backdrop of Nonon's weird-ass music cannons, the dragon was pelted with fire, bullets and blade strikes, all working in tandem to devastate it. Sazh's enhancements did well to adi the damage output, and it seemed that his his own bullets were getting in a few pints of harm. The hellish beast quickly found its wings crippled by the onslaught of attacks, and for moments, it seemed to be on the ropes. it staggered back, visibly harmed and overwhelmed, unable to take advantage quite enough.

That all turned around just as quickly as it had come forth. Tackled from its perch by the almost equally large zombified dragon under the planeswalker's command, the dragon seized an opportunity and practically melted the thing with a point-blank surge of black miasma. Then, like with the lesser vampires, it chomped down, voraciously devouring the definitely dead monster.

All of the groups efforts perished as the dark wyvern was mended of its wounds, and then some. Swallowed into a shell of its own dark power, it quickly tore itself free again with a new, evolved form. This... this was definitely more akin to a legendary dragon, a beast bathed in golden-silver splendor far greater than the demented, shadowy monster they had just nearly slain moments before. The others cursed, they groaned, they expressed their surprise and frustration, and the dragon meanwhile looked upon them with a new contemptuous confidence, its dark, foul air radiating off of it in abundance to coat the mountainside.

It was all Sazh could do to not gag at this witnessing, covering his lowed face with an arm as he held his pistols in a tight clench. He witnessed Nonon scream out in rage with a heart-shaped Wave Motion Gun, Saber rocket herself forward with her now fully-visible magic sword, and Archer spawn two more blades out of nowhere to lunge onto the dragon's back. From that crater the former black dragon had stomped out, the martial artist somehow crawled out with pained cynicism. As the Shagaru Magara reared back for another miasma breath attack, the l'Cie finally spattered out, "Ah, to hell with this-!"



Holding a hand to his l'Cie mark, Sazh focused hard on his Eidolith. The heated magic within materialized the red and gold crystalline feather promptly. "I summon..." Sazh started, then threw forth the crystal, gunning at it furiously. "Brynhildr!" As it was shattered, the Eidolith exploded into an expanding sphere of concentrated magic. Black faded into orange on the outline of the sphere, laced with ancient glyphs.

The darkness began to materialize, taking form and detail until finally, it dispersed the magic globe around it in a burst, crashing down to the ground. For anyone unfamiliar with Eidolons as Sazh knew them, this being was amazing for its foreign structure. Its body was purely metallic, yet very humanoid, as if it were some intricate form of living armor, what with how machine-like it seemed. Standing almost thrice as high as Sazh, Brynhildr carried a huge polearm akin to a double-sided halberd, which it easily brandished with one hand as if it was no more than a basic sword. The scheme of reds and golds upon the Eidolon belied a sense of burning power, ultimately accurate for what it did.

"There you are," the l'Cie commented at Brynhildr's arrival, lashing out to take aim at the dragon, "We need your help!" Brynhildr nodded silently in recognition, then in a furious motion charged forward, aiming to smash the lustrous dragon's head asunder to cut short its harmful breath while Sazh covered it in another flurry of bullets.

The dragon's sudden transformation gained from consuming the dragon that Sorin had zombified earlier quite pained the ancient vampire. Partly because this gruelling battle was going to be dragged out even further, partly because of the petty insults and poorly-conceived jokes now streaming in from the peanut gallery. Sorin wasn't the type prone to bouts of homicidal rage (at least, not particularly recently), but if he was ever going to have one of those moments, this was probably how it would start. Regardless, he shook away the thought and returned his focus to the battle at hand.

The new form of the dragon was admittedly impressive, and were it not for its strong Red mana signature (mixed with Black as it was), Sorin would have committed the battle to memory so that he might summon the beast later. Even so, a legendary foe demanded a legendary weapon. Sorin drew strongly upon the mana in the area, pulling forth whatever color he could, no matter of what it gave him. He drained the area so thoroughly, the vibrancy of the scenery seemed to dull and fade around him, and small plants and animals about his feet withered to dust.

The form of his summon began to coalesce before Sorin, an unusually powerful resonance from the Aether gradually assuming a solid form. Soon enough, though, the summon was complete, and Sorin held Elbrus, the Binding Blade. Rather unassuming for such a powerful artifact, it was a shortish dagger, carved from bone with numerous strange runes and sigils carved along its length. However, Sorin knew the blade's secrets, and its secrets now knew of him.

"Release me..." Elbrus whispered into Sorin's mind. "Release me and the greatest of vengeance shall be yours."

While not particularly perturbed by the cursed blade's murmurings, Sorin regardless wanted no part of what was to come. He needed to be as far as he could from this blade when it gained its much desired release. Meaning he needed another person to wield it. Ideal would be someone that would be neither intimidated by haunted dagger, nor immediately obligated to destroy it, needless to say able to wield it and drive it into the dragon. The large, red, masked man Sorin spotted a short ways ahead seemed as likely a candidate as any, if his strong Black mana signature was anything to judge by.

Sorin approached Kane, offering the blade hilt-first as he said, "Here, my friend, take this. I'd like you to use it on the dragon over there, you look like you can handle it. Not terribly difficult, just stick the pointy end in and make sure you draw blood. Oh, and I'd get away from this thing very quickly afterwards if I were you."

What the... It regenerated? Not only that, it actually looked stronger than before. Okay, this was problematic, to say the least. What was also problematic was the toxic gas that was flooding the entire area, making it hard to even breathe, let alone fight properly. This was bad, really bad. If the dragon could just recover like that, then how could they ever hope to defeat it?

It was then that the Azoth finally decided to speak up again. -"Master, I may know a way to beat this foe".
"You do?," Felt called out. "Quick, tell us then!"
-"Okay then. Now, listen closely. There's an Alchemy Item called the Dark Water. It hampers healing techniques and drains away the energy of those affected. In fact, it's quite similiar to the Miasma this dragon is using. If my hypothesis is correct, it should make it impossible for the creature to recover, allowing us to finish it off."
Felt wasn't convinced. "Wait, if it's using the same stuff, then how will it work? Shouldn't it be immune to it?"
-"Possibly," his blade admitted calmly. "The creature might be immune to the effect of the Dark Water. I cannot be sure of this until we've tested this.
"Wait, then why are you making me make this item?"
-"Because obviously simply stabbing it alone isn't working," the Azoth stated.
Having no real counterargument against that logic, Felt gave in. "Okay, so what do I need to do?"

One short explanation later, Felt was focusing on creating the new weapon. Similiarly to how the other items were formed earlier, orbs of mana started to flow from the alchemist's body towards his hand. Unlike how the other items were formed, a sphere of darkness was forming in his hand rather than the shining spheres the other creations made. Regardless, the main process was the same, and quickly a flask-like shape was forming in Felt's hand, some kind of blackish smoke emanating from the opening. Strangely, it did indeed looked suspiciously like the very miasma the dragon was using against them.
"Well, you don't win if you don't try...," the alchemist mumbled, then threw the newly created item at their foe.

Vash eased up on his attacks as he saw how much collective damage the group was capable of. Sure enough, they’d succeeded in weakening it! And it almost seemed like the thing was about to make a retreat! Still not wanting his teammates to kill the thing, he was about to attempt to call a ceasefire, when the zombie-fied dragon that he’d caught glimpses of earlier (which really weirded him out — but it was a question for another time, at this rate), charged into the battle only to be viciously torn apart by the Gore Magala. Vash hardly even had time to react to the whole thing before the transformation began…

Vash’s jaw dropped as he found himself momentarily unable to do much more than stare at the thing. The Stampede couldn’t believe it. It hardly even looked like it had simply transformed. Instead, it looked like a completely different dragon — it couldn’t possibly have been the same beast that they were fighting before. Vash could hardly think of how to even begin to attack the thing, though he was pulled out of his stagnant thoughts by the now much stronger version of the dragon’s dark aura rolling out underneath them.

Vash’s jaw seemed to lower itself even further when he saw Ranma — the girl he felt absolutely certain was dead — managed to crawl out of her crater, still alive. He watched as the dragon charged up an attack to send her way, and, before he even had time to charge towards her and push her out of harm’s way, he was shocked to see one of Archer’s weapons block the attack. Watching the assassin continue to fight, it was nice to know that he wasn’t quite as heartless as the gunman first assumed…

Vash retreated towards the back of the group, still trying to think of something he could do. He watched as his teammates fired off all sorts of insane attacks, some of them even summoning their own monsters to fight for them, and Vash couldn’t tell any of them not to aim to kill anymore, just because he knew that they were all fighting for their lives, and it looked like it would be a long time before any of them got close enough to killing the beast for Vash to speak up. He looked down at the gun in his hands. He wanted to keep shooting at the thing, but he still only had a limited supply of bullets, and there seemed to be no use in shooting blindly if he couldn’t spot any area where the creature wasn’t so well-armored that he could actually damage it. Watching everyone else’s grand attacks, he almost even considered…

No. No no no. That’s a horrible idea — far too likely to hurt his teammates. Vash couldn’t believe he actually gave the thought any serious consideration, even for a second. Still looking to the other fighters, his eyes landed on Felt — and the strange, aura-filled flask that seemed to be materializing in his hands. “Wait, is that the same dark stuff that that dragon-” he began to ask, but he cut himself off as Felt, without much hesitation, tossed it at their foe. Vash froze for a moment as he waited to see what would happen.

Suddenly a warrior charged into the fray from an unexpected direction, covered head to toe in what appeared to be armor cobbled together out of the bones and other miscellaneous parts of various slain monsters. The weapon he wielded likewise seemed to be constructed out of scavenged monster parts, taking the shape of a crude lance or sharpened tube likely made out of some large beast's horn and sharpened to an even deadlier piercing point then it already naturally possessed. In the armored hunter's other hand was a large shield crafted from still more monster parts, though a quick glance made it appear extremely sturdy nevertheless. Yelling a battlecry, the strange fighter used his running momentum to stab at the legendary dragon.

Hidden underneath the form concealing armor, Morito gritted his teeth as he drove the improvised lance at the monster. Getting lost in the vast forests had been humiliating and difficult, but luckily he was eventually able to make it here in time to join in on the attack. The fact that he had been continuously delayed by attacks from much lesser monsters only provided him with much better equipment and a decent workout, in the long run. He had even built slight adjustments into the armor so it concealed his identity and made him appear bigger and taller, so overall it was a win even if it had taken him far too long.

At that same time, Nobuo flew into the battle field via his Jet Winger. As Morito ran to stab the dragon, Nobuo flew upwards and fired a few bullets from his gun towards the Dragon. What took him so long was more of a battle of inner morals. He wasn't involved in the fight in the cave so he had no idea if Ghost Rider was the monster that Archer put down or if he just murdered him, give lip service about what he had to do and hoped no one would be the wiser. It didn't help that the memories of him killing the members of the Guerilla Marketing Firm were made fresh in his head thanks to Ghost Rider's Penance Stare.

The morality of killing was always left to Super Sentai's metaphorical big brother to discuss. For the most part, Sentai Villains never had shades of gray save for rare exceptions. But, he does know about the anti-heroes, which, if what Archer said to Vash was true, he fits into. He's just in his 'Burai-at-the-beginning-of-Zyuranger' phase and needs to be taken down a peg or two before reforming into a total good guy.

But first, he had to fulfill a promise that Vash and others made:

No one else would die.

Even though the dragon had evolved into this golden paragon, it still had the essence of darkness within it, practically blanketing the area with a thick miasma. Balalaika was lucky enough to be behind a tree, but Kane stood out in the open, and was knocked off his feet by the powerful expulsion. As he stood and laid eyes on the new creature, it was easy to become infuriated at the thought that all their work up to this point became moot. Even his former idea to strike the beast with fiery punches seemed ill advised. It was still possible to launch fire or even lightning at it, but there was no telling how effective those powers would be against this new form.

Sorin then came to Kane with the dagger, which was a questionable decision. How much could such a small instrument really do? Kane would snatch the blade from his hands to examine it closer, but his full attention went to the voice now in his head. This one was… new, to say the least. It clotted his mind and made it very desirable to do its bidding. Kane had half a mind to stab himself with it, although by the way Sorin spoke of its power, that would be a very bad idea. Feeling empowered, the burned one made a mad dash to the dragon’s tail, hellbent on painting it crimson. Wrapping one arm around the small end like a lock, he would viciously stab and stab and stab again.

Ranma hefted a sigh of relief as the dragon's breath was dissipated by her acquaintances/allies and their various rather amazing abilities. Now then, time to see what she could contribute in this fight. Strange agent messing around with her ki pathways that made it impossible to repair damage at the moment as well as caused emotional turbulence trending towards dark emotions were clinically categorized and immediately found a counter to. Charging herself full of depression energy by using the dark thoughts to her own advantage, the redhead was soon clad in a wild bonfire of sickly green ki that highlighted her now blank and forlorn face which had lost its shine for the moment.

As the others engaged the now resuscitated dragon with fervor and fire, the Shagaru Magara was now viciously defending and retaliating against the much smaller figures ganging up on it. The red and blue Servants would find themselves scoring direct hits that bit deeply into dragon, though a combination of almost supernatural reaction and scales harder than the majority of metals diminished the power a bit. Nevertheless, the dragon was now bleeding once more, dark blood and black smoke emanating from its wounds. Then a burst of dark miasma flowed out in an explosive ripple that gouged the surrounding landscape as revenge for the blows suffered.

The Eidolon summoned against the beast was deemed a suitable opponent, seeing as it was big and clad in an element it rather hated unlike the much smaller beings that refused to stay in one place. The halberd met clawed wings, digging into the pseudo-arm as sparks flew and an aura of superheated plasma combated its shroud of darkness, the energies striving against each other even as their owners engaged in a titanic clash. Unfortunately for the summon, the dragon was a bit cheap and sucker punched the thing with its other arm in the place where a normal organism's gut would be since it was losing the battle due to fire being liberally used.

While this was happening, an armored man and a berserk flaming grappler plunged their respective weapons into the hide of the dragon, both luckily biting into the silvery scars that were still soft even from the regeneration, the lance and dagger sliding in deeper than it should have. No demon was summoned though, since the dragon had no iota of magical power to act as the summoning agent for the creature, as its attacks and abilities all came from its unique biochemistry. It then spun around in a crazed circle while roaring its hate to repulse the two with sheer momentum given how close they were.

It was lucky for the close combatants that they were flung away given at that moment a heart shaped beam of energy and super heavy ball of depression powered green ki slammed into the thing at the same time, slamming it with sheer blunt force trauma powered through some of the strangest sources of power available. Ranma smirked from her place as she successfully launched the original version of the ki attack, her arms cupped from the technique. And then Felt's vial of miasma smashed into the golden hide and seeped in through the open wounds while it was dazed. When it came to, its eyes refocused and turned into a strange violet hue as it burned with something that was higher than hatred towards the amassed attackers, growling as it dripped ichor freely from their attacks.. Its horns sprung out and were now sparking with crackling purple energies while every rapid breath was now spitting out sparks and clouds of dark vapor. Its golden scales shined with luminescence as though the it became a second sun even as it flung itself up into the air and spiraled high before screaming back down like a vengeful meteor, a liberal wave of power cocooning its body as biological agents and streams of blood flowed out of its injured body in a trail of self-destructive power, aiming to wash away everything with pure brute force in an all or nothing attack.