Around the trunk of Yggdrasil slept Huanglongmon, the great dragon of the center. Even Azulongmon's size would pale in comparison; it was absolutely unthinkable in size-- fitting, of course, for the creature that encircled Yggdrasil itself. Every inch of its titanic body was plated in gold-coloured ore. Twelve identical red cores sat alongside the spikes running down its spine, and eight red eyes -- two aligned lengthwise on its forehead, and three on either side of its head proper -- stayed tightly shut.

Or, well, they had stayed tightly shut for quite some time. Funnily enough, having the barrier hiding the core of the digital world broken apart was a big deal, and might wake up the primary guardian of said core.

The final sovereign's eyes snapped open, searing red. It let loose a roar, rumbling from deep down in its throat.

The dragon's roar was not only heard on the other side of the rift; it was felt. It shook every molecule of air, a tremor that shot straight to the core of every digimon in the river valley, no matter whose side they were fighting on.

"This cannot be a good sign," MagnaAriamon murmured, gripping her staff tight, once she could hear herself speak again.

"How are we supposed to get through, though?" Kisekimon asked, cupping his hand over his mouth, in order to be heard by Rocmon and his passengers.

"I'm going to guess flying straight through is a bad idea, yeom," Galeomon said, looking down to the ground, narrowing her eyes and scanning the ground. "... hey! Psycho alert at 1 o' clock."

"Fantastic," Quetzacoatimon said, that one word said absolutely deadpan and dripping with irony.

"What is he doing?" ImperialBaghamon spat, narrowing his eyes, a lip curling back.

In his arms, Era still held the little digimon-- barely visible, yes, but visible, cradled in a way that was, quite honestly, kind of unnervingly gentle.

"I suppose that means nothing's eaten it yet," WarTriassimon drawled, "or him. Pity, that."

"That could be arranged, yeom," Galeomon replied, looking sidelong at the dinosaur.

"We have to head him off," Kisekimon said, decisive and sharp, voice cutting through the comments around him. No sooner than he said that, though, they looked down again. Era's head was cocked up, looking to them.

The fetal creature then began to screech, the noise piercing and sharp as daggers, beginning to glow faintly-- just like a D-GEAR initiating digivolution, not that any of the team were exactly in the place to make the comparison.

Before they knew what was happening, a stream of data surged down from the rift, hitting the tiny digimon. It was not unlike the streams of data that shot into the sky when a digimon was defeated, but instead of data being taken back to the tree, it was instead clearly being taken from the tree. Through the tears in the sky, they could see the data being leeched away from Yggdrasil itself.

Era took a step back, letting go of the thing-- it hung suspended a few feet off the ground, hanging in the stream of light.
The man continued looking up to the warriors. Even though it was tiny and faint, and at great distance below them, they swore they could see a horrid smile creep its way onto the man's features.

"Go! Now!" Kisekimon cried, but he hardly needed to give the order.

Rocmon and Quetzacoatimon keened and roared, respectively, before surging forward, heavy wings beating at the air, sending a flurry of leaves into the air from the trees beneath them.

Galeomon leapt from her place clinging to Rocmon's leg, and fell to the ground-- and indeed, felled quite a few trees on her landing, being approximately the size of a bus and all that, before charging forward. Kisekimon drew both his swords, and with flashes of fire ImperialBaghamon was armed with all four scimitars as both leapt from Quetzacoatimon's back; MagnaAriamon's transparent wings expanded in size as her staff began to glow, and WarTriassimon leapt from Rocmon's back with the business end of his spear pointed directly at Era.

One second, everything was a surge of energy and pure chaos as they fell to the earth, and acting as one, rushed at Era and his abomination of a creation, preparing attacks.

But before any one of the seven could get close enough to land a hit, the tear in the sky seemed to hit its limit. Perhaps the data rushing out was too much; perhaps the creature recieving the data was causing the distortion.

Whatever the reason, the sky ripped wide open. For a second, it was brilliantly, blindingly bright-- and then, to the casual observer, all of them -- abomination, megalomaniac, and warriors alike -- were gone.

They did not pass out or fall out of consciousness; they were still very much aware.
It was just that everything was suddenly very quiet and devoid of any sense of bearing.

"What's going on now," ImperialBaghamon growled.

Everything was... dark. Yet, it wasn't. He could see the other six members of his team quite well enough, clear as day, but they were standing... for lack of a better word, suspended in a dark expanse of space, with no visible ground or sky or even any source of light, but a clear horozontal plane for them to stand on-- or rather, for them to lie, crumpled, on.
Even the tiger's voice seemed to be eaten up by the darkness as soon as he voiced his thoughts.

"Stay calm," MagnaAriamon said. She felt... intimidated, to say the least, but would not let it show. (Within the sheep's core, Toby's remark ran something like: I... think the dark is the least of our problems right now...; he would not allow his fear to overtake them.) She got to her feet, using her staff as a support, and extended a hand to Kisekimon to pull the rabbit samurai to his feet; a good twenty feet away, ImperialBaghamon heaved himself onto his feet, while WarTriassimon moved smoothly from a heap on the ground to a kneeling position to stand. Meanwhile, Rocmon righted himself, and Galeomon pushed herself upright with a groan.

Quetzacoatimon narrowed her eyes, looking around as she oriented herself. Even she, a creature blessed with the element of darkness, a dweller in shadow, could see and sense nothing here. "Where are we?"

"Either Era has done something," Kisekimon began, "or we are--"

The group got their answer within the space of the next half-second, cutting off Kisekimon's sentence-- but had he spoken, he would have been correct.

The darkness was split by blinding light-- and once more, they saw the tree. It was unspeakably, unthinkably huge, the size of a mountain and then some. Every inch of it surged with data, searing white in the darkness and constantly moving. It was not truly a tree, no physical thing at all-- no, it was merely the shape that the streams of data took. They were standing (floating) underneath the arches of the branches that joined with its roots, on a plane just below the center; they crisscrossed, soaring overhead and far below them. Everything beyond it was pure black, not brightened by the light of the digital world's core.

And coiled around its center was the titanic golden dragon, Huanglongmon.
The seven warriors bowed their heads instinctively. Not just out of respect (though there was a healthy amount of that), but also because it was hard to look upon her-- her size was intimidating, true (though even she was dwarfed by the tree itself); but eight furious red eyes were searing down at them, every one of her low rumbling breaths shaking them to the core.

It was not an actual physical sound that spoke to them-- it was a voice, presumably projected into their minds-- just as it had when they had seen Zhuqiaomon, and Azulongmon before him, only stronger, more powerful, more dominating of every single thought. (What-they-could-only-assume-was) Huanglongmon's voice rumbled with authority, every word carrying unimaginable weight.

Be not afraid, Warriors.

They were told not to fear, but that -- funnily enough -- did not actually make them relax. This, as it turned out, was well-justified.

"Oh, no, think they should start being afraid now, don't you?"

Era spoke in utterly-even tones as he emerged from the darkness. He walked, slow and deliberate, arms outstretched downwards with palms facing forward, as though he had nothing to hide. All seven warriors turned their backs to Huanglongmon to gaze upon him, feeling an animal rage somewhere deep inside.
He was not smiling, nor frowning-- he merely looked dead-set and focused. Notably, he was no longer carrying the fetus-like digimon-- that was cause for significant concern.

So the heretic at last shows his face at god's door, Huanglongmon's voice boomed, as close to condescending as a voice as commanding and mighty as hers could be.

Era looked up unflinchingly, his face still as stone. "And shall pass divine judgment on the foul beast playing god," he chimed back, "and shall take his rightful place."

If any if any of the fourteen individuals comprising the seven mega-level digimon had held onto any doubt that Era was grade-A insane, it was gone.

If we attack, WarTriassimon's voice said, tone even, within his core, speaking to his partner, it would likely be a trap. Correct?

"He would never come unarmed," Julian concurred from within the dinosaur's core. When Galeomon took one heavy step forward, then, WarTriassimon held out one hand and shook his head just once; the shark growled, but nodded, halting her movements.

Not to be disrespectful, but what the heck is the Sovereign waiting for? Galeomon growled inwardly to Faris.

"Excellent question, my fishy friend," was all that Faris' voice got back, before their minds were once again blasted with Huanglongmon's none-too-subtle voice.

Prepare yourselves for battle should this fail, Warriors. I expect it might.
Chances were good that the tremendous dragon was not saying the same -- if it was saying anything -- to Era, as the man stood still, smiling serenely, just waiting.

And then Huanglongmon began uncurling her massive body from around the tree. For a thing of her tremendous size, she moved as though she weighed nothing, even though so much as her moving had the seven feeling like the earth was shaking-- despite their being not actually standing on any form of earth. She never took her eight red eyes off of those gathered below.
She reared up, only her neck -- and only at partial height to that-- but need her gargantuan size be emphasized further? She began to open her mouth, revealing a purple tongue and endless rows of sharp teeth; when she breathed out, it was like a hurricane-gale wind.

And through all of it, Era stood stoic and resolute, watching.
He had waited a hundred years-- a bit more was nothing.

"Taikyoku!" the Sovereign roared at ear-splitting volume -- not a broadcast thought, but a true vocalization. With the cry, radiant golden energy began gathering in her mouth and in the cores that lined her back. The great dragon began to move, her movements liquid and seamless and blazingly fast as they built up more energy. In its way, it was almost hypnotic.

Era said nothing; the man merely lifted his arms just barely above his head, as though conducting an orchestra.

An orchestra was not what followed.
The warriors held their ground -- or, in Rocmon and Quetzacoatimon's case, held their place in the air -- as they watched what happened next. They braced themselves towards the tree, feinting backwards to stay out of the radius of the golden dragon's blast.

Huanglongmon reared her head back, the energy in her mouth and cores gathering. Just when it seemed the energy could be contained no longer, it was released in a blast of yellow light, aimed laser-precise at the middle-aged man who fancied himself a dictator.
The attack never reached its target.

Between Era himself and where the seven Mega digimon stood, the blast of energy merely vanished-- absorbed by a spacial distortion.

It was immediately obvious to all seven of the Warriors what they had to blame for this, and they were proved right a second later-- when the fetus-like creature appeared mere feet from where the dragon's attack vanished, floating in midair, surrounded by an aura of surging data.
Its curled tail twitching as it furled and unfurled, its tiny stub-arms twitching erratically. Its head, already seeming too big for its body, was lolling and snapping up and down, its one visible bulbous eye unfocused as it rolled.

"You were never properly introduced," Era said, then, regarding the Mega-level warriors for the first time. He had still not changed from his stoic expression, but there was vicious look in his eyes as he looked... not at them, but rather through them. "Meet the instrument of your judgment: Genesimon. My creation-- perfection."

The fetus -- Genesimon -- let loose a low hiss, curling in on itself where it floated in midair.

This is an unforgivable act of heresy, Huanglongmon('s voice) said, gravely serious and solemn, not that I am so foolish as to believe you think otherwise. The sovereign's body moved listlessly; she was not going to attack Genesimon, if it could merely absorb her attacks. She was attempting to quickly think up another plan.

Era, indeed, took no heed of the dragon's words. "It has been receiving quite a sampling of data-- thank you for your... generosity." His voice was venomous-- as though giving even the most backhanded of compliments pained him.

"Sampling?" Rocmon said, digging his talons into the invisible plane that was acting as ground.

"It's been absorbing attacks," WarTriassimon said suddenly, quiet but sure of himself. "It's gathering data."
That would explain, then why they had been allowed -- and was it ever an awful thought to think that it was something they had been allowed -- to try and land attacks on Genesimon right after its creation. It -- or rather, Era -- was trying to get a sampling of their data.

Era hummed low, a simple hm, but he did not reply to the dinosaur. "It's still unfinished, you see. It eats up data, and adds it to itself until it has enough to... metamorphose. But it has a lovely side-effect-- of course it does. It's my creation."

He was so casual-- as though he weren't speaking to a god.
Understandable enough; as far as Era was concerned, he wasn't speaking to a god-- he was speaking to a mindless beast, an over-advanced piece of artificial intelligence that had gotten too big for its britches.

"In fact..." he said, after a short pause, and then for the first time, he truly smiled-- though it in no way reached his eyes.

Suddenly, a sound split the silence-- it was Genesimon.
More specifically, it was Genesimon screaming, the sound of unholy machinery and unearthly screams, a sound that pierced the spectators' ears before being absorbed by the darkness around them. The little fetus began convulsing, streaks of light rushing across and around its body, like the data was being forced out of too small a space.

The sound was paralyzing, in a quite literal sense. Quetzacoatimon and Kisekimon both tried to move, but found themselves quite physically unable, shaken to the core as they were by the noise; it was as though the sound actively locked up their bodies. Even Huanglongmon could not act-- and in fact, even Era was subject to the same immobilization, not that he was going to show it.

Luckily, the paralyzing screech did not last long.

Unluckily, the reason for its dying down was not cause for overmuch celebration.

It stopped when Genesimon was entirely engulfed by light, and once it was, it began to change shape.

'Change shape', for the record, was a phrase that here meant 'get very, very large, in addition to changing shape'.

From a tiny thing, no larger than a loaf of bread, grew something enormous. It grew and grew, reaching nearly a hundred-fifty feet in height before stopping. In truth, it was still quite small compared to Huanglongmon, but for however intimidating the dragon was, this new form blew the Sovereign out of the water on the holy crap meter. The reasoning for this was, well... Huanglongmon, at the least, looked like something that was supposed to exist.

It did still look like it could have sprung from the fetus (they had definitely seen stranger digivolutions, but whether this counted as a proper digivolution was... unclear), though that was little comfort.
Far above, its face was still covered in bandages, except for its eyes (for now it had two-- mark the difference -- though they were still the bulging red and yellow eyes of its previous form); the frill-like protrusions, once on the sides of its head, were now aligned in a single-file line running down the back of its head and between its shoulders, and half-formed mandibles, tipped in -- claws, teeth, whatever they were-- protruded from under the gauze covering most of its face, on either side of what could be assumed to be its mouth.

Its body was no longer translucent and akin to gelatin in composition; but instead, its thin layer of skin was a matte grey-purple, mottled with red. It was thin and emaciated, all skin clinging to ribs and shoulderblades sticking out at harsh angles. Its arms were far too thin and gangly, almost reaching the ground before splaying out into far-too-large hands, its long fingers made knobbly by its knuckles, with each finger tipped in a long claw-like nail.

This, of course, all applied to its torso. In the stead of legs, its body was nestled into a mass of pale blue crystal-- a formation that made up a good half of its height. It stuck out in jagged, irregular protrusions; the bottom tapered to a point the closer it got to the ground (or what was serving for it). Fragments of the crystal were hovering, suspended, near the main body, ranging in size from the circumference of a baseball to 'comparable to a car door'.

There was one last place the crystal formed-- in a long spike that Genesimon (if this was, in fact, still Genesimon and not a digivolved form) from behind, straight through the chest below the ribcage. The organic torso lolled backwards slightly, as though it were resting on the formation.

The last point: two black orbs were visible on its body. One was embedded in the crystal and held in place by small protrusions thereof; the other was inlaid in its chest, secured by small fang-like protrusions that curled around it after emerging from the creature's flesh.

In short: not a particularly pretty thing.

Era stood alongside the base of the crystal that hovered some feet above the ground; he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He said only one word as he began to step away: "Showtime."

Showtime indeed.
In the blink of an eye, Kisekimon, WarTriassimon and ImperialBaghamon took perches on Rocmon's back, while Galeomon took it upon herself to catch a ride on Quetzacoatimon (after all, the serpent wouldn't be stuck carrying her for long distances); Rocmon and Quetzacoatimon rose into the air, wasting no time. MagnaAriamon hung back a bit before leaping into the air, her wings flaring out.

They did not actually know what they could do, but they couldn't sit by and do nothing.

The serpent and the bird spread their wings, spraying out showers of -- respectively -- ice and dark energy, both sharp as blades, at the part of Genesimon's body not covered by or composed of the hard crystal.

"Brilliant Hunter!"

"Bitter Hailstorm!"

"Blast Burst!" Kiskeimon cried, firing blasts of white energy from both his hands after sheathing his swords.

This was quickly followed by ImperialBaghamon's cry of, "God Fist!" Forcing his four fists forward, he shot a fiery aura at Genesimon, right on the tail of Kisekimon's shots.

Not to be left out, WarTriassimon and MagnaAriamon lobbed their weapons, spear and staff, through the air, with simultaneous cries of:
"Armor Breaker!"

"Radiant Lance!"

All the while, Galeomon was concentrating her energy, holding her claws in front of her. Between her hands was forming a swirling sphere of electric energy, and not a moment after the last two threw their weapons, she added the orb to the fray with a yell of: "Electro Break!"

All seven attacks -- shadows, light, ice, electricity, earth, fire, and pure energy -- hit Genesimon (and the weapons of both MagnaAriamon and WarTriassimon were returned to their owners' hands). They were not absorbed-- but they may as well have been, for all the good they did in the end. They had some form of effect-- hitting one after another as they did, Genesimon was forced backwards for a mere moment, but quickly righted itself. Its red-and-yellow eyes rolled to look at its attackers, though they could not truthfully said to focus thereupon.
It began to groan. Words began to form somewhere in its chest cavity but rumbled and rattled so much on the way out that they were as good as unrecognizable after the fact.

If they were very careful at listening, they would hear two words groaned out in the string of moans:
"Oblivion Plume..."

Down on the ground, Era stood by, watching in silence.

Also on the ground, reddish spell circles were appearing underneath those suspended in the air-- even the ones riding on other digimons' backs had circles inlaid within the other circles.
Even Huanglongmon-- or at least, the part of the dragon that was unfurled from around the tree.

They would hardly notice these, however. Barely a moment after they formed, cannon beams of black energy was released from the spell circles, blasting into their targets, and was immediately met with a chorus of screams and growls. The energy felt like it was burning away their flesh, but it left no mark.

It knocked those in flight out of the air immediately, and their passengers with them. The circles were intent on staying with their targets. That is to say: for instance, Quetzacoatimon fell to one side, instead of straight down; Galeomon fell off of her back. Both of their respective circles moved smoothly on the horizontal plane to remain underneath them until it died down a good ten seconds later.

Even as they dealt with the pain coursing through every inch of their bodies (which, in the case of Galeomon, Rocmon, and especially Quetzacoatimon, was quite a few inches), the warriors began to force themselves up.
Huanglongmon herself let loose heavy, growling breaths. She too prepared to move again, preparing another attack, but she was beaten to the punch.

"Spectral Tail!" Quetzacoatimon bit out through grit teeth, forcing herself to move and slash her tail through the air even from her crumpled place on the ground. It released a blade of energy that flew at the bottom point of Genesimon's crystal lower half-- and dissipated, harmlessly, against it.

What are you doing? inquired Huanglongmon's voice-- it was a genuine question, not a reprimand or anything of the like.

"Fighting back," ImperialBaghamon spat, forcing himself up out of a kneeling position.

"We're here to save our world," Galeomon grunted, pushing herself up. "And our friends' world, yeom." Despite the yeom, it was hard to tell whether this statement came more from the digimon or the human part of the giant shark.

"And we've spend too much time letting other digimon take care of things without us," Kisekimon said, breathing heavy.

Era adjusted his glasses quietly, very close-lipped. He merely looked at the digimon, his face impassive, but his mouth threatened to curl into a sneer of disgust. "Sentiment," he said, speaking too low to be heard, "will get you nowhere."

Kisekimon drew his twin swords. He crouched down before launching into a mighty leap, the arc of it just narrowly clearing the top of the crystal around Genesimon's midsection. "Double Blad--!" he cried preparing a strike, but Genesimon moved swiftly for its size.

It rumbled out, "Dimensional Ripper...", slashing down with one huge hand and neatly swatting the rabbit-ninja out of the air; it was done attacking far before it finished calling the attack. Rocmon moved fast to prevent his teammate from falling out of the sky. Kisekimon held tight to Rocmon's feathers, as the tremendous white bird had no intent of simply dropping back down to the ground.

"Roc Claw!" Rocmon cawed. Both his feet glowed icy blue as he slashed them through the air, firing twin arced blades of icy energy at Genesimon-- who groaned, raising a hand and blocking the strikes with one too-thin arm; the bird repeated the movement, time and time again, still with Kisekimon clinging steadfastly to his back (and occasionally joining in with a few rounds of his Blast Burst attack).

From the ground, the others were holding no quarter-- a barrage of attacks flew from the ground. WarTriassimon and Galeomon were making their best attempts to chip away at the crystalline lower half of the beast, while MagnaAriamon, ImperialBaghamon, and Quetzacoatimon were doing their best to fire attacks upwards at the organic part of Genesimon.

"They are not priority," Era said, looking up at Genesimon. "Focus." WarTriassimon in particular narrowed his eyes, glancing sidelong at the man, but paid him no further heed.

After all, much more important things began to happen immediately after. Genesimon clearly took Era's words to heart (or, whatever it had). With a groan, it rumbled out another:
"Oblivion Plume..."
And once again, the red spell circles formed underneath the seven fighters and the sole living Sovereign before releasing out their beams of energy, once more taking those in the air right out of it.

But this time, Genesimon didn't hesitate to act. Before its attack had even faded away, it itself faded away-- just for an instant. With a surge of static, Genesimon vanished. With a second, identical surge, it reappeared, having closed the distance between itself and Huanglongmon. The dragon, between her massive size and her being still caught in the beam of energy, was unable to react quickly.

"Virus Hand..." Genesimon groaned, its eyes rolling to look intently at the Sovereign, and for the first time, its gaze was focused. Genesimon's hands began to glow red as it reared them back, before slamming them into Huanglongmon's face, palms-first, on either side of the eyes on her forehead.

The glow began to seep in and spread. Huanglongmon began to writhe her head, but Genesimon held fast, actually forcing her to stay in place. It began to hiss, low and long. Just as the beam of energy from its Oblivion Plume attack finally ceased, Genesimon had another trick up its sleeves-- though perhaps that would be a poor choice of words.
Its hands became intangible and sank into Huanglongmon's forehead; in one swift movement, jerky and awkward, it drew its hands in opposite directions, as though it were trying to tear the Sovereign asunder.

In fact, that was exactly what it was trying to do.

Again, its hands left no physical mark-- they likely couldn't have. That pointedly did not prevent it from doing damage. When its hands emerged, both were swirling with data and more trailed behind, dragging it out of the Sovereign by force.
Huanglongmon began to roar and snarl and hiss and spit, acting downright feral. It was understandable, yes, as it was not the best of situations. As it was dragged out, her data began to pool and swirl around Genesimon's hands.

Unseen, standing some distance behind the digimon -- who, themselves, were watching his creation and the Sovereign fight -- Era was clenching his fists. He shook just slightly-- not from fear (not from fear), but from what he felt to be righteous fury. As he saw it, this thing-- this animal -- was

"Oh, what the--" ImperialBaghamon growled, followed by a low string of obscenities. He crouched down low; his scimitars appeared in his hands with flourishes of fire, as they always did.

"Things are about to get very unpleasant," WarTriassimon predicted, gritting his teeth. MagnaAriamon, standing close by, was already bracing herself to break out her more defensive techniques, if need be. The roaring and groaning from dragon and abomination, respectively, were so loud that when Huanglongmon began to 'speak' to them again, it almost did not register.

I cannot continue this way, the Sovereign said-- only speaking to the seven.

"No!" Kisekimon grit out, his twin blades beginning to glow with energy as he prepared to attack.

Do not interfere! Huanglongmon's voice boomed, commanding and fierce. If I must fall, then so be it. The ends will justify all means. Protect the tree-- not me.

There were a million things the Warriors could say, but they knew that nothing they could say could change the mind of a god-- if she could even hear them at all. Once more, the golden dragon began to move her body, a brilliant golden glow beginning to gather in her mouth and the cores on her back once more, even as Genesimon continued to sap away data with outstretched hands.

"Taikyoku!" the Sovereign roared. She didn't have as much time to build up energy, and she was growing visibly weaker; but with every ounce of power she had left, she released a brilliant-yellow blast at point-blank range into Genesimon. It was blinding to look upon, and Genesimon reared its head back and screamed once more, a banshee-howl that shook all spectators -- even Era -- to the core.

Once the debris had settled, the golden dragon was fading fast. The entirety of her long body was beginning to deteriorate into data, starting with her limbs and tail-tip.

You were given the light, her voice said, weaker than before. All is not lost. Fight, wherever it may take you.

And then, with those cryptic words (Deekamon must have taken lessons from her) and one last, earth-rumbling roar, Huanglongmon was gone in a swirl of data. Now in Genesimon's hands: a digicore.

Everything was silent and still, but it felt like everything was crashing down around them.

The final Sovereign had fallen.

Genesimon did not move as it began to absorb the data from Huanglongmon-- it moved from its hands before being absorbed by the twin black spheres embedded in its body.

There was no discussion and no delay. The group knew, entirely too well, that they were the only thing standing between Era and Yggdrasil.

Rocmon let loose a keen as he soared high. "Heaven Strike!" he cawed as he swooped, blinding-fast and talons-first. His claws grabbed a hold of Genesimon by the shoulders; the bird managed to get a few good strikes with his beak in to the creature's head, before it hissed:

"Distortion Pulse..."

A flash of glitched data coursing over and around its body, lasting only a second-- and Rocmon was forced off, almost as if Genesimon had just surged with electrical energy.
Genesimon groaned, rolling its head to focus its gaze on the tremendous bird, and for a moment, the data of the core in its hands merely swirled, not being absorbed nor dissipated.

It was like a switch was tripped in WarTriassimon's mind, a confirmation of a theory. "Distract it!" the dinosaur yelled.

They honestly didn't need to be told-- but it was certainly nice being able to pretend there was a plan at work as they leapt into action for the umpteenth time.
The whole time, Era merely stood by, standing a short distance away. He was utterly tight-lipped, his expression unreadable and his arms folded over his chest.

"Crashing Wave!" Galeomon roared, a shifting sphere of water forming around her. She leapt at Genesimon-- her weight and size meant she could not clear the crystalline part of the beast, but she crashed her body into the rock, shoving Genesimon backwards. Immediately, before she fell, she grabbed handfuls of the crystal, using it as a handhold.

It only lasted a second-- one more groan of:

"Distortion Pulse..."

And, once more, the surface of Genesimon's body -- crystal and all -- pulsed with data, throwing the shark off. She crashed to the ground with a growl.

MagnaAriamon kicked off of the ground, her wings flaring out once more. "Cleansing Light!" the sheep cried, positioned behind Genesimon's back, and immediately, her body was engulfed in bright light. She rushed forward, passing through Genesimon's back and through to the front, the light having seeped into the beast when she passed through. Genesimon roared-- its hands were occupied by keeping a hold on the Sovereign's core, so it shifted what remained to one hand, absorbing a tiny amount of it, and then used the other -- now glowing red -- hand to swipe her out of the sky.

Try though they might, they were only buying time in attempts to fend off what felt like an inevitability. They were growing tired, their bodies weary from the exertion-- and from Genesimon's repeated attacks.

Genesimon let loose a rattling groan, its head rolling. Before it even got out the first word of its called attack, the seven warriors were bracing themselves.

"Oblivion Plume..."

Once more, the dark spell circles formed underneath the fighters.

This time, shots of white data joined the pillars of black energy, as seven was forcibly split into fourteen. The seven megas were separated-- seven digimon and seven humans children, lying in aching, crumpled heaps; the only saving grace to anything was that the digimon were reduced not to Baby II form, but Child form (perhaps due to the proximity of Yggdrasil). The chests of both digimon and human alike heaved as they took deep breaths every inch of their bodies consumed by white-hot pain.

"And the dawn of a new era has come at last," Era said, the pun clearly intentional. He spoke mostly to himself as he began to walk forward, weaving deftly betwixt the kids and digimon strewn across what served as their battlefield. Nothing stood between him and Yggdrasil but empty space, and he was closing that distance.

Above, Genesimon was twitching again, arms crossed over its chest and too-large hands gripping its too-thin shoulders. It seemed as though it were trying to hold something within itself.

All the children and their partners could do was watch, teeth gritted and eyes squinted open despite the pain bidding them closed.

Era smirked.

Yggdrasil itself began to glow, even brighter than before; the data around it began to swirl violently, the sound of rushing and movement and something tremendous.

For not the first time, everything went white.