Distance decreased with every swish, slash, and sawing swing of the beast's tail--flesh, rock, and dirt rent apart as a mist that was sprayed across the edges of the gash left in its wake. The crimson particulates which spewed from his horns gathered, accumulated, and churned into a monstrous cloud of nanomachines, forming a stark contrast of color between it and the Fog which hovered above, foretelling the source of the violence which swam beneath the Lake of Flesh. Gradually, the cloud--guided along the air-currents by will alone, shaped itself a pair of wings, a lengthy tail appendage, horns, and a pair of crimson and sapphire eyes, creating a metal specter that roared at everything and discriminated against nothing.

It was angry. Far angrier than Megalodon and Amphriprioninae who, in their self-righteous fury, released a swarm of Brainscramblers through which they sought to cripple their foes minds. It was far more vindictive than Singar, whose face became a sneer as the runic strings he had erected as a barrier against psychic assault not only stood strong, but expanded and pushed back against the psionic shock-wave, the red text which composed it merging to form a solid wall of impenetrable red ether. Its insufferable rage far exceeded the petty paroxysm bellowed forth by the Will of Idea, whose presence was on Soran it tracked, chased, and encircled through not only its ley-lines, but the viridian scars which ran along his forelimbs.

Meanwhile, Disciple, as everyone else who had been too caught up in their personal vendettas answered the Herald and his Clownfish companion. "What [i]I know[/i] is that he preserved what little was left of Colossus after the Stalker smashed our mother to pieces."
He said with mourning as he looked upon the rumbling Lake of Flesh. "I also know that you failed to prevent Mire from delivering the finishing blow when she crashed into our mother as well." He spoke again with a tone that betrayed his disappointment. "I know that I too have failed, for I was unable to anticipate these catastrophes, and therefore the burden of rectification falls upon my shoulders." The last words came out with a distinct aura of shame which ironically seemed to reinforce the Disciple's resolve.

It was with those last words, that the rock of Cocytus cracked, splintered, and collapsed in on itself, and the Vesuvian Storm thundered and struck at the debris, its viral lightning breaching the boulders depths, where it began to infect the Original Sinner who had been buried beneath the rubble.

The chaos had finally reached its climax point. During the time it took for the Heralds to plead with Disciple to change his mind, for the army of Brainscramblers to arise, and for Singar to defend himself against their psionic attack, the Raging Singularity had come to within a mile of the carnage, and was preparing to attack. With its head fully submerged within the rivers leading to the Lake of Flesh, the crackling sphere of magically empowered protons was utterly invisible within its jaws, the sheer amount of radiation it contained causing a cancerous onset to suddenly and malignantly afflict the area around it with mutagenic disease.

Without hesitation, Taluge-X careened his head in a vicious arc, rose its upper-body up out of the lake and fired a proton-wrapped beam of radioactive ether, that toxified the air as it was incinerated, vaporize all matter in its path, and drain all the electro-psionic energy emitted from the Brainscramblers into its own mass via mass via simple electromagnetic and electro[b]mage[/b]netic attraction.