As he retracted his grappling hook and stored it back within his shell, Tank had readily received Badge's thanks with a curt nod, but was by all means unprepared for the unnerving deterioration of the soldier's corpse. In fact, the tortoise had to stifle a gag when he first saw the effects, a fist to his mouth and his quickly puffing cheeks. Crossing himself with a hasty utterance of "iDios mio!", he turned his eyes to Badge... or wherever the cadaver was not. "So, they arrlnot masheens," he concluded. "Bot... they arrlnot sentient either. Habomeenehshuns."

A few yards away, Ace stood on his feet with his hands on his knees, trying his hardest to breathe through his nose or whatever would help him gather his breath sooner. He saw the costumed badger... raccoon, whatever, sifting through their slain foe, no doubt to collect the spoils. He didn't like it, but reasoned it was better off in their hands than Seven's, and now wasn't the time to start a fight about it, anyway. This whole day had gone drastically out of hand, but he had no idea how far it would go.

Suddenly, both of their attentions were caught by the girl practically sprinting her way to Ace's side from the small crowd on the side. She probably wanted an end to this the most out of all of them, so it made sense for her to be eager for the conclusion. "Ace!" she cried, waving her arm. "Is-- are you okay? Is it over?"

"Caz..." He tried not to sound too tired. Given a second or two more of heavy puffs, he finally pushed off his knees and managed to stand himself upright. "I don't think so," he answered, the unwelcome sting of hesitance accentuating his words. His gaze went to the peak of the tower. "The other's are still--" ...But something made him freeze on the spot. Something changed his expression, from ragged determination, to pained distress. And when the mole's eyes trailed his, the only thing she could say was

"Oh, my God."

But she just wasn't strong enough to handle it as well as her better half, so when the curled brows and gasps of fear arose, he was quick to turn her away from it. "Hey," he breathed, embracing her tightly with a face that was impossible to read. "Hey, it's okay. It's okay, I'm here. Just look at me, alright?" She complied, and clenched her teeth. The grip on the back of his jacket tightened with the initial shower of mist. "Danny...!"

"Jus' don't let go..."

In the midst of the impending disaster, something began to happen to Seven.

Before the wave could hit, as he staggered on his feet, feebly running toward the side of the tower opposite the wave—before he could figure out what to do, where to go, how to react—the cylinder on the back of his head began to shine brightly.

Light shined out every crack, and, apparently, it got very hot, because he began struggling to remove it from his head, clawing and pulling at it to no effect. He spun and stumbled, breathing rapidly as he fought in silence, trying his best to just get the canister off as it thrummed, buzzed, rattled, and began to glow ever brighter.

The Chaosol Emerald was visible inside through the transparent wall of the container. It looked as though it was phasing apart, losing its form; the destruction of so many emeralds must have had some sort of effect on its stability.

A crackle of electricity shot across the back of his head; the glass cracked, then burst; a bright flash of light accompanied a bang as the the emerald reverted to its original forms, and the two red streaks shot out in opposite directions. Seven plummeted limply off the platform to rushing waters below.

Foam ramped up the mountain. It charged and roared like an army up a hillside; it took flight, soared, and dove, rolling and surging, swamping the tower's base until its steel groaned. It overtook the tower's upper reaches in a single mighty body slam of the elements, the main wall of water consuming even the white-painted observation deck where the battle had taken place high above the ground just moments before.

Everything went dark, devoured by the sea.