Draco expected the quick recovery of the Emperor, as well as the Warp in space to get him so close, and his eye moved to where he appeared on his forearm. Before he could react however, the Emperor would slam his blade down into the thick Shadow-black scales, which would split from the point of the sword, but then halt his blade before it made contact with the Dragon's Flesh, mere inches away. A low idle growl gurgled forth from Draco's throat before the Emperor began go drag his sword up Draco's forearm , splitting more Scales before he reached an area that was above a major artery and nerve combo, where his scales were naturally thicker to prevent damage. It would be at that point that the Emperor's sword would stop, and a simple glance behind would note the exposed flesh of the arm behind him, the scales slowly mending themselves together.
Draco's coal red eyes flashed purple, and his scales and body began to arc with Lightning, turning his entire body into a sort of Tesla-coil, meant to dissuade any from holding onto his body for too long. His wings spread out and began to flap, sending shock wave after shock wave of wind outwards in all directions, destroying more and and more buildings, and killing off everyone inside them, as well as sending rubble and bodies flying towards the front lines of battle between the Shadow Legion and the Defenders.
Draco would begin to raise off of the ground, and into the atmosphere. While the sight was beautiful, the circumstances were not. Folding his wings in, Draco twisted his body and began to plummet at full speed towards the ground, the arc of fire that burnt up most meteorites and comets forming around his body, his scales turning white hot, and his eyes closing before suddenly his wings once more spread out, and all that momentum stopped in a matter of seconds, the g-forces alone enough to destroy most anything, yet Draco took it in stride, as if he'd done it numerous times with no effort what so ever.
He snarled and then dropped to the ground. If the Emperor had fallen off of his body, Draco would attempt to smash the man with his fore-claw.
Nothing really changed over the course of the battle. The numbers of the Legion continued to multiply, and more and more on both sides fell to the other. Shadow Commandos kept up their assaulting fire on the defending forces.
However as Draco began to flap his wings, the entire Legion vanished in the wind, as the buildings began to crumble and fly away piece by piece. Shards of rubble slamming down each individual street straight towards the defender's ranks. As Draco returned, another shock wave, caused by the stopping of his momentum so quickly, rumbled and tore asunder the ground in great fissures, from which great and mighty tendrils of shadow erupted, and began to flail around like the arms of an angry child who was not pleased with the outcome of his toy's performance, smashing, smacking, and tearing apart defenders left and right as well as dragging or throwing them around, into rubble, into the chasms, etc.
The area was barren in its entirety, the explosion caused by the orbital bombardment as well as the collapse of the portal left nothing behind, only rubble and Shadow-Fire, in-extinguishable by any normal means.
With the voice of Ifrit, the ground began to rumble. Draco paid it no heed, it was only a voice; and words could not harm him. Not in his current state.
Somewhere untouched by the current events.
The herald of Space itself hovered over the battle field, his blue hair shuffling in the wind and his black, finely pressed clothes dusted by the shock waves of battle. He bit his bottom lip.
"Father will not be pleased....something worse is coming."