The recovered Shaun looks around for Donna; outside, a sort of earthquake shakes the world. A purple-jumper guy with RTD's glasses and very little else in common with RTD goes running past, and out in the street Sylvia Noble looks up, begging for the Doctor's help. The cacti prepare to get the eff out of there, since Earth's about to be knocked out of Earth; the female points out that the Doctor said he was going to die anyway, and they bounce.
As everybody runs and the shit is going to hell, the Master's still begging for credit. Rassilon just smiles at him; out on the lawn the Naismiths stare up at Gallifrey. Inside, a kid is stuck inside the intricate nuclear booth, so of course Wilf runs in there to hit the opposite button so he can get free, even as the Doctor begs him not to.
The Master stares up.
"But this is fantastic, isn't it? The Time Lords restored?"
The Doctor is still on his knees.
"You weren't there. In the final days of the War. You never saw what was born. If the Timelock's broken, everything's coming through. Not just the Daleks, but the Skaro Degradations, the Horde of Travesties, the Nightmare Child, the Could-Have-Been King with his Army of Meanwhiles and Never-weres... The War turned into hell. And that's what you opened, right above the Earth. Hell is descending."
The Master grins: "My kind of world." But the Doctor's not done. Even the Time Lords, they know, can't survive that. It's not their endgame.
"We will initiate the Final Sanction," Rassilon declares. "The end of time will come. At my hand. The rupture will continue, until it rips the Time Vortex apart."
The Master is offended: "That's suicide." Rassilon nods.
"We will ascend, to become creatures of consciousness alone. Free of these bodies, free of time, and cause and effect, while creation itself ceases to be." The Master is amazed.