Vindicator's panicked string of thoughts were a shrill, piercing cry that ultimately faded behind the buzzing that was overwhelming Juggernaut's senses. The need to win, to stand and fight, no matter the cost. He was not an animal - no selfish drive, begging him to perpetuate his own existence. He was Her weapon, Her design. Her son.

A duller, weaker part of him wondered if this what it'd been like on the other side of the line, to be Alcina, Bone and Siren before they too fell to stone. That shred of something else was burnt away as the fire continued. What was left of the Juggernaut was ready to die-

One of its remaining stingers shot forward in an arc, aiming for the side of Azreal's face. If it didn't meet it's mark (Either the flesh of the cheek or ideally another eye), it would still prompt the demon to defend himself rather than continue his onslaught uninterrupted.

The Juggernaut was offered a brief moment of reprieve as the Vindicator's magick encased the demon's arms. Though its blow did not find it's target, it'd been spared from another one of Azrael's devastating attacks for a time.

Iteration. He was outside of himself, watching the events unfold. The weight of its many injuries a dull ache. It should feel disgust, knowing its nature, Her's. It should grieve for itself, should it die its true death here. It didn't - it couldn't.

Better luck next time.

But the body was still alive, still fighting. Perhaps that part of it would persist beyond its lesser splittings. The Juggernaut seized the moment, remaining stingers again seeking meat - while they were still attached to his body, that is.

When they failed... he would simply move to envelop him. The Juggernaut was ready to give everything just to drag Azrael down with it.

But it was failing. It was always failing. They were too close already, the stingers shooting past their target.

Its sibling had bought them more time, a minute, maybe seconds - it would be enough. They would make it enough. But that time was running out, always running out. Two muscled arms hurtled down from above, their crown flashing in its last moments whole.

The Juggernaut would not go gently.

They braced, then rose to meet the blow, crest shattering underneath Azrael's arms. The Juggernaut pushed upward, hoping that its edges would cut, pierce and skewer the soft flesh they could reach. Like punching a window - he would be surrounded by broken glass.

The blow crashed near the drone's center, dangerously close to the Clearstone hidden within feathers and horns. Its scorched exoskeleton cracked like wax, sinking the shards of its outer layers into the soft tissue underneath. It was discovering new ways to hurt today.

It drifted further from itself.

Time was always running out.