Misguided

My black reflection is choking me, smiling. Corrupted. The Lillim do nothing to stop it. Do they not feel me dying as well? The Throne shan't give battle. They bicker.

The lightsphere is guttering over the back of this rushing green landscape. Hard voices swim to the edge of perception. Those black pneumatic vises jerk and squeeze tight. Its arms too long, it was here before I could ever be there to counter. Its light shines brightest.

The Throne is dying with me.

And then, a voice like Adam's, "Awaken."

Then, a dreadful silence stills my limbs. There is another. Not the Throne. Not the Compliment. An abscess speaking in unfathomable anger. Indomitable Light. Whispering of things yet to come here, not there.

Light shot through my limbs with a fury. Aching for a fight, the abscess' energy became an addicting fuel.

Whispers trickle down from the Throne. Fight! Fight, they scream in conspiratorial whispers. The Throne has regained sense!

I exult! Shaking hands grasp, twine, and leech the life from my would-be-killer. Black Mirror's windpipe collapses. The neck snaps. The Throne screams in righteous fury and writhes in echoes triumphant with its opponent's fear.

Ebon armor peels off like an overripe fruit. Its face caves in with little trouble and teeth and a wayward eye roll into the river for baptism on the new Earth. The silvery waters are overrun with death-blood. The Throne will be pleased. Thunder ruptures all thought when I spy the Corruption spilling out of Black Mirror's back. A bony protrusion thrust out there steaming.

Its Throne.

Yes.

Blood-slick fingers pick up the long metal tube. The Throne keens for vengeance, the blood-tithe. A wintry sobbing erupts inside of me. The Compliment is reaching for the Throne. In that instant, fate is sealed.

The Throne screams with delight as my teeth crunch into the metal. Something warm and yielding bursts inside.

And then, for all the fury, there is nothing.

I am broadsided by a sudden, dreadful silence. Before the Light in me dims, I wonder.

Have I done wrong?

A/N: Another drabble about the infamous Unit-03 battle. Hope you enjoy. Tried to convey why Unit-01 took the Dummy this time and not later before Zeruel. May or may not have succeeded. But I am pleased with this one.

Quick Note: the drabbles will most likely vary between 100-600 words.

And fresh from Mashadar's Omake Corner!

And then, a voice like Adam's, "Cake."
There is pain, but the word is heard. Cake. But where is the cake?
The answer is clear
There is no cake
There is only rage