The 'consciousness' or however it was best imagined, that was Vincent Valentine existed--but almost as if hearing and seeing everything through a haze. Locked inside his own mind and transformed body, with the demonic Chaos in control, and feeling rage. Rage and indignant pride that these things, these manikins were hurting those whom were his--with Vincent's conscious exerting enough control to remind the demon--his to protect. Allies, not enemies.

Wings spread more as the demon-form alighted on the ground, making itself a target that the healers might have more time, the fighters might fall back. Rage and pain, and ignoring increasing wounds. Only Vincent's willpower made red-eyes that glowed turn towards the fallen SOLDIER, turn and watch the other warrior and mage that knelt by him, trying to heal. Another great roar, and a charge forward--still with wings spread and drawing enemies to hold the line. Beat them back, buy them time, and ignore wounds inflicted on itself.