Then, without warning, the demon lunged. Its speed shattered the senses, a blur faster than thought, faster than Michael's eyes could track. The ground beneath him erupted as claws struck, sending shards of ice and stone spinning into the air.

Michael twisted, swinging the jagged blade, fusing ice and shadow in a desperate strike. The impact sang with energy, a sharp, discordant note in the chaos, but the demon's laughter rang louder, echoing through the crater.

"Again," it whispered, voice velvet and venom. "Show me the strength of your grief, your anger, your humanity."

Michael's knuckles whitened. Pain, fear, and loss surged through him, but so did something else, fury, unrelenting, burning hotter than the frost that coated his skin.

"For him," he said again, voice a growl, and lunged forward, the fractured ice-shadow blade trembling but alive, carrying every ounce of his will into the battle that now defined the end and beginning of everything.

The demon's eyes narrowed, anticipating the strike, but even it seemed to hesitate, ever so slightly, as if sensing that something in Michael had shifted.

Michael's momentum carried him through the air, the jagged blade carving arcs of frost and shadow that licked the crater walls. Each swing radiated desperation and defiance, raw energy coiling like a storm around him.

The world seemed to shrink to the space between him and the demon, everything else reduced to echoes of shattered ice and smoke. The demon moved, but this time differently.

Not just evading, not just countering, there was caution, a subtle respect woven into its lethal grace. Its claws met Michael's strike, sparks of frozen darkness exploding where shadow met obsidian, but the force of the impact sent a shockwave that splintered the ground beneath them.

"You change," the demon murmured, a note of curiosity threading through its voice. "Something fractures inside you, yet something endures."

Michael gritted his teeth, every breath a hiss of frost and shadow. "I endure because I must," he growled. "I endure because I can't let him fall for nothing."

The demon tilted its head, eyes narrowing, the shadows around it writhing like a tide. "Very well," it said softly. "Then show me the full weight of your resolve."

The ground shook violently as Michael planted his boots, channeling every ounce of ice and shadow into the fractured blade. Light and darkness coiled together, pulsing like a heartbeat, the air vibrating with the sheer intensity of will.

With a roar that split the frozen sky, Michael launched forward again, not just to strike, but to prove that even in despair, even broken, he could burn brighter than any shadow that dared to claim him.

The demon's grin widened, sharp, but now tinged with something else, interest. Its crimson eyes flared, shadows rippling outward as if the very air recoiled from the storm of Michael's will.

Michael's body moved on instinct and fury, each step cracking ice beneath him, each swing of the blade leaving trails of frozen darkness that scorched the ground.

The fractured ice-shadow blade pulsed with a life of its own, thrumming in tune with the heartbeat of his rage, his grief, his relentless defiance. The demon shifted, meeting him strike for strike, claw for blade.

Each collision unleashed explosions of frost and void energy, lighting the crater with jagged brilliance. Even the wind screamed, bending around them as though fleeing from the raw intensity of their clash.

"You fight differently now," the demon said, voice low and rumbling, echoing with some ancient, predatory amusement. "You burn, but can you endure the inferno you've become?"

Michael's chest heaved, ice and shadow wrapping his arms, his shoulders, coiling into a storm that radiated outward. "I don't fight to endure," he snarled, every word jagged like ice shards. "I fight to win. To survive. To honor him!"

The demon's grin sharpened further, and for the first time, it hesitated, not out of fear, but calculation. The space between them pulsed with tension, as if the crater itself held its breath.

Then Michael lunged again, blade blazing with fused light and darkness, shadows writhing, frost biting, and in that instant, the battlefield dissolved into something otherworldly.

The air tore around them, a violent storm of ice and shadow, and with each step Michael took, shards of frozen earth spiraled into the void.

Light and darkness collided in jagged arcs, carving lines of raw energy across the crater walls. The roar of the wind became a chorus of shattered echoes, carrying the weight of every loss, every scream, every heartbeat that had brought him here.

The demon met him mid-lunge, claws slicing through the swirling vortex, sending showers of frost and shadow scattering like shattered glass.

For a moment, the world held its breath, time dilating, freezing, stretching, as their energies collided in a brilliant, blinding explosion that warped the very air.

Michael's eyes burned, pupils narrowing into slits of frost and obsidian, as the fractured blade pulsed like a living thing, screaming with his fury, his grief, his unbroken will. The demon's crimson gaze flickered, a spark of unease breaking through its cold amusement.

"You persist," it growled, voice rumbling through the chaos like distant thunder. "Even now, even broken,"

Michael's roar cut through the storm, a sound of raw defiance that shook the ground beneath them. "I will not break!"

The impact sent them both skidding across the crater floor, shadows and ice clinging, twisting, merging in a chaotic dance. Sparks of frozen energy lanced outward, carving streaks of brilliance into the smoke-filled air.

For the first time, the demon's movements faltered, not enough to retreat, but enough to acknowledge that Michael was no longer simply reacting; he was shaping the battle itself.

The demon laughed manically, embracing Michael, as Michael was calm and composed, thinking clearly, now that he was able to look past the fear he felt. Look past the guilt he felt for not being able to help Zane.

Now was his time to shine, to achieve something greater, and maybe even fuse, to reach a higher state of being.

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