The air shifted as their mana collided, and in that same instant, they vanished.
Shockwaves ripped through the battlefield as they clashed, fists and kicks colliding, each impact tearing through the land beneath them.
The entity controlling Michael's body twisted its arm. Bones stretched and split, forming jagged claws that ripped downward with brutal force.
Reygart slipped aside.
The pressure of the swing alone cracked the ground apart.
Another strike came immediately—faster, sharper.
Reygart ducked.
The air split clean where the claws passed.
Lightning answered.
Spheres—rapid, violent—fired in succession, but a massive arm burst from Michael's back, intercepting them, explosions dispersing across its surface as he surged forward, closing the distance in a blink, claws driving toward Reygart—
—but Reygart locked his fists.
Crackling chains snapped around Michael's body.
He halted mid-lunge, struggling and squirming—
but the arm behind him extended violently, clawing through the restraint and slamming into Reygart, sending him skidding across the ground, tearing through dirt and stone before he caught himself and rose instantly.
Possessed Michael pressed forward, both massive arms lashing out, trying to snag him—
but Reygart vanished.
"Thunder Step."
Reygart moved at an untraceable speed—his form no longer visible, only streaks of lightning carving through the air in his wake.
The lightning lingered where he passed, gathering along that path, coiling and taking shape.
A dragon formed behind him—not summoned, but born from the trail of his movement.
It crashed forward—
but the second arm rose and blocked it head-on as lightning exploded outward in wild arcs—
And in that same instant—Reygart appeared behind him.
Lightning streaked along his fist as he swung.
The blow landed clean.
BOOM!
Possessed Michael's body shot forward, smashing through the mountainside—but before the debris could settle—he was already moving, rising from the dust, black eyes widening, teeth clenched.
Reygart said, "Damn stubborn, aren't we?"
A smirk tugged at his lips as he stepped forward, eyes locked on Michael.
"Well then… I guess I'll use ten percent of my power. You're holding back too, after all. Don't worry—I won't draw my katana… it's only training. Still…" his grin widened, "it's been a while since I've had this much fun."
They moved at the same time.
The clash detonated the air itself.
A massive spiral of lightning and black energy twisted violently into a storm, tearing through the battlefield, uprooting earth, splintering trees, reshaping the forest as their blows collided within the chaos.
Then both were forced out of the vortex, skidding apart.
Possessed Michael's arm warped, stretching into claws again—he groaned, veins pulsing—as violet lines flared across his arm, energy surging as he pulled it back, the claws widening, distorting further.
"Roooarr!!!"
Reygart recoiled slightly, his smirk never fading as the storm slowly dispersed.
"Looks like you want to end this," he said lightly. "Fine… I agree."
His arm flashed, lightning crawling over it as he clenched his fist—then it condensed, focused, darkening into a deeper shade of blue.
Possessed Michael lunged.
The ground shattered beneath his feet as he tore forward, claws enlarged, violet energy screaming along their edges as he closed the distance and brought them down—
Reygart moved.
He slipped back—just barely avoiding the strike by a hair as his eyes followed the claws.
The pressure tore across his face, splitting skin from brow to cheek. Blood spilled—but he didn't flinch.
His lips curved faintly.
Lightning still raging in his fist.
"It's been fun… but it's time to end this."
His voice dropped.
"Lightning Magic… Zeus's Judgement."
He swung.
The strike landed square on Michael's forehead, piercing through the mana coating and grinding him into the ground.
The earth detonated outward in a massive web of cracks, lightning screaming through the destruction.
Silence followed, broken only by the faint crackle of lightning—ozone and dust mingling in the air.
Possessed Michael lay there, breath ragged beneath Reygart's fist as Reygart slowly raised his hand and stepped back.
Blood streamed down Michael's forehead. No sign of self-healing.
Slowly—dragging himself—he rose, body trembling, one knee barely holding him up, eyes still pitch black… but for a moment they closed.
And when they opened—
A voice rang deep within, familiar.
'What do you think you're doing…? Stop butting in.'
Michael's consciousness forced its way back, pushing against the presence.
The entity paused—surprised—as one of its eyes shifted.
Michael's normal golden-brown returned, and the black markings began to recede.
"Listen…" Michael muttered, breathing heavy. "I know you're trying to help… but this is my fight. You get that? Still…" a faint grin formed, "I'll need some mana. I don't have much left… so lend me yours. When you were in control, I was still aware… and I figured something out."
The entity gave no immediate response to such an arrogant demand—but it was exactly that arrogance that caught its interest.
"Is that so…" it responded slowly. "Very well. You've piqued my interest."
"Thanks… Mr Mushroom…"
The black faded, the claws receding, as his remaining eye shifted back to normal, until everything was gone and Michael returned fully to himself.
Reygart watched, blood still trailing down his cheek, smirk deepening.
'Okay…' he thought. 'I'm genuinely impressed now.'
He pointed at his face.
"You already landed a hit—a big one at that, so you pass. Besides, you're injured. If you keep pushing, your mana will run dry… and then you're dead. Dream over."
Micheal shook his head.
"I appreciate the concern… but I haven't landed a hit on you. That scar?" he smiled faintly. "Wasn't from me."
His eyes sharpened.
"I understand… but I'm going ahead anyway."
Reygart clicked his tongue.
"You idiot. Are you even listening to yourself—?"
Michael cut in.
"You don't get to decide when I die."
Reygart was taken aback by the defiance, his eyes widening slightly.
"If I can't land a hit on you with my own strength… then I'm not a wizard. Simple as that. I've got a journey waiting for me… so I'm not dying here. Watch."
Michael stepped forward, settling into a stance, eyes closing as his mana flowed.
'Now then… about that mana…'
It answered.
Black mana surged—thicker, deeper—spilling over his body, swallowing him whole.
Reygart's gaze sharpened.
'What is he doing now…?'
Michael widened his stance, lowering his center of gravity. His knees bent as he closed his eyes, head dipping forward, hands resting lightly on his knees.
'This position… it'll let the intense flow of mana move through my whole body at double speed…'
The black shifted, then lightened, faint violet lines shifting through his body.
"Alright… let's go…"
His eyes snapped open.
"GROUND ZERO."
The surge exploded outward, wind spiraling violently before collapsing inward, stabilizing around him.
Reygart stared—then burst into laughter, covering his eyes.
"One thing about you, Mickey…" he said, grinning, "you're a piece of work. Truly."
He stepped forward, settling into his own stance.
"Come then…"
Michael tore a strip from his sleeve, wrapping it around his forehead to slow the bleeding, then lifted his head—grinning, steady.
Ready.