The Nameless Heir

"You know you can't do anything."

Michael's voice cut through the air, steady, sharp. His hand lifted almost lazily. Then a single flick of his finger cracked against his forehead.

The blow hurled him down. Air ripped past his ears. He hit ground hard, the stone splintering beneath him. Dust rolled up in a choking wave.

Typhon's voice boomed in the silence. "What the hell are you doing, you stupid boy?"

Lying in the rubble, he laughed under his breath. His voice was low, almost soft, but it carried. "Shut up."

He shot upward, the ground breaking apart under him. Shadows and light slammed together. When their blades met, the sound ripped through the air like thunder.

"Look at what you have become."

Michael's voice was cold, steady, unshaken.

He pressed forward. At first it was slow, the weight of his blade grinding against him. Then the pressure built. Each step forced him back, his heels dragging grooves into the stone.

The ground gave way beneath him. His knees buckled. Michael drove him down, the sheer force burying him into the earth.

He strained, muscles locking, shadows coiling tight around his weapon. It wasn't enough.

His back hit the barrier with a shuddering crack. The impact rattled his bones. The blade pressed harder against his throat, fire spilling from its edge, scorching his skin.

His shadow rose, chains snapping toward Michael, wrapping around him. They pulled hard—only to be shredded in an instant, the strike from behind cutting them apart before they could tighten.

"What is wrong with you, you bastard? You better not die!" Typhon screamed.

"I said shut up."

He staggered back, chest heaving. The courtyard was already broken stone and smoke. Then Michael's body shimmered, golden fire spilling outward.

"Oh, that's nice," he muttered. "I can do that too."

One became two. Two became four. In the next breath, ten stood before him—each wearing the same divine gaze.

His jaw clenched. "Tch."

They attacked as one.

A blade cut across his side, white-hot. He staggered, only to be kicked in the stomach by another, the breath torn out of him. A fist crashed against his jaw, snapping his head sideways.

He tried to swing back, but two more caught his arms, holding him wide while another slammed a knee into his ribs. The crack echoed, sharp and final. Blood filled his mouth.

They didn't stop. They never stopped.

Each strike landed with Michael's voice, his words spilling through the rhythm of the beating.

"You could've stayed." A blade punched through his shoulder. He screamed as fire burned through muscle.

"You could've stood with me." A fist hammered into his chest, breaking bone. He collapsed forward, only to be dragged upright again.

"You were my friend. My brother!" Two of them slammed him down, his body bouncing against the stone. Michael's true form stepped closer, his eyes burning, his voice breaking against the calm he tried to hold.

The clones yanked him up again, forcing him to his knees. Another backhand cracked across his face, blood spraying across the dirt.

"You were there for me in every battle," Michael said, his blade pressing against his chest. "Every war. Every time I needed you—you stood at my side." His hands trembled, but the fury in his eyes didn't fade. "And then, when it mattered most… you abandoned me."

A clone's boot came down, smashing him into the ground again. The island shook under the impact.

He coughed blood, shadows flickering weakly, his body refusing to rise. Yet his mouth twisted into a grin, broken but defiant.

"I didn't abandon you," he rasped. "I abandoned the chains."

Michael's jaw clenched. He shoved him back, pinning him against the barrier, cracks spreading outward as his weight drove him deeper.

"You betrayed me!" Michael roared, pressing the burning blade harder into his chest. "We could've risen together. You could've stood with me. But instead—you chose yourself!"

His bloodied face twisted, eyes flashing with fury. His voice tore out like a snarl. Shadows burst outward, forcing the clones back. Michael leapt clear, light scattering with him.

"It was you who betrayed me!"

His fist shot upward, slamming into Michael's jaw. The strike cracked like thunder, shadows lashing out with it.

"Yes! You and I were like brothers!" he roared, forcing himself to stand even as the divine fire ate into his flesh. "We fought countless battles! Side by side! And when I needed you—when I needed my brother—you were the one who turned away!"

Michael staggered, but his grip never faltered. His eyes burned, his face twisted with rage and grief.

"You betrayed me," he growled, voice raw, chest heaving. His forehead slammed against Michael's, blood running down both their faces. "You took the other side. You drove the blade into my chest. You sent me to hell! Don't you dare say I betrayed you!"

Their swords locked again, shadow and light shrieking against each other.

His voice dropped, ragged but sharp as steel. "I never betrayed you… You betrayed me."

The words struck deeper than any blade. Michael's grip trembled, his breath sharp, his eyes burning with something darker than rage.

"Shut up!" he roared, driving him back, the divine blade burning brighter. Sparks and fire exploded as it pressed against his chest. "I did what I had to do! It was right!"

He snarled through clenched teeth, forcing the blade back an inch, shadows crawling up his arms to push against it. "Right? You call this right?"

Michael's face twisted, his fury spilling out unrestrained. "You were stepping out of your boundaries! You went where you weren't supposed to go, chasing things you had no right to touch! You broke the order! You broke everything!"

Their blades screamed, the clash ripping the courtyard apart.

He spat blood into Michael's face, his voice low but steady. "I broke nothing. I only broke the chains."

Michael froze for a breath, grief flickering through the fury. Then he roared and drove the blade into his chest. Heat burst from the strike. Shadows clung for an instant before they burned, their screams fading into smoke.

His body jolted, blood pouring down the steel. His back slammed into the barrier, already cracked. The force pinned him there, his chest heaving. His voice rasped, almost gone, but he forced the words out anyway. Each one cut like glass.

"Better to burn… for my own path… than to rot in your cage."

Michael's teeth clenched, his face inches from his, voice breaking with wrath.

"Then burn."

He twisted the blade, fire spilling brighter, swallowing him in searing light.