"We can't give up," I say to Ellidy, my voice strained. "We'll find a way," she replies, her own breathing labored but her determination unflinching. Suddenly, we hear Michael's voice. "Stop this fighting." "It just got worse," I whisper to Ellidy. I glance at her, the gravity of Michael's presence weighing heavily on both of us. "Right," she mutters under her breath, her grip on her sword tightening.

Michael steps into the light, his eyes gleaming with malice. "I can fight Libby myself," he sneers. I feel Ellidy tensing up beside me, her expression resolute. "What do we do?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper. "We can take him together," I reply, my voice firm. Michael grins, a predatory look in his eyes. "No, Libby. I want to fight you." His smirk sends a chill down my spine. He's clearly relishing this confrontation. "What?" I retort, my heart racing with unease.

"You heard me," he replies, his voice smooth but with a hint of menace. "Just you and me. Fair fight." "Fine," I say, my voice as steady as I can manage. "Good," Michael replies, his expression almost excited. "I've been looking forward to this for a long time."

"You're not seriously going to fight him alone," Ellidy whispers, her voice barely audible. "What could possibly go wrong?" I say sarcastically. "I'll be fine," I reassure Ellidy, my voice betraying my internal anxiety. "Just be careful," she pleads, her eyes locking with mine, worry etched across her features. With a final deep breath, I turn away from Ellidy, my attention shifting to Michael as he stands waiting, his smug confidence radiating off him.

"You ready, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice dripping with a mixture of mockery and anticipation. I take a deep breath. "I'd start writing my will if I were you." Michael simply laughs, his confidence unwavering. "We'll see about that, darling."

I ready my stance, my sword clutched tightly in my hand. "Let's do this," I retort, my voice filled with a mix of challenge and determination. "With pleasure," he replies, his own sword at the ready. 

Michael makes the first move, lunging forward with a fierce attack. I react quickly, parrying his blow with my sword. Sparks fly as our blades clash, the sound echoing through the clearing. I move swiftly, using my agility to dodge and weave, but Michael is surprisingly quick and skilled. He counters every move I make, his years of experience showing in his fluid motions. The exchange of attacks is relentless, our blows meeting in a dance of power and precision.

"Tired already?" Michael taunts, a smirk playing on his lips. I grit my teeth, my frustration mounting, but I keep my focus. "I'm just getting started," I retort, launching another assault on him.

"Is that all you've got?" he jeers, his expression filled with disdain. "I expected more from you, sweetheart." I channel my energy and launch a fireball at him. Michael is caught off guard by the sudden attack. The fireball connects, sending him stumbling backward. He regains his balance quickly, a look of surprise and annoyance flashing across his face.

"More where that came from," I say, grinning. "Impressive," Michael concedes, his tone a mix of anger and grudging respect. "But it's going to take a lot more than cheap tricks and fireballs to defeat me."

The exchange becomes more intense, each attack more calculated and powerful. Michael is on the defensive, starting to show signs of strain, his breath coming in shorter gasps. His blows become fiercer, his attacks more aggressive. It's clear that he's fighting not just for the win, but for his pride.

"You're stubborn, I'll give you that," he pants between labored breaths. "But you're out of your league." Michael attempts to grab my arm, but I anticipate the move and deliver a well-placed kick, sending him stumbling backward. "You're quicker than you look," he mutters, his voice laced with a hint of respect. "But let's see how long you can keep it up."

"How does it feel?" I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "How does what feel?" Michael retorts, sweat beading on his brow. "Beating you senseless?" "That you've been around for all eternity and you're being beaten by a 16-year-old," I say, wiping sweat from my brow. Michael lets out a scoff, a mix of annoyance and disbelief on his face. "Don't get cocky, girl. You're just another obstacle in my path."

I get in his face. "It's the princess of hell to you." "Princess, huh?" Michael sneers, his expression filled with disdain. "Being the child of Lucifer doesn't make you special." "Maybe not, but it does make me strong," I retort, my voice filled with determination. "And you're finding that out the hard way."

"You're not going to win this, you know," he huffs, a hint of desperation creeping into his tone. "I'm not just going to let you defeat me." The fight becomes a test of endurance, both of us tiring swiftly. Michael's attacks are becoming more erratic, his exhaustion showing. But despite the odds stacked against me, I refuse to back down.

"You can't keep this up forever," Michael gasps, his breath labored. "You're going to tire out before me." I can feel my own strength fading, but I refuse to give in.

"I've got more willpower in me than you think," I reply, my voice strained. "And I'm not quitting until you're down." Michael senses an opportunity and strikes, knocking my sword out of my hand. It clatters to the ground, out of reach. He kicks me to the ground, the force of his kick sending me stumbling backward, my back hitting the ground with a thud. A pained gasp escapes my lips as I struggle to regain my breath.

I push myself up, my muscles protesting as I force myself back on my feet. My body feels heavy and sluggish, the fatigue from the fight taking its toll. Michael looms over me, his expression a mixture of satisfaction and disgust. "Looks like you're all out of tricks, sweetheart," he sneers.

"Not... yet..." I manage to gasp out. I summon a fire force, sending Michael sprawling backward with the powerful force of my fiery attack. He lands heavily on the ground, caught off guard by the unexpected surge of power.

"You... You little...?" Michael stutters, caught between surprise and irritation. He slowly rises to his feet, his expression a mixture of pain and annoyance. "That was a good one," he admits, his voice filled with begrudging respect. "But it's not going to save you."

He advances towards me, his movements slower but still determined. I can tell that he's seething with anger, my attack having managed to spark his temper. I seize the opportunity and scoop up my sword, adrenaline surging through me as we resume our fight.