Michael readied himself, and in the next instant, he was behind the red-masked figure.
No flashy light, no teleportation circle, just simple teleportation by weaving his Chaos mana perfectly.
Michael's fist drove toward the man's spine, but it didn't land.
A translucent barrier flared to life, fracturing under the pressure but holding just long enough for the masked figure to pivot, elbow lashing out. The strike connected—but only barely. Michael absorbed it, twisting with the impact, and retaliated with a knee aimed straight for the ribs.
That one connected.
The masked figure slid back, boots scraping against the polished obsidian floor, runes around them flickering wildly now. Sparks danced between lines as the chamber itself strained to contain the conflict.
"You're not using Chaos properly," the figure muttered.
