Michael's POV
This is it… Michael thought, his breath growing shallow, his body wracked with pain deeper than any physical wound. This is my end.
He could feel it—his soul being twisted.
His thoughts were being rewritten, his emotions slowly drained. The principles and pride that once anchored him were unraveling. As someone who had trained under the immortal discipline of the Hercules Method, his life should have been untouchable, endless. But the black magic radiating from Imu was far older, darker, more absolute. It was rewriting the rules of reality itself.
Even immortality has its limits in front of a god, he realized bitterly.
A tar-like shadow began crawling up his limbs, seeping into his veins, pouring into his mind like poison. His heart thundered—then stuttered—as a new presence entered his being.
Hebi Hebi no Mi, Model: Samael.
The name echoed inside his skull like a curse.
A creature of unspeakable power. A devil with serpentine cunning and brute strength unmatched. Its will and spirit clashed violently with his own, attempting to take root in Michael's mind and soul. He could feel the pressure—its hunger. It was a predator… and he was the prey.
But it wasn't alone.
Within him, his current Devil Fruit raged to life, repulsing the corruption with all its might. The two powers collided inside his body like warring titans—one seeking dominion through order, the other chaos and obedience.
Michael's eyes burned a glowing red, —fiery symbols etched themselves in his irises as Imu's influence pressed harder. It was overwhelming. Suffocating.
His arms trembled. His knees buckled. His empathy… his conscience… his very humanity began to slip.
He saw flashes of bloodshed—of Cain, his former mentor, a man of brutal efficiency who murdered without flinching. Michael had once been horrified by that legacy. But now?
Now, the memory didn't disturb him.
He felt nothing.
His sympathy for the innocent—his will to protect—was fading like a dying flame. And in its place, a cold clarity was blooming.
A clarity that whispered:
"Obey. Serve. Destroy. Become."
But deep within the storm of torment, something refused.
Michael clenched his fists as a sharp gasp escaped him. "No…"
This wasn't him. He wasn't Cain. He wasn't Imu's puppet. He had walked through fire, earned his strength, not to kneel, but to stand. To defy.
Even as the last threads of his morality burned, a single, buried emotion screamed louder than the rest—
Defiance.
The battle wasn't over yet.
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It was like drowning in hate itself as Michael gazed into the oppressive mass of black tar covering his body. Like sentient oil, the corruption crept over his skin, muting, binding, and robbing him of his very being. It was spiritual as well as physical. A battle for his soul.
Then—reflex.
Before Michael could think, his body responded.
His fingers twitched, and he involuntarily triggered his Devil Fruit with a low hum of collapsing space:
The ability to destroy everything, including intangibles, is known as Hakai-Hakai no Mi.
Like the concept of the corruption being dismantled, the tar broke—not in splashes or shards, but in bits and pieces of the idea. His surroundings trembled.
The tar reformed, albeit more slowly. Yes, it retaliated, but now it faced opposition.
Then something more profound stirred.
It seemed as though a sun had broken through Michael's chest. When his Devil Fruit awoke, there was more than destruction. Order, a higher purpose encoded in its most profound form, now resonated with it.
Inside, light exploded—searing silver, white, and gold—pouring through his flesh's fissures like molten judgment veins.
The blackness reacted with equal rage, growing more hateful as it thickened and twisted. It didn't flinch. It grew deeper than before, richer, more primordial. It was identity now, not just corruption.
The two forces—light and dark, Michael and the serpent, Hakai and Samael—started a battle for equilibrium rather than supremacy.
Then there was silence.
No victor. Don't give up.
The dark was not consumed by the light.
The darkness did not extinguish the light.
Like twin hearts beating in unison, they embraced, coiled around one another, and settled.
Michael's body ceased to shake.
His shape was still changing, but he was no longer in pain as he stood tall. He had a star-like glow on one half of his chest. The other pulsated with controlled rage, smoking with shadows.
He was now both:
Redeemer and Destroyer. Saint and Demon.
A Nephalem.
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His Devil Fruit—originally the Hito Hito no Mi, Model: Michael Demiurgos—suddenly began to evolve, merging with the Hebi Hebi no Mi, Model: Samael. Both were ultimate warriors of opposing sides—once brothers, now eternal enemies. Samael, once the most beautiful angel ever created, had become a monstrous beast as he orchestrated the fall of the first two humans. Michael, God's greatest soldier, was destined to face his brother in battle. Now, their powers had fused into a single, unprecedented Devil Fruit—one that wielded the might of both light and darkness, of purity and poison.
He has a new kind of Devil Fruit, it was called, Hito Hito no mi, Model: Nephalem, with both access to the awakened powers of the two Devil Fruits and added more, he could transform himself into light particles like Pika Pika no mi, he could manipulate darkness, like the Yami Yami no mi.