Suddenly, Michael and the Angel disengaged, both of them sliding backward as though pushed apart by an invisible decree of the cosmos itself. They stared at one another from across the fractured expanse, the two of them seeming to have reached an impossible impasse, an equilibrium so absolute that reality itself hesitated.
They were each other's perfect nemesis, equal in strength, equal in speed, equal in sheer devotion to the sword. Neither could overpower the other in pure swordsmanship or in raw physical prowess.
