The relentless clashes from their weapons had flattened the forest into a desolate land devoid of life and nature. And ever so often, the beam of concentrated light shooting out through the archangel's eye turned the very ground into a coarse desert. However, even then, despite taking countless hits from his hierarchical predator, the king of wrath simply laughed it all off.
"Is this the best you can do, dragon slayer?" His hands spread carelessly wide open, mocked Michael in an indirect manner.
Resting his lance over the shoulder, Michael shot a scornful gaze at the undead lord. His armor, although dented, was still protecting him from the true holy magic cast by the angel, and no matter how many physical attacks he landed on it, not a single dent had appeared because of them.