The silence between them stretched for several seconds. Clyde recognized the same look in Michael’s eyes that he had seen before in Uriel and Gabriel. Arrogance. Disdain.
It was obvious that Michael didn’t like him. And Clyde, in turn, could see it clearly. But now that they were in the same boat, what choice did they have but to work together?
"Hey," Clyde said, cocking his head. "So, you’re the other agent of the Ancient God. What’s your name? Sorry, but I’m not exactly familiar with Archangels."
Michael continued to glare at him, his teeth clenched. Clyde could see it—no, he could even sense it. Michael’s eyes burned with dangerous intent.
"What’s wrong? You don’t look too happy to see me, even though you were the one who opened the portal for me," Clyde said casually. Then, without a care, he strolled toward one of the more comfortable-looking couches and sat down.
"Ahh..." Clyde let out a satisfied sigh. The couch was incredibly soft, as if it were swallowing his body. It was even better than the couches and beds in his mansion. "This is a nice couch. Can I take it?"
Michael moved in an instant, becoming nothing more than a blur of light. But even though Clyde was seated and seemingly relaxed, he was just as fast.
He caught Michael’s wrist before it could reach his throat, his grip surprisingly strong—strong enough to make Michael momentarily falter.
"Whoa, is this how an Archangel welcomes his guests? By strangling them?" Clyde said with a smirk. Then, he released his power—a fusion of both angelic and demonic energy.
Michael’s expression shifted. Alarmed, he immediately pulled back, flapping his wings to put distance between them.
Clyde grinned, satisfied with Michael’s reaction. It was always the same—whenever they saw him display both angelic and demonic power, they were shocked.
"Why did you attack me? Aren’t we both agents of the Ancient God?" Clyde asked. Then, a thought crossed his mind. "Wait... that means you’ve seen what happened to Uriel and the others. How do you feel about that?"
Michael took a deep breath to calm himself. Then, he spoke. "You should keep your mouth shut. The only reason you’re still alive is because you are one of the Catalysts chosen by the Ancient One."
"Yeah? Is that so? Do you think you can defeat me?"
Michael snorted. His lips curled into a crooked smile. "If you think you’re strong just because you defeated Uriel, you’re dead wrong. The difference in power between him and me is like heaven and earth."
Then, in an instant, Michael unleashed his aura. The entire chamber trembled, and even the air around them seemed to shake. Clyde could see it clearly—space and time itself distorted under the sheer pressure of Michael’s power.
Michael smirked as he saw Clyde’s expression shift. "Now you understand the difference between us."
"So what? You think I’m afraid?" Clyde drew his Elderglass sword. His tone was firm, his gaze sharp—pure defiance radiating from him.
Michael had expected him to falter after witnessing such power. But those eyes... they were the eyes of someone ready to fight.
Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have held back—he would have smited Clyde on the spot. But right now, he wasn’t sure if Clyde was weaker or stronger than him. And he wasn’t willing to take that risk.
Slowly, Michael retracted his aura and folded his wings.
Michael exhaled sharply, forcing his temper down. "We don’t need to fight, no matter how much we despise each other," he said. "Our goals align. That’s all that matters."
His golden eyes flicked to the Elderglass sword still in Clyde’s hand. "Sheathe your weapon. This is not a battlefield."
Clyde studied him for a moment before letting out a small chuckle.
"Fine." With a smooth motion, he slid the sword back into its sheath and leaned back against the couch once more. "At least we can agree on that much. I won’t ask why you’re willing to destroy your own kind and give up your privileged life as a higher being."
Michael didn’t react immediately. He merely stared at Clyde, expression unreadable. Then, in a quiet, firm voice, he said, "I serve the true ruler of this universe. That is all there is to it."
His gaze darkened slightly. "The power of Angels, Demons, Celestials... it’s all an illusion. A joke."
Clyde raised an eyebrow at that. There was something unsettling about how Michael said it, as if he genuinely believed their so-called divine might was meaningless.
But the Archangel did not elaborate. He simply folded his arms and remained silent.
Clyde tapped his fingers on the armrest, watching him with mild curiosity. "You sure sound disillusioned for an Archangel."
Michael gave no response.
Clyde smirked. "Alright, fine. Keep your secrets."
For a few moments, silence settled between them again, thick with unspoken thoughts. The tension from their earlier clash lingered, but it was clear that — for now — they would not come to blows.
Then, Clyde sighed. "So, since we’re supposed to work together. Where should we start?"
Michael studied Clyde for a long moment before nodding. "Fine. But before I tell you what I know, you need to explain what you know first."
Clyde leaned back slightly, stretching his arms before resting them behind his head.
"Alright," he said. "The influence of the Ancient One is spreading. You already know that much." A grin played at his lips. "But I made it spread even faster and wider by touching the orbs in the Nexus of Creation."
He met Michael’s gaze, his expression daring. "Don’t ask how I know about the Nexus."
Michael’s jaw tensed, but he held his tongue. He wanted to press Clyde for more details but he knew that pushing for answers now would only create more unnecessary conflict between them.
Instead, he exhaled slowly and said, "I received a gift from the Ancient One. A power that allows me to grant its influence to my followers without turning them into mindless, twisted creatures like the others."
Clyde raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "So, you already have an army?"
Michael gave a slight nod. "I do."
"Good," Clyde said. "I think I have an army too."
Michael’s eyes narrowed. "How?"
Clyde chuckled. "I defeated Asmodeus."