The black-white line split the bubble clean down the middle.
For one terrible second, it looked like everything would go with it.
Khaos' hands tightened.
God's hand stayed where it was.
The break did not spread.
It held.
Barely.
Inside that broken infinity, Lucifer and Michael still came in.
Neither of them pulled the strike back.
Neither of them blinked.
Their swords met point to point.
The sound this time was not a clash.
It was a scream.
Both blades bent reality around themselves, dark and pale forcing against each other so hard that the space between them began to peel away in strips. White symbols burst from Michael's crown-ring. Red-black script bled from Lucifer's devil wings. The seven sins spun faster around him, each one feeding the pressure, each one trying to push the edge just one breath farther.
Michael drove in with both hands on the hilt.
Lucifer did the same.
Their faces were inches apart again.
Michael's eyes were white fire.
