A flashback flickers in Moxie’s mind—two months before his hometown was destroyed. He was just a boy of seven, wandering alone in the woods. Tears blurred his vision as he felt the crushing weight of loneliness. Turning back, Moxie realized he was lost. His heart pounded in fear, and he sat down, quietly sobbing into his hands.
Suddenly, a sharp thwack struck the back of his head. Moxie spun around, clutching the spot where he was hit. Behind him stood Liza, six years old at the time, clutching a small stick with an exasperated look on her face.
“Stop crying! We’re only two minutes away from the camp,” she scolded, her voice sharp but with a hint of concern.
Moxie wiped his tears, looking embarrassed. “Sorry...” he muttered.
Liza sighed in frustration, dropping the stick. “You’re such a dummy sometimes, Moxie.”
Despite her harsh words, Moxie smiled. He stood up, wiping his tears, and thanked her quietly. Spotting a rock five times his size nearby, Moxie’s mischievous nature kicked in. He walked over to the massive boulder, which was easily 10-30 times his weight, and with sheer determination, lifted it off the ground.
Liza couldn’t help but giggle, her anger melting away as they laughed together, their bond stronger than the moment before. It was a simpler time—one filled with love, hope, and togetherness.
The flashback ended abruptly, yanking Moxie back into the present. His mind shattered by grief, his body had transformed completely, now engulfed in a swirling mass of darkness. His once familiar features were obscured by the sinister black aura surrounding him. What remained was a haunting figure, draped in shadows, with what seemed like a permanently crying face. Bright white tears streamed down his face endlessly, glowing against the backdrop of his blackened form.
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Insanity and Michael both stared in disbelief at what stood before them. This was no longer the Moxie they knew. What they faced now was a manifestation of pure grief, loneliness, and rage.
Michael, trying to regain his composure, barely had time to react as Insanity grabbed his wrist and hurled him toward Moxie. The archangel’s eyes widened in shock as he flew toward the monstrous figure. Moxie’s movements were now erratic and wild, his long, clawed hands swiping at anything in his path.
Insanity quickly darted out of range, narrowly avoiding the vicious slashes of Moxie’s claws. With a single swipe, Moxie carved through entire mountains, the sheer force of his attacks moving the very clouds above them. His claws, sharp and relentless, tore through Michael’s once-impenetrable armor as if it were paper, leaving deep gashes that bled profusely.
Michael stumbled backward, momentarily stunned by the power Moxie now wielded. He looked around, seeing the carnage left in Moxie’s wake. His entire army had been wiped out—angels, knights, all dead. The ground was scarred by the destruction, the air thick with the scent of blood and death.
For the first time, Michael felt a tremor of fear. The Moxie standing before him was not a mere mortal—he was something far more dangerous, fueled by emotions too raw, too powerful to control.
Moxie’s once-pure heart was now consumed by an endless void, and he no longer distinguished friend from foe. Insanity and Michael both knew this was no longer about sides—it was now a free-for-all, where survival was the only rule.
Michael, clutching his bleeding side, locked eyes with Insanity. The two of them, once bitter enemies, now found themselves facing the same impossible threat. But Insanity's wicked grin never faltered. He had always relished a good fight, and now, staring at the chaos Moxie had become, he felt exhilaration rise in his chest.
Michael, however, saw no joy in this. “This... this is not how it should be!” he muttered under his breath. He could feel the pressure mounting as Moxie prepared another devastating attack, his claws glowing with dark energy. Michael could see the end approaching, but he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.
With a roar, Michael charged toward Moxie, his sword raised high, while Insanity readied his axe, equally eager to jump back into the fray. The three forces of nature—Moxie, Michael, and Insanity—stood poised for one final, all-out battle.