As Michael sent another devastating wave of divine energy crashing toward them, Insanity leaped in to block it. The force was overwhelming, and despite his effort, he was sent flying through several mountains, his body tearing through rock and snow like a missile. Moxie, seeing his friend’s plight, immediately switched to the defense, dodging and weaving between Michael’s powerful strikes, trying to find an opening.

For a brief moment, Moxie’s movements were precise—he managed to land a few solid blows against Michael, the Archangel’s armor ringing with each hit. But just as Moxie glanced at his companions with a brief smile, a sharp, sickening sound echoed through the air. The sound of steel cutting flesh.

Liza, standing in shock, her bow lowering in defeat, watched in horror as Moxie staggered. Insanity, having clawed his way back after being launched through the mountains, was paralyzed by the sight. Moxie had been stabbed. The gleaming, divine sword of Michael was buried deep in his chest, the blade shimmering with a sickening glow.

Michael, grinning with cruel satisfaction, slowly pulled the sword from Moxie's body. Blood dripped from the weapon, but what caught everyone’s attention was the orb attached to its hilt—a glowing yellow sphere. Michael’s grin widened as he held it up for all to see.

"How pathetic," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "You wield the Heavenly Virtue of Patience, Moxie, and yet you’ve never even tapped into its true power. You’ve been fighting me with fists and mortal strength, and you thought you stood a chance? You aren’t worthy of this divine gift."

The yellow orb—the embodiment of Patience—gleamed brighter, almost mocking Moxie as he gasped for breath. Michael’s mocking laughter filled the battlefield. "You didn’t even understand the strength you held. Its power is endless, and you never learned to control it. A waste."

Moxie, still on his feet but wavering, clutched at the wound in his chest. His breaths were shallow, each one a struggle. Liza, tears forming in her eyes, notched another arrow and aimed at Michael. She knew it was futile, but her heart wouldn’t allow her to stand by and do nothing. She released the arrow, but it clattered harmlessly against Michael’s golden armor, doing nothing to stop his mocking speech.

Insanity, regaining his composure, rushed forward, hacking through the angelic knights that dared to stand in his way. His eyes burned with fury, but he was too far to reach Michael before the Archangel could deal another blow.

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Michael kneeled in front of Moxie, his sword resting on his knee as he leaned in close. "I’ll take that virtue from you, Moxie. The heavens will reclaim what they lent to such an unworthy soul. Patience should have been a blessing, but in your hands, it was nothing more than a dull trinket."

Moxie, clutching his wound, could barely keep his head up, but through the pain and haze, his mind raced. The Heavenly Virtue of Patience wasn’t just a power—it was a symbol of endurance, the very essence of what had kept him going through countless battles. He hadn’t been able to fully unlock it, but it had always been there, keeping him grounded.

"You… don’t understand," Moxie croaked, his voice weak but defiant. "Patience isn’t about flashy abilities or divine power. It’s about… lasting. Enduring. Outlasting everything you throw at me."

Michael sneered, gripping his sword tighter. "Empty words from a dying man. The heavens will take back what’s theirs, and you will be nothing more than a forgotten stain."

With that, Michael raised his sword again, ready to deliver the final blow. But before he could strike, something strange happened. The yellow orb on Michael’s sword began to flicker, its light wavering as if responding to Moxie’s defiance. Michael’s confident grin faltered as the orb’s glow shifted, pulsing in time with Moxie’s heartbeat.

Moxie’s hand, trembling from pain, reached out toward the orb, his fingers brushing against it. He wasn’t done yet. There was still fight left in him. He didn’t need to master the power of Patience to know what it meant. It was the reason he was still standing. The virtue was his.

"You think… you can take this from me?" Moxie said through gritted teeth, his voice growing stronger. "You’re wrong."

The orb, now glowing brighter than before, seemed to resonate with Moxie’s words. A surge of energy, raw and untamed, shot through his body, sending sparks of golden light through the battlefield. Michael, momentarily caught off guard, stepped back as the energy crackled around Moxie.

Liza, seeing the change in Moxie, wiped away her tears and shouted, "Moxie! Don’t give in!"

Insanity, cutting down the last of the angelic knights in his path, stood beside Liza, watching in awe. "He’s… still fighting."

Michael’s eyes narrowed. "What is this…?" He raised his sword again, preparing to strike, but Moxie wasn’t backing down.

The golden aura surrounding Moxie intensified. His wounds still bled, his body still ached, but his will was stronger than ever. "You don’t decide when I fall, Michael. I do."

Michael, now visibly frustrated, swung his sword down toward Moxie, but this time Moxie was ready. Grabbing the broken hilt of his sword, Moxie raised it in defiance, and as Michael’s blade came down, the yellow orb flared with blinding light.