Michael's body tensed as he faced the specter of his father. The void around them seemed to pulse with each beat of his racing heart, the darkness absolute save for their two forms illuminated by some unseen source. Every muscle in his body coiled, ready to strike or defend as years of training and instinct took over.
"Steel," Michael said, his voice cold and controlled despite the storm of emotions churning within. "What are you doing here? You're dead."
The figure before him—an exact replica of the man who had nearly killed him—stood with an unfamiliar posture. Gone was the murderous intent, the twisted expression of hatred. Instead, his shoulders slumped slightly, his eyes carrying a weight Michael had never seen before.
"Don't worry, I'm not truly real," his father replied, his voice softer than Michael remembered. "And please... call me Father. Or Dad." A flicker of something resembling hope crossed his face. "Or even Daddy."
The request ignited a sudden, burning anger in Michael's chest. His crimson eyes narrowed as memories flooded his mind—a lifetime of absence, of wondering, of pain. The final confrontation in the Undercity played vividly in his thoughts—the sensation of metal ripping through his flesh, the coldness in Steel's eyes as he tried to extinguish his own son's life.
"What?" Michael's voice trembled with barely contained rage. "Why would I address you with such terms of endearment? You were absent my entire life, and when you finally encountered me, you tried to kill me. If not for Violet's healing abilities, I would be dead by your hand."
Something like genuine remorse crossed Steel's face. "I am truly sorry, Michael. I wasn't myself during that encounter. My mind was not my own—I was under control. Please, sit with me. We need to talk."
Michael remained standing, his posture rigid with distrust. After several tense moments, he finally relented. "Fine. But understand this clearly—I still won't forgive you."
They settled across from each other in the void, the distance between them representing more than just physical space.
"First, you must understand where we are," Steel began, his voice grave. "This is a spirit realm within your mind. If you lose control and fail the test that awaits you, you will die in the physical world. I'm here to help you as much as I can."
Michael's expression remained impassive, but he listened.
"My true name is Grey Cinders," Steel—or Grey—continued, his eyes taking on a faraway look. "My parents died when I was very young, leaving me alone to care for my little sister, Bloom. She was..." His voice softened. "She was everything to me—beautiful, innocent, full of life. But I couldn't provide for her with the meager work available to me."
Grey's hands clenched into fists as he spoke, his knuckles whitening. "So I joined the military, determined to climb the ranks, to earn enough to give her everything she deserved. And I succeeded. I rose through the hierarchy, earned respect, even became part of the Heptad."
His expression darkened. "Then came the mission that changed everything. I lost my closest friends in battle against a human exploiter. When I killed that exploiter, something inside me... broke. The rage wouldn't subside. I visited my sister that night, seeking the comfort of her presence."
Grey's voice cracked slightly. "I remember thinking how much I hated humans—blaming them for my pain, for the loss of my friends. And then... then I lost control of my own body."
The void around them seemed to darken further as Grey's face contorted with grief. "When I regained awareness, my sister was dead by my hands. But it didn't stop there. I kept killing, unable to restrain myself. The Heptad finally defeated me, contained me, but even then, twisted thoughts consumed my mind—why wouldn't they help me? Why couldn't they understand my suffering? I wished the same pain upon them all."
A single tear traced down Grey's cheek. "And then it happened again. I lost control completely, becoming the monster you knew as Steel."
Silence fell between them. Michael's face remained a careful mask, but his eyes betrayed the turmoil within. "What is your point in sharing this?" he finally asked, his voice quieter than before.
"I'm trying to warn you," Grey replied earnestly. "The metal manipulation power is dangerous beyond measure. If you reclaim it but lose control, you will become exactly as I was. Now that I've told you what you need to know..." He raised his arm, pointing into the infinite darkness. "You must face him."
Michael turned his gaze toward where Grey indicated. In the distance, a shape began to coalesce—a dark, writhing entity that seemed to absorb what little light existed in this realm. Its form was vaguely humanoid but constantly shifting, tendrils of darkness extending and retracting like a living nightmare.
"That is the being that takes control when your power overwhelms you," Grey explained, his voice grim. "Defeat it, and your metal abilities will return to you. Fail, and it will consume you entirely."
"But how?" Michael asked, uncertainty creeping into his voice for the first time. The entity before him radiated malevolence beyond anything he had encountered before.
Grey approached, placing his hand against Michael's chest. A warm glow emanated from the point of contact, spreading throughout Michael's body—not painful, but intense, like liquid fire flowing through his veins.
"Thank you... St-Father," Michael said softly, the word still unfamiliar on his tongue.
Grey stepped back, his eyes showing a glimmer of pride. "You're welcome, Michael. Make the right choice. I'll be watching from here."
Michael turned toward the demon, drawing a deep breath to center himself. Each step forward felt heavier than the last, the void beneath his feet seeming to resist his progress. When he had closed half the distance, he called out, his voice steady and resolute.
"Demon! I've come to face you directly."
The entity's form solidified slightly, its voice a discordant whisper that somehow filled the entire void. "Michael Florescent, you cannot prevail against me. Your defeat is inevitable. Surrender your body to me now, and your suffering will be brief."
Without warning, the air before Michael filled with metal—thousands upon thousands of razor-sharp rods materializing and launching toward him simultaneously. Drawing upon years of combat training, Michael moved with preternatural speed, his body twisting and turning to avoid the lethal barrage. Those he couldn't dodge, he deflected with precisely timed movements, the sound of metal striking metal echoing through the void.
As Michael began running toward the entity, the attacks intensified. An almost infinite stream of projectiles filled the space between them, each one capable of ending his life. Michael weaved through the deadly rain, his focus absolute, his determination unwavering.
Then he saw her.
Violet stood near the demon, her familiar face contorted in fear as the entity gripped her throat with elongated fingers of shadow. Her eyes locked with Michael's, silently pleading for help.
"VIOLET!" The name tore from Michael's throat as pure rage flooded his system. He accelerated, heedless of the metal slicing past him, drawing blood from dozens of small wounds that he no longer felt.
In the back of his mind, a small voice whispered: Calm down.
Michael ignored it, his vision tunneling as he watched the demon's grip tighten around Violet's throat. Her struggles grew weaker, her eyes beginning to dull.
Calm down, Michael, the voice insisted, slightly louder.
With a final, sickening motion, the demon crushed Violet's throat. Her body went limp, eyes vacant, before dissolving into shadows.
White-hot fury exploded within Michael's chest. A scream of pure anguish ripped from his lungs as he charged forward, all thought of strategy forgotten in his need to destroy the entity that had taken Violet from him.
CALM DOWN! the voice thundered within his mind.
This time, Michael heard it. He forced himself to stop, closing his eyes as he struggled to master the rage threatening to consume him. For nearly a minute, he stood perfectly still, focusing only on his breathing while the demon watched with cold amusement.
"Are you just going to stand there?" it taunted, its voice slithering into Michael's ears like poison. "I just killed your precious friend, and I'll go on killing more and more of them."
The demon slammed its shadowy appendage against the ground. Instantly, metal spikes erupted from the void's surface, racing toward Michael in a wave of deadly points. He leapt into motion again, evading the forest of spikes with calculated movements, never ceasing his advance toward the entity.
Metal arrows filled the air once more, their trajectories designed to leave no path untouched. Michael dodged with mechanical precision, his mind now clear, his purpose redefined. Each projectile missed him by millimeters, but none found their mark.
After what felt like an eternity of deadly ballet, Michael finally reached the demon. Instead of striking it, however, he did something that seemed to surprise even the entity itself.
He embraced it.
Wrapping his arms around the writhing darkness, Michael held it tight against him, feeling its cold essence struggle against his warmth.
"All you desired was understanding," Michael whispered, his voice gentle despite the entity's violent thrashing. "You were misunderstood for so long. I'm sorry for that pain."
The demon's struggles intensified briefly before beginning to subside.
"Don't worry," Michael continued, maintaining his embrace. "I understand you now. You're a part of me—my pain, my rage, my fear. I accept you."
The thrashing stopped completely. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the entity's form began to change. The darkness receded, revealing something almost human beneath. Tears of liquid silver streamed down its face as it returned Michael's embrace.
"Thank you for understanding me," it whispered, its voice no longer discordant but a perfect mirror of Michael's own.
Light began to flood the void, growing brighter and brighter until Michael could see nothing but pure white. The sensation of arms around him faded, replaced by the cold dampness of the cave floor beneath his back.
Michael's eyes flickered open. The sound of the waterfall filled his ears as he carefully sat up, his body stiff but whole. Relief washed over him as he realized he had passed the test and survived.
"I did it," he murmured, slowly rising to his feet. "I actually did it."
He made his way out of the cave, pushing through the curtain of water with renewed confidence. As the sunlight touched his face, he saw Jeremiah, Alfred, and Lisa waiting for him, their expressions transforming from concern to relief as they spotted him.
Alfred rushed forward immediately, enveloping Michael in a fierce hug that nearly knocked him off his feet. "THANK GOODNESS YOU SURVIVED!" he exclaimed, his voice thick with emotion.
Michael returned the embrace, feeling something new stirring within him—the quiet hum of metal responding to his will, the power that was his birthright now firmly under his control.
Jeremiah approached more slowly, nodding with approval. "Well done, Michael. You have reclaimed what was rightfully yours without succumbing to its darkness."
As Alfred finally released him, Michael caught Lisa's eye. She offered him a small smile, respect evident in her gaze. In that moment, surrounded by these three individuals who had waited for his return, Michael felt something he hadn't expected—a sense of belonging that he had rarely experienced, even in the Undercity.
He had faced his demon and emerged victorious. The path ahead would not be easy, but for the first time since leaving the Undercity, Michael felt truly ready to walk it.