"Oi, now." Mikael released his blade, to point an accusing finger at the man belittling his personal value. "Big words, coming from a man with no face. If lives weren't worth anything, why else would we consider taking them?"

All the while, his child-like grin only widened after The Weeper had spoken his query. His voice held more certainty than before, but his irksome mask made it just as difficult to be sure. Still, the very mention of death was enough to make Mikael's heart thunder, and his entire frame quivered by the beat.
"Idiot," the young man scoffed, "Only the broken can have thoughts like that." In time with his opposition, he boldly advanced a pace forward, but saw no need to approach further. 
"We only fear death if we fear fighting. If you're telling me you're afraid to fight, then you're wasting my air."

Upon these words, a series of sparks scattered from Mikael's right palm, circling beneath with an unnatural magenta hue. A split second later, and the sparks conjoined and swelled, forming a sphere of pulsing energy within his grasp. It looked incredibly volatile, the way its luminance shifted and flickered with total irregularity. In no time at all, the sphere had reached two feet in diameter, and appeared to be growing still. Mikael himself made no sudden motions, but the clear emergence of his power would surely broadcast his intents.