"You're annoying." Mikael vented through loosely clenched teeth, with eyes sternly affixed to his foe's mocking mask. "What does it matter? Your sword won't break me."

Though annoyance was all he dared to show, his thoughts were in complete disarray, almost bringing him to doubt his own words. However, The Weeper made it clear to Mikael that now was not the time to meditate. His monstrous speed was able to close the gap instantly; although Mikael could follow his movements, it left him no room for options, cornering him into a single action. His right leg switched back as the swordsman swept close, and a falling crouch pulled him narrowly under the lethal blade. His knife was raised high to his right, holding his balance and only defence; even if he was able to counter, the difference in reach made it unwise. 

Steadily, the realisation began to sink in. The hasted breaths, his impulsed actions, his unsteady heartbeat; recognised not from personal experience, but from familiar observance. For the first time in memory, Mikael was experiencing the very emotions which he lived to inflict.
He was not fearful, nor did he consider himself disadvantaged by his injuries. But somehow, his foe had broken into his psyche, far more effectively than he was able, and even without his awareness. 
Even as he tried to deny the notion, what lingered was a distinct feeling of reverence for his assaulter, and confusion in his own ability and judgement. Combined, the two of these instilled fear, which led to restrained alarm. But as long as Mikael was conscious, he would not give in.

A third Energy Sphere materialised in front of him, hanging from his limp arm. In his vulnerable state, he would surely not get a chance for another.