Michael
The fight had provided at least a modicum of entertainment for the immortal, even as they moved into an abandoned house. Though he was tempted to follow as Rikuyo left, Michael decided that there would always be another chance to meet her later and remained where he was. Barely holding back a laugh as Oren literally flushed herself down the toilet, if the noises he was hearing from there were any indication, Michael couldn't help an approving grin as Oren finally shifted into that dragon form she'd used against him earlier.
The damage to the dilapidated building proved to be too much, however, an entire side of the structure crumbling to provide a better view of the action. Of course, Oren quickly submerged herself once more, leaving sword girl waiting. The immortal stood up to stretch a bit, only to catch a new voice. Turning his attention back to the fight, Michael spotted a strange figure who seemed like he was shrouded in darkness. Or perhaps he just looked dark? It was insignificant either way. Of greater importance, however, was the fact that he was apparently trying to interfere in the fight again. The immortal couldn't sense any manner of killer instinct from the man, allowing a sigh as he realized that this was probably some naive fool who would probably watch his footsteps so as to not step on any ants, at least under normal circumstances.
Hm. Another potential player, though the chances are too small to offer serious consideration. At this point, a nuisance who's going to get himself cut down at this rate.
Allowing a sigh, the immortal took a moment to gather himself before honing his focus. For most, the distance between his current vantage point and an ideal spot between swordgirl and newface would be a number of steps he couldn't be bothered to count. For Michael, however, it was a different case altogether, skill that defied all precepts of logic allowing him to reduce the distance to nothing more than a single step, landing on one knee as the street under his feet cracked under the force of his landing.
Drawing himself up to his full height, the immortal turned his gaze upon the man, staff already in his hands as his gaze bore into the bloody seas of the other man's eyes. Having shown himself, the immortal decided to stop concealing his presence, letting some of his own killing instinct, honed to a razor's edge by more battles than he could count, seep out. If nothing else, it would provide at least some insight into the man if he could gauge the newface's reaction.
"You would be better served in leaving," the immortal said sternly, "This battle is between those two alone."