Michael
Hm, decent idea, exceptional execution.
With her maneuverability neutered, standing her ground was the only real decision available to her, but just how well she switched into that role was worth appreciating. The multitude of blows raining down on him was just as praiseworthy from someone like her, Meti seeming like she was bringing far more blades to bear upon him than she actually had. Truly, progress was being made here, her blades coming ever closer to the immortal's skin. Already, it shouldn't have been possible for Michael to block all of her strikes. Already, she was forcing him to put effort into doing so.
Of course, now that the metal was hot, it was imperative that Michael strike now to start forging the blade, and his next move was made with that in mind.
As a reward for her bladework, the immortal took a step back, reducing a distance outside of both her range but still within his current range to a single step, leaving the tiles where he'd once stood cracked from the force of his movement. In that movement, the immortal's stance had shifted, if such a thing was meaningful anymore to any of the three immortals in the room. From his new position, he allowed only a smirk before launching his attack, that same feeling of prayer radiating from Michael before a flurry of thrusts executed with such skill that one could be forgiven for thinking they were all coming down at once. At the same time, one could've also been forgiven for thinking that the range was just short.
On the latter count, they would undoubtedly be wrong.
Just before the end of each thrust, the staff extended out to half and again its original length, thrusting out further to reach Meti and beyond, each blowing raining down with crushing force. All that was left to see was how she'd deal with this. At the same time, the immortal's blows almost seemed to carry a message. One that could only reach his opponent. One that acknowledged Meti's capabilities, but promised her that she could achieve so much more with the proper tutoring.