The moment Michael confirmed his purchase of Frostbite, a spike of pain lanced through his skull. It was the system's way – brutally efficient, like having a thousand ice shards hammered into your brain. He gritted his teeth, riding out the agony. It always faded as quickly as it came, leaving behind the knowledge of the spell, woven into his very being. Sure enough, as the pain subsided, casting Frostbite felt as natural as drawing breath.
Michael opened his eyes, surveying the chaos unfolding around him. The battle had escalated to a terrifying crescendo. His gaze swept over the Skyhall angels, their silver armor no match for the sheer ferocity of his dark army and demons.