Armed with his fully realized powers and the islanders' invaluable insights into the temple's structural weaknesses (apparently the Overseer's architectural tastes leaned heavily towards the aesthetically terrifying but structurally unsound), Michael returned to confront his tormentor. The final battle was a chaotic ballet of dark magic and raw emerald power, the temple shaking under the force of their attacks, sounding less like a sacred sanctuary and more like a particularly violent argument between tectonic plates. Michael moved with a cold, almost detached efficiency, anticipating the Overseer's increasingly desperate attacks, exploiting the flaws in his defenses with a grim satisfaction.
"Your 'ancient ones' seem remarkably unhelpful in a crisis," Michael quipped, deflecting a blast of crackling black energy with a shimmering emerald shield. "Perhaps their customer service is lacking." The Overseer roared in response, his face contorted in a mask of pure, unadulterated rage, his attacks becoming wilder, less controlled. "You dare mock the power of the abyss?" he shrieked, unleashing a torrent of dark energy that Michael sidestepped with practiced ease. "Darling, the abyss is starting to look rather pedestrian compared to your decorating choices," Michael retorted, unleashing a focused beam of emerald energy that shattered a particularly grotesque idol. The fight culminated in a final, desperate lunge from the Overseer, easily countered by Michael, who unleashed a concentrated blast of emerald energy that struck the cult leader squarely in the chest. The Overseer crumpled to the ground, his eyes wide with disbelief and a distinct lack of eternal bliss. "Well," Michael remarked, surveying the fallen figure, "that's one less sermon I have to endure." The serpent was finally slain, leaving behind only the ruins of his twisted faith.