Especially Not For Fools.

Layla grimaced as she took a burn across most of her right upper-arm. It was minor, perhaps second degree, nothing compared to what she would have suffered if the lance of crimson heat had actually struck her properly. Layla continued her steady dance away from the man, twisting as an arcane rune levitated and attempted to ensnare her ankle. She was beginning to slow, her injuries amassing, and it was only thanks to her efforts to weaken the circle that it gave way when it caught around the bridge of her foot.

"Can't dance away forever, little mouse," the man teased, seeming to quite enjoy his domination in the battle thus far. Two orange orbs danced on his hands, and from them long ripples echoed out. They seemed almost intangible, but as they passed over the tiled floor, they cracked and shattered the peaceful Barrier's floor without losing speed or effectiveness. Layla grit her teeth as she stood in their path; they were too wide to avoid entirely, and her time was better spent weakening them while mounting her own defenses.

They hit like a strange mixture of a physical shockwave and a magical **** on the senses; though she barely felt her body move, her bones seemed to rattle, and a high-pitched whining filled her mind. Had Layla not spent so much time at Firesmith learning to work through pain and sensory assaults, she might have been overwhelmed. Instead she was only severely disoriented, crumpled to her knees in massive pain… and smiled, though she hid that last part as the man continued to step toward her.

"Still on your feet? Impressive, I have to admit. You have almost no offensive potential, save that little kitchen knife of yours, but you certainly have durability. Maybe as much as the Warden over there… nearly took a third of my seals to break you down this far. But I need to attend to the Master; he's calling us all in, must be something major going down back there. I'm afraid playtime is over."

The man arched backwards, reaching down toward his lower back with both hands. Layla could feel the mana welling up in the man, sense the movement of the stored spell across his hands. Long green strands emerged on his arms, weaving between his remaining tattoos, forming a set of gauntlets over his hands. Whatever enchantment-based spell this was, it created skin-tight mana weaved over the man's hands, wrists, and all the way up to his elbows. Spiked protrusions formed over his knuckles, a violet set of sparks flashed between each of his fingers as he flexed, and the entire thing flickered with such intensity it could've induced an epileptic stroke were Layla **** to such things.

"Now… be a good girl, and die for me."

The man stepped up to Layla, and although she could only see his feet, she could hear the movement of the electrified gauntlets as the man raised his hand. Steeling herself, Layla's mind and magic whirled into action. She tilted her head upwards and stood in one fluid motion, body moving almost reflexively as the man's hand came toward her. Fearlessly, the young woman reached out toward the incoming punch.

Layla stopped the blow as easily as if it were a child assaulting her. The gauntlet coating the man's fist disintegrated on contact, including the spikes, leaving his bare fist clutched in her hand. Not only that, but the magical armament on his other limb fractured and split apart as well, although she had not so much as touched it.

"What the fuck? I made that spell myself, how the hell did you learn to counter it so quickly?"

"I didn't," Layla said simply, clenching her fist. Frontline combat was not her strong suit, and she was far from the physically strongest warrior, but as she exerted her magically-enhanced strength, the man's hand crumpled under her grip. His bones shattered and the man pulled away with a howl, fractured fingers and palm giving him enough flexibility to escape her grip.

"Wh-what the- you were hiding your strength?"

"No," Layla said as simply as could be, lashing out with a swift kick aimed toward the man's chest. A rune on his side glistened - and then promptly fizzled out, leaving her knee to impact on his chest unabated with the sound of shattering ribs echoing through the room.

The man gave up conversation as he stumbled away from Layla's attack, focusing entirely on the fight as he stepped back, reaching toward his ankles. Two black runes glistened, forming long black bubbles that covered him from the feet up… and yet before they had even reached his knees, the bubbles popped, black mana splattering across the floor uselessly, even as Layla continued forward, driving her knife into the man's sternum. He gasped as the blade pierced effortlessly through a silver rune that shimmered and shattered before her strike, pushed back until he hit the wall of the cafeteria, Layla's blade continuing through him and into the mundane wall. His eyes widened as he gasped for air and survival, trying to push Layla away but unable to muster even the strength to budge her.

"Before you die," Layla admitted, that sadistic smirk she'd been hiding returning to her lips for just a moment, "I would like to thank you."

"W-what the f-"

"You have been frustrating to fight to be sure; sealing mages are always so annoying. Trying to analyze a person's magical fingerprint is difficult enough in combat; trying to find the common thread from spells sometimes sealed years ago, when the person was completely different and their magical skill barely resembles their modern efforts... that is infuriating. Though I will admit that knowing your mana signature so intimately makes lowering your mana’s effects on your physical abilities just as easy as any rune you've ever sealed. As well as that, despite the pain you've caused me, you've done one thing to help me - and it's worth every moment of this fight."

Layla leaned in, and as she whispered into the man's ear, she twisted and pulled the knife free of his torso the long way - slicing all the way across his rib cage and out the side of his chest, completely severing a lung and cutting the man's heart in twain. His mouth opened in a quiet scream as Layla released him to fall to the ground, dead before the last air had left his one remaining respiratory organ.

"You've taken care of the biggest obstacle in my path. For the pain you caused John Newman, you still have to die… but thank you, all the same."

The man never responded, distant and glassy eyes fixed somewhere Layla had no time to contemplate. She shook her enchanted knife to cast away the last remnants of the man's blood, turning toward the rest of the carnage. Before rejoining her allies, Layla took a moment to compose herself, considering how unseemly she had acted, how disappointed John would be. The thought of his disapproval removed the sadistic smile from her face in a moment… but she knew that all would be right in time.

Seeing a man so passionate, feeling such an aura wash over her, the last of Layla's fragile and thin reasoning for not giving in to her feelings sooner had faded away. There was no question in her mind anymore as to what she surely had to do, and the role that these human filth had played in that quest. The pain these men had caused John was immense…

But it was for the best. They had taken away the greatest obstacle between her and John's ultimate happiness. She would never have the will to hurt a man she felt so intensely for, even after seeing the look in John's eyes every time he glanced toward that blonde harlot. But she didn't have to - they had done that for her now. And when John had finished his vengeance, when anger faded and only sorrow remained…

Then she could be the one to help him, the lap to rest his weary head on.

At least the Albidians had done one good thing in their short, miserable lives.

Vallya had convinced herself for a time that she was only toying with the man to hide her true abilities, in case the others needed help - surely they'd have a bigger advantage that way, right? But Vallya was a master of illusions - which made lying to others rather easy… and lying to herself fairly hard.

No, the joys and pleasures she took in repeatedly fooling this ignorant man were too much to deny to herself, no matter how much she tried to. Her calling was to protect John's world, its inhabitants, and most of all the man himself. That was the mission she was given at birth by her mistress… so why was it so satisfying to taunt and frustrate this man so? Was it because of the role he had within the organization responsible for causing John Newman so much pain? She surely wished it was, and yet it was hard to believe that. Not only because it seemed so antithetical to her normally upbeat and optimistic self…

But because it had been nearly five minutes since the chill ran down her spine that surely signaled something terrible had happened to John Newman. A sudden terror that nearly **** her to sprint toward the doors John had disappeared through so long ago.

It had been a momentary feeling, which was part of the justification she gave herself for not following through on the response - either John had overcome whatever it was or it was now too late to do anything about it. But in reality it was entirely too easy for her to ignore that calling and focus on pulling this one-trick pony of an illusion mage around by the strings like a puppet. If what she believed was true, if she was really meant to keep watching over John Newman and his creations in their world… why was it so easy to ignore that calling?

What eventually broke her free of her indulgences was not any sense of revulsion or particular disgust with what she had done, but rather the actions of others. Vallya glanced around and noted the shifting tides of battle. Her allies had managed to seize the upper hand of their individual battles, successfully striking out against the Albidians they were facing.

Vallya willed away the illusions and trickery she had been using against the rapidly flickering man, leaving him with nothing but her actual self. He looked around in confusion for a few seconds, not sure where Vallya had gone. For just a moment, she considered the joys of letting him see her, of letting him wonder if he was finally seeing through the illusions, about to win his hard-fought victory at last.

Then she snapped her fingers and the man was alight in a blue blaze, erupting from a single orb that had rocketed from her waist. His screams were almost as loud as the unnatural inferno, crackling and searing the air as it consumed most of his remaining mana in a magical typhoon of heat and destruction.

Vallya turned toward the others, eyeing their situations. Moira was pulling free some sort of effervescent crystal from the chest of one man, Layla appeared to have slain another in quite a bloody fashion, and Lerianna was currently busy repeatedly punching an ****, bearded man, her fists and body covered in nearly as much blood as Layla's knife but showing no signs of any desire to stop striking.

Waving her hand over at the others, Vallya called out to them loudly, hoping that they had been too busy to notice the Kitsune's dragged out battle.

"Everyone! I felt something really bad going on in the gym; we need to hurry and help John!"

If they had noticed anything, the panic on everyone's faces certainly shocked them into ignoring it in favor of a charge toward the gymnasium doors. Even Lerianna finally perked up at the mention of John's name, pausing for just a few seconds with the man's collar in her grip before dropping his broken form to the floor at last and following in Moira's footsteps.

"Don't go dying on me, John. I'm coming for you!"

As if leaving the fray of combat behind had straightened her thoughts once more, Vallya re-pledged herself to John's cause, hoping they weren't too late as they all charged toward the doors.