Nor The Only One Enjoying Their Pain...

Layla would have normally been quite thankful for the brief interlude that the Warden's wall of light brought her… were it not for the sour taste that the holy magics left in her mouth as they washed over her. Still, the tattooed man being pressed off balance was a welcome change of pace - his repeated assaults were leaving Layla with very little time to analyze the situation and to feel out his mana patterns. Her years of training at the Academy had turned her into an at least formidable frontline fighter, even if it wasn't her forte, but this particular foe…

Disrupting mana regeneration and forcing a battle of attrition to come to an early end was easy. Disrupting spells, that was more difficult, but she could do it with enough time to attune herself to someone's aura. This man, however, appeared to have sealed over a hundred individual spells, items, and pools of mana within his body through those tattoos.

Layla twisted her body to avoid a red blade that arced through the air; it was already on its way to turn back towards her when it began to lose form and structure. By the time it did return and touched on her body, all it did was create the slightest tear in her Academy battle garments before dissipating in a brief shroud of red crystals.

"Gotta admit, not many mages who can tear my magic apart like that," the man said, smirking as he pressed two more spots along the upper parts of his left arm. Two strands of golden light shot out, thick and almost like ribbons. They spun end-over-end toward Layla; although she could feel their mana well enough, it was too different from his last spell to immediately dissipate… it was though the mana and aura wavelengths had been altered from his other spell, something that he did not seem skilled enough to do intentionally. It wasn't a great difference, but it was enough that before the bonds fully vanished, they wrapped around Layla's ankles and pulled her legs out from under her.

Layla hit the ground hard, pulling her legs apart to separate and sever the last of the bindings, but being unable to stop her fall. Already the man was charging toward her, pulling an ebony blade from one of his tattoos and brandishing it with lethal intent. Layla tried to focus on it, but the item was apparently an actual physical weapon, contained within his tattoo using sealing magic. Perhaps he was trying to get around the young Academy graduate's superb magical defenses. It wasn't a bad strategy…

But it was a notably flawed one.

Layla reached to her side and withdrew the sizeable blade that hung at her waist, freeing the Academy-crafted steel in time to intercept the blow. Her foe crashed his retrieved weapon against her blade with fervor, but neither she nor her instrument gave way. The man opted to apply even greater ****, and Layla took the opportunity to shift her own balance. She took her free hand and grabbed the man's wrist. Before he could shift his balance, she threw herself under his arms and locked her shoulder under the man's armpit. His own weight combined with a quick twist of Layla's waist sent the man flipping over her head, crashing to the ground below.

A rune on his back glistened just before he hit the ground, cushioning his fall and stopping it. The blow wouldn't have been particularly devastating regardless, but it was certainly annoying to see just how well-prepared the mage was for seemingly every situation. He was able to bring himself back to his feet as Layla was preparing herself for his next ****.

"Seems like I've got you on the defensive… just how I like to see them," the man said, grinning while reaching for another of his many tattoos.

Layla grit her teeth and readied herself, mind still whirring. He was dangerous… but vastly overconfident.

She would show him that.

Vallya had to admit, judging by how the others were faring, she might have spent her time more wisely by taking part in combat more directly. Still, the Star Guardian could see that none of her allies were in any immediate danger, and they seemed to in fact be holding their own in many ways. Though, perhaps that was just a validation she was making in her own mind to excuse her actions. True, Vallya's calling was to protect John Newman, his realm, and his creations…

But toying with these mortals was just so fun.

The man was hardly a slouch, to be fair. His ability to passively cast illusion spells at such a rate and strength as to provide him with a constant cover of one never being quite certain where he was at a given moment held a lot of defensive value, and a certain demoralizing effect if it instilled uncertainty in one's foes. But there was more to the spell than simply that.

When she was able to understand and disentangle that spell enough to understand that in fact the man was not just distorting his physical position slightly, but instead actually standing in an entirely different position while casting illusion spells to project himself in a very different position, she was interested. When he layered on the distortion illusion that made it look like he was obscuring his actual position to give credibility to the idea he was actually in the projected spot - even when one's assaults failed - she was actually very intrigued. When he paired all that with active spells manipulating and creating **** where there was no physical embodiment of himself, creating a physical as well as visual impression that he was where his illusions were… well, she was downright impressed, and that was not something easy to do.

But that was exactly where her momentary intrigue had ended.

The man had no skill, no foresight, no technique, and certainly no brainpower. Whether he had intentionally specialized in illusions specifically to exude the (ironic) illusion of skill and power, or if he had just found the only school of magic he wasn’t entirely incompetent with… that was the beginning and end of his skill set. His melee strikes were predictable and looked to be quite weak in their strength compared to some of her own teammates’. His footwork was decent, but obviously the self-honed work of a street brawler, not the artistic work of a trained warrior. Even his auxiliary spells were weak; the most she saw him do was a half-hearted healing spell that couldn't even fully close over the wound she'd dealt to him… and she hadn't even been trying to hurt him, really; it was a reflexive lance of fire from one of her tails as she became more and more annoyed with his complete incompetence.

She observed all of this during the battle, not from within it… but from several feet away, leaned against the wall, concealed only by a basic invisibility spell she had even taken the time and effort to keep her allies immune to this time. It was a severe flaw in the spell, one that could be easily exploited, but her opponent hadn't noticed the lack of reality of his foe yet, nor any of the numerous spells she had cast. The lightest of **** spells when her illusion "blocked" his attacks, the most basic of offensive magic to occasionally "fight back"… it was so easy it was almost trivial.

Judging by the looks of those around her, it wasn't the Albidians' fearsome reputation that had been overplayed, she'd simply drawn the short straw. The fact that it was someone whose powers presented in such an intriguing way was only the icing on the cake of her own disappointment…

Still, she couldn't be entirely sure why she felt so disgusted with the man. Weak foes should have been a blessing; they were easily dispatched, and when the stakes were as high as what they were dealing with, that was nothing short of a small miracle. But although Vallya had meant every word of her pledges to John Newman, although she was concerned with the well-being of her allies and John himself, now out of sight beyond a set of double doors…

Vallya was still unwilling to do anything more than toy with the ignorant fool who had challenged her. It went against her very core, the part of her that guided her actions in her most doubtful times… but it felt so very, very right. What had awakened it in her? She couldn't quite place the answer, and perhaps that was why she was toying so harshly with her newest prey. These feelings were new, something she'd never encountered until shortly before they began their infiltration mission… she couldn’t help but indulge them. Besides, she was keeping an eye on the others… and she would know if John were in any proper danger. That was the very purpose of her being, was it not?

Vallya considered these feelings and more, as she allowed the man to strike home for the first time, sliding his blade into the imaginary Vallya's chest. The smile that crossed his face as he "felt" the blade slide home was tantalizing.

The look on his face when "Vallya" tapped him on the shoulder from behind, smirking the whole while… that was downright delectable.