The Rule of Paragons

"He's... He's..." How could John warn them? What did he even have time to say to try and protect them all from engaging this sequence-breaking boss? John turned to drop Tricia on the ground. <Fairy, get down here and take her away from here!>

Fairy lowered herself near John, but complained all the while. <Forget her, try to figure out how to get us the Hell out of here!>

<How would I know how to do that?>

<You've been breaking rules since I've met you, just break another-!>

"Fine, guess I'll go first," Travolta declared, cracking his knuckles.

"He seems unrepentant for threatening an unarmed girl," Moira huffed, "so I will go first."

"Chill out, Moi-moi," Rave taunted, doing her best to pose for battle between them, "we can all take a piece of him."

Yarrick glanced about, at the retreating Fairy and hesitant boy behind the three ready to jump him. "Hoooh? Three on one hardly seems fair..." Yarrick slid one of his sandaled feet back, but his sword hand still gripped his belt... and his left thumb remained on the malformed grip of the sheathed second blade.

"Guys, wait, he's way higher level than you-!"

Moira grumbled as she started her charge, "We shall see about that!" Moira and Travolta went first, with Rave gathering light slowly in her hands, keeping her focus on Yarrick's unmoving head. John put Tricia on the ground before trying to take off after them, still unsure of what he could do. At this rate, he didn't dare try his tunnel trick with his allies closing in on the man, and he couldn't be sure of ruin to risk- Oh fuck it, just start putting damage on the bastard! John anchored his feet and shoved his hand forward in a serpent's lunge-

Serpent's lunge missed.

John stared at the message in surprise. He even saw his hand from just behind Yarrick. The man had barely moved, if he moved at all. Just as John pulled up his interface to try and review, via Gamer's eye, his status effects, Moira and Travolta took their turns swinging at Yarrick. Moira's hammer all but slipped through the man's torso, and John felt like he blinked during the dodge. No messages identifying spells or effects came up, no alarms about magical displacement or teleportation... but the man had clearly been in one place, and moved only a few feet to another in the next instant. John was left with only a few possibilities that a lifetime of anime and video games had taught him... and he didn't care for any of them. He stared down at the ground between Travolta and Yarrick as their distance closed, with Travolta throwing out the same wild haymaker that almost slew a vampire outright just minutes ago... and now threw him into a 180-spin behind his intended target after connecting with absolutely nothing.

Moira and Travolta, flanking the man, looked angry and perplexed. The bastard kept hopping about... but they surely had connected their attacks, square and close enough to make dodging impossible. "We just need to predict where he'll teleport next!" Moira concluded, swinging once again and once again finding no purchase. She blinked at the sight of Yarrick's robes as they danced violently, as if struck... but there had been no impact felt through her grip on the hammer.

Travolta rushed the man to tackle, and only then did Yarrick instantaneously reposition several feet away, just out of his wide-armed grasp. Travolta was left nearly barreling into Moira until she softly batted him away with her shield and a surprised cry.

John stared between that scene, and the spreadsheet of status effects before him, and realized the truth just as Rave shouted her triumph. "Eat light, asshole!" A rod of radiance blasted into existence, starting from where the ball of light had burst and into the far wall... through Yarrick's head. Yarrick stared, wide-eyed, at the Bearer of Light... with his head cocked to the side. He was unharmed. The after-image of the attack ran cleanly through where they had all seen the bridge of his nose and out the back of his full head of hair, but the only impact had been on the laboratory wall some twenty feet behind him, where a baseball-sized hole proved the more limited, but significant of Rave's ranged attack. The Light had seemed instant to John... but only as instant as Yarrick's carefree dodge. "Fuck teleporting... The weeaboo's gotta be a hologram or something!"

Yarrick's smile finally broke into a full grin, and then an almost tired-sounding laugh that slowly rolled out of him. The three attackers merely watched in alarm. "No," John interrupted, though Yarrick continued his laughter, "I can promise he's not an illusion... and he's not teleporting." Everyone stared at the swordsman... and Yarrick's laugh slowed to a closed-mouth chuckle. There, among the clear tracks in the debris of Moira and Travolta's boots, were a few wide, neat cleaves through the debris... with two of them leading to Yarrick's obscured feet. He was sliding about on his feet, even though he seemed to teleport about as they fought. John had one more way to test the man, to be sure he wasn't merely blinking as he did. He manifested his Glock 777, and pointed the barrel at the man. Moira raised an eyebrow, and in any other circumstance would have chastised John for bringing any firearms on campus. Yarrick, unphased as ever, just whistled in appreciation.

Special round chambered. MOVE (with condition).

The small dose of mp depleted from John's pool, and he pulled the hammer back with his thumb to confirm the Gamer-only pop-up floating over his gun.

"So that's how you took Rurik out? I don't think he was expecting to get shot... then again, he didn't have too many places left to shoot-"

John pulled the trigger.

Everyone blinked.

Yarrick, who had been flanked by Moira and Travolta at two and seven o'clock, appeared just three feet behind Moira... and stared at John with narrowed eyes. John looked down the barrel of his gun to the far laboratory wall: clean, no impact. His eyes slid over to the origin of the only sound his gun made, that of the impact of the bullet, and saw the small crater in the cracked blackboard... over ninety-degrees off of the bullet's path... and on a trajectory that had taken it mere inches away from Moira's eyes. She blinked rapidly at the barely-registered object flashing before her, and spun to face John, and then Yarrick. "N-Newman! You almost hit me!" She stared at his gun, the silenced barrel clearing pointing to where Yarrick once stood... and John's satisfied smile.

"He's not teleporting... he's just really... really... fast."

Yarrick's smile... almost... slipped.

"That's not likely, given that he managed to dodge light, Newman! Basic physics," Rave grumbled. "What makes you so sure, anyways?"

"I don't think he's moving faster than actual light... besides, I know because of the bullet."

Yarrick eyed the chip in the blackboard, before humming his curiosity. "It's a curious gun that shoots so off-target..."

John raised the barrel, pointing it to the sky. "Not when I ordered it to curve its trajectory to stay on you.... at least until just before it risked hitting any of these people. But since it came so close to blinding Moira, I know you're not actually teleporting."

The corners of Yarrick's mouth quivered, and John envisioned the events unfolding:

The gun silently fired. Yarrick, with his insane speed and reflex, watched the bullet leave the gun and quickly hustled off of its path, straightening himself out to maintain the poise of a man who had just teleported. He kept his sardonic expression until he watched the bullet suddenly curve its path, seemingly tracking him in a slowly-adjusting arc. He continued to hustle and sidestep, watching the bullet continue its curve, questioning its limitations until he finally found his first cover for the bullet's tracking: Moira's face. The bullet stopped bending, and Yarrick, confident that he had outrun whatever odd path it managed, did his best to look as effortlessly posed as always; concerned, but not yet shaken. Had John let the bullet go without the condition (to only arc within the space between Moira and Travolta), it might well have punched a hole into either one of them, depending on which direction Yarrick chose. Had the move spell he attached been a sharp turn, it wouldn't have been convincing to the swordsman as something which gradually changed its course and, so, could be easily outmaneuvered. If Yarrick truly was teleporting, the bullet wouldn't have come so close to Moira; it would've lost track of any safe direction to aim at the man and ended all move effects, crashing somewhere far and away from either person in the narrow range of acceptable trajectories.

John exhaled. It had paid off... now he knew he was still, technically, faster than Yarrick... and based on how annoyed Yarrick seemed, he must truly have been unaware the entire time of John's magic or the enchantments on his gun. So he's not a Gamer, too... even if he is a "paragon". Grimly, John reviewed the status effects on Yarrick Dell.

Abysswalker, paragon passive
Abysswalker: The subject can enter or exit any illusion barrier at will, creating one of his own make (up to ten square miles) if not entering another's. He may willfully enter or leave even obstructive barriers if the creator is of lower level than him.

Greased Lightning, paragon passive
Greased lightning: The subject's agility bonuses to movements and attacks are no longer curbed by the laws of physics or the limitations of his body, and he, his worn and wielded items, and any subjects he carries are all immune to any damage that would result solely from violating said laws or limitations.

Hate of Abaddon, curse
Hate of Abaddon: The subject has earned the ire of the minor deity of destruction, Abaddon. Current bounty: 10,000 pristine, adult mortal soul gems.

Hide Presence, enchantment
Hide presence: The subject cannot be detected or scryed via magic, except by those at least half his level. The enchantment's enhancements mean the diviners must be twice his level and the effect will last until his .

Throne Breaker, curse
Throne breaker: The subject has slain a King in the Abyss, and broken that King's throne instead of claiming it. Throne Breakers are the enemies of all Kings, and can ally with no one, mortal or otherwise.

Void Mind, paragon passive
Void mind: The subject has resistance to Outsider revelations and powers, and is immune to all mental effects and to any effects that would change his form or attributes.

"But that's... that's impossible," Rave whispered. "If he's real... and he dodged my attack, just with speed... then..."

Travolta's face finally faltered as he finished Rave's realization. "... Then he's just been moving faster than the human eye can follow?"

"Faster than the speed of light... or at least Jane's light," John concluded.

A pause as the realization settled into the group... until Moira broke their silence. "Who... is Jane-"

"FOCUS, MOI-MOI."

Yarrick's mirth finally gave way... and the reward of his grim determination did not comfort John as much as he thought it would. "I think we're done here. Wake up the Gorbachev girl, or I'll start by killing the pink-haired one."

Travolta walked up to Rave's side defensively, though the hopelessness was apparent in his expression.

"Yarrick." John swallowed hard as he addressed the being before him. "There's no need to kill anyone here... there's also no need to kidnap the girl. Am I right?"

Yarrick's sword hand let go of his belt... and raised to his face to rub his chin in contemplation, earning a frustrated exhale from the group that had tensed for what was surely the first counterattack. "Why would you think that...? John? Newman?" He said the name piece by piece, as if savoring it.

"Tara confessed she was duping your team just to enrich the Cabal, the ones she really worked for..." Moira's eyebrows perked up at that. "... which means you've been getting played by them this whole time. There probably is no legitimate bounty for her-"

"I know." John flinched, but listened. "I should say that I knew she had ulterior motives... but those motives always promised a bit of danger, perhaps a challenge... one that never came, I admit... not until this one." Yarrick vanished, and John's body seized up as he felt Yarrick lean on his back, towering over his head, while eyeing Tricia's nude form. Fairy, too, was paralyzed midway through scooping the girl up. John carefully lowered his gun arm, his eyes wide and his body nearly trembling from the sudden feeling of vulnerability. "She almost hit me... though I could tell, even from that pocket reality, that she started to hold back after she blew the roof away." John took a moment to process that, and glanced up at the false sun that shone down on them. "Tara shouldn't have been able to stand up to such a... divine of nature." John knew the man was too fast to attack, possibly even for the bullet type he never thought he'd need to use. Too fast for my hands... maybe too fast for light, even... but ruin doesn't necessarily travel, does it? It just... happens...

"Your body is tensing, John... like you want to attack me."

"It's hard to not get tense when someone who moves faster than light is leaning on me." John began to prepare the last possible trick he had... and did his best to not fire it off before he had to. Some of ruin's properties were mysterious, but one had been made clear: taking more time to cast it made it stronger. He would need it to be damn strong, if he had any hope in crippling the swordsman... "As for... the Gorbachev, she wanted to be put to sleep. She was afraid of what she would do if-"

"Good." John's eyes focused on the other three, who looked back at him, each an unmoving statue of anticipation. "I'm also afraid of what she could do... that's why I need this, John. I can tell you need it too."

John struggled to focus on the ruin, which felt like a boulder slowly rolling inside his skull. "Why do I... need it...?"

"I can tell you've heard the call of it... of power. It is a taste, John Newman..." Yarrick grabbed John's left arm, and it may as well have been the grip of the earth itself. "You're not like the weaklings watching us, even if you're just a fledgling now... but I can taste the power through your eyes, through your skin... even now you're trying to figure out how to take my power, aren't you?"

"What... if I am?"

"Then I'll kill you," Dell said simply. "That's the only thing the powerful can do when meeting like this... you're just unlucky enough to have met me this early. You have no hope, unless the Gorbachev kills me." The man did not move, of that John was sure... but still it felt as if his voice was mere centimeters from his ear as he whispered:

"Because I am the end of your hope."

John's body shook, and the sword sheathes, hanging from the man's belt and stretching into John's vision, seemed so motionless as to be unreal. He wanted to lie, and claim he had no such thoughts... except he had them the moment he read "paragon" on those abilities. He already started to wonder which tree they might appear on, or if this stranger had some kind of the same gift he did, the sort that might explain the bizarre stats he now had... and the years he obviously had on John to develop them. John was still readying ruin, against the dread that urged him to save his mana to jump away, or to empower every bullet he had left. "What will you do when Tricia wakes up?" He looked at the second sword sheathe, to get some read on the second weapon, the one the man had yet to draw.

Mundane item: poorly-crafted katana [melted]. This sword has had most of its length melted away, leaving only a stump of uneven metal attached to a shoddy, half-melted hilt. Deals 1-5 blunt damage on attack. Attacks with this "weapon" are half as effective as normal.

"I will fight her. I will probably kill her, if she proves too weak to entertain me."

John swallowed audibly. "What will you do to me and the others, if I agree to wake her?"

"Are you bargaining for your life, John? That's not something the powerful do... no. I don't think you're even capable of being so low."

Buy time. "I've been surprising myself a lot these days... as far as reaching new lows."

"Your words are true... except for your farce of a bargain. I have no reason to spend my energy on the weak, if you're afraid I'll kill them... but you? I wonder if I should suffer you to live..."

"I... could get stronger. I could prove a real challenge to you. A sporting one."

A pause hung between them. John was slowly losing his nerve at not being able to see his enemy's expression, to try and read his stats or his body language to gauge if his offer was being considered, or if some awful way to die was being engineered by the owner of the iron grip on his wrist. Yarrick finally broke the silence. "I don't want challenges, John. I want entertainment. Now command your familiar: wake the girl, and pray she can save you without killing everyone... because if you survive her , you will not survive me."

John nodded... and slowly put his command to Fairy, who had been paralyzed with her own existential fear all this time. He said it aloud, for fear that his silence would be taken as hesitation. "Fairy... wake her up."

"John," Moira started, "you cannot give in to-"

"Please, Moira... we have no other choice."

With her eyes never leaving Yarrick Dell, Fairy waved her hand over Tricia's face...