VS Travolta.

Regan sprang into the room and with no hesitation delivered a strike to Travolta who was still busy with Victoria. The aura enveloped fist hit the much stronger looking man straight in the face and sent him flying.

“Mhm, Travolta, I am very disappointed with you.” Regan said, clicking his tongue as he quickly followed Travolta up to the impact site. Regan grabbed Travolta by the collar of his military style tank-top with one hand, the left fist raised. “You are here to protect my daughter not get her in danger, much less be the danger yourself.”

“Regan.” Travolta slurred words halfway between sense and madness. “You don’t understand. She needs help. So much pain. Can you not feel it? Such tragedy.” “Buddy, I think I need to knock you out and drag you over to the apothecaries.” Regan brought down his fist with tremendous speed on Travolta’s unprotected face.

By the tenth punch, Travolta’s face was a bloody mess, but he was still conscious. Regan took no pleasure in it but executed the next punch, only to get caught by Travolta’s meaty paw. The Abyssal Auctioneer was clearly surprised by this, his tired eyes opening wide. The power dynamic between the two of them had always been clear, but now he found himself caught and unable to get out of the grasp.

“No healing.” Despite his words, Travolta’s face slowly healed. Healed with all the deformities the pummelling had caused. The broken nose healed into a crooked mess, disgusting, dark red scar tissue covered the bloody face. It was hyper-regeneration at its worst, mending the wounds with no concern for the original state of the body. “She wants true pain! She doesn’t know! She forgot!”

Regan kicked Travolta in the chest, but the now hideous man either didn’t feel the pain or was so lost in it that he didn’t care. John wanted to help, as did Rave but they both knew that they would have only gotten in the way. Victoria in the meantime was still trying to recover and reload. There was a crack, and one of Travolta’s ribs burst from the skin in a disgusting display of gore. Still, his grip didn’t waver as his chest reformed regenerated with a foot sized depression.

How Travolta’s organs could possibly be still working inside that dented and broken body of his, John had no clue. He knew however that unlike Travolta, Regan would not have an easy time if his arm was broken and by the way, Travolta’s hand slowly clasped down that was only a matter of time.

Travolta’s body convulsed. Like a sudden stroke or seizure, he threw Regan across the room. Rave’s dad landed on his feet, although barely so, and all eyes went on Travolta as he thrashed around, knocking over glasses and chemical instruments as he screamed. “Why? Why? Why? WHY? Why did they do it to her?!”

John gulped. What was Travolta seeing that was terrible enough to have him act out like that? John’s eyes darted over to Victoria. What exactly was Thana? Igor said she was malicious, but this didn’t look malicious. This seemed like the agonised madness of a **** victim, and the incoherent words only deepened that impression.

“She….He…..HE!” Travolta stopped his thrashing and set eyes on Regan. “HE! HE DID IT TO HER!” His voice was filled with deep hatred, and he jumped at Regan. “THE NAILS, THE ANSWERS LIES UNDER THE NAILS!” With that scream, the two clashed again.

Their movements were quick. Not too fast to be impossible to follow but too fast for John to be of any help. He tried restricting Travolta’s movements with Gnomes help, but it was of no use. The overwhelming strength quickly broke the little concrete he could use here.

A furious exchange of blows followed. Travolta swung his arms in an **** of relentless fury while Regan did his best to block each incoming strike, redirecting their savage energy with martial technique. However, even John could easily see Regan not using the left arm Travolta had previously had in his grasp.

Regan was driven back, and finally, his back hit the wall. Instead of looking **** about that Regan smiled as he ducked under the straight punch that penetrated the wall instead, leaving Travolta wide open. Regan’s blue aura flared up around his hands as shallow strikes covered Travolta’s side. A moment later dozens of thin, deep cuts started bleeding heavily as Regan jumped back a few metres.

John recognised the technique from a simpler time. To think Regan was using such a devastating attack to cut pizza for his daughter. It spoke volumes about the confidence the Abyssal Auctioneer had in his own control.

Control was not something that would defeat Travolta in his current state though. The stubble headed man was already halfway through healing when he pulled his fist from the wall. “What would it take to stop you, Travolta?” Regan mumbled and got into another stance.

“She seeks…. I need to help her.” Travolta shouted in response, “You, you, you, you, you!” He wildly punched the wall. “I am sorry Jane, but he is too far gone.” Regan said to his daughter. “What are ya saying, dad?” Jane asked. “Prepare your goodbyes.” John didn’t even need to look at Victoria to feel the ‘I told you so’ in her eyes.

“Somebody…. somebody….” Travolta pleaded as he shattered an arrangement of laboratory glass, “Somebody make her feel alive.” “I am sorry Travolta.” Regan said to the maddened Guild Master, who didn’t seem to hear him as he blindly destroyed the room around him, “I should have never introduced you to them.”

Regan’s Aura flared up dangerously. The blue light was clear enough to actually illuminate the room as Regan took a deep breath. That got Travolta’s attention, and the horribly disfigured man jumped at Regan again. Everything seemed to slow down for a moment, only Regan moving at normal speed as he ducked under the flying berserker and then brought his fist up into his stomach.

The punch was horrible. It ripped a fist-sized hole into Travolta’s stomach that painted the ceiling red in a squall of gore as a shockwave of Ki-energy rippled through the room, the whole building trembling in response. Travolta himself was catapulted a few more metres, carried by his own momentum, before landing on the ground.

Silence overcame the laboratory and home of the defeated Travolta. Regan lowered his fist, covered in the blood of his friend, and sighed. “What a terrible ending for you.” “DAD WATCH OUT!”

Travolta wasn’t defeated. Not yet. He tackled Regan, and they both fell to the ground. John and Rave started running as Travolta, kneeling on Regan, raised his fists as a single entity and then hammered down with his blood-crazed strength on his adversaries rib cage. It horribly dented under the impact and Regan screamed in pain as ribs broke and shattered.

Rave arrived and delivered a kick to Travolta’s head that made him fall over, allowing John to access the situation. Regan was still alive, his breathing was regard, and from the way, he started coughing up blood at least one of the broken ribs had pierced his lung. There was only one way to save him, and that was to get him out of the Illusion Barrier as soon as possible. Regan must have known that and yet he wasn’t doing anything.

“Travolta…” he whispered with the little breath he could gather. John understood quickly, and he nodded. Travolta was keeping them from leaving as the owner of the barrier. As long as he was still alive, they couldn’t save Regan. There was no other decision possible anymore, Regan’s condition extinguished the last bit of hope John still had. Travolta had to die.

The former Guild Master got up with some trouble. He was still breathing, despite his left side and deformed face being nothing but scar tissue, despite the hole in his chest. How that was possible John couldn’t even fathom.

“Will you end it, Jane?” Travolta asked, “Will you show her?” “I will show you something!” Rave punched him in the face. Despite the massive difference in Stats, the punch made him fall to the ground again. Rave stepped closer to deliver a stomp to his chest, Copernicus light at her ankles glowing coldly.

“DON’T SHOW ME!” Travolta burst out and grabbed her standing leg. He stood up, and she dangled upside down in his grasp. “SHOW HER! SHOW HER! SHOW HER!” He pulled back his fist as his whole body spasmed frantically. The hand holding Rave fell off with a thundering noise as an enchanted sniper round ripped a hole into his arm. Victoria clicked her tongue; she would have much rather aimed for the head.

Rave made a backflip into safety, and Aclysia took her place at the frontline. Occupying Travolta with swings of the Sword of Glory. ‘Gnome!’ John feverishly sent her all of his mana as well as an order. The grotesque man was forming a sort of new hand from his own blood. It was small and looked crippled, but by the way it tore holes into Aclysia’s surface, it must have been incredibly sharp. Victoria missed the next shot, Travolta’s unorthodox movements making it near impossible to aim as Rave re-joined the fight by blasting Travolta’s side with sunlight, covering him in second and third-degree burns.

The hole in his chest was barely regenerating; his movements were slow enough for Rave to dodge and strong enough for Aclysia to block, his fight with Regan must have done massive damage to him despite his inhuman capabilities.

‘I am ready!’ Gnome sent him, “FALL BACK!” John screamed as soon as heard and both Rave and Aclysia followed his advice. From underneath Travolta a giant pillar of dirt broke through the floor and assaulted him in a torrent of suffocation and sharp stones. The room slowly filled with all the wet earth his mana pumped from underneath the building all the way up and then all his mana he gave Gnome was used up, the earth falling to the ground in a useless pile.

They stared at the shifting dirt. A hand pushed out, followed by the deformed head. His eyes, clear for just a moment, “Please help her.” He whispered before the bloodshot expression returned and he roared. Only to be ended by a bullet between the eyes.

He was not happy to see these windows today.