...What had happened to John to trigger such alarm in the first place?

The clattering of steel filled the air with incessant, repeated pings. John's blade clashed again and again with the man, his living suit, and the full arsenal of weapons at his disposal. Ever since the metallomancer's fall, Joaquin had stopped fighting so aggressively. He only struck out at John with one weapon at a time, keeping the rest close to guard against John's blade and wing strikes.

"Still so confident," John growled as he lunged into the fray again, colliding with a wall of blades. John's speed was superior, but the sheer number of weapons he had to deal with **** him back again.

"I've been dealing with **** and loss for decades, John. And I've faced greater setbacks than this before."

"Greater setbacks? Your organization is being dismantled as we speak. Your men are dying, your base has been found, and even if I can't finish you off myself, it's only a matter of time before my friends burst in here and help me end you."

"Now who is being overly confident?" Joaquin chuckled, even in the midst of combat. "Besides, I have other men, other bases - I'll finish you here and rebuild. I've rebuilt before, I can certainly do it again."

"Not as invincible or flawless as you try to get people to think you are," John noted as he launched another flurry of feathers at the man, curving them around the room to strike from all angles. The man's suit reacted reflexively, but John noted the man had to look over his shoulder to follow the attacks behind him.

"Perception is everything. Why give ourselves a name at all if we wanted to be entirely secretive? To build an understanding, a common thread, a reputation… a reputation, and the fear it carries with it. Fear and secrecy are a power all their own. Your friend the Warden killed one of our best fighters, and she was still terrified of us because she had no idea what she was up against."

"All about fear, then? Not strong enough to protect yourself when you're properly challenged, so you hide behind walls, shadows, and terror."

"As I said, fear is a powerful tool. For instance, your bunny-girl... tell me, was she still crying when you arrived? She was so spirited at first, constantly screaming at my men, a little fear, an example made of what we could do to her..."

"He is baiting you, Father. Do not give in."

"I know, but it's so hard," John growled in his mind. He wasn't even sure if it was the Shard or his heart filling him with the anger now coursing through his veins

"Frankly, I'm just grateful my men were able to capture Seras at all... I hadn't much interest in her at first since she was an undead. But her corpse made an excellent teaching tool for the broodmare."

No voice tried to stop John as he lashed out. Sophia's cry joined his own, a harmonic tempest of biblical fury. Wing, blade, and claw furiously assailed the man. His suit went into overtime, barely covering the man's button-up shirt at all as it stretched itself to the hints to protect its wearer. But with every set of strikes, every circle around the man, he had to defend himself a bit more personally, be just a little more cautious. John pressed into the man's reach, parried an overhead blow from an inverted pocket, and thrust for the man's throat when he spotted an opening.

127 DMG!

John grit his teeth with the pain as his strike slid along the man's jawline, missing any particularly vital organs as it slashed open chin and cheek. Joaquin had pulled his head backwards and the suit's collar had eventually come together enough to **** the blade away… and while John's strike was in motion, Joaquin made his own. A short knife clutched in the man's left hand, one he'd been keeping concealed up his sleeve, clashed with the hilt of John's blade. It scraped along the handle, cutting along the knuckles of John's left hand.

Ordinarily, that would've been the end of it, a quick burst of pain and some loss of health… but John felt something deeply wrong about the blow. Using his leverage against the suit, John tore his blade free and flapped his wings to rocket backward. Still feeling a biting pain that wasn't fading nearly quickly enough, John glanced down and was horrified at what he saw, the faintest touches of nausea and discomfort biting just harshly enough to touch him through his rage-induced haze.

Gamer's Body seemed to have failed… to some degree. Though no blood was spraying from his stumps, and despite the fact John could still feel his fingers as if they were attached, John's left hand had been sliced off across his first and second knuckles. Only his thumb remained intact.

"Wha-" John couldn't help the expression of surprise that escaped him… it was the first real wound he'd received since obtaining his Gamer powers, the first strike that had ever lasted longer than an instant.

"As fear is the strength of secrecy… knowledge is the vulnerability of openness," Joaquin explained, leisurely flexing his fingers. He was holding all of John's severed fingers in his palm. Bizarrely, John could feel every movement the man's hand made; when he reflexively flexed his fingers, they twitched in Joaquin's palm as if still attached.

"We have had plenty of time to research you, particularly thanks to the Gorbachev. Her drones are quite advanced, but she hasn't had that same edge since losing contact with her family. Once we got those lesser fools calling themselves the Cabal to collect one of her drones for us, researching you was almost too easy. Your regeneration is a tremendous strength, to be sure; few forms of magical healing can be equated to it, even those granted by Fragments or Aspects of Gaia herself. But it also presents a… very interesting weakness. If your body is not damaged, but merely separated… and if one maintains control over that separated piece, how does your healing interact with that separation, I wonder?"

Joaquin flexed his palm again and a violet fire engulfed his palm, including John's severed finger segments. John winced as he felt every ounce of that pain as if it were occurring right at his fingertips… which, in some fucked up magical way, it really was.

-32 HP!
-49 HP!
Status Effect Inflicted: Fel Immolation!

"Ah… beautiful," the man said, watching as John's fingers failed to fully crisp or turn to ash in his palm. "You think of us as hiding in the shadows, John? No, we are merely not allowing others to learn our weaknesses. If your ability is as powerful as it seems… I could kill you from a thousand miles away, now."

"He is no longer baiting us," John winced, flexing his right hand in place of his separated left.

"No," Sophia agreed, mentally sending something akin to the emotional equivalent of a grimace. "Now he has us at a disadvantage… but even with that accursed suit, we can overwhelm him. We cannot wait for our allies anymore, if they are winning at all. Charge him, overpower his defenses together, Father. At the worst, I will separate from you, and we can assail him from two different directions. That suit only responds to his awareness, even if it doesn't require direct mental commands."

"We go, then," John thought determinedly, tightening his grip around his blade now that he only had one hand to hold properly with. Joaquin lit his hand with energy again, and John winced as the pain seared him as surely as if his fingers were still attached.

"For Mother."

John was no longer sure who was moving what parts of his own body; he was so in tune with Sophia that he felt as if she were supporting him as he moved, or perhaps the reverse of that. Either way, the two of them carried his body forward together, fighting against the pain in his fingers and the rage in his soul to **** them beyond their normal limits, wings flapping furiously to boost his speed-

Until he stopped completely, as if caught in some unbreakable web. John felt his body go stiff and unresponsive, and a strange numbness fell across him, tempered only by the fire burning deep within his heart. A violet rune had erupted on the floor below, intricate to the point that John could scarcely see some of the smallest markings. Four large pillars erupted from the floor around it, glowing purple orbs at their tips that emitted constant pulses of violet light that seemed to echo through John's body and into his mind.

"Ah… there we are," the suited man said quietly, almost a whisper as John struggled against his invisible bindings. No matter how hard he moved, though, it felt as if his entire body were being held perfectly still. Actually… rather than being bound, John almost felt as if his body had stopped responding entirely. Even though he felt like he was trying to lash out, he could see that the muscles in his arms were barely flexing as he tried to exert his will on them.

"This is why we remain secret, John," Joaquin noted, walking closer to John. He stopped several feet away, brushing off debris and dust from his hairline. His suit set the weapons it was holding onto the ground and returned to its normal, almost mundane appearance. "Because when you are so blatantly obvious about your abilities, your strengths and your weaknesses, people can exploit them. Your strengths are your untapped power, your regeneration, and your ability to create things like nothing we've ever seen before… your weaknesses, however, are just as numerous."

John tried to conjure up mana to his fingertips, but found that it was hard, and not only because of his limited mana reserves. He could barely move the magic in himself anymore; something was battling against him… as if John's own body and mind were turning against him. He couldn't even use the sword's runes to pull it from his grasp anymore.

But the fire raged on.

"You're headstrong, arrogant, and… blunt, to put it nicely," Joaquin said, pulling his hand back and standing there, gazing into John's eyes. "You're new to the Abyss. Your magic is untrained, your combat skills exactly what one would expect from an eighteen year old thrown into a centuries-old world of magical combat. Your advancement in such a short time is actually quite spectacular, and I truly look forward to learning more about these strange reality-breaking abilities of yours… but as soon as one finds a way to turn your regeneration, or your allies, into a weakness instead of a strength… you're nothing more than a boy, struggling to stay afloat in a world where far greater men drown every single day."

A tension was building within John as the man spoke. Anger and rage boiled, untapped and unable to be expressed. His vision began to flare in shades of red and white, and he wasn't even entirely sure whether it was his own or Sophia's.

"You were always the goal, John. True, your creations would've made a wonderful consolation prize if you proved too smart not to fall into this trap. Breeding them and creating an army of slaves and fucktoys to sell across the black market after having them fixed… I could have dominated the world as an entrepreneur, the leader of a mercenary company, or both. But you? You have powers and abilities that break what we understand as reality itself. You were always what I wanted.

"I traded with the Cabal to have them snatch the Gorbachev's technology and the Order's compliance-inducing, emotion-suppressing Inquisitor enchantments for us. I had the Cabal launch an **** to capture the Gorbachev's drones for us, so that we could tap into her system and learn about you from the Order… and, eventually, from your little private world itself. I studied that Portal Stone of yours from the moment you presented it to Tricia, because I saw the weakness you exposed so freely.

"I even sent my men in to capture the Warden and use her as a bargaining chip, knowing that some or all of them would die… all for you, John. Because I knew the value within that even you yourself refuse to see. We were even fortunate enough to overhear your conversations about this fusion ability of yours… very fortunate, really. Because of that, we were able to alter this device to ensure that both your mind and whoever you brought along with you were wiped. If anything, you're saving us a great deal of trouble… we would've loved to use this device on your creatures, turn them against you when you arrived, but it's a rather intricate and expensive piece of technology to run. But I've seen you in action, John… you are worth every bit of power this costs us. Including all the men you've slaughtered. You're going to be my greatest asset."

"M-th-fu-a," John growled out, jaw resisting his impulses to speak. Joaquin just laughed, pacing in front of John, still several feet away.

"Impressive resilience… but ultimately useless," Joaquin assured John, shaking his head. "This device is programmed to re-write your mind, your personality, everything down to the soul, if you believe in such things. You're going to serve me… and unlike those barbaric mana-stripping collars the Cabal and others like to use, not only will you do so eagerly, but you'll do it with full access to your abilities. You'll be a lethal soldier, a willing creator of more progeny for us to utilize, and the most loyal bodyguard I could ask for. I only have to wait until this spell finishes. Right… about… now."

The sound of a scream, heart-wrenching and soul-piercing, echoed through the air. John wasn't entirely sure if it was only within his mind or if he had called out in the explosion of mana that left him. The rune below him faded at last, the orbs died out, and Joaquin began to smile as John's body slowly fell to the ground, landing on his own two feet, unmoving and his eyes fallen to the floor.

"Perfect."

The man strode forward, reaching out to run one finger along John's jawline. John remained in place, unmoving.

"This is the beginning of a new era. With you at my side, we-"

This time, the scream was certainly not in John's head. His golden wings lit with a brilliance that could have singed the sun itself, his body carried him forward with a momentum that would've taken the wind out of him in a lesser form without Sophia's endurance. His right hand dropped his blade and shot forward so fast that it slipped right under the living collar of the man's enchanted suit, the fingers of his right hand wrapping around Joaquin's windpipe while his left hand shot out and caught Joaquin's wrist under the suit's sleeve. He twisted Joaquin's wrist with his left hand until bones began to snap and the enchanted blade dropped from loosened fingers.

John caught the falling blade with his left hand as he moved, but didn't stop his forward motion until he had forcefully slammed the Albidian leader into the far wall of the building. Concrete and wood and metal all gave way as John carried the Albidian through two walls, an enchanted door, and several sets of gym room lockers, until at last his legs and wings carried them into the far edge of the Barrier itself, locked against an impenetrable purple wall that John continued to press the man into.

The suit was attempting in vain to pry John's hand away, but now that he had finally gotten it around Joaquin's bare skin, he wouldn't have released it for any prize in the world. His fingers clenched down harder by the second, and John felt the man's bones begin to creak and crack, both from his grip and from being **** back into the unmoving wall of the Barrier.

"I-impossible," Joaquin managed to gasp out when the suit gave him just enough literal breathing room. "I actually know how that spell works, and I still could not resist its effects! You should want to serve me more than you want to keep breathing! We studied you, you have no anti-magic spells, no way to prevent the effects, and once it's done there's no **** we know of that can-"

John adjusted his grip, allowing the man just enough air to remain conscious, but not enough to speak any further. The golden fire burning in John's eyes wouldn't allow him to pass out.

…He wasn't allowed to leave this world. Not yet.

"…And that's where you made your first - and final - mistake. You took what I cared about most from me. Right as I attained it, you stole away my happiness. I still have a family, but you stole the one I loved most, hurt me in a way that nothing else could. You left me with a hole in my heart that can never be filled or replaced. You were right, by the way. I can… I can feel it. Feel that enchantment, that spell you cast on me."

For a moment, John let his fingers loosen. He saw hope grow in the man's eyes as he sucked in a breath. John enjoyed that hope, and all the more when he crushed his fingers down even harder, pulling his left hand back and slashing forward. The suit gave way under the enchanted blade, too busy struggling to free its wearer to fully defend him. The man's right arm was entirely cleaved off at the elbow. It didn't bleed, it didn't even look particularly gory - the blade's enchantment made it a clean cut, though the man still grimaced and his throat roared with pain he could not scream to express.

"But I can see it in your eyes," John said, scowling. "If you've ever loved anything - anything at all - you've long forgotten what that's like. You don't know the state losing something like that puts you into anymore. Your enchantment worked… I want to serve you like I want my heart to keep beating. You even made that spell strong enough to hold me in place while it was working. But…"

John leaned in to Joaquin then, putting his mouth only inches from the man's ear as he whispered the last part.

"I don't care if I live. I don't care if I die. I don't care if my heart keeps beating or not. But I know what I want. I want to hurt you more than I want to spend another second on this accursed Earth. I need to break you more than I need to take my next breath. And I would trade every beat left in my heart… just to hear you scream, one last time."

John leaned back and noted with no small amount of glee the sheer terror on Joaquin's face… as John raised up the enchanted blade again, and brought it down upon the Albidian.

Again. And again. And again.