Regan rushed into the room and immediately delivered a slam right into Travolta’s head. Aura boosted his strength and speed. Despite the difference in the stature between the two, the small man in the suit sent the larger man in his tank top flying towards a nearby wall. He impacted hard and remained sitting there, while Victoria rolled off of the shattered table, coughing and panting.

“Travolta, what are you doing?” Regan asked, clicking his tongue as he stepped closer. He grabbed the taller man by the collar and dragged him up, the other hand raised in a ready fist. “I told you to not meddle with things you don’t understand. You’re supposed to protect my daughter when I’m not around, not become the danger to her.”

“Regan…” Travolta half-whispered the word. “You don’t… you don’t understand. She needs help. She needs warmth. She needs… she needs a threat…” His eyes widened. “Yes… a threat… she needs help and… can you not feel it? The tragedy of it all? The thing nestling in her brain?” He started to laugh. A manic, desperate laugh. “I see… I see! You’re with them!” His eyes darted over to Victoria. “You’re the traitors! ALL OF YOU ARE KEEPING ME FROM HE-“

Travolta’s screams were cut short when Regan brought his fist down. Again and again, he punched, turning his knuckles red with the blood of the man. “What are you doing?!” John shouted over.

“What is required to live in the Abyss,” Regan responded, continuing his punches mercilessly. “You better engrave this in your head, John, because this is what happens when you mess with powers beyond you.”

John could only stare, not knowing if he should intervene. So clearly, Travolta seemed gone, yet this brutal execution… in the end, he swallowed and did nothing. Because Rave did nothing. Not because she was shocked, not because she was hurt, but because she believed her father. Between Observe and the 3 other Abyssals in the room all agreeing that this was what needed to be done, who was he to suggest an alternative when he had none?

Regan clearly took no pleasure in any of it. The strikes were cold, calculated and swift. He wanted to beat the life out of the man as quickly as was safe. Each impact sounded wet by now.

The next punch, his strike struck not the shattered face, but Travolta’s meaty paw. The Abyss 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 regenerated. The blood was replaced by fresh flesh, along with all the deformities the pummelling had caused. The broken nose healed into a crooked mess and 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 needs it! The butcher did it to her!”

Regan kicked Travolta in the chest but the now hideous man either didn’t feel the pain or was so lost in it 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.

A second kick. There was a crack and one of Travolta’s ribs burst from the skin in a disgusting display of gore. Yet, still his grip didn’t waver. His chest pieced itself back together, the jutting rib now a branch off the healed bone.

How Travolta’s organs could possibly still be 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 hand was broken, and by the way Travolta’s hand slowly clasped down that was only a matter of time.

Travolta’s body convulsed, like he was experiencing a sudden stroke or seizure. With a mighty spasm, 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?! HUMANS?! LET THEM DROWN IN THEIR OWN BLOOD!”

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 looked like the agonized madness of a torture 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! DEEPER THAN THE NAILS! THE CURSE CLAWED INTO HER BRAIN.” With that scream, the two clashed again.

Their movements were quick. Not too quick to be impossible to follow but too quick for John to be of any help. ‘Gnome!’ he reached out to the elemental. She tried to join the fight, but was always three steps behind.

A furious exchange of blows created gusts of wind in the room. Travolta swung his arms in an assault of relentless fury while Regan did his best to dodge or block each incoming strike, redirecting their savage energy with martial techniques. 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 desperate 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 body once again. Shallow strikes covered Travolta’s side. A moment later dozens of thin, deep cuts gushed fresh blood, while Regan stepped away.

John recognized 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 Abyss 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, without facing him. “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.

“That’s just what happens, ain’t it?” Rave responded with grim resignation, she, John, Aclysia and Gnome standing ready to defend themselves.

Across the room, the injured Victoria shot them a smug glare. “I told you so.”

“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 in a dangerous fashion. The blue light was clear enough to actually illuminate the room. Regan crouched down, slowly gathering energy around his working arm. 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.

It was horrible.

Blue energy exploded from the uppercut. It tore a hole through Travolta’s stomach. Blood and gore burst out his back, cascading around a barely intact spine. It too was inevitably shredded. The insides painted the ceiling red. The energy continued on, breaking a hole into the ceiling. The momentum carried Travolta upwards several metres, before he came smacking back down. It looked and sounded like a piece of meat getting dropped onto a counter.

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.”

A hand ripped forwards. Travolta grabbed Regan by the ankle and whirled him around as he shot upright. Throwing him into another table, the Bloodaddict stood still and was breathing heavily. The hole in his stomach was rapidly filling with sinewy scar tissue. Only his spine seemed to grow back correctly.

Travolta wasn’t defeated. Not yet. His eyes fell on the Abyss Auction employee, as he rose up from the splinters. Immediately, 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 former friend’s ribcage.

It dented horribly under the impact. Regan let out a wheezing sound, like all air getting released from a container. Blood spurted out after the air, the ribcage dented and broken.

“DAD!” Rave delivered a kick to Travolta’s head. It was enough for the stationary target to topple over.

John quickly took stock of the situation. Regan was still alive. His breathing was ragged and he coughed up blood, but he was alive. If they got him out of the Protected Space, he would survive. “Travolta…” Regan gargled.

“I know,” the Gamer responded. The creature that had been their guild leader was in charge of this barrier. Unless he allowed them to, they could not leave. There were only two choices here: to kill him or to die.

The hideous, scarred creature rose with great difficulty. He was still breathing, despite his left side and deformed face being nothing but scar tissue, despite the half-open cavity in his stomach. 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. Travolta’s chest jumped as if he had been hit by a jolt.

“DON’T SHOW ME!” Travolta burst out and grabbed her standing leg. In a flurry of motion he slammed Rave into the ground like a human flail. Then he stood up, dangling her by her ankle. “SHOW HER! HOW FUCKING DIFFICULT IS THIS?!”

Pulling back his thick arm, he got ready to deliver a terrible strike. Before he could deliver, Aclysia charged at him. Raising one foot, he kicked the Artificial Spirit back the way she came. Gnome entered the opening, clutching Travolta’s leg. Ripping his leg free, he swiped the elemental aside with his unoccupied arm.

Then he returned to Rave. The pink-haired woman grit her teeth, dizzy from getting tossed around so much. She tried to free herself, repeatedly kicking Travolta’s wrist. He did not care, and drew his fist back again.

The hand holding Rave released her, as a thundering roar echoed through the room. A hole had been punched into the shoulder of the former man. Across the room, Victoria clicked her tongue and reloaded.

Rave caught herself on her hands and did a backflip into safety. Aclysia took her place at the frontline, occupying Travolta with swings of the Sword of Glory. Despite his regeneration, Travolta was getting slower. Whatever power the blood granted him, it wasn’t endless. With a swing of her blade, Aclysia severed Travolta’s hand from his crippled arm. The wound gushed once, then the blood bubbled out and foamed.

‘Gnome!’ John feverishly sent all of his mana to the elemental.

The grotesque man was forming a spike of bone from his blood. It was small and misshapen but by the way it punched holes into Aclysia’s surface it must have been incredibly sharp.

A loud boom was accompanied by a cloud of concrete. Victoria had missed her second shot. This one, John wouldn’t blame her for. Travolta’s unorthodox movements made it near impossible to aim. Rave rejoined the fight with an explosive release of light, covering Travolta in burns.

The hole in his stomach wasn’t regenerating further, his movements were shambling and slow enough for Rave to dodge and weak enough for Aclysia to block, his fight with Regan must have done massive damage to him despite his inhuman capabilities.

‘I am ready!’ Gnome informed her summoner.

“FALL BACK!” John screamed as soon as he heard that and both Rave and Aclysia followed his advice. Just as they landed beside him, the floor under Travolta cracked. Dirt cascaded upwards, earth and pebbles carrying Travolta upwards in a torrent of suffocation and sharp stones. The room filled with more and more wet dirt. Gnome used all his mana, kept drawing the earth upwards, until there was nothing left to be taken from John and the earth pillar stopped growing.

“It’s not over yet,” John told everyone. He knew when it would be.

His words were prophetic. The dirt stirred. The intact hand pushed out and clawed at the loose earth. Like a corpse pulling itself out of its grave, Travolta managed to drag his grotesque head out of the brown once more. He only had one good eye left. It was clear. Tears cut a clear path through the dusting of brown on his features.

Victoria pulled the trigger of her sniper rifle, only to once more find her gun blocked. “What are you doing?!” she hissed at John. He didn’t care to give her an answer.

“John… Jane… how is… Jimmie?” Travolta croaked.

“Awake and getting better,” John responded, while ordering Aclysia to go over and pick up Regan. The sooner they got moving, the better, but the Gamer wanted to hear the last words of the man.

“Good… that’s… good…” Travolta slowly exhaled and stared at his own hand. “Fucking idiot… this is what happens if you’re… trying to be luckier than you are…” He snapped back to John. “Please help her,” he pleaded. “I couldn’t bear it. I still can’t bear it.” The veins in his eyes widened again. “Why? WHY? PLEASE… please… please help her…” his voice rose and then fell again into a whimper. “…she didn’t deserve… any of this. E-…” Travolta’s head tilted to the side, the last breath leaving his lips.

John was not happy to see these windows today.