Chapter 155: Tactic Genocide

SHIKK!!!

A grisly sight made before the Card Magician's eyes, already getting to work on healing himself, reattaching his torn body back to normal and regenerating his lost blood so he wouldn't faint. Rotating the blade to be its opposite edge, as well as spinning such like a fan once more, he'd flay off the infected skin and any dermis that was infected by contact of the fire, even cutting through his own clothes and parts of his face to cleave it clean off. He'd then drop the sword into the fire, deeming it as ineffective for him. What was worse was that the cut parts of his skin would begin to pulsate in the same manner, before spreading and growing itself to patch up the ruined body. The Boy quickly realized what 'Divine' being healed him into fruition, as well as explaining why his eyes remained red. He wasn't living at all.

He was a Zombie. A Puppet being reborn and given a conscious by the Devil of the Sea himself.

The King would rotate his body once more, stretching and rolling his bones to make them snap at a good angle, acting as a self-made chiropractor. "Smart. You were aware of its danger and tried to neutralize it, but unfortunately for you, I don't need a sword to showcase my rule. My hands outta do just as fine." He'd jeer, before lunging towards the boy and preparing another strike. He'd curve his body once more, rotating himself to build his speed, gyrating his wrists to deliver a corkscrew punch directly at the child's face, his speed being faster and faster, reminding Harvard of the times such speeds tend to overwhelm him. He'd cast a spell in the form of more appendages to try and block the strike, as well as casting chains through such appendages to tie around his legs and arms, primarily to prevent him from using his magic. Malak, however, reacted once more, launching himself up in the air and moving his whole body like it was a wind turbine, his very legs striking the appendages in such force, it rips them apart, allowing the Knight to wield such limbs as a makeshift weapon, letting it be tangled and caught in the ensnarement. As he'd get to the floor, he would have his body function like a top, pumping his magic more and more around his hands and wrists to spin and strike at the boy, utilizing the chains as makeshift whips to prevent escape while he delivered his blows. The boy would be forced to block once more, casting another spell through his cards to make a barrier out of the debris.

Harvard couldn't believe it. He was actually having difficulty against this joke. He was actually struggling against him, all because of a style of magic he never thought would be taken.

Malak continued his assault, spinning faster and faster before launching himself up in the air once more, striking at the boy's shield directly with a kick, cracking it. Harvard would be quick in infecting the shield once more, having his feet and parts of his leg beginning to disintegrate. He would try to aim for another chance at chopping the skin off, using the chains to lash at the skin and rip it off clean, before Harvard escaped from his barrier to cast another set of chains, delivering a separate virus to severely weaken such weaponry, making it more flimsy and flammable. The Spell that would've made something into Paper. Growing annoyed, he'd resort to pumping more of his energy into the legs, letting go of the chains and rotating his other leg to prepare a roundhouse kick. Harvard would have the barrier take the blow, before seeing what the kick was doing. It was at an angle, yet in such an angle, he could physically see the energy leaking out in a drill-like fashion, spinning more and more in its circle, almost having no end in sight. It was like gazing into a glowing abyss. When the kick was made, the very energy seeping out would explode, destroying both the limb itself and the barrier, exploding it into dust once more.

"Spiral Magic.....FIBONACCI!!"

It was his Final Gambit, the supposed last gamble that the King possessed. Such a strike was enough to warp and spin everyone out of shape, with Harvard catching the most painful consequence in feeling like a small part of his body twisted into such a spiral-like form, before being blasted down into the brick walls, crashing and creating a crack across it. Blood began to pour out from the impact, as well as coughing some out from his mouth. Despite such an injury, however, he would stand back up. Malak would grow a sneer as he saw the damage before him. "If there's one thing I hate about you....it's that you don't seem to understand the gravity of the situation. You're literally outclassed in physical prowess, brat. Don't you see that already? I've found your weakness thanks to our little competition and exploiting it in every instance, and yet you're STILL acting like you can take it in stride. Your face says it all, You think you can win this. That's what you're thinking, right?" The King would complain.

Harvard merely grinned as he'd stand up. "Pretty much, yeah...And that's because it's always what happens. You're the bad guy, after all.....Heroes beat the Villains in any and every context. It may take me a few minutes, maybe a few days, maybe even a few months or even a year....but In the end....The hero will prevail. That's how it's always been...And that's how its gonna continue to be..." The boy's voice remained optimistic, even after such a brutal strike to his core.

Malak would roll his eyes and prepare his next strike once more. "That's fantasy talk. It seems I have to actually teach you how the world really works then. Let me bore this message in your thick skull before you go playing Goody Two shoes on everyone: Reality doesn't work like that. I will see to it that you learn this lesson and take it to your grave...."

Harvard simply gave a small laugh. "Clearly you've never seen reality yet...."