Chapter 238: Magi Flambé

The Magician ran like mad across the charred halls, watching as the group clawed their way out of the hole and gave chase. He had his cards prepared on his arms, ejecting his hands to the ceiling in order to pull himself, gaining his own momentum through the chains. The staff members would prepare more holes again, throwing them across his given area, some even trying to halt the boy's progress by having the hole stop at a point where the next grab he'd take would be through the cavity itself. Harvard knew fully well as to what their intentions were, so in a brisk attempt, he'd have the card he was preparing go across his mouth, through his neck, and out of his mouth, casting it straight through his tongue, cutting the distance through his propulsion, and safely grabbing ahold of the ceiling once more. He was actually stunned that he could pull off something like this, though he does recall back the card's placement, due to feeling like his skin was being pulled. "NICE TRY, JOKERS!" He'd shout at the staff members, taunting them with a raspberry by his mouth, and doing silly faces through his eyes.

BANG!!

A Strike. Right when his guard was down, right when he thought he had the upper hand against the deformed humans. Despite knowing fully well about the holes, Harvard hasn't taken into account as to how much distance they'd cover, seeing a new hole made right on the middle of the tarnished carpet, with a Staff Member jumping out at the ready, smacking him upside the head using a skillet, a direct hit on his skull, cracking it somewhat. The boy struggled to come back to his senses, before being grabbed by multiple hands, most likely the staff's, through another staff's hole upon its face. The Card Magician had no time to waste, having to prepare his arms again and chuck them directly at the next newcomer that tries to give chase, wrapping it around his neck and pulling him in, forcing the others to try and hold him down before he was dragged into an unfortunate event. Alas, such a grapple would not allow Harvard a breathing room, as he would be quickly transported into the hole, though still holds the means to escape at the very least. Once he reached through the other side, he recognized that where he was going was somewhere warm, somewhere compact.

A Furnace.

He was chucked straight into the firewood, forced to be cooked alive within the area, his body getting hotter and hotter within seconds. The boy had to turn off his nerves to ignore such excruciating pain, already seeing his body sweat, and parts of his skin slowly taking damage. His arms were starting to get red-hot, quickly showcased when screams of anguish were heard through the hole he came out of. Whatever heat was made, was being transferred directly onto one of the Staff members, and such heat was practically killing the man in the process. He can hear a scuffle being made in desperation to free the Staff, but it was no use, as they couldn't find anything to properly break the chains or use their magic safely without getting hurt themselves. Within that small frame, Harvard would fight back, though he has to be cautious with this, as while his body may be immune to the intense heat, seeing his head of hair caught ablaze and half his face slowly melting off..

His cards aren't.

He would have to rely on Jury to get himself out of the situation, but he doesn't mind it. Once more, he went through his mask to find the perfect solution to take, but because of the heat, it does get itself a little muddy in terms of consciousness, his vision beginning to blur, his heart beating at a faster rate. The words being said were slurred, slanted, almost melting with one another, yet he was able to make out one and chose it on a mere whim: Mask. The Card Magician would weave his arms around the worker's neck, using his upper body strength to pull him through the hole, despite the staff members desperation to push him back. Because of how hot it got, however, he ends up being almost like a literal warhead, unable to be touched properly, unable to act properly, so much so that one of the members would be quick on spilling out many weapons, from pipes and poles to fire pokers, in order to arm his fellow members and attack him from a distance. Harvard would create small slits out of his body, allowing the excess heat to escape, using Jury itself to push out such flames, almost propelling him like a rocket, letting the chains that surround one of them to snap its neck and get dragged away, with Harvard escaping the death trap.

When he did, however, he noticed that one of them had a small slit across their face as well, most likely where the option choice lay. He was quick in ripping it off, causing the corpse to twitch and spasm like mad, as if it was getting a seizure, convulsing on itself and opening its mouth, trying to scream from his deceased body. He got curious at wondering why such a body would react in a way, but he couldn't be bothered with figuring it out now. For now, he'd recoil his arms and throw them directly at the hall itself, forcing the staff to dodge and approach him on different sides. He can see quickly that they were feeling more confident, yet Harvard was smiling to himself all the while, taking advantage of the halls to issue his escape. A loud, shrill noise was made behind the group, forcing them to turn around.

A Fire Alarm, catching sighting of smoke within the vicinity. a Sprinkler System was being issued.

PSHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Waves upon waves of water rained down towards the people, quickly hitting Harvard spot-on. When he did, due to how high the heat was when being in the makeshift death trap, steam was being made and quickly enveloped the entire hall itself, coating everyone in it. Such steam and humidity almost became a choking point, with some even being unable to handle the smell of burnt flesh and the temperature of the gas, pushing themselves away from the area to get some breathing room. Others desperately tried to retaliate, but because of the steam, it served to be his camouflage. The Eyeless Members swung wildly with whatever they had, hoping with its reach they can hit the Magician, but it was no use. Once he recoiled his arms back, the boy made a mad dash away, allowing more steam to be made, his body cooling off properly so he can cast his cards again. He would have to admit, this was starting to get fun again. After dealing with so much in an author's story, he has forgotten how it felt to fight on equal footing again. "OI! ZAZEL! YOU OK OVER THERE?!" He'd ask, shouting it through the shaft, letting its emptiness echo across the area, hoping his demonic friend can hear him.