As the smoke and colour magic flashed in the distance as the great creature tumbled to the ground, Mal was focused on a different point now. Even Ugnis with his relic had faded from his mind as Mal was confronted with this being.

[color=yellow]“The Jester… Of the Court?”[/color] Mal’s teeth clenched tight at the mention of the authoritarian power. But just as he was taken off guard by the hand on his shoulder, he tumbled backwards, tripping over the root behind him so the masked man was towering above him.

 He hated the court. He hated everything and everyone that had to do with that group that let its people suffer. But even as he stared, his grin gaining an aggressive angle and an eerie darkness clouded his eyes, he knew at this point that there was no standing up to this man. 

 The Demon Prince might have been his affectionate name from the underworld, but this man was at a whole different level.

 Even now as Mal tumbled back from his grip, the resident spirit surged towards the spot as if warding off a lethal virus, which, to Mal’s chagrin, caused cuts to form on the bare skin. He didn’t have the energy for this. The man hadn’t made a single move yet, which meant that Mal should be safe for now.

 But his spirit? Disinteresting? He couldn’t quite remember the details, but he had a faint understanding that some important people had sacrificed a lot to develop it and the form of magic that it represented. His hand scurried for the black chain in his pocket, searching for some form of comfort as the magic in his body buzzed on edge.

 The chain was still there, along with its entrancing red gem. Using that magic now would surely kill him. Mal’s entire nervous system was a mess of signals, both telling him to run or to kill him for embodying the group that he hated. 

[color=yellow]“Label me what you want,”[/color] Mal grimaced, attempting to regain some dignity as he pulled himself out of the dirt with a hand clenching his now bleeding shoulder through his shirt, [color=yellow]“But If you’re labelling me a side character, then understand that I’ll be writing the spin-off. Now are you here to entertain yourself with some anarchist refuse like me or do you have some grander purpose other than being some cliché chaotic neutral!?”[/color]

 Even his exhaustion seemed to dissipate under the steam of anger that boiled at his bones. Part of him understood where the anger came from. He hated what this man represented, he hated that he was some giant know-it-all who knew him down to his name, and subconsciously he could tell that he was angry at this man for insulting the person who developed the spirit, even if Mal hated it more than he let on.
 All and all, he was ready to let loose, and it was only the cold logic that he had nothing left that kept him from acting. He may put himself in danger, but Mal was not suicidal.