"Have you ever heard of 'The Phantom in Hell'?"
"The chick who's a bounty hunter for beasts? Yeah, I heard of her. Would rather that woman leave the country though."
"SHH!! She can still hear us! Don't make her have a reason to make us eat dirt!"
Mumbles from the adults of Oaking, as Harvard would be walking along with his two parents. Residents within the Kingdom weren't just being wary towards the problematic child, but to the family as a whole. Even when he was around 6 years old, he would still be given glares and uncertain looks upon their faces. His mother would usually stare back with animosity to make sure they keep smiling as the three walked on. His days usually go around either spending time in the castle, acting as a school for him to learn, or playing in the small, open spaces where other kids play games with him. Despite the adult's weariness and warnings, the children within Oaking would always let him in, even picking him first when it requires team-based activities. When it came to kicking a ball or tossing a disc, Harvard's presence would make the other kids play like their life depended on it. Strategies were formed, invertedly teaching Harvard how to optimally use his energy and directing his movements and actions with each step. Every time they reached to mere inches of the goal, everyone went further beyond their normal capabilities, with something down the wire almost acting like a bloodbath with how feral their movements were in achieving victory.
The boy still recalled such moments as he approached the Beldam, cards in hand, tracking down that small glimpse he saw earlier, as she tried to approach. "GO LONG!!" He'd remember, as he'd back himself away when the witch tried for another slash.
"Down low! Steady yourself!" Another direction, as the child slid under the beast, timing himself as he'd see her tail rise.
"CATCH!!!" A third, as he'd capture the tail, spinning himself, twisting it around so the Beldam falls over, as Harvard would cast out a few mines and a set of chains around it, letting it act as clackers, wrapping around her neck so it can split that wound further out.
KA-BOOOOOOOM!!!!
Swift. Efficient. Like a soldier in war, his aim was immaculate. Every time he passed that goal, Harvard's team would cheer and praise him, with one of them trying to see if he can buy some snacks for everyone involved. While such children were happy whenever he was around, the Adults were a different story. Every time he was brought up, there was always something to demean and paint the child as if he was a beast of his own making.
"He's tainting our youth! He's not welcome here!! What if he starts turning others to savages!?" A Mother would cry, when Harvard would be busy with his father in the bath, playing with some toys as he gets cleaned up.
"He's a bane of existence. ALL OF THEM ARE! Every Helsing, from those medieval ages to now, are a blight on society!" An old man would holler, while Harvard would be sleeping in the middle of a bedtime story by his mother.
KRACC!!! KRACC!!!
Punch after punch. He delivered them as he'd recall each kid he hanged out with when he was little saying his name. Each punch was delivered to the Beldam's face, as he'd remember such ridicule and slander. The beast would try to stab him through the chest and rip him in half, only for his ribcage to catch her by the arm and let it reform atop of it, letting Harvard get closer as he continued his beatdown. It wasn't ire that motivated such strikes, but proof.
Proof to the adults that what they say are lies.
He can recall a conversation from a pair of twins, as they were walking across the street. "Hey... about that kid..." One started.
"The one in the suit?" Another asked.
"Yeah, him. All the grown-ups don't seem to like him. What's up with that?"
"I dunno. Jealousy? When I asked about him, all they did was nag about how he's 'dangerous' and 'wicked', before sending me to our room whenever I told her we hung out."
"Is he actually?"
"HAH! Nah, he's cool! Awesome, even! Did you know his mom acts as a Soldier in here?"
"REALLY!?"
"Mhm! Probably why I said they were Jealous. I'd be mad too that someone's parents were cooler than me." The truth, and the source as to why Harvard's fears were visible.
The Beldam was behaving exactly like Limosa. Every person in Oaking that tried to suggest in kicking Harvard out of the kingdom were met with a simple question: What about his Mother? They always fell silent when she gets mentioned, dropping the discussion entirely. Even when one tried to speak up, everyone involved immediately gestures them to shut up. One afternoon was enough to prove she was Oaking's greatest asset.
An invasion, with a few rogue bandits that wanted the King's Head, leading a massive horde of monsters as their arsenal.
BANG! BANG, BANG, BANG!!
Fired on all sides. The toys came back to life, taking the new Gorgon's body and using it as bandages and personal prosthetics to move and function again, trying to attack and swarm Harvard while he was wounded. Each splash and splurt of blood would let him be reminded of the injured and the dead when he was trying to play a game. The whimpers of a child for his mother would trigger the boy. Back then, he'd simply grab the nearest thing and smacked it against a soldier or a beast, striking them upside the head and beating the figure senseless. He was shot through his shoulder, then again at his abdomen, just shy from his stomach. Tears came down to the poor toddler back then, as he'd face the Soldier responsible, seeing his wicked grin and aiming his weapon: a sniper, its barrel and scope in the shape of the monsters he came with.
Monster Magic on the weapons, adorning it with a Mouse's whiskers and a black color. A weaponization of the Blind Mice.
Harvard closed his eyes as he braced himself, though as the bullet fired, nothing happened. His mother came to his aid, catching the bullet with her bare hand. Much like her wrath, Harvard would give his own with a spell, one that shuts away that unfair advantage. Because he treats his fights with such enjoyment, anyone that tries to unleash a scummy tactic, such as a sneak shot or a surprise army, would have him promptly deal with them and give a solemn message. With one of his newest cards, that message would be as prevalent as Limosa's.
"Oh him? Eh, don't worry. He'll be bleeding out soon." The soldier began as he'd try to point the gun at his mother's face, a sneer plastered on his. "How's about you come to our Kingdom instead? This place is going to be dead anyway, and I think you and a few of my friends can give us some 'entertainment' if yo-"
"Keep."
"Your hands."
"Off."
"Of."
"My."
"SOOOOOOOON!!!!" An immediate spike in energy, her body translucent, as she'd reach out and grip into his heart. When she did, everyone would feel that same pressure. A squeeze was enough to crush that heart, killing every soldier that dared try to take another life.
Ghost Magic: Salem.
At the same time he recalled this, Harvard would cast down Deus Ex. A blinding glow from his hand, as the world altered for his advantage. Every toy that exists to act as the Beldam's surprise immediately keeled over, their souls tearing off, melding with the area, repairing the restaurant. When the smoke cleared, the boy can see his fused monster meld with the environment as well, serpentine heads against the walls, acting as his support. The Beldam was amazed at seeing such magic, watching such a change from reality, nay, the concept of such a change applied, would stunt her, forcing her to regain her hands, letting the wires mingle around and prepare her in advance.
He could see her eyes regenerating, another mirror in its place. The Beldam really was like his Mother. Everything she's doing, whether it was the infiltration or the reaction time against his Monsters, was exactly like hers. He was thankful never to fight with his mother, but is just as worried he wouldn't match the same violence she had.