Summoning Flata would get himself killed.
He couldn't control Dekan, no matter how hard he tried.
He couldn't land a hit, and on top of that, he had to endure the taunting expression of that [Captain Dekan] doll.
Flata felt himself gradually losing his mind.
He couldn't tell whether it was from sheer rage or the Confusion status.
So far, Dekan hadn't shown any aggressive moves of his own.
Yet every card he played had cost him next to nothing while draining Flata as much as possible.
For the first time in his life, Flata felt the urge to switch to a melee class.
All he wanted was to hack Dekan to death!
Who put nothing but traps in their deck?!
Forget winning or losing—wasn't this just pure harassment?
What kind of creature in this world would do something like this?
"Haah, haah."
Flata was so furious that he could barely breathe, and the Confusion status made it hard for him to accurately track his target.
Dekan had already started running away.
He didn't care about appearances at all, putting as much distance between himself and Flata as he could.
Dekan ran incredibly fast—fast enough to make anyone wonder if he was a second-tier assassin.
It was clear that although Dekan had no talent for martial arts, he must have trained hard at sprinting in his spare time.
Running away wasn't shameful. It was especially useful.
The farther away he got, the more time Dekan had to summon [Captain Dekan] and bait out Flata's attacks.
"Dekan!!! Do you have no shame at all?! Did you really come here to duel?!"
Flata roared, his eyes bloodshot and his lips trembling.
He had no choice but to chase after Dekan to close the distance.
But it felt like he'd been drinking bootleg