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He was a grisly magnificence, striding with a vile sickness upon the Isle. His calmness was eldritch and maddening as if the vermilion stag had reached the boundaries of insanity and crossed them. Malefic hatred reaped the aura of his wake as he strode so regally upon the scene. His intrepidity was flaunted and his lips were raised in a wolfish sneer as a scornful chuckle of sadistic intentions was dispersed. It was direful how the previous Light King could materialize into such a spiteful wretch, seeming to be consumed by the wickedness he expressed, but still be chauvinistic to the purity he was born into. His voice was taunting, daring and constant – low and consuming, wreathed in cynical irony and black humor.

”Stupid? No. Cowardice? Yes. Three against once? How fair. How… valiant of you to act!”

He sneered his supremacy and expressed his dominion over the miniscule beings with a savage hiss. It was enthralling as a vile squall of righteous cacophony blistered the conflicting atmosphere. He was magnificent and he was soon upon the piteous stallion, Relentless Tyme. His agility was uncanny as he hurled himself at the pathetic bastard in a frenzy of violent blows. His scabrous hooves left the muck in which he stood and strike at Tyme’s vulnerable and accessible chest and knees. His movements were aimed for precision and accuracy of which he controlled with relentless potency. Shazaam’s ears laid flat within the flailing masses of sable mane, to protect them from any assault. His choler was unfurled as he hoped his attack would prove fatal by either fracturing her collar bone if the chest was hit or even bruising her windpipe in his onslaught. If neither of these were accomplished, there was no doubt that when gravity had it’s way with him, his attack would land lower. Perhaps upon Tyme’s knee caps which would surely bust with Shazaam’s whole body capacity aimed at such miniscule things, then to slide down and peel the very flesh from his delicate cannon bone to smash the coronet band? His attacks were perpetual, and he refused mercy upon Tyme as he continued his barrage upon the tyrant’s legs with inexorable potency. Shazaam did not know, and he did not care, for his attacks were precise and would be difficult to dodge and come out of barely or entirely unharmed. He had obtained the title of a reverenced king by pointless battles of which he lost. It was all up to Tyme now, and how he played his moves.