Chapter 98: Victory
However, Artel wasn't one to easily fall victim to an ambush. Keeping a wary eye on Quirrell, he stole a glance at Lucius standing behind him. Lucius hastily raised his hand, signaling his peaceful intentions, and cautiously stepped back a few paces.
Artel had no intention of provoking the wizard.
While loyal to Voldemort, it was mainly due to Voldemort's power. This Saruman figure divulged the secrets of both Voldemort and Quirrell in one fell swoop. It was unclear who was more menacing between him and Voldemort.
"Smart move," Artel remarked.
Lucius epitomized the profit-driven individual, a trait that could be exploited to their advantage.
After briefly assessing Lucius, Artel directed his scepter towards Quirrell.
"You insignificant pests will soon realize your façade," he sneered.
"Damn you." Quirrell retorted.
Quirrell detected the disdain in Artel's gaze, realizing he was viewed not as an equal, but as an insignificant insect.
Could he tolerate such insolence? With a swift motion of his wand, Quirrell unleashed an explosion spell. A burst of flames hurtled towards Artel.
"Haha..." Artel chuckled knowingly. With a deft flick of his scepter, he redirected the flames, causing them to crash into the adjacent wall.
The impact created a sizable hole in the structure.
"Not a bad display of power, just a tad sluggish," Artel mused inwardly. Without missing a beat, he swiftly conjured a protective shield around himself with his scepter.
"Skelectonera!"
Though Artel possessed the ability to cast spells without the need for recitation, he opted to chant spells. This decision aimed to amplify the potency of his incantations, providing defense against Quirrell's dark arts and the potential sneak attacks from Lucius.
"What manner of magic is this?" Lucius pondered as he observed the radiant aura enveloping Artel. It was a form of protective enchantment unfamiliar to him, its effectiveness uncertain but apparent.
Undeterred by Artel's defenses, Quirrell swiftly conjured a second spell: Reducto.
As Quirrell unleashed the Reducto, Artel vanished from sight, reappearing behind his adversary in an instant.
Without visible motion, a sudden gust of wind swept through the alley, throwing Quirrell off balance and rendering him temporarily disoriented. Despite his twisted flight, an inexplicable force nullified his trajectory mid-air.
Artel observed Quirrell's display of fireworks with intrigue. "As expected of a Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, adept in curses, poisons, and hexes..." he remarked, tallying the spells unleashed by his opponent. Sensing the conclusion of Quirrell's assault, Artel ceased the gust of wind, followed by the sudden manifestation of numerous elemental manifestations—wind blades, ice knives, fire bullets, and earth thorns—assailing Quirrell relentlessly.
Such was the might of Vya, the Ring of Air, granting mastery over all elemental magic to its wielder in an instant.
Elemental magic, while somewhat divergent from the conventional spells in the world of Harry Potter, encompassed incantations such as the Fiend Fire Spell, Whirlwind Spell, and Flying Sand and Stone Spell, thus avoiding any abruptness in the eyes of Quirrell and Lucius.
As Quirrell found himself lacerated by wind blades and ice knives, his black robe torn open, blood spattered, and pain coursing through his veins, the specter of death loomed ominously. Rolling on the ground, he transformed into a black mist, seeking refuge on the opposite side. With a swift incantation, he encased himself in armor, hoping to fortify his defenses.
However, his efforts proved futile.
The tattered fabric of Quirrell's robe underwent a bewildering transformation, morphing into writhing vines that ensnared him like a snake. To compound his predicament, the ground beneath him liquefied into a watery pool, submerging the mummified figure of Quirrell, leaving only his head protruding from the solidified stone surface.
Artel approached Quirrell leisurely, casting a disdainful glance upon him, his eyes brimming with pity.
"It has long been foretold that ignorance exacts a heavy toll," Artel remarked solemnly, addressing Quirrell with a mixture of reproach and compassion.
Extending his hand, Artel beckoned, and a box situated nearby levitated into his grasp. Sensing the pulsating vitality emanating from the dragon eggs within, Artel nodded with satisfaction before turning his gaze towards Lucius.
"Mr. Malfoy, I believe a cup of tea is in order, don't you think?" he suggested casually, his tone betraying none of the chaos that had just unfolded moments ago.
.....
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