Kapitel 268: Chapter 267 "The Shadow Dragon Entrance"
As described previously, just as Skyler and Voldemort prepared for their deadly confrontation, they unexpectedly halted their aggression and agreed to a ceasefire.
Skyler's brow furrowed deeply. He felt a subtle tremor in every particle and element in the air, signaling the imminent emergence of a potent magical surge.
His pupils, typically gray, now flickered rapidly among four colors: red, blue, azure, and white. This signaled that he had pushed his magical vision to its limits.
Skyler recognized the unusual magical fluctuations—they were characteristic of space magic. At that moment, a realization seemed to dawn upon him.
His brows slowly unfurled, revealing an expression that was a blend of complexity: anticipation, excitement, nervousness, and fear intermingled with memories, bitterness, and melancholy.
This whirlwind of emotions left him unsure of what he truly felt at that moment. Meanwhile, Voldemort's expression underwent a drastic change. Even his serpentine visage, far removed from human semblance, appeared pallid with apprehension. Though the nature of this magical surge remained obscure, it couldn't elude his perception.
It was evident that specialized techniques had suppressed this magic surge. The false peace belied the terrifying power that lurked behind it—
"Darned brat," Voldemort muttered, his shock palpable. He couldn't fathom that Skyler had additional contingencies at this critical juncture!
But as the enigmatic expression on Skyler's face shifted, Voldemort's realization dawned—it wasn't a gambit by Skyler, but an unforeseen scheme in which both of them were unwitting pawns.
"Who the fuck dares to interrupt our sacred duel?!" Skyler yelled with annoyance as he looked toward the direction of the dark energy brewing.
What puzzled him more was the expression on the boy's face. As the most infamous Dark Lord of the century, Voldemort had engaged in numerous battles, his facade of hypocrisy never faltering.
Yet now, he observed Skyler's countenance, which mirrored someone who had stumbled upon a magical artifact and simultaneously realized their own demise. What emotions played across the boy's face?
Throughout his reign over the wizarding world of Great Britain, Voldemort wielded power unmatched by any other. Even Dumbledore, hailed as the world's strongest wizard, struggled to thwart him. Mastering the Imperius and Cruciatus Curses, he subjugated and destabilized societal order.
This demonstrated his composure. How finely tuned his mind was in a rational state. Observing the shift in Skyler's expression, Voldemort inferred that the boy likely grasped the situation.
"Boy..." Voldemort couldn't suppress his curiosity. "Do you understand what's happening?"
"Can't you see?" Skyler's gaze remained distant, ignoring Voldemort. His voice, devoid of emotion, carried a hint of detachment. "This is a massive anti-Apparition enchantment. I'd wager Apparition's impossible within a hundred-mile radius..."
"What?" Voldemort attempted to Disapparate but to no avail. His wave of the wand yielded no movement, confirming Skyler's claim. His voice grew hoarse. "How is this possible?"
Impatience simmered within him. His escape plan, hinged on Apparition, now lay in ruins. Moreover, even if he could brute force his way out, he doubted the competence of his lackluster servants.
Skyler chuckled at Voldemort's futile attempt. "You don't seriously think I orchestrated this, do you?"
"It wasn't you after all?" Voldemort sought confirmation despite his suspicions.
"Who else could orchestrate such a grand scheme right under our noses?" Skyler's tone remained casual. "You should have a guess, shouldn't you?"
"Meaning..." Voldemort's query trailed off as a loud crack resounded from Skyler's hand. It resembled the abrupt snap of a high-voltage wire disconnecting. A radiant white light erupted from Skyler's left hand, previously maintaining the area of gravitational excess. With an unseen force, his palm was violently wrenched open.
Skyler couldn't suppress a soft cry as searing pain shot through his hand. Recoiling, he brought it to his lips and blew gently. Glancing quickly, a stark black mark marred the center of his palm, appearing as though the flesh had been scorched.
Voldemort inexplicably felt weightless. Simultaneously, the Death Eaters and the Inferi broke free from the grip of gravity, rising to their feet once more.
Yes, the enchantment that even Voldemort found insurmountable—Skyler's domain of excess weight—had been shattered.
Voldemort checked his body's condition, trying to see whether he was truly free from Skyler's grasp or if it was just a fluke. To his surprise, there are no more spells weighing or targeting him now.
Skyler lifted his gaze, narrowing his eyes slightly at the cemetery's entrance, where a moss-covered, dilapidated statue once stood.
Voldemort's crimson gaze flickered continuously, mirroring Skyler's scrutiny of the same direction.
In a silent accord, both Voldemort and Skyler remained still, fixating on the cemetery entrance. The Death Eaters congregated nearby, their silence palpable. Even the mindless Inferi remained motionless, comprehending the gravity of the moment.
The scene descended into an eerie calmness, the only sound punctuating the stillness was the gentle rustle of the breeze.
Abruptly, a crunching reverberation shattered the silence as the monstrous statue fissured from top to bottom, cleaving apart to reveal a gaping hole in the earth below. The entire process transpired in less than a minute.
From the depths of the pit, a tinkling laughter akin to silver bells resonated.
"Ah, let me enlighten you—your intelligence is quite flawed," spoke a melodious female voice, imbued with a robust Scottish lilt yet exuding elegance. "When we struck our accord, I distinctly recall—your 'valuable' intel failed to mention the Malfoy boy's proficiency in gravity manipulation, let alone the mastery of fire and spatial magic capable of deflecting the Killing Curse—"
"Good thing I followed my instincts," the figures of a man and a woman ascended slowly from the pit.
Skyler's pupils constricted, his wand hand trembling as veins protruded, betraying his recognition of the duo.
The man, clad in a sleeveless leather vest adorned with immense skull tattoos on his brawny arms, was none other than the Pirate King Barbarossa, whom Skyler had gravely wounded in their previous encounter.
The woman possessed a voluptuous figure, with crimson lips framing dazzling white teeth. Yet, her most striking feature was her pair of mesmerizing eyes—one green, the other a sea-blue hue, a rarity known as heterochromia.
It was Meredith.
Or rather, Morgan Le Fay.
"Hmph, your esteemed Lord fell to a mere youth in single combat, a deed so ignoble, and yet you lack conviction," the woman chided with a smirk. "When I heard your plan, it struck me as odd. Now, it's apparent—" her plump lips curved upwards, "not only did you fail to defeat him, but you also failed to draw out his full strength. If today followed your directives, well, it'd be quite a farce—"
"You should be grateful for this... Thankfully, tonight I meticulously orchestrated this 'battle of titans' scenario," the woman's keen gaze fixed on Skyler, their eyes locking in a silent exchange. "See, doesn't this showcase the true prowess of my dear Skyler?"
Upon her words, she gracefully gestured with her hands. Black fissures materialized one by one on the ground behind them, and from these fissures emerged figures cloaked in black robes. Nearly a hundred in total.
These figures were enveloped in a dark aura, obscuring their true visages.
What remained unmistakable, however, were the black robes adorning them, each adorned with red flying dragons embroidered on the collars and cuffs—a distinctive attire that unmistakably identified their allegiance:
The Shadow Dragon has finally made their presence known to the other parties of the wizarding world.
What would be the fate of Voldemort and Skyler, who had their fight halted right in the middle?
AUTORENGEDANKEN 
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