Kapitel 213: Chapter 213: Never wake a sleeping dragon!
"I know some of you might have lost a bit of faith in me. Don't worry," Voldemort said, waving his hand toward a Death Eater, who obediently handed him a wand.
Voldemort didn't care whether the wand felt right or not. To him, aside from the Elder Wand, no wand in this world made much difference—they all had to submit to his will.
He then lifted his chin and looked toward Cyrus.
"You know," Voldemort hissed with a sinister grin, stretching his mouth unnaturally wide, "while I've kept Dumbledore busy, I didn't overlook the possibility that you and the order of Phoenix might still come together. So, I've prepared a little gift for you."
In the next moment, Voldemort conjured a half-meter-tall, dark iron sphere, intricately designed and hollow, with black and red swirling liquid inside. It looked like a thick, toxic fog trapped within.
A massive amount of energy was sealed within the sphere. It pulsed like an evil heart, radiating an unsettling aura.
Just staring at it made Harry feel dizzy, overwhelmed with discomfort and unpleasant emotions.
The wizards who had spent time in Azkaban were even worse off. They were reminded of their darkest memories, their faces turning pale, swaying unsteadily as if about to collapse.
"What is that?" Sirius asked, holding onto a ghostly pale Bellatrix, his brow furrowed tightly.
"An Obscurus?" Harry instantly recognized it."
"That thing was in the Rookwood Castle!" Harry exclaimed, clutching tightly onto the bony spine of the Thestral, his body nearly hanging off it. His face was pale, not just because of the influence of the dark force sealed within the goblin-forged mithril, but also because he had witnessed firsthand the terror of this power!
Back then, Voldemort had been using that grotesque goblin body. Once it absorbed that energy, his magical strength had instantly skyrocketed to a new level. It had taken both Dumbledore and Cyrus working together to destroy that body in the end.
Cyrus hadn't expected Voldemort to have preserved another seal of dark emotion. This was a huge complication!
Voldemort was already incredibly powerful, and Cyrus had only managed to gain the upper hand before by exploiting a gap in information. While the magic sealed within the mithril wasn't vast, if Voldemort absorbed even a portion of it, his strength would still be significantly enhanced!
There was already a gap between Cyrus and Voldemort, and this would make things even more dangerous.
"We have to stop him!"
Cyrus's eyes darkened as he fired a spell from his wand.
Without hesitation, Voldemort extended his pale, gray arm and swatted the spell aside.
At the same time, Cyrus transformed into a white mist and surged toward Voldemort!
But he was too late. The sphere had already begun to activate!
Crack!
With a sharp sound, the hollow goblin-forged mithril shattered, scattering in all directions. The sealed magic burst forth, rushing like an upward river into Voldemort, pouring through his eyes, ears, mouth, and nose, and flooding into his chest!
Voldemort's body was lifted into the air by the surge of power, a magical storm swirling around him that made it impossible for Cyrus to advance.
Boom!
In just an instant, Voldemort had absorbed the sealed power left behind by Rookwood.
A powerful shockwave rippled out, and even Cyrus, unable to stand his ground, was swept up by the tidal wave of magic, thrown into the air!
Seizing the moment, he transformed into a Thunderbird, riding the fierce winds. His wings spread wide, summoning thunderclouds that darkened the entire night sky.
"This power… it's intoxicating!" Voldemort closed his eyes, reveling in the ancient magic coursing through his body, merging with his own.
He was stronger than ever!
And this was only a small portion of the sealed power left behind by Charles Rookwood in his experiment to test Morgana's magic. The unimaginable strength Morgana herself must have wielded was now clearer than ever.
"First, I'll kill you, Cyrus!" Voldemort opened his eyes, as though a crack had suddenly torn open between heaven and earth.
Boom! Thunder echoed across the sky.
In response, a massive lightning bolt and a stream of fire surged forth!
Black clouds, laden with golden lightning and scorching flames, struck down!
The lightning connected to the earth, turning the area into a vast field of electric fury!
Each strike sent tremors through the ground, shattering rocks into dust!
Harry was frozen in place, helpless as the Thestrals skillfully dodged the bolts of lightning. The Death Eaters dared not stay any longer, but neither could they venture too far. Without hesitation, they disapparated, merely distancing themselves from the colossal storm, watching the battle unfold from afar.
The thick clouds loomed heavy, pressing down like a mountain on the surface below.
The lightning and fire coalesced into the form of a dragon, charging toward Voldemort!
But with a single wave of his hand, Voldemort summoned a blood-red magic that transformed into a colossal, crimson-black serpent. Like a spear, it pierced through the lightning and fire dragons, slamming them into the ground with a deafening crash!
The ground was scorched black.
Then, the crimson-black serpents rose again, rushing toward the sky, aiming for Cyrus, who was flying high among the thunderclouds. They sought to tear him apart, piece by piece!
The overwhelming power far exceeded the magical resistance Cyrus had in his Thunderbird form.
Even more terrifying, this dark power seemed to carry a corrosive effect.
Several times, Cyrus attempted to dive down and engage Voldemort in close combat, but the opportunity never presented itself. Instead, his body was grazed by the serpents, leaving behind festering wounds!
The stench of decay and venom sizzled in the air.
"You're dead, Cyrus!" Voldemort bellowed fiercely.
His eyes glowed a terrifying red in the darkness, and the negative emotions swirling within him made the already extreme Voldemort even more deranged. But given his usual state of madness, this side effect seemed less pronounced.
Raising his wand high, Voldemort's eyes pierced through the thunderclouds, accurately locking onto Cyrus's position.
In the next instant—
"Avada Kedavra!"
A bolt of green lightning shot from the tip of his wand!
As it disappeared into the clouds, the curse split like light through a prism, scattering in all directions!
*Sizzle—*
The Killing Curse morphed into a vast net, aiming to ensnare the Thunderbird soaring within the dark sea of clouds!
Cyrus flapped his wings, soaring higher, but his wings were soaked in black, foul blood. The feathers, corroded by the toxic blood, reeked and emitted thick smoke.
Thunderclouds hung low as Cyrus struggled, like a plane with a damaged engine, desperately trying to ascend.
But he was too slow!
The Killing Curse grazed his back in an instant!
Even scattered, the curse's power hadn't diminished. In that brief moment, Cyrus felt as though he was plunging into an endless abyss.
His golden eyes, once bright as sparks, quickly dimmed and then went out, losing all their brilliance.
It was an endless void of darkness and isolation. He felt as if he was falling endlessly, the sensation of weightlessness beneath him, as though he would never reach the ground.
He tried to flap his wings again, but the air around him seemed devoid of substance, offering no support.
He didn't know when or if the fall would ever end.
In reality, though, he had already crashed onto the ground.
His lifeless body lay on the charred earth, which had been scorched by lightning.
The ground gave off a bitter stench. Voldemort, with a twisted grin of triumph on his face, walked toward Cyrus's body, his expression full of smug satisfaction.
Perhaps due to the loss of magic, Cyrus had reverted to his human form, his face drained of all color.
His eyes were still open, but the once golden pupils were now veiled by a grayish-white haze.
"I told you before, we should have walked the same path, but you chose to seek your own death," Voldemort said, as if filled with regret, though his face betrayed only mockery, a sneer at Cyrus's futile resistance.
"Look at you, how pathetic!"
He knelt in front of Cyrus's body, his scaled hand brushing over Cyrus's cheek, closing his eyes.
Next, it was time to reclaim the fragmented pieces of his soul.
Should he repent?
Of course not. Voldemort had the power to restore his soul to his body.
He gripped Cyrus's face, his knuckles standing out sharply from the force.
"Return to me, my soul!"
|You are dying!|
|Skill Diary Entry isn't fully charged!|
Cyrus felt the sensation of falling cease, as though a rope had suddenly pulled him back from the depths.
|Using the powers of the Resurrection stone with you and the Philosopher's Stone within you!|
In the endless darkness, a faint glimmer of light appeared, and he moved toward it. He saw a heart, blood-red, beating strong and forcefully.
Beside it, a black, prism-shaped stone emitted a glow, with intricate patterns carved within.
It was the Resurrection Stone!
|Touch the stone—Welcome!|
After Voldemort recited the spell, he waited for a moment, then felt warmth returning to his palm, no longer cold as before. Immediately, he realized the spell had taken effect.
Soon, he would retrieve the fragments of his split soul, piece them back into his body, and approach wholeness once again!
As for the piece of soul within Harry, he would reclaim that eventually, too.
Closing his eyes, Voldemort awaited the return of his soul. But the warmth in his palm grew hot, almost uncomfortably so, and he could faintly hear a rhythmic thumping, as if a heartbeat. Yet the fractured soul still did not return to him.
Confused, Voldemort opened his eyes and glanced downward.
At some point, Cyrus's eyes, which Voldemort had closed, were now open again. His golden eyes gleamed with clarity, shining like a mirror, as bright and transparent as Felix Felicis.
"You're not dead?"
Voldemort seemed utterly shocked, or perhaps the close-quarters beating Cyrus had given him earlier had left a lasting impression. He quickly jumped back, attempting to put some distance between himself and Cyrus.
But Cyrus was faster.
He grabbed Voldemort's arm.
"What gave you the illusion that you could kill me?" Cyrus asked coldly.
His heart was the Philosopher's Stone, he had that bizarre skill and he carried the Resurrection Stone.
Even if Death itself came for him, it wouldn't be so easy to take him. The immortality that Voldemort had longed for was already within Cyrus's grasp.
"Stop pretending! If I can't kill you once, I'll kill you twice, three times!"
Voldemort gripped his wand tightly, clearly intending to stab it through Cyrus's temple.
"You won't get the chance!"
Cyrus twisted his head to avoid the attack. In the next moment, a vortex suddenly opened in the air. Both their bodies stretched and distorted, twisting together like shoelaces thrown into a washing machine, and in an instant, they were sucked into the vortex.
Snap!
The space closed.
——
Voldemort tumbled several times across the ground.
Sharp, jagged rocks jutted up beneath him.
He opened his eyes and found himself in a vast underground chamber. The lighting was dim, but he could still see clearly.
Where was Cyrus?
He quickly got to his feet and scanned his surroundings, but suddenly froze, his eyes widening in shock. His entire body seemed to petrify, as if he had locked eyes with a basilisk.
Following his gaze, one could see an enormous object—hundreds of times larger than the hollow sphere he had previously shattered. It rested between the rocks, emanating a menacing crimson glow, pulsating like the heart and veins of the earth!
——This was the true legacy left behind by the dark witch Morgana.
Endless, terrifying magic.
It was as if it contained boundless evil, like a demon sealed away.
Due to the years of confinement, that mass of magic seemed to have developed its own consciousness, curled up inside the mithril sphere like the embryo of a young dragon.
And beneath that enormous embryo stood a figure Voldemort knew all too well.
——Cyrus!
At this moment, Cyrus withdrew his gaze from the embryo and turned to face Voldemort.
"Have you ever heard of the motto of Hogwarts?"
He raised a wand embedded with crystals high above his head, a rusted silver diadem on his brow, and a golden goblet placed before him.
Voldemort's face showed a flicker of confusion.
Crack—!
The seal was broken.
A massive surge of magic poured down like a waterfall, engulfing Cyrus entirely, only to reverse into a vortex, rushing into the seemingly small golden goblet!
The two fragments of Voldemort's soul became vessels for immense negative emotions, while the magic itself flowed into Cyrus's body!
"Let me tell you!"
Cyrus opened his eyes, the broken diadem and deformed goblet falling to the ground. In the darkness, his eyes burned a bright crimson-gold, resembling those of a tyrant.
"Never wake a sleeping dragon!"
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