Bone Shield

Time passed, and Anton and his friends had become a powerful force in New York City.

Or rather...

A faction.

Voldemort and Dumbledore had to face a problem: their followers' descendants seemed to be breaking away from their ranks.

As long as they still wanted to deal with each other, they had to consider one thing: Anton was already on their level, and this bastard who didn't care about anything really might take a loss over some matter and help the other side fight them.

There was an old saying in the East: the tough fear the reckless, and the reckless fear those who don't care if they live or die.

Anton was the kind of person who was tough, reckless, and fearless of death.

He was a complete madman!

If he took something seriously, no one dared provoke him lightly.

Especially since Anton's field of magic was focused on the soul. He toyed with life itself, and there was a very real chance he could make sure his opponents couldn't even die.

Not just Voldemort—even Dumbledore was secretly afraid of him.

They said death was a great adventure. Anton was the sort who, just when you were ready to begin that adventure and had finally resolved to face death bravely, would drag you back from the World of the Dead and make you play with him.

That was also why Dumbledore kept a certain distance from Anton.

Damn it, what if the other man cared too much about him, and made it so he couldn't even die?

He was already a deeply weary old man, more than a hundred years old. He'd had quite enough of life. He truly didn't want to keep exhausting himself in this world, where Dark Lords kept popping up. It wasn't fun at all.