Voldemort's expression did not change, though he was slightly displeased.
In his view, Sean's so-called "dealing with the traitor" was somewhat overstepping the line.
Of course, if Sean wanted to do it, he would not object.
This was an illusion. It did not matter who was killed here, much less Wormtail. In the real world, killing him would have been as easy as lifting a hand—no, to be precise, Voldemort did not care who died. Other than his own life, everyone else's life was nothing more than roadside weeds to him.
Wormtail was so terrified he was nearly wetting himself. He lay trembling on the ground, begging in a tearful voice, "I... I had no choice... Please, please! Spare me! Spare me!"
However, neither of the two men before him possessed any mercy. If it had been Professor Dumbledore, perhaps he might have spared his life.
Sean casually flicked a finger, and a thick green beam that made Voldemort's pupils violently contract struck Wormtail directly.
The latter's miserable, wailing expression froze on his face. His eyes bulged wide, and he was dead beyond doubt.
Voldemort took a deep breath. Wormtail's death did not move him in the slightest, but Sean's terrifying Killing Curse filled him with envy.
He was a master of soul research and a master of the Dark Arts. For a long time, he had been keen on treating the Killing Curse as his signature spell—and indeed, no one in this world wielded the Killing Curse better than he did.
But Voldemort suddenly realized that Sean's Killing Curse far exceeded his imagination.
Its terrifying power, the casual ease with which it had been cast, and Sean's unchanged expression were all secondary. Most importantly, he sensed something even more frightening within that green light.
This boy... had improved the