Modred did not answer Kayson's question. Instead, he suddenly drew his wand, pulling it back slightly as he gathered force, before a sickly green bolt of lightning shot toward Voldemort.
Voldemort did not sit still and wait for death either. One of his greatest advantages in battle had always been his immense magical power. With the same opening move and the same spell, his magic could tear the opponent's magic apart.
But things were different now.
Modred's magical power was no weaker than Voldemort's—if anything, it was stronger by a fair margin.
He could no longer confront a Killing Curse head-on with sheer magical power.
And at this level, if nothing unexpected happened, even a tank placed here would be pierced through, let alone Voldemort.
What could he do? Only dodge.
Watching Modred seemingly take control of the battle all by himself, Kayson scratched his head. It seemed he did not need to work himself half to death either. He could just provide support and slack off a little. Wouldn't that be much more comfortable?
That settled it.
Kayson simply pulled out the Newborn Magic Arts spellbook, casting shields and buffs on Modred while throwing in a few little tricks to slow Voldemort down.
Still, just to be safe, he secretly began charging the orbital dragon-slaying cannon in his office.
If this Voldemort truly managed to launch any decent counterattack, it could still kill him in one blow.
Though that was true, Kayson was not particularly worried. After all, aside from Voldemort himself, the entire manor he lived in contained only Barty Crouch Jr. and that Death Eater who was not even worthy of having a name.
This was definitely a fake.
"Oh, right, Modred. We can't kill him. We need his body and soul to track down his Horcruxes,"