Flowers and Mud

The long canyon was frighteningly quiet, as if the thunderous rain did not exist at all.

Under the saturated assault of the Dark Wizards controlled by Herpo the Foul, not a single corner escaped being scoured by the Killing Curse. The lives that had luckily survived the first Killing Curse cast by Herpo himself also lost all vitality, no matter how insignificant they were—even moss on the rock peaks, insects beneath the soil. Even curses that flew wide took the lives of quite a few of "their own." Death excited the ghostly figures in the clouds, but not a single one dared act before Herpo's order was given.

This terrifying attack happened in an instant. After the light of the curses died away, Herpo still did not move amid the thunderstorm. He stared coldly at the motionless figure at the focal point of the curses, watching the tower-shaped runes on Nelson's chest gradually dim, and the veins at his temples bulged.

"Looks like the Avada Kedavra you're so proud of is just an ordinary spell." Nelson, who had been struck by countless Killing Curses, moved. His body swayed, his arms hanging limply at his sides. The thing that had done the most damage to him was actually the impact of the curses. Nelson raised his head, meeting Herpo's gaze with eyes full of mockery. He twisted his neck, and his joints gave off loud cracks that, mixed with thunder and howling wind, sounded even more derisive. "Fate is on your side?"

Herpo clenched his back teeth, his jawbone swelling again and again.

"The situation has reversed, Herpo."

Nelson snapped his fingers. Along with a rasp of gears, the seamless wooden box slowly opened in all directions along the lines of those patterns. A pale, frail bare foot reached out from