"This... I..."
Steve looked dejected. Coupled with his extreme nervousness and unusually dry mouth, he could not even form a complete sentence.
The Fire Dragon formed from blue flames stretched across the sky. As long as one looked up anywhere in the city, the entire sky was filled with blue fire.
Across the river, the soldiers who had followed Grindelwald here to fire the cannons all put down their work.
They saluted the Fire Dragon in the sky, then stared ahead with fanatical eyes.
At the point where all the soldiers' gazes converged—
Grindelwald's face was frosty. His trench coat snapped in the magical winds as he raised the arm holding his wand, standing tall atop the highest building.
The soldiers' heartfelt worship caused the dense cannon fire to cease.
But Grindelwald did not blame them, because in his eyes, Muggle artillery was merely fireworks—more specifically, sparklers among fireworks!
When you were bored, you lit a few sparklers for amusement. Then, when something important called for you, what did it matter if the sparklers fell to the ground?
Seriously? Would you care about a few sparklers?
Even if you did care, it would only be because you feared polluting the environment or starting a fire, right?
Now, those cannons that had stopped firing were the sparklers lying on the ground.
Grindelwald only wanted to use one spell to wipe out the ants before him, then return to Nurmengard and protect his "base."
As the cannon fire died down, the wizards who had been desperately maintaining their combined spell and waiting for the Minister to create an opportunity for them to Apparate finally had a chance to catch their breath.
But before they could let out a long sigh of relief—
The violent magical fluctuations from the sky and the blue