Why hadn't the Black Robe Wizards of the Department of Mysteries found Ian and the Fallen Deity where Ian had destroyed Gringotts?
There was a reason for that.
Their battlefield had indeed originally been in that very place.
However.
Ten minutes earlier.
Something unexpected had happened during the battle.
At the time, the air was thick with the pungent smell of gunpowder and scorched magical energy, mixed with the inescapable foul aura emanating from the Fallen Deity itself.
"I can't tell which divine pantheon this bastard's divine arts come from." Ian's breathing was slightly hurried, not from fear, but from the strain of sustained Magic Power Output and mental confrontation. Even so, the wand in his hand remained steady, its tip flickering with ever-changing light as it countered attacks of different attributes.
"Why can't you accept your Destiny? Your resistance now is blasphemy against the gods! We protected you for so long, and now we merely want you to offer up your life!"
"What right do you have to resist?"
This thing was actually throwing punches.
The Fallen Deity, that twisted humanoid shell, floated in the middle of the badly damaged passageway, greed and fury blazing within its scarlet eyes.
Its attacks were direct and violent. The foul divine power it stirred with every gesture surged like tangible waves, repeatedly battering the layers of defenses Ian had erected.
"Touch of Decay!" the Fallen Deity roared. A gray-black beam of energy lunged at him like a venomous serpent. Wherever it passed, even the light seemed to be swallowed up and wither away.
"Protego: Multiple Reinforcement!"
Ian's wand darted through the air. Several Magic Shields, each gleaming with a different elemental hue—deep blue frost, crimson flame, earthy yellow stone...—instantly stacked before him.
Why else would it be called innovative magic? Drawing on