Darkness surged in from all directions like a tide, completely isolating this once bustling corner of the night market into an isolated island. The enveloping silence was eerie and heavy, save for Voldemort's soft, hoarse voice, sharp as an ice pick, echoing in the air. "Good evening, my dear... Professor. And two... unexpected 'distinguished guests'."
Voldemort stepped forward slowly, the hem of his black robe brushing the ground without stirring up a speck of dust. His scarlet eyes, like burning embers in the dim light, swept over Dumbledore, then lingered meaningfully on Grindelwald's face, finally giving Ian a very brief, almost casual glance.
Then he looked away. His eyes seemed to say: This arrogant young man, or perhaps some unlucky student who wandered into this place by mistake, is not worth his time.
Raven?
What Raven?
Can he defeat himself, the only Legend in the world?
The opponent's characteristics could only become nourishment for him— Voldemort had already seen Ian as a sitting duck, so now he just wanted to vent his pent-up anger from all these years.
That is, it's aimed at Dumbledore and Grindelwald.
What First Generation Dark Lord?
Only you are the Dark Lord in this world!
"Uh..." Ian stood quietly in place, his face expressionless, only his deep, pool-like eyes were slightly narrowed, as if observing or waiting.
Dumbledore's grip on the Elder Wand tightened, his azure eyes filled with solemnity and vigilance. He took a half-step forward, subtly shielding Ian behind him, even though he knew the young man might not need protection at all. But as an elder, his instinctive reaction to the Dark Lord was still there. His voice was steady, yet carried an undeniable force of questioning. " Tom, how dare you show yourself so openly in Muggle territory? The International Wizarding Union and the British Ministry of Magic will not stand idly by. Are you insane?"
"Mad?" Voldemort chuckled softly, a smile that looked particularly eerie on his pale, snake-like face. He stopped about twenty feet away from the three, a distance that would be covered in an instant for Legendary Wizard. He tilted his head, a gleam of almost pleasure in his crimson eyes. "No, Dumbledore. Quite the opposite, I have never been so... lucid."
He raised his hand, the Yew Wand twirling gracefully between his fingers, as if playing with a beloved toy. His posture was unhurried, carrying a condescending, cat-and- Rat playfulness.
"You know, Professor? In the past, when I faced you, I always needed... caution. I needed to calculate. I needed to be wary of your so-called 'wisdom' and 'power'." Voldemort's voice was soft and soothing, as if telling an interesting story, "But now..." He paused, his crimson eyes blazing with light, and a vast, chaotic, and chillingly twisted Magic Power Fluctuation forth from him without reservation!
The oppressive force was like an invisible mountain, instantly enveloping the entire area!
"Boom!!!" The few remaining plastic tables and chairs around them were pushed backward by an invisible force, and the rubble and trash on the ground floated up silently!
Then it turned into powder!
Dumbledore's pupils contracted sharply! The intensity and quality of this Magic Power Fluctuation, as well as the eerie and chaotic nature it contained, far surpassed anything he could remember! This was no ordinary advancement in Dark Magic! This was... Legend?! Yet the distortion and chaos permeating that Magic Power...
It carried an unsettling, otherworldly evil!
"Now," Voldemort withdrew his Magic Power, as if he had merely displayed a trivial display of power, his face still bearing that polite yet chilling smile, "I can finally... have a 'chat' with you on equal terms, my dear professor." He feigned elegance.
His gaze shifted to Grindelwald, a genuine interest flashing in his eyes. "And you, Grindelwald. The man who once stirred up the winds of Europe. I thought you'd rot away in that tower, but to meet you here is... quite an unexpected surprise." Grindelwald's heterochromatic eyes were fixed on Voldemort, his usual composed demeanor now showing a hint of seriousness. Though he had no wand, a powerful Magic Power Fluctuation emanated from him, subtly countering Voldemort's chaotic energy. He spoke coldly, his voice hoarse and sarcastic. "A mere Legend's barely entered the Legendary realm and can't wait to show off. It seems 'power' can indeed make people... lose their heads."
No sooner had he finished speaking than Grindelwald made his move!
Without a wand, his deep-rooted, soul-deep magical skill allowed him to unleash terrifying Dark Magic with just gestures and willpower!
He suddenly spread his five fingers wide and swung them forward. A thick, torrent of flames, a mixture of deep purple and pitch black, roared out of the void and rushed straight at Voldemort!
Fiendfyre! And it was a destructive Fiendfyre far beyond what ordinary Wizard could imagine, imbued with Grindelwald's powerful Magic Power and dark understanding! The temperature of this flame was enough to melt steel, and its burning nature could devour all life and Magic Power. Wherever it passed, the air was scorched, distorted, and torn apart! However, Voldemort merely raised his wand slightly and casually pointed it forward.
An invisible barrier, shrouded in chaos and distortion, unfolded before him. This barrier was no ordinary Protective Magic; rather, it seemed to "distort" the very space itself touched by the Fiendfyre!
The raging torrent of purple Fiendfyre crashed into the distorted barrier, as if it had encountered a spatial "fault," and was forcibly diverted and deflected, whistling past Voldemort's body on both sides!
"Splash!"
The Fiendfyre exploded into a sky full of sparks behind him, but it couldn't harm him in the slightest!
"Forehead?"
Grindelwald's expression changed slightly.
Voldemort withdrew his wand, his crimson eyes widening with a smile that even held a hint of admiration, "As expected of Grindelwald. Even without a wand, he can unleash such power with Fiendfyre. Too bad..."
He paused, then said softly but with overwhelming confidence, "Things are different now."
This moment.
Tom was incredibly proud and confident.
Dumbledore's heart sank to the bottom. He had witnessed the brief exchange just now. Grindelwald's attack, though hasty, was by no means insignificant.
Voldemort's response, however, was as easy as brushing off a speck of dust!
More importantly, the way he distorts space and deflects attacks is completely beyond the scope of conventional Dark Magic! What power has Tom obtained?!
"What, Professor?" Voldemort keenly caught the shock in Dumbledore's eyes, and he let out a soft chuckle. "Surprised? Or... disappointed? Disappointed that your most prized 'student' has finally grown to a point where even you have to look up to him?"
He took a step forward, his gaze fixed intently on Dumbledore, his voice carrying a resentment and pleasure that had been suppressed for decades and could finally be released:
"Do you know, Dumbledore? All these years, I've been waiting for this day. Waiting for your ever-gentle, ever-condescending 'care' to shatter completely. Waiting for you to truly realize how laughable, how fragile, those things you've been protecting—that so-called 'love,' 'justice,' 'order'—are before me."
He raised his wand, pointing it at Dumbledore's chest with the grace of an invitation to dance at a ball. "Tonight, right here, I will show you how everything you cherish will be torn apart, bit by bit."
Voldemort finished speaking but did not act immediately. He withdrew his wand and instead took a half step back, his crimson eyes sweeping across the magically isolated night market area, which resembled a gladiatorial arena. His gaze fell on the Muggle who were slumped on the ground, frozen in fear—some were still huddled beside overturned stalls, others lay beside their own carts, their bodies twitching slightly, their eyes empty and terrified.
" Lucius." Voldemort suddenly spoke, his voice not loud, but clearly carried into the darkness behind him.
A tall, slender figure emerged from the shadows, his platinum-gold hair gleaming even in the dim light—it was Lucius Malfoy. He bowed, his posture elegant yet tense. "Master."
"Take some men and get rid of these... annoying 'spectators' around here," Voldemort said casually, pointing his wand at the Muggle. "None of them. Leave them alive. Let them experience the coming new era in endless fear and pain." Voldemort's behavior was incredibly arrogant and domineering.
That's normal.
After all, he was born with this arrogant and disdainful personality, and now that he had obtained Legend power, he naturally believed that he was invincible and could do whatever he wanted.
"This..."
Lucius stiffened almost imperceptibly, then bowed his head even lower. "Yes, Master."
He turned and waved into the darkness, and immediately a dozen or so masked Death Eater filed out and approached the defenseless Muggle.
The tip of the wand began to flash with an ominous red or green light.
"Stop!"
"Dumbledore roared, his Elder Wand instantly pointing towards Lucius, a blinding beam of Magic Power light shooting forth! The power of this magic would terrify any Death Eater. However, the light seemed to strike an invisible wall in mid-air, exploding into countless specks of light. "That's not up to you." Voldemort remained standing, not even moving a step, simply raising a hand to effortlessly block Dumbledore's attack. He tilted his head, savoring the mixture of anger and shock on Dumbledore's face, letting out a satisfied sigh. "Professor, Professor..." His voice was as soft as a lover's murmur, yet filled with a chilling madness, "I told you, tonight, your opponent is me. As for those ants..." He glanced towards the direction of the Muggle, who had already begun to let out their first screams, "They're just appetizers. Don't rush, take your time."
"You!!!" Dumbledore's chest heaved violently. He stared intently at Voldemort, his azure eyes burning with rage, but even more so with deep apprehension and worry. Just now, he had used at least seventy percent of his strength, yet he hadn't even touched the hem of Voldemort's clothes! Voldemort's strength had indeed swelled to an immeasurable level!
Grindelwald stood to the side, his heterochromatic eyes scanning back and forth between Voldemort and Dumbledore. He refrained from making a rash move, instead rapidly analyzing the nature of Voldemort's bizarre power. Its characteristics of distorting space and devouring attacks... were completely different from ordinary Dark Magic, carrying an unsettling "inhuman" aura.
Voldemort seemed to relish the tension and apprehension between the two. He took another step forward, and this time, he made an unexpected move: he placed his left hand on his chest, bowed slightly to Dumbledore, and pointed his wand diagonally at the ground with his right hand, his posture as elegant as if he were inviting a dance partner at a formal ball in the Ministry of Magic.
" Albus Dumbledore," he began, his voice carrying a solemn, almost ceremonial tone, "I, Tom Marvolo Riddle, hereby challenge you to a Wizard duel."
He raised his head, his crimson eyes burning with a mad flame, yet a perfectly polite smile played on his lips, "According to ancient tradition, one-on-one, to the death. How about it? Let me see how long your most prized 'strength' can withstand true, transcendent power."
Dumbledore frowned. Wizard duel? At a time when Muggle were being slaughtered, to issue such a challenge, tinged with classical honor? This was simply...
But he quickly realized what was happening.
This is not honor, it is the cruelest humiliation! Voldemort wants to crush his dignity, strength, and life bit by bit in front of him, amidst the screams of those Muggle, through a "fair duel"! He wants Dumbledore to hear the slaughter of those he protects in his most powerless state, and to feel his own "powerlessness"!
Grindelwald sneered, about to utter a sarcastic remark, but Voldemort swept his gaze over him, the contempt and warning in that look making his words catch in his throat.
no way.
As Wizard approaching Legend.
Grindelwald also knew why Voldemort was so smug.
The Legend is indeed powerful.
He cannot provoke the other party.
"As for you, Grindelwald," Voldemort's tone carried a hint of perfunctory politeness, "Don't worry, after I've dealt with my dear professor, I'll 'treat' you well. After all, you were once... a prominent figure."
He paused, then a more sinister smile spread across his face. "Although, for now, it's just a toothless tiger."
His previous respect instantly turned into mockery, and his tone became much more contemptuous. From beginning to end, his gaze never once looked at where Ian was.
Ian didn't say a word from beginning to end.
He stood there quietly, watching Voldemort's performance—his elegant madness, his inflated confidence, his deliberately created sense of oppression, and... his blatant disregard.
His face was expressionless, but his deep, pool-like eyes seemed to grow even more unfathomable in the dim light. His gaze swept over the Death Eater approaching the Muggle, over Dumbledore and Grindelwald confronting Voldemort, and finally settled calmly on Voldemort's pale, crazed snake face.
Ian didn't move.
There was no sound.
He simply looked at the Death Eater.