Faced with Voldemort's provocation,
Dumbledore's body jolted violently.
He raised his Elder Wand again, but was interrupted by Voldemort's seemingly casual movement—an invisible force struck the ground beneath Dumbledore's feet.
It blasted open a deep crater, sending debris flying everywhere.
"Professor, Professor..." Voldemort shook his head, his tone like that of someone lecturing a disobedient student, "I told you, your opponent is me. Focus, okay?"
He bowed again, his crimson eyes filled with a maniacal laugh.
"Now, let's begin."
He raised his wand and performed a standard dueling salute.
In the distance, screams continued, and the stench of blood began to fill the air.
Ian remained standing there silently, like a completely forgotten shadow. Voldemort's duel challenge was like poison thrown into stagnant water, spreading a suffocating atmosphere of madness in the air.
" Tom... you're crazier than ever!" Dumbledore gripped his Elder Wand tightly, his azure eyes burning with fury and rage, but he couldn't escape— Voldemort's crimson gaze was like an invisible chain, locked onto him, and any attempt to rescue Muggle would be ruthlessly intercepted by this newly Legend Dark Lord.
Grindelwald stood to the side, his heterochromatic eyes narrowed slightly as he quickly analyzed the situation. He held no staff, but his nearly century-long magical mastery allowed him to unleash powerful Dark Magic even bare-handed. However, the scene of Voldemort effortlessly blocking his Fiendfyre Strike made him acutely aware that this mad and arrogant junior truly possessed some incomprehensible, extraordinary power.
And Ian
The black-haired young man, completely ignored by Voldemort, remained standing quietly, like a bystander detached from the impending bloody conflict. His face was unusually calm in the dim light of the night market, his deep, unfathomable eyes fixed on the Death Eater not far away, watching the masked figures approach the limp, defenseless Muggle like harvesting straw. His right hand, hanging at his side, twitched slightly.
There was no Magic Power Fluctuation fluctuation, no flash of light, and even Dumbledore and Grindelwald, standing beside him, did not notice anything unusual. The movement was too subtle, too concealed, as if it were just an unconscious nerve reflex.
However, at that very moment...
An invisible ripple, undetectable by any existing magical means, silently spread from Ian's center. Gentle as water, it swiftly swept past the grinning Death Eater raising their wands, past the terrified Muggle cowering in fear, past the dark corners where the first London police were already exchanging fire, and finally, it merged into the darkness above the night market, disappearing without a trace. No one noticed.
Nobody knows what the effect will be.
Voldemort was still immersed in the ecstasy of being in control of the situation. His scarlet eyes were fixed on Dumbledore, enjoying the sight of his former mentor and greatest obstacle now caught in a dilemma before him.
Grindelwald was still pondering a solution, his heterochromatic eyes gleaming sharply in the darkness.
Dumbledore continued to struggle with anger and anxiety, trying to find an opportunity to rescue Muggle while simultaneously dealing with Voldemort.
And those Death Eater
The massacre has begun.
The first target was a middle-aged man huddled behind the barbecue stand. He was about forty years old and wearing an apron stained with oil; he was clearly the owner of the stand.
He had been skillfully flipping the skewers on the grill, attending to a few scattered customers, when suddenly, an overwhelming fear gripped his heart. He collapsed to the ground, watching helplessly as figures in black robes and eerie masks emerged from the darkness, like demons from a nightmare. "Please... please..."
The other person spoke haltingly, their voice barely audible.
His response was a ghastly green light.
Avada Kedavra!
The Death Eater showed no mercy. The man's body stiffened abruptly, then collapsed to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, his face frozen in eternal terror. His eyes were wide open, staring blankly at the dim sky, never understanding what had happened until his death. The Death Eater had struck let out a satisfied chuckle, his eyes behind the mask flashing with cruel pleasure: "The first one. Easy." "Stop talking nonsense. The master ordered that none be left alive," another Death Eater beside him coldly reminded him, but his tone also carried an barely suppressed excitement.
The prelude to the massacre had officially begun.
The ghastly green Killing Curse, the scarlet Cutting Curse, and the deep purple Cruciatus Curse, like fireworks of death, bloomed in every corner of the night market. The Muggle, powerless to resist, were like lambs to the slaughter, struck by beams of magical light. Some died on the spot, while others screamed in agony as they Crucio torture.
Others were torn apart by the Cutting Curse, their blood splattering onto the collapsed stalls and scattered goods, quickly filling the air with a pungent smell of blood. "No! No! My child! Please spare my child!" A young mother knelt on the ground, desperately pleading, clutching her infant. The Death Eater before her merely tilted his head, chuckled softly, and with a flick of his wand—a beam of red light sent the mother flying, the baby falling from her arms.
Then, the child was carelessly struck by a Severing Cutting Curse by another Death Eater... Blood stained the baby's small, soft clothes. (As a dark Wizard.)
The Death Eater have long lost their humanity.
Wild laughter erupted.
"Hahaha! These Muggle are as fragile as insects!"
"Look at their terrified faces! How funny!"
"That one still wants to run! Crucio! Yes, that's it, yell louder!"
The Death Eater, as if in a frenzy, vented their pent-up hatred and contempt for the non-magical world among the Muggle. They had waited far too long for this day, for the moment when they could slaughter these "ants" without restraint.
And at that moment...
A sharp siren blared in the distance, rapidly approaching. Red and blue police lights flashed in the darkness, and several police cars screeched to a halt on the outskirts of the night market.
The car doors suddenly opened, and London police officers wearing bulletproof vests and holding pistols filed out.
"Don't move! Everyone, put your hands on your heads!" a police officer shouted through a megaphone. His voice was particularly jarring in the noise, but when he saw the scene before him—the figures in black robes and masks, the slumped corpses, the eerie light that was being swirled around—his voice caught in his throat.
"Fire! Fire!" Another policeman instinctively pulled the trigger.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Gunshots ripped through the night sky, bullets whistling as they hurtled toward the nearest Death Eater.
The Death Eater didn't even turn around; he simply waved his wand, and an invisible barrier unfolded in front of him. The bullets struck the barrier as if they were hitting sticky glue, their speed decreasing drastically before they fell limply to the ground with a few crisp clinking sounds.
" Muggle toys." The Death Eater chuckled dismissively, turning his wand towards the police. "Our turn."
" Crucio!"
A deep purple light struck the leading police officer. He jerked his head back, let out a horrific scream, and collapsed to the ground, his body convulsing violently, foaming at the mouth, his eyeballs almost popping out of their sockets.
" Confringo!"
Another policeman was blown away and crashed into a police car behind him. The car door was dented, and blood flowed from his seven orifices. He was no longer moving.
The remaining police officers retreated in terror, firing wildly, but all the bullets bounced futilely off the invisible barrier in front of the Death Eater. They were not facing criminals, not terrorists, but... beings they could not comprehend and could not contend with.
"Retreat! Retreat!" someone roared.
But it was too late.
Like cats toying with Rat, the Death Eater unleashed spell after spell to catch up with the fleeing police. Screams, explosions, and shattering glass mingled together as several police cars were overturned and burst into flames, the firelight illuminating the laughing shadows—a scene straight out of hell. The slaughter and revelry continued.
The stench of blood grew stronger in the night market, with corpses lying among collapsed stalls, overturned carts, and scattered goods. The Muggle who had narrowly escaped the first wave of attacks huddled in various corners, trembling and praying for a miracle, but no miracle came—only more masked shadows and more deadly curses.
The Death Eater were no longer satisfied with simple killing. They began to "play games": competing to see whose Killing Curse was more accurate, whose Cruciatus Curse could make the target scream the longest, and whose Cutting Curse could create the most "artistic" effect. Laughter, screams, and incantations intertwined to form a dark symphony. And in the distance, an even heavier rumble resounded.
That's the army.
The Great Britain government finally realized the seriousness of the situation and mobilized the rapid reaction force stationed near London. Dark green armored vehicles roared in, heavy machine guns on their roofs pointed towards the night market, and fully armed soldiers filed out and quickly deployed into tactical formations.
"Surround them! Surround them!" the commander ordered over the radio. The soldiers checked their automatic rifles, and several squads even carried Rocket Launcher.
They set their sights on the area shrouded in darkness.
"Fire!"
The moment the order was given, gunfire erupted like a torrential downpour! The roar of heavy machine guns, the spray of automatic rifles, and even the whistling of Rocket Launcher intertwined into a torrent of steel and fire, pouring down on the Death Eater!
This time, the firepower was many times greater than that of the police. The ordinary protective barriers began to crack under the continuous barrage of heavy machine gun fire. "Boom!"
The Firepower Coverage still has some deterrent effect.
A rocket landed next to a Death Eater, the shockwave knocking him to the ground. Although he immediately got up, his face beneath the mask was contorted with rage.
"Damn Muggle!"
But the anger was quickly suppressed by more firepower. Bullets rained down, forcing the Death Eater to focus on maintaining their defensive barrier and leaving them no time to deal with the Muggle.
Seeing hope, the soldiers intensified their firepower. The commander excitedly called for reinforcements over the radio, "We're suppressing the enemy! Keep firing! Don't stop!"
However, their excitement lasted less than a minute. One of the Death Eater —seemingly a minor leader—let out a sharp, cold laugh, raised his wand, and began chanting a lengthy incantation. The other Death Eater quickly gathered around him, concentrating their Magic Power on him. As the last syllable fell...
The Earth Tremor!
Suddenly, countless huge cracks appeared in the ground of the empty Street in front of the night market!
The asphalt road surface was torn apart as if by an invisible giant hand, with gravel, soil, and even groundwater gushing out in a mixture! The cracks spread rapidly toward the army's position as if they were alive, and the soldiers retreated in terror, but before they could finish, the cracks swallowed up the armored vehicles in the front row. They tilted like toys and fell into the dark abyss, followed by muffled explosions!
"Retreat! Retreat!" the commander's voice screamed over the radio, but it was too late.
Another Death Eater waved his wand, and the sky suddenly turned pitch black. Countless meteors burning with green flames rained down from the sky! They crashed into the army's positions, blasting open huge craters. The shockwaves sent soldiers flying, and the burning green flames clung to metal and flesh, impossible to extinguish. Screams echoed through the night.
The heavy machine gun went silent. The Rocket Launcher operator was blown away. The armored vehicle was reduced to burning scrap metal.
The soldiers, clad in camouflage and trained to the most rigorous standards, now scattered like helpless children before the power of witchcraft. Their modern weapons—the pinnacle of human civilization's technological prowess—were utterly rendered meaningless by ancient and eerie magic. Bullets couldn't penetrate the protective barriers.
Rockets can be deflected by spells.
Flames can be extinguished by magic.
Even the earth, the sky, and the air itself became weapons for the enemy.
This was no longer a battle, but a one-sided massacre.
A soldier desperately pulled the trigger, but all the bullets missed. The Death Eater in front of him, wearing a skull mask, merely tilted his head and flicked his wand—the soldier's gun barrel instantly twisted into a pretzel, and shrapnel from the exploding barrel pierced his arm and cheek. He screamed and fell to the ground, whereupon a green light ended his life.
Another soldier, trembling, called for help over the radio from behind an overturned armored vehicle. The next second, the vehicle was lifted up by an unseen force, flipped over, and pinned him underneath. Blood seeped from the gaps.
The commander was lifted into the air by a Death Eater using Wingardium Leviosa. He struggled and cursed, then was struck by a Cruciatus Curse. His piercing scream echoed through the night sky for a long time.
"Hahaha! This is the Muggle army? This is their proud 'power'?" A Death Eater laughed maniacally, pointing his wand at the last few soldiers trying to escape. "Die, all of you!"
A flash of green light, and the last few figures fell.
silence.
A terrifying, suffocating silence enveloped this once bustling night market area.
Corpses lay strewn about. Flames raged.
Black smoke billowed. The air was thick with the stench of blood, acridity, and death. Among the surviving Death Eater, several had been wounded or even killed in the battle.
But what does that matter?
To sacrifice oneself for such a great cause is also full of glory.
Their mood was more of a post-celebration euphoria.
They stood amidst the ruins and corpses, laughing wildly to the sky.