"Do you see that? That's who we are! That's true power!"
" Muggle? They're nothing but ants! Their weapons, their armies, are a joke in front of us!"
"Long Pure-blood! Long live the Dark Lord!"
"I can finally hold my head high! This day has finally come! I can finally stop hiding and openly... kill!"
Laughter, cheers, and curses mingled together, echoing through the night sky. They had waited for this moment, for the chance to utterly crush those Muggle who were as lowly as ants in their eyes, for the chance to prove their "nobility" and "power"—for far too long.
And against this backdrop of revelry and death...
In the center of the clearing in the distance, designated by Voldemort as the "duel arena," Dumbledore and Grindelwald's faces were ashen. They listened to the screams, gunshots, and explosions in the distance, and now to the maniacal laughter, knowing what those Muggle —those innocent, unarmed Muggle —and the police and soldiers who tried to protect them had endured.
Voldemort still stood before them, his crimson eyes filled with satisfaction and pleasure. He spread his arms wide, as if enjoying a grand symphony.
"Listen, what beautiful music." His voice was soft yet manic. "Desperate screams, the groans of steel, and the laughter of my loyal servants... Professor, what do you think of this melody?"
Dumbledore's fingers nearly crushed the Elder Wand, but he knew that any rash move at this moment could worsen the situation. Voldemort's chaotic and powerful Magic Power remained like a sword hanging over their heads, locked onto him and Grindelwald.
And Ian
The black-haired young man who was still standing in the same spot finally moved slightly.
His gaze swept over the reveling Death Eater, over the strewn corpses, over the burning wreckage of armored vehicles in the distance, and finally settled again on Voldemort's crazed and satisfied snake-like face.
His right hand, hanging at his side, twitched very slightly again.
Those deep, still eyes remained calm. But if someone could see through that calm surface, they might be able to catch a faint, almost imperceptible, undercurrent, like currents surging beneath the ice...
change.
Silent ripples spread once again.
This time, it was clearer and more... directional than before.
But still, no one noticed.
Damn it!
Dumbledore's patience finally reached its limit.
The distant laughter of the Death Eater, the lingering screams of the Muggle, the acrid stench of burning armored vehicles, and Voldemort's perpetually crazed snake-like face—all of this cut like a dull knife repeatedly into his heart. The principles he had upheld his entire life, the order he had fought for, the weak he had sworn to protect—were being trampled and slaughtered before his very eyes, and he was paralyzed by the mad enemy before him. He could wait no longer.
Even knowing he was outmatched, even if it meant risking his life, he had to do something.
The Elder Wand twirled slightly in Dumbledore's hand, a resolute glint flashing in his azure eyes. He didn't choose to confront Voldemort's strange and powerful chaotic Magic Power head-on—that would undoubtedly be walking into a trap. But he possessed another weapon, a weapon more difficult to defend against than pure Magic Power, a weapon that penetrated deeper into the very essence of the soul.
Legilimency.
This is not ordinary Mind Reading, but a truly top-tier form of mental magic capable of invading and influencing the mental world of others. Dumbledore was a master of this art, his skill being among the best in the entire A History of Magic. While Voldemort was powerful, his soul was already fractured due to the Horcrux, and now that he had just broken through to the Legend, his mental state might not be stable. This was his only weakness, and also his only chance of victory.
Dumbledore seized this angle.
then.
Without any warning, without any leakage of Magic Power Fluctuation, Dumbledore's Mental Power, like the softest spider silk, silently reached out and pierced Voldemort's core consciousness!
Voldemort was reveling in his control and the satisfaction of Dumbledore's helplessness; his attention was mostly focused on preventing a possible direct magical attack from Dumbledore. Only when that gentle yet resilient mental tendril invaded the edge of his consciousness did he suddenly realize! "You—!"
Before the words were even finished, Dumbledore's Mental Power had already breached the surface defenses and surged in! Voldemort's body stiffened abruptly, a brief, incredulous blankness flashing in his crimson eyes. His consciousness had been forcibly dragged into a mental duel with Dumbledore! Almost simultaneously, Dumbledore's body also stiffened. The two consciousnesses clashed fiercely in the mental world, while in reality, they stood face to face like two statues, motionless, only their robes fluttering gently in the night breeze.
Grindelwald was the first to react. His heterochromatic eyes flashed with a sharp light; he instantly understood Dumbledore's intention—to abandon the Magic Power clash and instead attack the weakness at the soul level! This was indeed the only possibility for the weak to defeat the strong. And at this moment, Dumbledore had created the perfect opportunity for him! He could stop the Death Eater!
Without hesitation, without pause, Grindelwald moved. His figure was like a ghost, darting towards the nearest Death Eater! The Death Eater, still caught up in the post-slaughter revelry, didn't even have time to react; he only saw a blur before his wand was snatched from his hand by a powerful force! "You..."
Before he could finish a single word, a thick, crimson beam of light shot out from the wand Grindelwald had just seized, piercing the Death Eater's chest! The Death Eater looked down at the bloody hole in his chest, his eyes filled with bewilderment and resentment, before collapsing to the ground. Grindelwald gripped the unfamiliar wand tightly, feeling its slight, defiant tremor—not entirely in harmony with his own Magic Power. He smiled coldly, his powerful will forcefully suppressing the wand's instinctive resistance, completely subduing it for his own use.
"Not exactly high-quality stuff, but... it's enough." He turned, his heterochromatic eyes sweeping over the Death Eater who had finally reacted, raising their wands at him in a mixture of shock and rage. A cold, sharp smile, once belonging to the Dark Lord, remained, even in his old age, on his lips. " Fiendfyre."
The wand was waved, and the spell was uttered.
The world changed color!
A Fiendfyre, even more violent and enormous than when he used it empty-handed before, roared forth from the tip of Grindelwald's wand! The flame was a deep purplish-black, its core temperature so high that even the air seemed to groan. Wherever it passed, the rubble, debris, and corpses on the ground were instantly reduced to ashes!
The Death Eater scattered in terror, some attempting to cast Protective Magic, but their barriers crumbled instantly like paper before the sheer scale of the Fiendfyre! Several slower Death Eater were engulfed by the flames, turning to charred remains before they could even scream!
"No! Help!"
Grindelwald has gone mad!
"Run!"
Laughter and screams switched roles; the Death Eater had been reveling on Muggle corpses were now fleeing like stray dogs. Fiendfyre chased after them, devouring anything that dared to stand in their way.
Grindelwald stood like a god of destruction in the center of the flames, his robes fluttering in the hot wind, his silver hair dancing in the air, and his heterochromatic eyes burning with a killing intent as intense as the Fiendfyre.
"You filthy creatures, let you taste... the feeling of being crushed."
He waved his wand again, Fiendfyre split into several fire dragons, chasing after them in different directions. Screams rose and fell as several more Death Eater were caught and perished in the flames.
However one
Just as Fiendfyre was about to engulf the last and most concentrated group of Death Eater, a sudden change occurred!
A figure slowly emerged from the group of terrified Death Eater.
He was a very young-looking man, probably in his early twenties, with a pale but handsome face, thick black hair, and... a pair of scarlet eyes.
A faint smile, identical to Voldemort's, played at the corners of his mouth.
Faced with the raging Fiendfyre that could devour everything, he simply raised his hand and gently pushed forward.
There were no spells, no wands, and not even any obvious Magic Power Fluctuation.
But the purplish-black fire dragon that roared and lunged at him suddenly stopped less than three feet away!
As if time had frozen, as if it had crashed into an invisible, indestructible barrier, the fire dragon twisted, struggled, and roared wildly, yet it could not advance an inch further. Then, to everyone's horrified gaze, the Fiendfyre, powerful enough to melt steel, began to disintegrate and dissipate at a visible speed, like smoke blown away by the wind, returning to nothingness.
Grindelwald's pupils suddenly contracted to the size of pinpoints! His hand, gripping the wand, trembled slightly, a rare occurrence!
How is this possible?! His Fiendfyre —though not his peak power, it was still formidable—was so easily... neutralized?!
The young man slowly lowered his hand, his scarlet eyes looking past the fading flames and landing on Grindelwald's face. In that gaze, there was no fear, no anger, only a strange, almost condescending, amusement.
" Mr. Grindelwald," he began, his voice soft and husky, strikingly similar to Voldemort's, "Is it fun to bully my worthless servants?"
Grindelwald stared intently at him, his heterochromatic eyes filled with disbelief and extreme vigilance. He suddenly realized something—that Magic Power Fluctuation, that gaze, that tone...this is...this is...
"Who... who are you?!"
The young man chuckled softly.
The smile looked particularly eerie in the firelight.
"Me?" He tilted his head slightly, his crimson eyes turning to the two motionless figures not far away— Dumbledore and Voldemort— before returning to Grindelwald. "My name is Tom Riddle. Of course, you can also call me... Voldemort."
As soon as the words were spoken, the Death Eater who had been scattering and fleeing just moments before knelt down as if they had seen a savior, crying out, "Master! Master!"
Grindelwald's heart sank to the bottom. One Voldemort was already enough to put him and Dumbledore in dire straits, and now... another one had appeared?!
But that's not right!
His gaze darted back and forth between " Tom " and the frozen Voldemort in the distance, countless thoughts flashing through his mind. Horcrux! It must be Horcrux! Voldemort created multiple Horcrux, and a certain "trait" he gained after breaking through to Legend allowed him to... awaken the soul fragments within the Horcrux, creating independent clones possessing all of his consciousness and a portion of his power?!
This... how is this possible?! This violates the most fundamental law of magic! The soul cannot be split and survive independently with a complete consciousness; this is an ironclad rule verified by countless sages! Unless... unless the " Legendary Trait " he obtained can distort or even rewrite this law! Grindelwald's expression became more solemn than ever before.
The young " Tom " seemed to enjoy the shock and solemnity on Grindelwald's face. He took a step forward, and the Death Eater around him quickly crawled back, making way for him.
"Surprised, Mr. Grindelwald?" He smiled, a smile as mad and elegant as Voldemort's. "My dear 'subject' is indeed engaged in an... interesting battle of wits with Professor Dumbledore. But you seem to have forgotten my existence." He raised his hand, and a wisp of chaotic yet powerful Magic Power, of the same origin as Voldemort's, gathered at his fingertips.
"So, let me take his place and properly 'entertain' you."
The lingering heat of the Fiendfyre gradually dissipated in the night breeze, replaced by a deeper, more suffocating sense of oppressive darkness. In the distance, Dumbledore and Voldemort remained frozen in place. Closer, Grindelwald, wand in hand, confronted the young " Tom." The surviving Death Eater, finally recovering from the terror of their massacre, began to regroup, their eyes gleaming with a mixture of relief and fanaticism.
Amidst the ruins of the night market, a new and even more dangerous situation has emerged. Clearly, while Voldemort hadn't anticipated Dumbledore's sneak attack, he wasn't entirely unprepared.
After he and Dumbledore fell into the psychic realm, his contingency plan became clear, proving that Voldemort was indeed just insane and not "yet another Voldemort."
Grindelwald gripped the wand that wasn't entirely subdued, his heterochromatic eyes fixed on the young man who called himself " Tom." His mind raced, trying to decipher this bizarre situation.
Horcrux. It must be Horcrux.
In his early years, Voldemort, in pursuit of immortality, split his soul into fragments and sealed them within various artifacts—this was information Grindelwald obtained through some clandestine channels.
However, according to Magical Theory, the soul fragments in Horcrux can only maintain a semi-dormant, passive state; they can attach themselves to the holder and influence their mind.
However, they could never possess independent and complete consciousness and the ability to act!
unless...
Grindelwald recalled the bizarre and chaotic Magic Power properties the Voldemort had just displayed—their ability to distort space, deflect attacks, and even prevent Fiendfyre from getting close. That wasn't something traditional Dark Magic could do. It was some kind of... higher-level, more primal, more chaotic Legendary Trait power—that was the only explanation he could think of. Every Wizard steps into the Legend realm undergoes a fundamental transformation in the nature of their Magic Power, awakening a unique " Legendary Trait." This characteristic is often closely related to the Wizard's own soul essence, obsessions, and the opportunity that triggered their breakthrough.
Voldemort's obsession was immortality, transcending the fragility of the soul, and... extending his existence infinitely! This might also be why Horcrux can create clones!