Several Horcrux were unleashed.
Although its strength is not as great as the original body.
However, they should not be underestimated.
That power was enough to raze an Street to the ground!
However, they all faced this kind of attack.
"Noisy."
Ian simply raised his wand and gently pressed it down.
A simple, effortless movement. Then, the five torrents of Magic Power, capable of destroying everything, stopped simultaneously less than three feet from his body. As if they had crashed into an invisible, indestructible barrier, they twisted, struggled, and roared wildly, yet could not advance an inch further.
Then.
Ian's wand twirled slightly.
The five torrents of Magic Power power simultaneously changed direction, returning with even greater ferocity than before, heading straight for the five Horcrux Clone! "What?!"
"No!"
boom!!!
Amidst the deafening explosion, the five Horcrux Clone were simultaneously struck by their own Magic Power, flying backward like five kites with broken strings, crashing heavily into buildings on both sides of the Street, piercing through walls, and buried under the rubble.
A deathly silence.
The surviving Death Eater were completely stunned.
They even forgot to run away, just staring blankly at the scene, at the black-haired young man, as if he were a monster from another dimension.
One strike.
Just one strike.
Five Horcrux Clone possessing a portion of Voldemort's power and capable of overwhelming ordinary Auror, were simultaneously suppressed!
Moreover, the young man didn't even cast any complicated spells; he simply raised his wand lightly, as if brushing away a speck of dust. "Legend... Legend..." a Death Eater murmured, his legs going weak, and he collapsed to his knees.
"He's Legend too! And... and even more powerful than my master!"
"How is this possible?! How could there possibly be Legend in this world more powerful than our master!"
Terrified whispers spread among the Death Eater. No one dared to move, no one dared to run, no one dared to even breathe loudly. They simply lay there, limp, like lambs to the slaughter.
Young Tom struggled to crawl out of the rubble, covered in blood, his face contorted with disbelief, horror, and madness. He stared intently at Ian, his voice hoarse and trembling:
"You... who are you?! Who exactly are you?! A Legend... a Legend even more powerful than the original... how could you be unknown?! Where did you come from?!"
Ian did not answer him.
She didn't even glance at him.
His gaze passed over the terrified Death Eater, over the collapsed rubble, and landed on a spot not far away...
Grindelwald slowly descended from mid-air back to the ground. The illusion that had bound him with the " Void Domain " had completely dissipated. Standing on the empty Street, his heterochromatic eyes flickered with extremely complex emotions—shock, realization, relief, and a trace of... deep apprehension. He, too, had not expected that it was all an illusion.
He also hadn't expected this young man to be so powerful.
At that moment, the young man was looking at him.
Ian's gaze was calm as still water, yet as deep as an abyss. He spoke slowly, his voice not loud, but clearly reaching Grindelwald's ears, carrying a strange, almost soul-piercing insight:
" Mr. Grindelwald."
He paused, his gaze growing even deeper.
"Should I address you as... Mr. Grindelwald?"
"Still"
His tone remained calm, but his next words were like a stone thrown into stagnant water, stirring up the most hidden ripples in Grindelwald's heart:
"My professor, Grindelwald?"
The words had barely left his mouth.
Grindelwald's pupils suddenly contracted to the size of pinpoints!
For the first time, genuine shock appeared on that aged face, etched with the marks of time!
He stared intently at Ian, his heterochromatic eyes flashing intensely, as if trying to find any trace of a joke or misunderstanding in the young man's calm face.
But he couldn't find it.
Ian's expression was too calm; that calmness was not feigned, but genuine, a composure born from a thorough understanding of everything.
It was as if he had already seen through everything.
It was as if he already knew that this " Grindelwald " before him, this old man who had been imprisoned for nearly half a century, this former Europe Dark Lord, harbored some... earth-shattering secret.
The moonlight shone coldly on the ruins.
The Horcrux Clone buried under the rubble is still struggling.
The Death Eater, limp and paralyzed on the ground, trembled.
Grindelwald, an old man who had weathered countless storms and remained unmoved even in the face of death, was now frozen in place as if Petrification Charm, staring at Ian.
No one knew what the title "professor" truly meant. Nor did anyone know what... truth Ian had seen in his calm, still eyes.
at the same time.
Amidst the ruins of London, truth and secrets clash. Meanwhile, across the ocean in Washington, D.C.., an equally violent storm is quietly brewing.
The atmosphere in the emergency conference room of the White House bunker was so tense it was almost frozen. On the huge holographic projection screen, extremely blurry infrared images transmitted from the United Kingdom were playing repeatedly—strange energy fluctuations, the Wizard ' riots, and scenes that could not be explained by any scientific principles.
Although everything before was an illusion.
However, Death Eater attack, the Prime Minister did indeed contact the Ministry of Magic. When the United States learned of this, they immediately convened a large conference table, surrounded by the highest-ranking figures from both the military and political spheres of the United States. The Secretary of Defense, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency, the Secretary of State... everyone's expression was extremely grim.
"What... what exactly are those?"
A general spoke with difficulty, his voice trembling uncontrollably, "Magic? Witchcraft? Isn't that something from fairy tales?" "It's not a fairy tale." The Central Intelligence Agency director adjusted his glasses, a thick file stamped "Top Secret" lying before him. "We have a... long-term, highly confidential cooperation agreement with them. There is indeed a secret organization in the world called the ' Ministry of Magic.' In the shadows of this world lives a group of Wizard with supernatural abilities." This was a secret known only to a select few.
" Wizard?"
The president abruptly looked up. The man, a middle-aged politician known for his tough stance, now had disbelief in his eyes. "You mean, those so-called fairy tales are all true?"
He was just a puppet president, serving for a maximum of eight years, so he didn't know much.
"It's far more complicated than a fairy tale, Mr. President." The Central Intelligence Agency director took a deep breath. "According to our intelligence, these Wizard have been hiding on the fringes of society, concealing their existence through some means. And United Kingdom is one of the regions where they are most active."
"Our initial assessment of tonight's conflict is that it's a war between two hostile factions within the Wizard community." His information was indeed very accurate.
"War? No! This is provocation!"
The Minister of Defense slammed his fist on the table and stood up.
A heated argument erupted in the conference room.
Some advocated for immediate military retaliation, while others warned against rash actions. Some demanded an explanation from the United Kingdom government, while others questioned the veracity of the claims.
Finally, the president slammed his hand on the table, and everyone fell silent.
"Enough." His voice was low and cold. "Whatever those things are, whatever their superpowers are—powers stronger than ours are unacceptable!"
He looked around, his gaze finally settling on the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
"General, we need to demonstrate our strength. We need to show those... ' Wizard ' what great power majesty is, what modern warfare is." Mobilize all the forces we can—carrier battle groups, strategic bombers, satellite surveillance systems—send them all to the United Kingdom. Not an invasion, but... "peacekeeping." Afterwards, we can, in the name of protecting our citizens and allies, "request" a United Kingdom troop presence.
He paused, a cold, aloof expression appearing at the corner of his mouth.
"If they refuse, we will 'force' ourselves to fulfill our duties as international police." With the order given, the entire United States war machine began to operate at high speed at the Naval Station Norfolk in Virginia.
On the massive aircraft carrier deck, ground crew are conducting final checks. The two nuclear-powered aircraft carriers, the USS Eisenhower and the USS Roosevelt, will complete their departure preparations within 24 hours, leading their respective escort fleets across the Atlantic Ocean and heading straight for the United Kingdom waters.
Meanwhile, multiple US military bases in the United Kingdom received the highest level of alert. F-15 fighter squadrons stationed at Lakenheath and Mildenhall began loading live ammunition, with pilots on 24-hour standby. Satellite monitoring systems focused their cameras on London and the surrounding area, attempting to detect any "abnormal" energy signals.
"This is the largest Atlantic Ocean military deployment since the Cold War," a retired general remarked in a television commentary. "But who is the enemy? We don't even know."
Meanwhile, in another part of Washington, in a mysterious institution far from the White House and Capitol Hill, hidden among ordinary office buildings, the atmosphere is completely different.
There was no tension, no anger, only an... eerie calm.
In a conference room with no windows and only a dim chandelier, several figures in dark suits with indistinct faces sat around a round table.
Spread out on the table was neither a military map nor an intelligence file, but a handwritten, ancient Parchment- bound... Magic Contract. "The chaos in the United Kingdom has arrived sooner than we anticipated," a hoarse voice said, its age and gender impossible to discern. "But the outcome is the same," another voice interjected, a chilling smile playing on its lips. " Muggle anger, military intervention, international turmoil... everything is proceeding according to plan."
" The Wizard will soon realize they can no longer hide. And the Muggle will discover that their prized weapons are nothing but laughable toys in that world."
"Conflict, chaos, fear... this is exactly what the pools crave."
After a moment of silence, the hoarse voice rang out again, this time with a hint of expectation:
"Alright, let's begin."
The moment he finished speaking, the conference room door was pushed open.
A figure dressed in a long black robe, his face completely shrouded in shadow, slowly walked in. His steps Silencio, like a ghost, and he exuded a chilling, chaotic Magic Power Fluctuation.
The figures in the conference room stood up the moment they saw him, their faces showing a complex mix of awe and fanaticism. The Black Robed Woman didn't speak, but simply raised his hand.
He held a magic wand in his hand, the tip of which glowed with a ghostly green light.
"Immorio -Imperius Curse ".
A soft incantation echoed in the enclosed space.
The green light spread out, rippling across everyone in the conference room. Their bodies stiffened slightly, a brief struggle flashed in their eyes, and then... they returned to calm.
As the green light faded, the figures who had just possessed independent will now wore only a numb, empty calm. "The President's decisions... need... guidance," The Black Robed Woman spoke slowly, his voice hoarse and cold. "Congressional discussions... need... a unified direction."
Upon hearing this, the figures controlled by the Imperius Curse nodded in unison, their movements as synchronized as marionettes.
"Yes... Master..."
The Black Robed Woman withdrew his wand with satisfaction, turned around, and disappeared out the door. Inside the conference room, only those few empty figures remained, and the dim chandelier burned silently.
The light of the Imperius Curse spread like a plague through the centers of global power. The controlled figures entered the highest decision-making levels of various countries under different identities over the next seventy-two hours.
Some were senior staff members of United States. Congress, some were chief administrators at the United Kingdom Prime Minister's residence, some were security advisors at the Élysée Palace in France, and some were inconspicuous civilian officials in the Kremlin. Their faces were ordinary, their resumes perfect, and no one would give them a second glance. But the moment they stepped into the core of those powers, a ghostly green light Silencio spread out.
As for the purpose...
In any Paris Berlin, the top decision-making levels New Delhi all 37 nuclear -Moscow armed countries in the world fell under control within the same week.
The moment the final target, the captain of a strategic nuclear submarine, was struck by the Imperius Curse hundreds of meters below the sea, it seemed as if all the threads of Destiny had finally converged at one point.
At an emergency Security Council meeting at United Nations Headquarters, representatives from various countries discussed the " United Kingdom crisis" with grave expressions. No one noticed that, at a certain moment, the representatives of all the permanent members simultaneously lowered their eyes and then simultaneously raised them again, their gazes bearing the exact same intensity. After the meeting, a top-secret document, jointly signed by all the permanent members, was sent to every nuclear arsenal, every missile silo, and every strategic nuclear submarine in the world.
The command consists of only one line:
"Activate all nuclear weapons. Enter maximum combat readiness. Await final instructions."
The cover of the underground launch silo slowly opened.
Strategic bombers carrying nuclear bombs slid out of the hangar.
A nuclear submarine in the deep sea shuts down all communications, retaining only one receiving channel.
Tens of thousands of nuclear warheads around the world simultaneously awoke from their slumber on this seemingly peaceful night.
Their guidance systems began self-testing.
Their targets began to be redistributed in the database—not to any particular enemy country, but to cover all major cities, military bases, and densely populated areas worldwide.
Amidst the ruins of London, the Black Robed Woman gazed at the rising sun in the east, a cold smile playing on his lips.
Deep Space... is gazing upon us.
"And the offerings that the pools want..."
"It will be despair for the whole world."