The Dragon's evolutionary counterattack.
This was clearly beyond the predictions of the two professors.
However, they are not the type of people who would panic.
"Spread!"
Grindelwald roared and vanished from his spot in an instant. Dumbledore also Apparition, narrowly avoiding the devastating dragon breath. Of course, to the Dragon, their Apparition were nothing more than the laughable struggles of their prey.
"Roar roar roar!"
It abruptly twisted its head, and its enormous head, covered in new scales, slammed towards the direction where Grindelwald had appeared with an agility completely disproportionate to its size! Grindelwald had barely appeared when he saw a mountain-like head bearing down on him! His pupils contracted sharply, and without Apparition, he could only push forward with both hands—and then, the compressed black Fiendfyre transformed into a massive shield, blocking his path!
"Boom-!!!"
The Dragon's head collided with the Fiendfyre Shield!
"Damn it!" Grindelwald's body flew backward like a cannonball, crashing through three giant trees and finally embedding itself deeply in the trunk of a fourth. Blood was flowing from the corners of his mouth, nostrils, and eyes, and the bones in his arms made a sickening cracking sound, clearly broken.
However, that Fiendfyre shield actually blocked the Dragon's impact! Although it was only for a brief moment, that moment was enough. "I'm here!"
Dumbledore's attack arrived in that instant. He didn't attack the Dragon's scales—he knew it was useless. His target was the Dragon's newly healed eye! The Elder Wand emitted a dazzling golden light, and a beam of light, as thin as a hair yet extremely concentrated, pierced precisely into the Dragon's left eye! The beam didn't attempt to penetrate; instead, it exploded directly inside the eyeball!
The Dragon let out a shrill scream! Its left eye burst open again, gushing blood and bodily fluids onto the ground, instantly corroding deep, bottomless pits! But this time, Dumbledore did not stop.
He waved his hands repeatedly, and countless tiny, needle-like golden beams shot out from the Elder Wand, raining down on the Dragon's head like a storm! The beams targeted the Dragon's nostrils, ears, and mouth—all the weakest points in its defenses, uncovered by scales!
The Dragon thrashed its head frantically, trying to dodge the deadly beams of light. But Dumbledore's attacks were too dense and too precise; with each thud, dozens of beams pierced its vitals! Blood cascaded down the Dragon's head like a waterfall, forming a vast, smoking lake of poisonous blood on the ground. Wherever the poisonous blood passed, even the rocks were corroded into a viscous liquid, emitting a nauseating hissing sound.
Grindelwald broke free from the tree trunk, his arms hanging limply at his sides, but his eyes burned with an even more frenzied fighting spirit. He didn't try to use his wand. The wand had vanished the moment he embedded himself in the tree trunk. He simply hovered in mid-air, opened his mouth, took a deep breath, and then exhaled violently!
It wasn't dragon's breath, but Fiendfyre!
He used his own body as a vessel for the Fiendfyre, spewing out the remaining Fiendfyre, which had become one with his soul, directly from his mouth! The flames were a pure, abyssal black. They had no temperature, no light, only pure, absolute devouring power! The black Fiendfyre transformed into a thin, serpentine line of fire, precisely piercing the Dragon's bleeding nostril!
The Dragon's screams abruptly ceased.
Its body stiffened violently, and then it began to frantically thrust in and out!
The black Fiendfyre entered its nostrils, traveled along its respiratory tract, and spread wildly towards its lungs, its internal organs, and the most vulnerable parts of its body! Grindelwald exhaled his last breath of Fiendfyre, and like a kite with a broken string, he plummeted to the ground. Dumbledore used his last bit of Magic Power to catch him and gently placed him back on the ground. The two lay side by side on the scorched earth, panting heavily, too weak to stand up.
The Dragon, however, was struggling frantically not far from them.
Black Fiendfyre spewed from its mouth and nose, from its eye sockets, and from its ear canals—unquenchable Fiendfyre that devoured Life Force! Its body was being scorched, devoured, and destroyed by those flames!
It tried to burn the flames inside its body with its dragon breath, but it couldn't bring itself to do it, as it was its own body.
It tried to suppress the flames with Magic Power, but the flames themselves were formed from condensed Magic Power, and the more it was suppressed, the more frenzied they became.
It tried... but all its Hard Work were in vain.
That enormous, mountain-like body rolled, struggled, and roared across the open ground. Each struggle Earth Tremor, each roar made the sky tremble. But the struggles grew weaker, the roars grew softer.
Finally, it stopped moving.
That terrifying being, once capable of tearing the heavens and earth apart, now lies silently on the scorched ground, no longer a sound.
Its eyes were wide open, and black smoke was still billowing from its mouth and nose—the last trace of the fading Fiendfyre. The newly evolved, indestructible scales on its body had lost their luster, becoming dull and fragile.
He died.
He's really dead.
Dumbledore and Grindelwald lay there, staring at the enormous corpse, too exhausted even to laugh.
In the distance, Ian put away the small device and slowly walked to their side.
He looked down at the two exhausted, blood-covered old men, a complex light flickering in his deep eyes—a mixture of relief, heartache, and a hint of... respect. "Professors," he said softly, a smile playing on his lips, "You've worked hard."
He crouched down, took two small bottles from his pocket, and offered one to each of them. The bottles contained a honey-like liquid that emitted a soft glow. Dumbledore didn't ask what it was and drank it. Grindelwald did the same.
The moment the liquid entered his throat, a warm, spring-like power spread from his stomach to his limbs and bones. The broken bones, the torn muscles, and the depleted source of Magic Power began to heal at a visible speed!
Dumbledore slowly sat up, looking at Ian with surprise in his eyes. "This is..."
Ian smiled slightly, " Phoenix Tears. I asked Fawkes for them before I left. That guy wouldn't give them to me at first, but I told him they were for you, and he reluctantly squeezed out a few drops." Dumbledore paused for a moment, then laughed. The smile on his aged face seemed particularly warm and gratified.
Grindelwald sat up, stretching his newly healed arms, a complex light flickering in his heterochromatic eyes. He looked at Ian, remained silent for a few seconds, and then slowly spoke, "Child, you... you were taking pictures just now?"
Ian blinked, his innocent expression making you want to punch him. "Of course. I said I wanted to record the two professors' most embarrassing moments." He pulled out the small device from his pocket, which displayed the footage he had just captured— Dumbledore being forced to flee in a sorry state by dragon breath, Grindelwald embedding himself in a tree trunk, and the two lying on the ground, barely alive... Every single image was crystal clear.
Dumbledore's lips twitched slightly.
Grindelwald's eyebrows furrowed.
Ian looked at them, his smile widening. "Don't worry, I'll only show these photos to everyone after you become Legend. I've even thought of a title: 'The Birth of Legend: From Wretched to Great.'" Dumbledore shook his head helplessly, but his smile deepened.
Grindelwald snorted, but he was not really angry. He stood up and walked towards the huge dragon corpse, with some complicated emotions flashing in his eyes. It was relief after exhaustion, emotion after victory, and a trace of expectation for the upcoming transformation.
No Wizard doesn't yearn to become Legend.
Dumbledore also stood up and walked to the other side of the dragon's corpse. The two looked at each other across the massive body and saw the same thing in each other's eyes: joy.
They did it.
They really did it.
"Well, this should be enough material. The Hogwarts Daily News will give me a good price." Ian put away the small device and walked to the two of them. He looked up at the Ancient Dragon, which was as huge as a mountain range, and a trace of nostalgia flashed in his deep eyes—as if he had seen this scene countless times before.
"You two."
Ian spoke, his voice calm yet tinged with seriousness, "It's not over yet."
Grindelwald looked at him. "What do you mean?"
Ian pointed to the enormous dragon corpse. "You killed it just to prove you deserved to be Legend. But to truly cross that threshold, you still need one last step—" He paused, a slight smile playing on his lips:
"Bathe in dragon's blood."
This is true.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow slightly. "Bathe in dragon's blood?"
At this time, Dumbledore didn't understand the path to Legend status as well as he did in later generations. Dumbledore focused on studying the soul and the realm of Misty Illusion. Ian understood this, so he nodded. "The blood of the Ancient Dragon contains the essence of its ten thousand years of life, its primal power to defy the laws of heaven and earth. When it was alive, these powers were bound by its will, and you couldn't absorb them. But now..."
He looked at the dragon corpse that had begun to cool:
"It is dead. Its power awaits a new master."
A flicker of excitement crossed Grindelwald's eyes. "You mean, we're going to... soak in dragon's blood?"
"More or less," Ian said, "But not just any ordinary soak. It's about letting the dragon blood completely permeate your bodies, from skin to muscle, from bone to soul. Only then can those primal powers truly merge with you, and help you break through that threshold."
He paused, then added:
"This process will be painful. Dragon blood is not docile; it contains the wildness and power of Dragon. What you must do is not resist, but accept it. Let it transform you, reshape you." Dumbledore was silent for a few seconds, then smiled slightly, "Pain? Having lived this long, I have no shortage of experience in enduring pain." Grindelwald snorted, "Enough talk, let's begin."
Ian nodded and took a few steps back.
He raised his hands, and those small, delicate hands seemed to contain boundless power—an invisible Magic Power surged from his palms, like countless unseen hands, lifting the enormous dragon corpse and slowly suspending it in mid-air. Dumbledore and Grindelwald watched this scene, a hint of shock flashing in their eyes.
The other person didn't use a wand.
They were already able to handle such a huge corpse.
This shows how high their magical skills were.
"Don't just stand there," Ian's voice came from ahead, tinged with amusement. "Get down there."
Dumbledore and Grindelwald exchanged a glance and, as instructed, walked directly beneath the dragon's corpse.
Ian flicked his finger lightly.
On the abdomen of that enormous dragon corpse, a huge wound slowly split open.
Then one-
Blood cascaded down like a waterfall.
The dragon blood wasn't the bright red they had imagined; instead, it was a strange, deep gold, like lava. It emitted a blinding light and a suffocating heat, cascading down from a height of three hundred meters like a golden waterfall, completely engulfing the two of them!
At that instant, Dumbledore and Grindelwald simultaneously let out a suppressed groan.
hot!
It wasn't just ordinary heat; it was the kind of extreme heat that could burn away even the soul! The temperature of the dragon blood was a hundred times higher than they had imagined! When it landed on the skin, it didn't burn; instead, it penetrated directly—penetrating the skin, the muscles, the bones, and reaching the depths of the soul!
Dumbledore gritted his teeth, forcing himself not to resist. He remembered Ian's words—don't resist, accept. Let the dragon blood transform and reshape you. He closed his eyes, letting the golden waterfall wash over his body.
Pain. Indescribable pain.
Every drop of dragon blood was like a red-hot knife, cutting wildly through his body. Every drop of dragon blood was like an angry Fire Serpent, raging through his veins. They tore at his muscles, burned his bones, and transformed every single cell in his body.
But he didn't move. He didn't cry out. He just stood there quietly, enduring everything.
Grindelwald didn't move either. But he didn't close his eyes. His heterochromatic eyes were wide open, fixed on the cascading golden waterfall, filled with madness and excitement. "Interesting..." he murmured, his voice hoarse and trembling, "Truly interesting..."
He felt his source of Magic Power being violently assaulted by the dragon blood. The limits that had once bound him, the limits that this era could not break through, were now shattering layer by layer under the scouring of the dragon blood. New power was surging in, merging with his original Magic Power, and producing some kind of qualitative change.
Time seemed to stand still.
I don't know how much time passed.
It might be a moment, or it might be ten thousand years.
The golden waterfall finally stopped.
The dragon's blood has run dry.
Dumbledore and Grindelwald stood in a pool of golden blood, their bodies covered in thick, cooled, solidified shells of dragon blood. These shells enveloped them like two golden statues, motionless.
Then one-
A crack appeared.
It started with Dumbledore's forehead. A small crack spread across the golden shell, then a second, a third... countless cracks spread outwards like a spider web. Finally...
"Bang!"
Golden fragments scattered and flew everywhere.
Dumbledore the first to emerge from the dragon's blood shell.
He is completely different now.
It was as if they had been reborn.