Ian is very skilled at forgery.
With the help of magic, a vast ruin was created overnight, setting a trap specifically for Voldemort, Voldemort remained unaware of it.
Voldemort simply strode confidently into the ruins, ready to seize the treasures within.
He quickened his pace.
At the end of the passageway was a half-open stone door. The crack was so narrow that only one person could squeeze through sideways. Behind the door, there was no light, no sound, only an even stronger, suffocating stench of decay. Voldemort squeezed through the crack and entered a small stone chamber.
In the center of the stone chamber, there is a stone coffin.
The stone coffin was enormous, a full three meters long and two meters wide. Its surface was covered with dark red runes, which flickered and shimmered, as if something inside was struggling to escape. The lid of the coffin was half-open, revealing a bottomless darkness within. Voldemort walked to the coffin and looked down into the darkness.
Something was moving in the darkness.
It was a faint, almost inaudible sound—like fingernails scratching on stone, like parched lips moving, like something imprisoned for millions of years finally smelling the scent of living people.
Voldemort did not retreat.
He simply stared silently into the darkness, his three scarlet eyes burning with a cold light.
"Come out."
Lord Dark Lord fears nothing, so he naturally didn't react with alarm. Instead, his voice was disdainful, hoarse, and arrogant, echoing in the silent stone chamber. Then, in the darkness, the scratching sound stopped.
Then, a hand reached out from the stone coffin.
The hand had no skin, only dark red muscle and pale bones, with long, sharp nails, some with bits of rotting flesh clinging to them. It gripped the edge of the stone coffin and pulled sharply—a figure sat up from inside.
It had once been a person, or rather, it had once taken the shape of a person. Its skin had completely rotted away, revealing the dark red muscles and white bones beneath. Its eye sockets were sunken, containing no eyeballs, only two eerie green orbs of light, like will-o'-the-wisps. Its mouth was wide open, revealing jagged, yellowed teeth, and it emitted a low, beast-like roar.
It stared at Voldemort, the two eerie green lights flickering in its eye sockets.
Then, it laughed.
The smile was eerie and terrifying, its rotting lips stretched to its ears, revealing even more teeth. It crawled out of the sarcophagus, its withered, decaying body appearing particularly grotesque in the dark red runic light. Its movements were slow and stiff, each step accompanied by a cracking sound of bones grinding together, yet each step was resolute, moving forward towards Voldemort.
Voldemort looked at it, a cold smile creeping onto his lips.
"A dead man," he said, "Also wants to stop me?"
He raised his hand, a ball of black, Fiendfyre coalescing at his fingertips. The flame danced in his palm, radiating a heat capable of incinerating everything. With a flick of his wrist, the Fiendfyre transformed into a slender Fire Serpent, lunging towards the decaying figure.
The Fire Serpent pierced through the figure's chest.
There was no explosion, no burning. The Fiendfyre seemed to pass through a cloud of smoke, leaving a hole the size of a bowl in the figure's chest before disappearing into the darkness behind.
The figure paused, glanced down at the hole in its chest, then raised its head and walked towards Voldemort again. Its pace neither quickened nor slowed; it remained stiff and resolute. The hole in its chest had not healed, but it did not hinder its movements in the slightest.
Voldemort frowned slightly.
He raised his hand again, and this time, a thick, steel-splitting Cutting Curse shot from his fingertips. The spell struck the figure's neck, severing its head. The head rolled a few times on the ground, stopping at Voldemort's feet. The two eerie green lights flickered in their eye sockets a few times before extinguishing.
Voldemort looked down at the head, and the corners of his mouth turned up again.
However, the headless figure did not fall. It remained standing there, still striding forward. Its hands stretched out, its skinless, dark red fingers clawing at the air, trying to grasp something.
Voldemort's smile froze.
He stepped back, and another Cutting Curse shot out, cutting off the figure's left arm. The severed arm fell to the ground, its fingers still twitching, but the figure did not stop. It continued to claw forward with its remaining right arm, its steps still firm.
A flash of anger crossed Voldemort's eyes. He stopped using magic and instead raised his inhuman claw, slashing forward and piercing the figure's chest, pinning it to the wall.
The figure struggled and roared, the two eerie green lights rekindling in its eye sockets, throbbing wildly. It grabbed Voldemort's arm with its remaining right arm, its sharp nails leaving white marks on Voldemort's dark skin, but unable to pierce through.
"Tell me, tell me," Voldemort's voice was soft yet dangerous, "What is this?"
However, the figure did not answer. It only roared and struggled, the two eerie green lights growing brighter and more intense until finally, it exploded.
There was no flying blood or flying debris. It simply transformed into a cloud of eerie green smoke, enveloping Voldemort entirely. The smoke carried a nauseating, rotten sweetness, seeping into his nostrils, penetrating his skin, and attempting to invade his soul.
Voldemort closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Then, he suddenly opened his eyes, and a blinding red light burst forth from his three scarlet eyes! Wherever the red light passed, the eerie green smoke melted away like ice and snow, instantly disappearing without a trace.
He turned around and looked at the other side of the stone chamber—there, a new stone door had appeared out of nowhere. The door was open, revealing a deeper and darker passageway behind it.
Voldemort glanced at the empty stone coffin, then strode toward the new door.
He didn't see that in the corner of the stone chamber's ceiling, a small Raven, almost blending into the darkness, was quietly crouching there. The Raven tilted its head, its dark eyes reflecting Voldemort's departing figure, a glimmer of humanity flashing in them.
"First hurdle cleared," Ian thought to himself. "Next, it's time for the second hurdle."
He gently flapped his wings, silently took flight, and disappeared into the shadows of the stone chamber. The Frankenstein's monster has stitched together countless classic films and television shows within these ruins.
Behind the second stone gate is a spiral staircase leading downwards.
The staircase was narrow, allowing only one person to pass at a time. There were no handrails on either side, and below lay a bottomless darkness. The stone steps were covered with a sticky, slippery substance.
Stepping on it produced a disgusting squelching sound. The air was filled with an even stronger stench of decay, mixed with a smell like rotten honey.
"That's disgusting!"
Beneath Voldemort's feet, the viscous substance writhed slightly as he passed, as if it were alive. He looked down and, by the faint light from its three eyes, he could see what it was.
insect.
Countless tiny, maggot-like white worms densely covered each stone step. They wriggled and rolled under Voldemort's feet, and when crushed, they oozed a viscous, milky-white liquid. The liquid emitted a sweet, fishy smell, attracting more worms to surge out of the darkness and crawl toward Voldemort's ankles.
Voldemort lifted his foot, and a worm followed, hanging from his ankle and desperately trying to burrow into his skin. He reached out and picked up the worm, holding it to his eyes. The worm was only the size of a grain of rice, its body translucent, revealing its black, throbbing internal organs. Its head had a tiny, needle-like mouthpart, writhing frantically, trying to pierce his skin.
"You want to parasitize me?"
Voldemort tightened his grip slightly, crushing the insect and splattering milky white fluid onto his fingertips. He sniffed it; the sweet, fishy smell grew even stronger.
A slight, cold smile appeared on his lips.
"Interesting."
He continued down the stairs. With each step, countless insects were crushed beneath his feet, their milky fluid increasing and flowing down the stone steps, forming a small stream. The pungent, sweet odor grew stronger, almost suffocating. More insects emerged from the darkness, no longer merely crawling towards Voldemort's ankles, but piling up and gathering, forming wriggling, ever-changing mounds. The stairs seemed endless. Voldemort walked for a long time, so long that the insects beneath his feet had piled up to his ankles, so long that the pungent, sweet odor had become so intense that it made him feel slightly uncomfortable.
Then, he saw the light.
The light came from the end of the stairs; it was dark red, like congealed blood. It illuminated the last few stone steps and the huge, tightly closed stone door at the end of the stairs.
Voldemort quickened his pace. He crushed the insects on the last few stone steps and reached the stone door.
The door was closed. There were no runes or handles on it, only a small, fist-sized hole. The hole was deep and dark inside, and nothing could be seen.
Voldemort reached his hand into the hole.
His fingers touched something—cold, smooth, like metal. He grasped it and pulled hard—the stone door swung open with a bang!
Behind the door was a huge, empty hall.
The hall's dome was so high that its top was invisible, and the walls on both sides were covered with dark red runes, the red light of which enveloped the entire hall in a blood-red glow. The floor of the hall was paved with some kind of black, smooth, mirror-like stone slabs, on which Voldemort's twisted figure was reflected. And in the center of the hall stood a stone platform.
On the stone platform, there is a Mirror.
"This is it!"
Voldemort's pupils contracted slightly. He strode towards the stone platform, his footsteps echoing in the empty hall, each step carrying an impatient urgency.
He walked to the stone platform and looked down at the Mirror.
The mirror is not glass, but some kind of flowing, mercury-like liquid that slowly rotates in the red light.
"With you, I can take down the Raven!"
Voldemort couldn't wait.
His fingers touched the mirror.
However, in that instant, the whole world changed. The hall vanished, the stone platform vanished, and the dark red runes vanished as well. "What's going on!" Voldemort found himself standing in boundless darkness, with no ground beneath his feet and no sky above, only endless darkness.
And standing opposite him was a person.
It was a child. Black hair, delicate features, looking no more than twelve or thirteen years old. He was wearing ordinary dark clothes, his hands in his pockets, tilting his head to look at Voldemort, a faint smile on his lips.
Voldemort's pupils contracted sharply.
"You"
"Shh." The child put a finger to his lips, gesturing for silence. His voice was soft and calm, yet clear in the boundless darkness, like a whisper in your ear, "Don't speak. Listen."
Voldemort instinctively shut his mouth.
A sound could be heard in the darkness.
It was a multitude of tiny, rustling sounds, like countless insects crawling, like countless bones rubbing against each other. The sounds surged from all directions, growing closer and louder, until they finally coalesced into a deafening roar!
Then, Voldemort saw them.
Insects. Countless insects. They surged forth from the darkness, covering the sky and the earth, dense and numerous, like a black tide. They varied in size, some as large as a fist, others as small as a grain of rice; some had wings, some had sharp teeth, some were covered in hair, and some were as smooth as a mirror. They piled up, rolled, and tore at Voldemort, surging towards him!
Voldemort raised his hand, and a thick stream of Fiendfyre erupted from his palm!
Suddenly, the Black Flames transformed into a gigantic fire dragon, swooping down on the swarm of insects! Wherever the fire dragon passed, the insects instantly turned to ashes! The air was filled with the stench of burning!
But there were too many insects. They swarmed in from all directions, endlessly, as if the entire dark world were made of them! The fire dragon devoured one wave, and ten more surged in; a thousand were burned to death, and ten thousand crawled out of the darkness. They climbed onto Voldemort's ankles, his calves, his thighs, their sharp teeth tearing at his skin, their pointed mandibles piercing his flesh! "Damn it! Get away!"
Voldemort roared, his entire body radiating a blinding red light! Wherever the red light passed, the insects exploded, turning into clouds of blood mist! He seized the opportunity to soar into the sky, hovering in mid-air, looking down at the boundless sea of insects below. The boy still stood in the center of the sea of insects. Insects swarmed past his feet, but not a single one touched him. He just stood there, hands in his pockets, looking up at Voldemort, his smile deepening.
"You can't kill them all," the child said, his voice as calm as if discussing the weather. "This is their lair. Their numbers are greater than you can imagine."
Voldemort gritted his teeth and unleashed another Fiendfyre! This time, instead of spreading the flames, he condensed them into a thin beam of light, as sharp as a sword!
explode!
The entire sea of insects was blasted open, leaving a huge void! Countless fragments of insect limbs scattered everywhere, and their sweet-smelling bodily fluids flowed like streams in the darkness!
"I am the strongest! The most terrifying!" This time, Voldemort didn't use Fiendfyre; instead, his entire body began to writhe. Did the insects want to eat him?
Then he'll devour this bizarre space first!