With a single thought, a hundred men fell dead.
This power was far more terrifying than Voldemort's Avada Kedavra.
Many Ministry of Magic officials watched, their eyes twitching.
For a moment, they even forgot how to breathe.
Nothing was more chilling than how casually he did it!
"Soren! I'll kill you!"
He had finally gathered a following, only for it to vanish in the blink of an eye. How could Voldemort accept that?
He roared and strained to lift his head.
What met him was a gleaming, polished shoe.
"Thud!"
The shoe connected squarely with his face, cutting off Voldemort's fury. He tumbled several times before coming to a stop.
"You filthy thing. You think you're worthy of speaking the Dark Lord's name?"
The masked Tom looked at Voldemort with a beaming smile, as if he hadn't just kicked him out of nowhere.
Although he had come from Voldemort's diary, he could now be considered half a complete person. His relationship with Voldemort had become a matter of "either you or me."
The Dark Lord had said that however many souls he reaped would be his to keep.
"Enough. Go settle this somewhere else."
Klein glanced at Tom, knowing exactly what he was thinking.
With a wave of his hand, he transported Tom, Nagini, and Voldemort away.
The Ministry officials who saw this didn't dare make a sound.
The jackal had barely retreated, and now a tiger had arrived.
Compared to Soren, what was Voldemort?
The Ministry of Magic was
in trouble this time!
"Heh."
With the commotion settled, Klein had completed his task.
But if you were putting on a show, you had to see it through to the end.
He couldn't leave the stage until Dumbledore arrived.
"Soren, what are you going to do?"
This stalemate couldn't go