The Grindelwald family's recognition ceremony went quite smoothly.
Dumbledore couldn't help shedding two tears of blood from sheer excitement.
Let's set that aside for now.
Let's turn our attention to the "Land of Freedom," tens of thousands of miles away.
America, Wyoming, a small town.
Under the night sky, more than a dozen Aurors stood outside the town, all wearing grim expressions.
The man at their head looked over his team and said in a low voice,
"Gentlemen, are you ready?"
"Of course, boss. Let's go kill that damned monster!"
"Revenge for Monroe!"
"Blood for blood!"
This operation was extremely dangerous. Before them, dozens of seasoned fighters had already perished at the monster's hands, and their bodies had never even been recovered.
To put it bluntly, they were the American Ministry of Magic's last reserve.
So this operation couldn't afford to fail!
"Move out!"
The lead Auror looked solemn, gripping his wand as he strode forward.
A cold wind swept by, and an owl hooted.
Not a soul was visible on the streets.
A small town that had been peaceful just three days ago had now become a "ghost town" in every sense of the word!
And the culprit—
Was the monster who called himself the "Lord of Darkness"—Voldemort!
"Heh. Another group of Aurors who aren't afraid to die."
In the darkness, a pair of blood-red eyes watched the Aurors' every move.
He stood about four and a half feet tall, his whole body swollen like a balloon filled with air.
But a closer look revealed that what covered his distended body wasn't skin, but clumps of writhing flesh.
The flesh formed countless twisted, anguished faces, blurred and terrifying to behold.
This was the Dark Lord, Voldemort, who had completely abandoned his human identity and devoted himself to increasing his